The Poor Unfortunate Soul

“C’mon babe,” Hunter cooed into his wife’s ear. “I’ll be good for Christmas. Promise. I just want to hit up a bar for a little bit…”

“No,” Shirley replied. She was stiff and trying to stand in front of the door as her husband was trying to leave. She could smell the hint of booze still on his breath from the couple of shots of whiskey in his  “It’s still Christmas eve. Your daughters are sleeping.”

“Exactly,” Hunter said. "Perfect time to do it." He put a little bit more of his weight against her frame, leading her out of the way. His hand rounded her body and he gave her a kiss. She didn’t accept it. “Babe, just tell your parents that I’ll be back in a bit. Alright?”

Shirley let out an angry grunt as her husband grabbed the door and went outside. “Damn it,” she bit her lip. “Jackass.”

“Something wrong?” Jeremy was standing at the top of the staircase, obviously listening. Her brother had a bit of a bad habit of eavesdropping that never seemed to have gone away.

“No,” Shirley lied.

“Didn’t sound like a no…” Jeremy started down the stairs. “You know mom and dad hate drinking…” he made sure to keep his voice down so his parents wouldn’t hear him. “Do you want me to follow him?”

It took Shirley a moment to answer. “Yes…” she breathed hard, not wanting to admit that her husband had a problem. It’d been growing since he’d gotten back from the military. But he’d never talk about it. Even in his most drunken stupors he would still be conscious enough to change the subject with ease. “Just don’t get him mad. I don’t need you in the hospital and him in jail. Got it?” she tried to make a joke. 

“Right,” Jeremy smiled back. Deep down he knew it was a possibility. Not to mention their clear size difference as well. Jeremy was never much of a fighter. His thin body made that near impossible. And even though Hunter had gained a good 150 pounds since his deployment, his strength never left him. He just kept trying to drown those sorrows away in the alcohol.

-----

Hunter drove his truck through the small town his wife had grown up in. Nothing was anywhere for miles. He was starting to realize that the small town probably didn’t have a bar to its name. Just corn on the left and soy beans on his right. “Damn…” he growled as the only lights he had were from his pick up truck and the moon above him.

He kept down the road till he could see a bit of light coming out from his left. “Hey. Hey,” he celebrated. The closer and closer he got, the more it looked to have the same lighting as an old style bar. ‘The Poor Unfortunate Soul,’ was written in a thin cursive neon lights stationed right above the door. Even adding a pitchfork at the end of the swirl.

“Sweet,” he smiled. “Bit risque for this town though.” It’s not like he cared. He hopped out of his truck and went to the large bar doors. They were heavy but he could feel the warmth behind them. He pushed harder, throwing them open. 

“Welcome!” the bartender smiled as he saw his customer. “Wasn’t sure if you were gonna make it.”

Hunter looked around the empty bar. “Am I the only one?”

“Well, it is Christmas Eve. Not too many people lookin ta get drunk by themselves right now. At least not in this town.” The bartender put down the glass he was cleaning and leaned against the bar. “But that never stopped ya, did it?” 

“Hmph,” Hunter gave an angry grunt as he entered the bar. The doors closed behind him. “Guess not…” He felt a little weird being there all by himself, but continued into the bar. His pace was slow and controlled. Something about it felt off. He couldn’t quite place it. 

“What’s the matter big guy?” The bartender teased.

Hunter stiffened up at the nickname. “What the fuck did you just say?” his fists clenched as he growled the question. His heavy weight flexed towards the lithe bartender.

“Oh don’t be so crass,” the Bartender mocked a bit more. “I’m just tryin ta get you in the mood. Don’t want your little sourpuss bringing down my spirits either.” Hunter didn’t budge on his anger. “Hmph, all serious business with you. How bout a free drink ta put the wata unda the bridge. Whatcha say?”

“Hmph…” Hunter stared at him with unease. But when he saw his favorite bottle of whiskey being poured for him, he did lighten up a bit. “Fine…”

“That’s the spirit!” the Bartender slid the drink down the bar into Hunter’s hand. “Bottom’s up.”

Hunter took the whiskey and threw it back. It burned all the way down. Even through his nostrils. “The hell?” he looked at the glass again. “How’d you get such a kick to that? Nobodies ever had it that good.”

The complement made the Bartender smile. “Special brew. Another?”

“Fuck ya,” Hunter lit up a bit. A soft smile appeared behind his heavy beard.

The Bartender slid another glass down. He caught it in his hand and threw it back again. That same solid kick washed through his system. He could feel the warmth of the alcohol filling him up from his stomach, through his chest and all the way down to his fingers and toes.

“Damn!” he leaned a bit more weight against the counter. “After all muh years o drinkin, don’t know if I ever had somethin so good.” His words started to slur slightly as he tried to get the counter to hold most of his weight. There seemed to be so much more alcohol in it than usual. He could already feel the buzz making him forget about his troubles.

“Here to please,” the Bartender smiled. “So what can I getcha big guy?”

“Hey…” Hunter’s flushed face flashed a fit of anger. “Don’t say that.”

“What don’t you want me to say, big guy?” the Bartender leaned closer to the immobilized Hunter. 

“That… Don’t need yer queer ass flirtin with me…”

“Is that so? ‘Fraid you might like it?” the Bartender continued. He could see Hunter go silent. “Fine…” he poised himself dramatically then rolled his eyes. “How about another drink.”

The offer brought back some of Hunter’s joy. “Yeah! Sounds great!”

“Alright, but I get ta choose this one,” the Bartender pulled a special bottle from behind the shelf that was locked away. 

“Looks expensive…” Hunter muttered. The crystal glass container with a skull on top seemed to be intricately designed. Far more than anything that could have been massed produced. “What’s it’s cost?”

“Oh not too much, just your soul,” the bartender said.

“Okay,” Hunter agreed with a light chuckle, unsure what that really meant.

“See this is a very special brew. Grants you wishes. I can see you’re not too happy with your life. And figured there might be a few things ya wanted ta change about yerself.”

Hunter burst out in laughter. “Man, ya really had me goin there.”

“No jokes,” the Bartender slid the three drinks down. “Each one is a wish. Each one grants you whatever you want. But it costs you your soul.”

The shift in the Bartender’s tone sent a shiver down his spine. His jovial expression turned grim as he watched with intent. He put his elbows on the counter and just stared, almost into like it was at Hunter’s soul.

“Right,” Hunter laughed again, trying to lighten the mood. The bartender didn’t join him. “So I can change anything about my life?” he asked. It was earnest. The Bartender nodded. “You’re not joking.” The bartender shook his head. “So if I… If I wanted to big and strong instead of fat--”

“Yep,” the Bartender slid the first drink closer. “Just think about the body you want, the drink will do the rest.”

Hunter stared at the drink. His mind raced with all sorts of ideas. In high school he’d always been a bit of a jock. And at 5’11” he never thought of himself as small. But now it was so hard to be fit and active. His heavy belly weighed him down. He didn’t have the same kind of energy either. He was always tired. And a bit of pain from an unsavory injury made him made some movements harder. 

He did his best to focus. To think about those guys in the army who were so much bigger than him, guys who were 6’1”, 6’2”. No, he’d be bigger. He’d be looking down on them like they’d looked down on him. His muscles would be huge and swollen. Those guys wouldn’t know what to do with him. 

“Fuck,” he growled looking at the shot again. The question of whether or not this was a joke was leaving in place of his greed of getting bigger. Just thinking about the power of looking down at his captains and other soldiers was getting him a bit excited. But his drunken stupor didn’t make him realize why.

“Well, what’ll be?” the Bartender slid the drink a bit closer. “Eh, big guy?”

Hunter grabbed the drink and threw it back. The thoughts of him being bigger still roaming in his mind. The second the alcohol hit his gullet he could feel the changes start happening. He leaned his weight against the bar for support. Every bit of his body was starting to grow bigger. Bones lengthened, then heavy thick cords of muscle grew on top of them. The fat rapidly drained away and was replaced by dense muscle. He could see the veins pumping large amounts of blood into each one, pushing them to grow even more. 

The coat he’d been wearing didn’t stand a chance as it ripped from his body and fell to the ground. The plaid button up shirt was quick to follow just like his jeans as the muscle pressed even harder against it. His toes had separated the top and soles of his shoes, wiggling as they were set free. He could feel his legs growing longer and arms slide down. As the growth finally stopped he stood up to his full height.

He was even larger than he’d imagined. The greed of being bigger had overtaken him and he wanted to be even bigger. His frame had grown well past 6’6” and his muscles thickened to a degree bodybuilders would be jealous. His thick lats led down to a thin waist then widened around his legs. Looking down he could barely see over his bulbous pecs. But seeing his hands were enough to let him know that everything had gotten bigger.

“Well not everything,” the bartender pointed. Hunter suddenly felt his nakedness. But the underwear he’d been wearing was still put around his hips. It was stretched, but only by the thick muscles in his thighs and ass. “But at least I know you enjoyed it.” The bartender’s hips swayed almost like a tail should have been behind him, wiggling with them.

“The fuck?” Hunter growled. He could feel a bit of the dizziness from the alcohol wearing off but he still staggered to the bar. The room seemed to be spinning and he couldn’t keep his footing properly. Even though half his feet were sticking out of the shoes, that wasn’t what was putting off his balance. “I wanted everything to grow.” 

Hunter gripped the Bartender’s shirt and pulled him closer. “Sorry. I don’t make the rules. If you weren’t thinking about it, it didn’t change.” He threw his hands up in defense. Hunter’s thick fist clenched and rounded up for a punch. It was easily the size of the Bartender’s head. “But there’s always something else you can try,” then pushed the second drink closer. “This time make sure you change everything you want to…”

“Hmmmm….” Hunter growled at the devious guy in front of him. He hadn’t realized that he wasn’t thinking about his dick at all. Then again if anyone ever thought to comment on it’s size, he’d make sure to make them pay. After all he did have the body to prove it. His arm seemed to have flexed with satisfaction, thinking back to the times in the barracks where he’d look down at all the other guys. They’d only shower him with complements to avoid his wrath. Far better than when he was about their size. 

But he needed a dick to match. His three inches wouldn’t be able to cut it no a body like this. Even holding the shot glass he could see the problem. All he could use was a finger and thumb to properly hold it. He threw the second shot back. 

A deep primal growl ran through his vocal cords as he felt the new growth over his lower part. With each pulse he could feel it growing ever so slightly more. Pleasure ran through him as it grew longer. Thicker. His balls dropped, churning with more cum. “F-f-fu-uh-ck,” he gripped the bar tightly, unable to think about anything other than his dick. It pressed hard against his underwear and slide down his thigh, poking out the bottom of his underwear. 

“Looks like ya enjoyed that one too,” the bartender smiled. He watched as Hunter was panting away, lost in the bliss of his extra sensitive dick. Hunter was having so much trouble not masturbating right there as it felt like months had passed since he’d gotten off. And even the lightest touch made him throb with anticipation. 

“Shit…” he growled trying to regain his composure. But it was so hard to think. He was looking at the last shot wondering what he wanted. The thought of a farm popped into his head. The feeling of working with his massive hands felt so good. He could easily train horses and with his military checks he could fund it if they had a poor harvest. Plus it’d be good for his kids. The thought of his two daughters was accompanied with several others. 

“Well?” the bartender slid the third drink over to him. “Looks like ya got an idea…”

“Yeah,” Hunter grabbed it with his fingers again. He couldn’t help but think about his firm muscular body in a plaid shirt that never tucked into his dirty jeans. He’d wear boots all the time and no one would say shit to him. The farm would be a perfect place to raise his son’s to be real men. 

“Go on,” the Bartender goaded. Then his face soured. The door was pushed open. “Looks like we have another guest…”

Jeremy stood in the doorway looking over the muscular giant of a brother in law. He paused slightly as he gaped over his thick muscular body standing naked at the bar. The more surprising part of how the man seemed to feel no shame or chill despite wearing nothing. Or possibly it was the horse cock pointed straight ahead of him ready to go. Whatever it was Jeremy’s dramatic entrance was stalled as he looked over the man.

“Wait!” he finally forced out. Though it was still in between pants, as he tried to catch his breath. “You can’t drink that…”

“The fuck not?” Hunter cursed. “You think yer faggot ass can stop me?” he took a step forward, staggered, then put his weight on the barstool next to him. “Huh?”

“What?” the sudden threat reminded him of his sister’s warning. “No. It’s just… Shit… You can’t drink that. He’s doing something to you.”

“Course he’s doing something. Just look at me,” he threw up his free arm and flexed. The 22 inch bicep bulged. “Feels fuckin great too. And now I’m about ta get a farm too!” he threw the third shot back, thinking of a grand farm with plenty of horses, cows, bulls and grain for him and his family to farm on. His naked body was clothed again with jeans, button up shirt and boots. He tipped his cowboy hat forward and staggered. “SeE? I got meself a fackin farm… Ain’t nothin yo fa--”

Hunter’s speech was cut short as his massive body fell to the floor with a heavy thud. A light mist poured out of his mouth and directed it’s way to the bar. It floated over and into the bottle. Then was corked by the Bartender. “Well… That’s that,” he clapped his hands and pulled the bottle over to the back shelf again.

“Hell no!” Jeremy sprinted for the bottle and tried to leap over the bar. However some kind of flexible wall seemed to hold him back. His hand was mere inches away from the bartender but he was flung back, and fell to the ground. “Shit… What did you do to him?” Jeremy examined his brother in law’s body. 

“Gave him what he wanted. Then he gave me what I wanted. His soul.” The bartender’s eyes flashed yellow then turned back to their human color. “Nothing to do now other than pack everything up. Well I guess you can call a funeral home. Probably need a dump truck to actually move him.”

Jeremy hated seeing his smirk. “No. I’m not leaving until you give it back!”

“Oh? And how are you going to do that?” the Bartender gave a devilish smile. His weight was on the bar again as he swayed back and forth, almost showing off that pointed tail. “See I’m the one who makes the rules here. And I followed them. I promised that moron three wishes and gave them to him. Now he has to pay for the consequences. And well I get to reap the rewards.”

“Then how about a challenge?”

The Bartender rolled his eyes. “Well I forgot my golden fiddle down in Georgia…”

“No, jackass. Something else.”

“Hmmmm… Okay. I think I got an idea. See souls can be very particular. They are the very essence of the other person.” The Bartender turned around and grabbed the bottle that contained Hunter’s soul. “So when you drink one, it can try to be a part of you. Or it can tear you apart.” He poured three more shots in front of Jeremy. “So, do you want to take that chance?”

Jeremy let out a gulp looking at the three glasses in front of him. “What’ll I do?”

“Same thing as him. But you have to guess what he wants to still change. If you get it right, the soul will bond to you, get it wrong and… Well… I get your soul too.” 

“Ok…” Jeremy muttered with a heavy gulp. He stared at the massive body currently lying lifelessly on the floor. “I think… I think I have an idea…” he grabbed the first shot. “He wanted to play sports after he got out of the military.” The guy threw back the shot and nearly choked. Not being much of a drinker, he could feel the heavy burn all the way down in his stomach. To make matters worse it didn’t even taste good.

But the soul swirled around inside him as he felt himself thinking about Hunter going to play rugby for a national team. With his massive size he was a shoe in for being able to play with everyone else. If anything he only seemed to get even bigger. And then the hair around his face just grew a bit longer. There were a few more bruises and scars on his blank skin but it only made him look tougher.

“Well, one down,” the demon smiled. For some reason he didn’t look upset. His tail still moved at the controlled pace as he glared at Jeremy. “Think you got two more?”

“I… I… I think so,” Jeremy answered. He grabbed the drink but didn’t have an answer to match his confidence. The first one was easy. Hunter had always bragged about how much he wished he could go back to his high school days. Sure, for America, football was more popular, but with his size and temperament it was far better suited for rugby. But, ‘now what?’ He thought about it a bit more, staring at the shot. 

‘He wanted to stay in college?’ it wasn’t nearly as confident as the first one. He could feel it as he sloshed the liquid around in his mouth. But small memories started to form. Or maybe he was just being hopeful. 

Jeremy swallowed hard. Again it burned all the way down into his stomach. But the memories solidified. He could feel them growing stronger. Hunter went to his college. ‘My college?!’ he grabbed at his head feeling the memories solidify into his mind. Why the hell would he go to his college. The rugby team wasn’t even that good till he got on it. And there were so many better schools to choose from.

But that idiot needed so much help. Almost like he was purposefully screwing up. Jeremy grabbed at his head again. Those memories couldn’t be real. They really couldn’t. But he could feel them more and more. Like Hunter was trying to get to him. He’d even stopped calling him a faggot.  In return Jeremy would go to the gym with him from time to time. 

Jeremy looked down at his own body, watching his muscle start to tone. Being around someone like Hunter made muscle growth an almost osmosis kind of process. “No way…” he muttered looking at the other guy in disbelief. The old memories of how often he’d tried to rile up Jeremy were still there, but now with some new context. “No way…” his hands hovered around the drink. 

“Got an idea?” the Bartender mocked. “Get it wrong and lose your soul…”

“No way…” Jeremy grabbed the drink and pulled it closer. But the memories were there. He could feel them. Or was he just fantasizing about something that he’d always wanted. Begging for something to be true, that never really was. Hunter always had to be the most masculine. He had to be the alpha in the room. But if he was…

“Fuck it!” Jeremy shouted as he downed the shot. ‘Hunter felt comfortable expressing his sexuality.’

The thought was loud and consistent. Only when it hit his stomach did he start to regret the decision. The lack of pain gave him confidence. New memories started to form. “Fuck…” he grunted remembering one particularly sexy study session where Hunter had forgotten to shower after a workout. He stank to high heaven. 

Jeremy tried his best to stay on topic but he’d just gotten back from the gym. Hunter’s muscles were pumped. A pool of sweat was forming around his shirt that was clinging to his chest and abs. It was impossible to think about anything else. But Hunter could see it as well. If anything he was encouraging the distraction. His ‘accidental’ flexing was anything but.

“Whatcha thinkin about?”

“The homework,” Jeremy stiffened up trying to stay on track. 

“Oh?” Hunter wasn’t paying attention. He’d flipped onto his back and pushed him over Jeremy’s books. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

The stiff act wasn’t working. Hunter took his chance. “Oh? Not something a bit more fun? Cause what I’m thinking about is pretty fun…” His hands gripped the back of Jeremy’s head and pulled it down against his. He could feel their lips touch and kissed. “See? Isn’t that more fun?”

Jeremy let out an affirmative moan followed quickly by a disapproving grunt. It only egged Hunter on. He had moved quickly and held Jeremy down. His weight was easily enough to do it.  Jeremy squirmed to get free but wasn’t able to do this. “Really?”

“Really,” Hunter said. He’d already reached around and undid the button on Jeremy’s pants. His thick hands pulled at the jeans down past the other man’s waist. “You’re such a dirty whore,” he whispered into Jeremy’s ear. He could feel him squirm a little bit more. “But your my dirty little whore.”

It took everything for Jeremy to hold himself back. The pressure down on his back of Hunter lightly crushing him was turning him on. As were his subtle jabs at him. Even if it was easy to do, Hunter loved holding the other man down. He loved pressing more of his weight down, hearing Jeremy groan in bliss.

At some point, Hunter had already released his monster cock from his jeans. Being as thick as a beer can and long enough to be considered a weapon, he pressed it slightly against his hole. Just enough to watch Jeremy reel back in frustration. The small man’s hips waggled back and forth as he pressed a bit harder. It was still impossible to get in but just feeling the pressure against the anus was enough to bring a devious smile to Hunter’s face.

Or maybe it was watching Jeremy lose control and mess up the floor underneath him. Restraining the other man, Hunter could feel his body bounce with excitement. Each one releasing just a bit more pleasure. Hunter lowered his body down on top of Jeremy and held his weight lightly on top of him. 

“Having fun?” the Bartender asked. “Guess you won the prize…” He added an eye roll that pointed over towards Hunter. The big guy was starting to wake up again. He gripped his head and looked around the bar again. 

A deep long groan came from him as he positioned himself in a seated position. “Ugh… What happened?” Looking around the bar, he couldn’t quite remember why he was there. 

“Nothing too exciting. You got a flat and your husband came to pick you up,” the Bartender lied.

Jeremy looked at him a bit confused but felt the gold ring wrapped around his finger. “Right,” he answered. “C’mon, let’s go back to my parents. The family will be worried.” 

“Right…” Hunter rubbed his temples trying to figure out why he had such a headache. He placed a bit of weight onto Jeremy as he was led out. “Damn… You can be so sexy when you take charge.”