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Chapter 8: Penance

Tuco stared at the pile of boulders and rocks. There had to be fifty of the boulders at least, many of them bigger than his head, and uncountable smaller rocks and pebbles. “All of those?" he asked. He clutched his robe around him, trying to shield himself from the chill wind and the steady sprinkle of raindrops.

“Yes," said Rigby. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, untouched by the cold, droplets sliding down his cheeks and forehead.

Tuco scanned across the moss and lichen-greened stonework of the courtyard, past the statuary, past the garden where fresh herbs and vegetables were grown, to the far end. The flat stones met an outcropping of the mountain face, dark grey rock that almost seemed to have grown around the stonework of the courtyard and engulfed it. It had to be fifty yards away. “All the way over there?"

“Yes."

He sighed. “I--I don't think I can. I don't think I can even move some of these."

“Move all of those that you can. Do not stop trying. A meal will be provided at noon. There is fresh water in the basin."

“I wish I knew what I could have done to avoid this, Master Rigby."

“Just Rigby."

“What am I intended to learn? How not to be attacked by a ruffian?"

“The lesson will give you time and clarity for reflection on that point. All of us can benefit from this. It is of no consequence if the penance is unjust if one can find value in it either way."

Tuco sighed. “So you admit it might be unjust. And supposing that, in misery and exhaustion out here, I am weakened for the demons?"

Rigby's usually serene expression flickered for a moment, his brow furrowing. “It is your duty to keep your thoughts clear so that you are not. Even when the Almighty sends you challenges."

“But it's happened before, hasn't it? Apprentices who have been assigned this punishment, they've changed before?"

The clockwork man looked away. “Occasionally." He hesitated. “It is typically assigned only to those the Brothers believe can benefit from it."

That told Tuco all he needed to know. Rigby hadn't chosen this punishment for him. A Brother had. Who else but Brother Gabriel, the Master of Apprentices? He might believe that Tuco had not come to see him, but he clearly still believed Tuco a demonic danger. The magic of Tuco's tongue had not removed the threat--merely displaced it. He breathed in, sampling the air and tasting Rigby's desires: belonging, position, love. The man didn't want to be here any more than Tuco did. But he would do what it took to fit in.

“You can do this," Rigby said, fixing him with an earnest gaze. “Keep your mind clear. Let your thoughts and desires drift away on the wind. Anything you truly cannot move will not be held against you, but you must try with all that you have. Understand?"

This last was said to him in a low voice, as though an authority might overhear.

“I understand," Tuco answered. “I will try. I promise."

Rigby straightened. “You are a good lad," he said, and turned on his heel and strode out of the courtyard.

Tuco stared miserably at the pile of rocks. At least one of them was half his size, and probably weighed six hundred pounds. Like many of the larger boulders, it had moss growing all over the top and looked as though it had never been moved. Surely no apprentice had ever accomplished this.

He had been provided a pair of coarse leather gloves so that he would not ruin his hands with the work, and he pulled these on. All right. Start with a medium-sized one. Get the heaviest work he thought he could manage out of the way first, and then move to the lighter stuff for a rest. Once he was all done with that, he could tackle the truly impossible stuff. Give it his best try, as he'd promised.

Searching through the stones, he located one about the size of his head, crouched, and tried to heft it. It was heavier than he'd expected, and his back twinged in complaint. The stone dropped with a hollow clok. Groaning, Tuco squatted on his heels, got both his hands under the thing, and managed to stand up. He held the stone at about waist height, leaning it against his lower abdomen for support, and started transporting it across the courtyard with a kind of tottering stagger. He hadn't gone more than fifty feet before he was exhausted, his shoulders aching, his breath coming in pants. Wearied, he set it down for a rest, let his arms and shoulders recover, and then hefted it up and carried another thirty feet, and then he was halfway and needed another rest. He ended up rolling the stone the final ten feet into the opposite corner.

Already he was sweating and exhausted. Walstein would probably have no difficulty with this task, what with his prodigious, demon-gifted strength. It was unfair--but no, Tuco would not let his mind be tempted. He would not wish for an advantage he did not have. He thought, idly, that it would have been only just to send Walstein out as well, but perhaps a skewered hand was punishment enough.

He rubbed at his horn while walking back across the courtyard. He'd scrubbed and scrubbed at it, trying to get the blood out, but no matter what he did, every time he'd caught his reflection in the mirror, he still looked fierce to himself. Frightening. Oh well. One stone moved. Uncountable stones still to go.

He decided to spend time on the smaller ones for a while, filling the pockets of his robe with stones the size of his fist or smaller and dumping them out on the opposite side, and even that became exhausting after a while: continually bending down, hefting little weights, making encumbered trips to a point fifty yards away, unloading his burden, and then heading back and repeating the process. By the time he'd cleared away less than half of the smaller stones, his robes were soaked with sweat and the chill of the air no longer touched him. He was already so tired, and he couldn't stop himself from wishing that it was over. The clarity and reflective state Rigby had alluded to escaped him. Still, through the exhaustion, he tried to keep himself alert for the seduction of demons. He would not be tempted by them.

He made his way back to the pile of stones and selected another about the size of his head, back aching as he hefted it in both arms, legs complaining as he toddled across the courtyard, staggering under its weight. About a third of the way across the courtyard, his fingers gave out. The stone slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor with a crack.

Tuco stood staring at the two broken pieces for a long minute. After all, Rigby hadn't said the stones had to make it to the other side of the courtyard intact. He picked up the larger of the pieces and dashed it to the ground. It cracked in half again. Feeling somewhat pleased with himself, he made three trips across the courtyard, deposited the fragments on the other side, and returned to find another, even larger stone before. This one he hefted up to chest height and flung it away from him. He could only throw it a few feet, but it was enough for the stone to hit the ground with a sharp crack sound and then two pieces separated, their inner sides light-colored and dry compared to the dark, wet stone. Even the largest of the three was far easier to heft and carry across the courtyard.

“Now, that's what I like to see," came a voice, just as Tuco was leaning down to pick up another fragment. He nearly leapt out of his robe. “Working smarter." The voice had traces of a posh accent, and was slow and languid. It seemed to be speaking through great effort, as though each syllable were barely escaping some thick torpor. Tuco straightened in alarm and peered into the corners of the courtyard, searching for the speaker, but could see no one.

“Oh, do not stop on my account," the voice said, and then something moved in the shadows of one far corner. There was a strange noise, like that of many fallen autumn leaves being blown down a path, but filled with a kind of tinny wail.

“Who's there?" Tuco called. He was hot with the effort of his toil and his robes were drenched in sweat, but he pulled them tighter around him all the same.

The thing in the shadows moved again. It lurched into view, and Tuco saw that it was an enormous chair. Not a throne, not fancy, but made of some glassy black stone. In it sprawled a creature with olive green skin. He was thin, frail-looking, and did not even seem able to sit upright. His horned head rested back against the chair, tilted to one side on a weak neck, and one skinny, green arm lay across his stomach. He wore fine, rich clothing of purple and gold, but it lay rumpled around his body like bedclothes. From his breeches extended twig-thin legs, the knees turned in toward each other, the talons on his pale green feet long and curved. One baleful yellow eye rolled in its socket. “I cannot see properly," he murmured. “Bring me closer."

The chair lurched again and now Tuco saw that it was being carried by dozens of tiny, demonic-looking creatures, no two of them alike, some of them like squat, sturdy, potbellied devils, others with long, wiry, winged bodies. Some moved on all fours like beasts, and some scurried on many legs. But all of them struggled under the weight of the heavy-looking chair, and as their tiny feet moved, it made the sound of leaves. They groaned as the chair wobbled from one side to the other, struggling to hold on, to keep up, to keep their balance. One tripped as they moved forward and was trampled by its fellows. Tuco found them difficult not to pity, and decided to move closer to the chair to spare them the journey. The trampled one, an ink-black, winged imp, stared at him as he approached, and got to its feet with an expression of gratitude.

The creature in the chair rolled its eye again, shifting as though its head was too heavy to lift. “Good day to thee, young apprentice," it murmured. “Do not tremble upon meeting me, though I am devil and noble at once. I know thy name to be Tuco, for so it hath been whispered by mine demons. I am Belphegor, Lord of the Abyss. I should offer you my ringéd hand to kiss were the raising of it not so arduous for me these days."

Tuco tried to still the pounding of his heart. “A devil? Like… Belzebub?"

The creature's eyes flickered with interest. “That old scoundrel? Hath that old insect come sniffing around here, too? Well, it surpriseth me not. Of course he would come rooting after power like a sow in search of a truffle. No, child, I shall forgive thee thine ignorance, for thou could know little of the ranks of the Abyss, but I am landed and titled, and Belzebub, well… he lost his. The old boy couldn't control his appetites. Dearest irony, that. Too, he was wanting of a deft touch that--but pay me no heed. Verily none of this politicking could interest a… rustic lad like thine self. To the left, imps. Turn me to the left."

With many squeaking moans and the shuffling of many feet, the tiny creatures beneath the chair managed to swivel until Belphegor was facing Tuco, both yellow eyes focused on him. “Stop." The shuffling stopped, and the chair was lowered to the ground.

“Very good. Now. Tuco. I do not expect thee to have knowledge of my esteemed personage, but I have always been deeply concerned with… the comfort of humanity. How cruel their lives! Slaving away on their little farms, in their smithies, their workshops, their mills and fields and tanneries and kitchens. What meagre, miserable years they muddle through, and how unjust it all is. To have so short and precious a life to begin with, and then to be forced to squander it in service to another, merely for food enough to feed themselves and their children! Where canst justice be found in that? What virtues doth thrive in such toil, when even the beasts of the field must reserve only a few hours a day to sate their appetites? Nay, is it not always in service of the powerful and wealthy--they who demand so much for so little, and yet they who are encumbered by the least need? I may be noble, dear creature, but do not think me blind to the injustices the powerful instigate against their servants."

Understanding broke through Tuco's fear. “You're one of the devils aligned to the Temptation of Ease."

“One of?" A scowl twisted Belphegor's lean gargoyle face. “The devil, Tuco. I am Lord Belphegor, and I prefer not to think of it as a temptation, nor even of ease. No, think thou of me as a bringer of comfort, of self-care. The world is so cruel, so harsh to all of us. When was the last day thou felt free to squander solely on thine self? A thee day? Pull up the covers, sleep until noon, do whatsoever thou wishest for once?"

“My--my life here is easy compared to back home."

The devil's gaze flicked to the enormous pile of stones still to be moved. “A just punishment was it? No, answerest thou not. A boon shall I grant thee, thou most fortunate of creatures."

“I don't need anything, really." Tuco wondered if it would be possible to flee to the hallway. Surely the poor imps carrying it could not move quickly. If he could just get past one of the Gasen…

“No no, I will hear none of it. A gift for thee, Tuco Witchywine, from a Lord of the Abyss. For I know thou consider'st the changes our demons bring to the apprentices here gifts, dost thou not?" Seemingly with a great deal of effort, Belphegor managed to arch one thin eyebrow, before the exertion exhausted him and he let it sag back down again.

“Only I've had so many changes lately, and I'm still adjusting to--"

“Tush. A couple small horns? Some pointed teeth? Oh poor, blighted soul, thou'rt positively brimming with potential. And that is what I give to thee." A weary finger lifted and twirled, and though Tuco could see nothing, he felt strange--bound, in a way, as though an invisible cord had dropped around his waist. For a moment it seemed to pulse and squeeze, and then the sensation was gone.

“There. I grant thee not a temptation, but the gift of ease. Thou scarcely need'st worry about being tempted with what thou possessest already, dost thou?" The devil gazed at him through those yellow eyes for a moment. “One might voice any gratitude one feels at this measure. I recognize thou wert born a poor and common human, but manners still persist in the mortal world, do they not?"

“I… thank you," Tuco said. He was unsure was this was an appropriate response. Surely it was a sin to be grateful to a devil but being ungrateful felt equally wrong, and he'd just as soon not anger the creature.

“Very good, then. Do let me know how thou hast enjoyed it upon my return." A wicked glint lit the devil's eyes for a moment. “I do so enjoy seeing the commoners partake in the benefits of my wealth. Thou may'st now carry me thither."

Tuco blinked, momentarily puzzled. “Carry you away?"

“Not you. Them." One foot faintly kicked at the edge of the chair. “Come on, laggards! Carry me off. We haven't eternity for anyone to sit around mustering the will."

Groaning and complaining, the tiny creatures around the chair hefted it up again, others scurrying underneath to share the burden and slowly they swiveled the lurching chair back into the shadows, disappearing with the sound of rustling leaves and tiny moans.

Tuco stared after them for a while. What on earth had that been about? He waited for something else to happen, then checked himself up and down for changes and found none. If the devil had done anything to him at all, he had no idea what it might be. He'd have to wait until he could get back to the washroom to use the mirror, he supposed. After a little while, when nothing else happened, he shrugged and moved back to the stones he had broken and picked up the larger of the two pieces.

As soon as he lifted it, a strange sensation came over him--for an instant, his whole body stiffened as though with exertion. An odd rush of pleasure settled through him, but then it was gone. He hefted the stone and almost tumbled backward. It weighed practically nothing. He might be holding an apple instead of a rock bigger than both his fists put together. He could feel the pressure of it against his skin, the grain digging into his fingers, but it cost him no effort to hold it up, even at arm's length. Perhaps the devil really had been intending to help him? He carried the rock over to the pile and tossed it in with a casual motion. It might have felt light, but it landed with a loud crack against the stones. As he walked back to retrieve the other piece, he thought he felt more energetic as well. The ache in his back from his day of exertions had vanished, and he no longer walked with a tired slouch.

Curious to explore the boon the devil had given him, he wandered over to the pile of stones and selected a much larger one, this one significantly bigger than his head. He grasped it with both hands, hefted, and again he felt that strange stiffness, as though every muscle in his body were tensing at once, along with a more intense rush of pleasure, one that sent arousal pulsing in his loins. The stone came up in his hands as easily as if it had been made of bread, not solid rock. There was a spring in Tuco's step as he carried it to the other side of the courtyard and dropped it with an echoing crack. Another stone was moved just as easily. At this rate, he would be finished with the task well before sunset. He laughed to himself, thinking of the expression on Rigby's face when he saw the entire job completed.

For a while Tuco busied himself carrying the smaller stones, tirelessly making trips back and forth. He even ran a little as it seemed not to exhaust him. Then he tried a larger stone again, this one more of a boulder, as wide in one part as his chest. For a third time he felt the tensing in his body and the flood of pleasure down his limbs. It seemed to happen each time he chose a stone heavier than the one he'd lifted before. And though the stone proved light, carrying it was awkward. Even though the weight felt insignificant to his arms, he could tell it was extremely heavy. The coarse grains of the rock dug painfully into his fingers, and a sharp protuberance jutted into his ribs. He couldn't find an angle to hold it that didn't pull at his clothing and tug uncomfortably, but still he managed. After dropping it off, he was tugging at his clothing all the way back to the rockpile. Something had shifted, and they didn't seem to fit right; the robes kept bunching up at his arms and pulling across his back. And he realized now that all this walking back and forth had worn him out more than he'd realized. Even though he had boundless energy, his limbs felt heavy, his thighs rubbing against each other.

He just wanted to feel another of those little pleasure surges again, so he found another boulder, a little larger than the previous one, and lifted it in both hands. As he did so, again, he felt the tensing of his body, more intense than each previous time put together, and physical pleasure flowed through his chest and down his back, through his legs and shoulders and arms. But at the same time, his robes cinched around his body as though he was being squeezed. He felt for a moment as though he were trapped in a sausage casing, and then a loud ripping sound came from his back, and he knew his robe had torn somehow. Maybe the weight of the rock had pulled on it?

He dropped the boulder--careful to avoid his toes--and it cracked loudly in half, but he ignored it. Now that he was paying attention, his limbs felt odd. They didn't fit on his body like they used to. His chest seemed to be protruding, rising and falling faster and faster as his breathing quickened. His upper back felt cold, exposed to the wind. Carefully, barely daring to look, he opened his robe. His chest was huge, layered with sinew, as big as a warrior's, and below it, his stomach was lined with hard muscle. The devil had done something to him after all. Extending from his simple white undergarment, his legs were lobed pillars of power, so thick that they pressed together with his normal stance.

A light drizzle began to fall, cold on his bare skin. He slowed his breathing as much as he could, fighting away the panic, and tried to remove his robes. They were caught around his arms, but with what felt like a casual tug, they tore away, baring his upper body to the mountain air. He didn't recognize it. His arms were enormous, looking as thick as his legs had been only an hour ago, wrapped with ropy veins, leading up to huge, round shoulders.

He had seldom if ever seen a body like this on any man. Walstein was immensely strong, but built like a laborer. Blacksmiths had big shoulders and arms, but usually only on one side, and they ate well to support their toil. Even warriors trained their bodies for speed more than size. Old statues looked like this, pagan sculpture of heroes and demigods.

“Oh no," he whispered, trying to control his breathing. Okay. Okay. He'd been changed by the demons before and it hadn't been bad. So what if this body was a little stronger? That was just a gift, right? And Belzebub's changes had mostly left Tuco after he had defeated him. He assumed this would go away, too. Not that he minded looking like a legendary hero. And he didn't particularly relish the idea of trying to consume another devil, if he were even capable of it now. He took a few deep, slow breaths. He could see his broad chest rising and falling in his lower vision. The chill in the air didn't seem to affect him as much as it had when he was smaller.

What to do now? He looked around, but the devil was long gone. No way to call him back that Tuco knew of. No way to defeat him. Nothing here but the courtyard, the stones, and the rain. And a task he still needed to complete. With no better options, Tuco decided to carry all the other, smaller stones to the other side and complete that part of the job at least. It several hours, during which he struggled to adapt to the shape and movement of his new body. His thighs rubbed together uncomfortably when he walked, and he had to start stepping around them to keep from chafing. His shoulders insisted on swaying in a wide swagger, and his sides had wide flares of muscle that pushed his heavy arms upward. What would it be like if he had to be like this forever? Perhaps, he thought… perhaps if he just did nothing for a very long time, the muscle would go away on its own.

Then there were no more smaller rocks remaining, and only five boulders of dramatically increasing size. None of them looked like they had ever been moved, encrusted with lichen and moss. He eyed them uneasily. Each time he'd carried a larger boulder, it had made him grow. Would these do so again? How big would he get? How big could he get? His new size and strength was thrilling, but also a little uncomfortable. He sidled over to the next size boulder, staring down at it. Was it much heavier than the previous one? It looked significantly bigger.

You could just not move them. You've done enough today, haven't you? You've already moved more than any other apprentice ever has, and this penance was not just. You've accomplished more than any reasonable person could expect. The thought rose unbidden in Tuco's mind. But was it his thought? Or a demon's? Perhaps even Belphegor, whispering his temptations. For was that not what it was, the Temptation of Ease? It would be the safer and easier path not to complete his penance. Rigby would show up and see that he had moved the majority of the stones, and he could go back to the dormitory in safety.

But that would be giving in to temptation, and worse, he'd given Rigby his word--he'd promised--that he would try his best to complete the task. Damage your word and you damaged your name, your reputation. And Tuco's reputation was bad enough already. Sighing, he squatted down and hefted the stone.

Every muscle in his body tensed at the same time and then, before his eyes and with a rush of overwhelming pleasure, they grew. The pleasure began in his lower legs, his calves, and he felt pulses of clenching and growth as they swelled. His thighs pressed into each other as they ballooned in size, though he could not easily see beneath the stone he held. He had to step several times to move them apart enough. And then the pleasure made his backside tense; he could feel it swelling outward behind him. His stomach clenched on its own, lines forming down the middle as sinew like he'd never seen rose to the surface, feeling iron-hard, splitting his once-flat belly into segments. Then his chest rose, hiding the new muscle of his stomach, the two sides expanding like rising loaves of bread, forming a valley between them and then closing that valley to a crack as they expanded, over-stuffed, individual cords of muscle developing and then thickening, bowing out and pushing his nipples downward. Above it, his shoulders expanded, pushing out, the globes separating into three distinct crescents of power. It flowed into his back, and he felt his weight behind him increase as it thickened, counterbalancing the heaviness of his chest and the stone he was holding. The pleasure of growth spread into the muscles that framed his back, behind his arms, pushing them up and out. The pleasure flowed downward into his arms, and his flat biceps swelled, forming a curve, and then that curve swelled thicker, into an arch, and then solid globes of muscle, bigger than apples, big enough to fill his palm, and were matched as the muscles on the opposite side swelled even thicker, clutching the backs of his arms like fat horseshoes. The ivy-like veins crawling across the muscle--veins he had never seen before--pulsed and grew nearly as thick as his little fingers. Below his biceps, his forearms swelled out round, widening all the way down to his wrists. His neck thickened, sinew tightening against the back of his head and shoulders, and arches of muscle rose up behind it, making it feel crowded, and then it was over, and he stood panting in the rain.

It had been more intense this time, taken longer. Perhaps because this stone had been so much heavier, or perhaps only because he'd been so focused this time on what was happening. The pleasure and the sense of growth had left him achingly, intensely erect; his tip pressed out awkwardly into his rain-soaked undergarment and up into the surface of the stone he carried. He tried to ignore it and took the stone to the opposite side of the courtyard, where he set it down.

He wished he had a mirror. He couldn't see a lot of his body, but if before he'd looked like a hero, now his development was more like that of one of the pagan gods, Apulu or Dyeus. He was shorter than any of those legends, surely, but built like a hero. He looked at the four remaining stones and wondered what he would look like soon. He was hot with the effort of carrying the stones and his changes, and the muscle seemed to insulate him against the rain. Steam rose from his skin in the cold air.

A clatter came from across the courtyard and he turned to see Etreon standing there, eyes wide. At his feet lay a wooden plate, a serving of bread and meat and cheese half-spilled onto the stones. “T-Tuco?" he stammered. He was a brilliant caerulean color today, his skin shining even though he stood sheltered from the rain.

“Etreon!" Tuco headed toward him and then stumbled as his thick thighs crashed into each other.

“I--I brought you lunch. What happened to you? A demon?"

Tuco's skin heated against the cool rain. “Not exactly, but… I've been changed. At least for now." He looked down at his unfamiliar body. “Sorry I'm not dressed. My clothes… tore."

Etreon took a deep breath. “I can see why." He stepped out into the rain, the water matting his hair, which had turned a brilliant shock yellow. “You're… amazing."

“You like this?" Tuco spread his arms in surprise. He thought he looked odd, unusual, but now he saw the rise in Etreon's tunic.

The apprentice flushed a deeper blue. “I have always been drawn to strong men. No one had to take me to see Elf when I first came here. When I was young, my father took me to the Saturnalia in Lutetia and there were performers there, dressed in barbarian leathers and performing feats of strength." He ran his blue fingers through his golden hair. “Always I wondered what it would be like to feel those arms around me, feel their power. And--and now you look like them. It surprised me, is all."

He came close and laid slender caerulean fingers on Tuco's chest, breathing in sharply. “It's firm. You carried all those stones?" Etreon's skin, on his fingers and hand, was warm in the rain, and oddly slippery, as though coated with butter. His last morning's change had left his flesh covered with very tiny, painful barbs, so this was an improvement over yesterday.

“Yes. Every time I pick up a heavier stone, I grow a little larger so that I can hold it."

“Oh gods." Etreon hunched over a little. “You don't know what that does to me." His eyes flicked toward the remaining boulders. “Uh… do you think I could… uh… see?" The blue color in his cheeks darkened nearly to indigo.

Tuco shrugged and felt the thick muscle bunching up behind his neck, followed by the fall of his broader, heavier shoulders. “I still have four more stones to move."

The blue apprentice gazed at them and then back at Tuco with something like hunger in his eyes. His hand slid down the shelf of Tuco's chest and then fingers brushed the muscles below, finding the lines of his abdomen and tracing them. He shivered. “These are amazing. Um. Sorry. Yes, please? I would love to see."

“All right, I can't see how it could hurt." Tuco was still greatly embarrassed at all the attention. He'd been naked in front of most of the apprentices after his visit with Elf, but this felt different, somehow. More intimate and vulnerable. Still, Etreon's excitement was contagious. Tuco felt strange and not entirely comfortable in his new body, but it clearly had quite an effect on Etreon, and despite himself he found his erection rising again.

He lifted the next stone and braced for the next round of growth. It came swiftly, his entire body tensing, and then the feeling, the pleasure like arousal moving through every part of him. His thighs pressed more firmly into each other, his backside filled out against his undergarment, which was now soaked with rain. He felt his waist thicken with sinew, his back swell out even more, shoving his arms forward even as the muscle in them inflated larger and larger. His chest rose toward his chin, pushing out rounder, the cleft between the two muscles deepening, his nipples pushing out of view as new brawn mounded above them.

Etreon was on his knees, his mouth open, one hand reaching toward Tuco. Tuco flashed him a grin and carried the stone easily to the other side of the courtyard--easily, that is, except for managing his new gait: the jostle of his thighs together, the more dramatic sway of his shoulders. He tossed the stone to the courtyard and jogged back to Etreon. The weight of his muscles bounced heavily on his frame, his chest especially jouncing up and down.

Etreon struggled to his feet and leaned against Tuco, and there was no way he could miss the prod of Tuco's hard cock against his hip. “That was the most arousing thing I have ever seen," he breathed, and then he groaned and leaned down to plant hungry kisses across Tuco's chest. His morning change had made even his pale blue lips slippery to the touch. “There are still three more. I want to feel you the next time. I want to feel you grow under my fingers."

“You like it?" Tuco asked, delighted.

“Look at you. You're like the statues of pagan gods. Not many men ever look like you, Tuco. The greatest of athletes, maybe."

“So it doesn't look strange or wrong?"

“Not to me. No. No, you look powerful. Beautiful. Only…"

“Only?"

“Only have you ever seen the statue of Alkeides?"

Tuco searched his memory, but couldn't remember any such person. “No, who is that?"

“A great hero from Athenai. The strongest man ever to have lived, in all the legends." Etreon was talking fast now, as he tended to when he was excited. “A paragon of masculinity. He had twelve trials from the gods that he had to complete before he was allowed to come home. And he performed them all, and then he became a god! There was a statue of him in the old ruins in my hometown. The biggest, most powerful, most muscular man you've ever seen."

“And bigger than me?"

Etreon nodded with another flush. “For now. I used to fantasize about him, coming to town, putting his arms around me, lifting me up like I weighed nothing. Telling me that a god had chosen me, and then tearing off my--" His eyes widened as if he realized what he was saying. “I never thought I'd actually see anyone like that. Get to… to touch. But maybe if you lifted one more stone…"

“All right." Tuco grinned at the thrilled expression on Etreon's face. And this had to be all right, didn't it? It wasn't tempting the apprentice, it wasn't using his powers for anything. He'd already decided that he was honor-bound to move all the stones, even if it caused him further changes. What harm in letting a friend enjoy the process? “Come over here."

Etreon followed him like a puppy, making a soft, excited giggle. His bare soles slid on the stones of the courtyard and he nearly fell. “I can't even wear shoes when my skin turns slick like this," he grumbled. He continued in a kind of skating motion, kicking out his feet to either side and sliding to a stop near Tuco.

“All right, it started in my calves last time, I think."

“They're amazing already." Etreon crouched next to him and slid his fingers over Tuco's lower legs, feeling the muscle. His hands glided over Tuco's skin as though oiled, but they left no trace behind. “I don't think even the strongmen performers had such legs."

“Are you ready?" Tuco asked. Lord Almighty, I am, he thought. He didn't know how he felt about ending up even larger than he was already, but Etreon's eagerness had arousal pumping through his veins, and just now all he wanted to do was to make the boy moan again.

“Wait, no," Etreon said. “How can I… how can I see all of you grow if you're wearing those?" He hooked one finger around the waist of Tuco's undergarment and tugged.

“I can't be naked out here!" Tuco protested. “What if one of the Brothers should come?"

“They've all seen naked apprentices before. We fuck everywhere, you know. Besides, with the rain soaking you like this, you're practically naked anyway. You might as well let me see."

Tuco leaned down to peer over his chest and realized to his chagrin that it was so; the thin material of the undergarment was rainslicked and stuck to his skin, nearly transparent. There was no hiding the pink of his erection nor the outlines of his body beneath the flimsy fabric. “I--I suppose you're right," he said reluctantly, and started to pull the shorts down.

“Wait--wait, let me," Etreon said, and stared up at him with pleading eyes. He nodded, and with a gasp of delight, Etreon pulled the loose cord tying them free and unhooked the shorts from where they clung above Tuco's jutting prong. He leaned forward as if to kiss, but then shuddered and seemed to get control of himself, working the shorts down around Tuco's newly-round thighs to his ankles. He stared up at Tuco, over the erection, up the new lines of his stomach, over the swell of his chest. His eyes were deep blue and hungry.

Tuco stepped out of the sodden clothes. “Are you ready now?" When Etreon nodded, he crouched down and hefted the third stone.

“Oh God," Etreon breathed as the tenseness moved through Tuco's body, tightening his calves to solidity under those blue fingers. And then the pleasure--but with Etreon there, feeling the changes, feeling him grow, it felt to Tuco as though the pleasure came from Etreon himself, as though his friend was coaxing the size out of him, urging him to grow bigger. Again, his calves were first to respond. Slippery, warm fingers encircled one of the split-diamond muscles, and then, as Tuco felt them begin to swell, and push those fingers apart, he heard a low, shuddering gasp from Etreon, and the word, “More…"

He lifted the stone over his head and looked down as Etreon, eyes wide, slid hands up his leg and then wrapped both slick arms around one of Tuco's thighs, hugging it as the pulses of growth thrummed through it, pushing his arms inexorably apart. “Hamstrings," Etreon murmured, sliding his hands down the back of Tuco's thighs. “I learned all the muscles because I love them. Quadriceps. Four heads, see? One, two, three, four." And with each number, he planted a kiss on a different part of Tuco's thigh, and with each kiss, Tuco grew beneath those pale lips, his thighs barreling out into bulging pillars of muscle.

Etreon groaned in delight and slid his hands upward to grip at Tuco's rump. “Gluteus." His fingers slid deftly into the cleft there, aided by their supernatural slickness, and then he tried to pull those globes apart, but could not begin to manage it. The erotic pleasure followed his touch there, and Tuco felt his backside expand in Etreon's hands, more than filling them, spreading his fingers apart, and as they did, Etreon's kiss transformed into a lick, his tongue sliding adoringly up Tuco's thigh, deliciously close to his sac, to his cock, but not touching it.

And his tongue drew the pleasure upward and into Tuco's stomach. “Abdominals," Etreon said. “Every man's looks different, if you can see them. Most people eat well enough you can't tell. But you, oh… oh God." He licked upward again, and Tuco felt the muscles there tense and ripple. “Yours just… changed. I can see more of them now. That shouldn't…" He fell into silence because his mouth was too busy planting kisses across Tuco's stomach--ten of them, from low to high, and with each, Tuco's stomach pulsed with new strength.

“Your back, I can't miss your back." Etreon slid around behind Tuco, still trailing one arm around his waist, and then his touch pulled the pleasure into the small of Tuco's back as he drew his hands upward. “Erectors," he purred, as new strength flooded into Tuco's lower back. But the growth was still moving. Each period of growth seemed slower and more methodical than the previous. Was it slowing down, or was Tuco just more aware of it? Or was it, perhaps, actually responding to Etreon's touch? The apprentice slid his hands outward to cup the sides of Tuco's back, the annoying muscles that flared out wide and pushed against his arms, preventing them from hanging naturally at his sides, and now these swelled even wider under Etreon's touch. He gripped and squeezed, but his fingers only splayed under inflating sinew. He moaned and Tuco felt a little extra warm slipperiness against his rump. “L-latissimus dorsi," Etreon managed. “Lats. And--" His hands moved across Tuco's back. “Rhomboids. Trapezius." Those last were the muscles arching up behind Tuco's neck, and Tuco felt them thicken, pulling his shoulders up and back and crowding his neck for space.

He was still holding the stone up and over his head when Etreon reappeared in front of him, and it occurred to him that maybe this was not the wisest thing to do. Might not holding something for an extended time require more strength and prompt even more growth? Either way, he couldn't put it down now because Etreon was right up in front of him, tunic-clad erection knocking eagerly against his own as he slid his slick hands across Tuco's chest and pulled expansion out of it. “Pectorals," he groaned, and Tuco's chest thickened dramatically, swelling out into enormous, square slabs of muscle so huge they made Etreon stumble backward. He moaned again and kissed across the still-swelling plains of muscle, dipping partly out of view as he found a nipple and kissed and nipped it.

Tuco was so filled with arousal now he thought he might explode, but the growth wasn't finished with him. It chased Etreon's touch up into his shoulders, the three lobes thickening and swelling outward, widening Tuco's whole body.

“Lower the stone, lower the stone," Etreon urged, stepping back, and when Tuco set it down, Etreon grasped an upper arm with both hands, and together they watched as the muscles there expanded. Tuco's biceps grew outward and up, pushing Etreon's grip open, the triceps following, until his upper arm looked impossible, bigger around than his thigh had once been. His forearms followed in kind, bulging outward until the muscle of lower arm met upper arm.

Even Tuco's neck felt like it was growing thicker for a moment, and then he was done. He stood there in the rain, massive, naked, and horned. Steam rose from his titanic form. Etreon staggered back to take in the sight of him.

“Well?" Tuco said. “Am I a proper Alkeides now?"

Etreon gazed at him with his mouth open. “You're bigger," he said. “Not tall like him, perhaps, but surely more powerful. Tuco, I think you may be the strongest man who ever lived."

Tuco knew this could not be entirely true--there were Changed apprentices in the abbey who were proper giants, but to hear that he was now stronger-looking than any hero of legend was dizzying. He rubbed at his head in amazement and felt the press of his biceps against his forearm as he did, restricting his movement. In a mixture of exhilaration and worry, he tried to touch his shoulder with the same arm and found that he could not; his arm was too crowded for space. Even reaching his own neck was slightly difficult, and he wondered with a growing sense of concern how he would wash properly or scratch an itch.

But all those concerns were dismissed by the sight of Etreon shucking away his own clothes. The apprentice was deep blue all over, paler on his cock and his nipples, the hair of his bush and legs a brilliant yellow. He was lean and lithe, with little muscle, and though he was taller than Tuco by several inches, by now he looked much, much smaller. “What are you doing?" Tuco asked, though he knew the answer.

“Fuck me?" Etreon asked. “Please? I'll beg you if you want me to."

Good. Yes. Beg me. Worship me.

Tuco frowned--where had that thought come from? Excitement, perhaps. An errant thrill at the new power in his limbs. “Yes, let's fuck," he agreed, before Etreon could mistake his frown. He strode over to the next-to-largest stone, half-stumbling over his own over-large thighs, which bumped together and threatened to crush his sac between them.

Etreon actually did fall, slipping on the courtyard stones and then sliding across them, froglike, toward Tuco. The grit of the ground didn't stick to his impossibly smooth skin, and even the rain beaded on it or bounced off, never leaving it wet. He sat cross-legged near the large stone, slowly inching sideways as his skin failed to keep traction on the ground. He blushed a brilliant blue. “It's hard to stay still." He looked up at Tuco with wonder-filled eyes. “I still can't believe it. I can't believe you're here. All my life I've wanted an Alkeides. Are you a demon answering my desires?"

Tuco faltered, truly unsure of the answer to that question. “Well, I'm not changing you, am I?"

Etreon leaned back, letting the raindrops bounce off of his lean chest and taut caerulean stomach. “I don't know," he breathed. “I think you might be. I feel like I could serve at your feet. Worship you. Do whatever you commanded."

A little flame of fierce triumph kindled in Tuco's chest at that. He pushed it down. Not a demon. Not a demigod. But playing could be fun.

Etreon's gaze was fixed on Tuco's chest, on the slow but titanic rise and fall of his breaths, on the wisps of steam rising off of it in the rain. “How do you want me, Alkeides? My mouth? My arse?"

Tuco shivered in excitement, his cock straining toward the sky, the heat of his preseed beading at the tip before being washed away by the rain. “I want you to feel my chest grow while I fill that arse."

Etreon bucked a little at those words and for a moment Tuco thought he was going to spill his seed right there, but instead he crawled over and lay supine before the stone, lifting his yellow-haired legs slightly, blue toes pointing toward the sky. “I'm ready, hero. Will you… will you be able to lift the stone at the same time?"

“I will." Tuco crouched before Etreon, marveling at the girth of his own pale-skinned thighs, the muscle pushing out above his knees. His calves pressed into the backs of his thighs, preventing him from kneeling as easily as he had been able to before. He gripped one smooth blue ankle in one hand, eliciting an excited whimper from Etreon, and hefted the apprentice's weight easily, lifting the blue-skinned rump to the air. Fine, bright yellow hairs furred Etreon's cleft, his pucker a pale blue.

For a moment, Tuco worried about lubrication, but then realized that this was a ridiculous concern; with his free hand, he positioned his aching, needy tip against that pale blue center and then pushed forward. He slipped in past the smooth skin so easily it felt that Etreon had been made for this; there was almost no resistance, and with the slightest of pushes, he was buried to the hilt in his friend's rump. Etreon's deep blue eyes went wide, his mouth opening in a gasp.

Tuco rocked several times into him, still holding onto one ankle, Etreon's inner heat enveloping and slick and inviting compared to the cool air and the rain. “Can you… are you going to be able to lift the stone while you're doing me? Only I think I might slip off of you."

After considering for a moment, Tuco put one hand behind Etreon's back and lifted him. He marveled--his friend seemed to weigh nothing at all, and Etreon made a giddy yelp at being manhandled. Tuco raised him until he was pressed against his chest, Etreon's shaft a hard, hot jut against his stomach. His face, too, was pressed firmly into Tuco's chest, but he didn't seem to mind, as Tuco felt the wet heat of his tongue sliding up between his pectorals.

“There," Tuco said. “Can you put your arms around my neck?" He gave his shaft a little flex as he asked, still firmly lodged in Etreon's rump.

Etreon whimpered again, and said, “Yes, I think so," his voice muffled by Tuco's chest. He struggled to reach around the huge shelf of muscle, but managed, lacing his fingers behind Tuco's neck.

“Hold on." Tuco barely felt his friend's weight on him as he scooted forward and took the stone in both hands, then lifted it at arm's length and hefted it upward, over his head. The tension struck his body at once, making every muscle tighten intensely. His arms flexed so hard he felt like he might break the stone in half, and this time the pleasure hit his entire body at at the same time. He felt it pulse through, and then his body pulse in response. He pushed the stone away from him so he wouldn't hurt Etreon with it and it cracked on the courtyard. And once again he began growing.

His knees scraped against the stones as his thighs pushed further apart. He rose as his glutes and hamstrings pressed against his calves, lifting him higher and higher. He felt his back thickening with layer after layer of new muscle, pushing his shoulders forward, tilting his neck down. He knew without looking, without being told, that he was already far larger and thicker than any man had ever been meant to be, that he had swelled beyond the range of what was human, and still he was growing. He felt his abdominals pulse and flex, pushing out against Etreon's cock, and the apprentice yelped at the sensation and bucked against him. Hot splashes spattered Tuco's stomach, and still he grew. His chest widened more and more, along with his shoulders, pushing back against Etreon until he could no longer keep his grip around Tuco's neck, shoved away by the thickness of Tuco's pectorals.

Etreon fell backward, catching himself on his hands, his heels still hooked behind Tuco's thighs, his back arching as his thin blue cock jerked toward the sky, sending white pearls of come arcing into the air before they splashed down onto his caerulean skin.

And still Tuco grew. He held his arms out before him, watching in astonishment as they thickened wider than Etreon's waist, the veins twining over them pulsing larger. Forearms met biceps, biceps met shoulders, and shoulders were shifted forward and upward by growing chest and traps.

As Etreon moaned, his slick, slender rump squeezed around Tuco's shaft. All the pleasure seemed to focus there, and then Tuco himself accelerated over the edge of his climax. His first thrust of ecstasy bucked the slippery-skinned apprentice right off his shaft, sending him sliding across the courtyard, and then Tuco was lancing into the open air, sending his spatters of seed arcing with surprising distance after him. He pelted the sliding Etreon with drops of his own seed, each spasm more forceful and launching further than the previous…

...and then he was panting, resting on hands and knees as his cock twitched dryly beneath him.

He slowly got to his feet, feeling the new weight of his body, the way the muscles tugged at his bones, the dig of the coarse stone into the skin of his feet, the gravity settling into every joint. His arms wouldn't hang freely. His neck bulged and resisted when he turned his head. Slowly, he walked over to Etreon who lay staring wide-eyed upward. His chin pressed into his chest when he looked down. Etreon stared up at him and his narrow hips bucked a couple times as though trying to expel any leftover climax.

Tuco leaned down, feeling off-balance, and offered his hand. Etreon took it, but his slippery fingers slid free, so Tuco gripped him around the wrist and hoisted him upright. “You all right?"

Etreon skated several steps backward, his eyes wide. “God blind me," he swore. “You must weigh twenty stone now, at least."

Tuco rubbed at his head dizzily. Biceps pressed hard against forearm. “That's--that's impossible."

“You're so much bigger than Alkeides now. You could break him." He licked his pale blue lips, and his lingering erection pulsed. “I think you might be too big now."

A pang of worry shot through Tuco. “For you?"

Etreon shook his head. “Not for me. Never for me. But… to be human." His gaze darted eagerly toward the last remaining boulder. “Are you going to lift that one?"

Tuco turned to look at it and had to step wide to roll thighs bigger than his waist around each other. He heard a sharp inhalation from Etreon as he revealed his back and rump. “I… I don't think I should. I think I might get too big. I feel strange. My body feels cramped. Overstuffed."

“Are you sure you won't?" Disappointment tinged Etreon's voice. “I would love to see how big you would get."

Tuco considered it. He'd have to move that last stone. Belphegor had given him the gift to help him complete the task, and if he didn't finish, then there was no way the devil would come back and remove his dubious gift. Plus, he'd made the promise to Rigby. But he didn't want Etreon around when a full-blown Lord of the Abyss entered the courtyard. What if he cursed Etreon, too? Even if not, would Etreon report what he had seen to the other Brothers? It was too great a risk.

“I think I'd better jussst wait for Rigby," he said. He hadn't even realized it was going to be a lie until he heard his tongue sizzle the air. And when it did, he tasted Etreon's raging lust. Even after climax, his friend wanted more--not just to sate his own arousal, but to feel small next to someone else--overwhelmed, but safe. Belonging. There were so many temptations for him, and Tuco couldn't risk Etreon being tempted and being changed, not just by the devil, but by any one of the demons in the walls or even, heaven forfend, by Tuco himself. “You go on ahead. I'll find you later."

“All right." Etreon's shoulders slumped, but he found his sodden pile of clothing and pulled it back on. “But I'll be looking for you later, my Alkeides. I'm so happy to have been here for this. And for however often you want me."

Tuco didn't have the heart to tell him that if everything went well, he'd be back to his old size soon enough. “I'll find you later."

Only after Etreon had disappeared into the Abbey did Tuco notice his own torn rags lying there and think to call after him, “And could you bring me some clothes?" He doubted the apprentice had heard him, though.

His stomach growled. He wandered over and found the dropped plate of food. Fortunately, it had not fallen into the rain. Tuco squatted and scooped up the spilled food onto the tray. His arms looked bestial: bulging pillars of strength, and his chest filled the lower part of his vision. He sat on a stone bench and ate slowly, washing off all but the bread in the rain. The food didn't seem nearly enough for him, and he wished he'd had three times as much, which prompted uncomfortable reminders of his night of gluttony with Belzebub.

He stared across the courtyard at the final remaining stone. It looked more like a broken pillar than a boulder, and was nearly the size of Tuco's torso--the size his torso had once been, he reminded himself. It was significantly larger than the last boulder, and surely much, much heavier. If he lifted it, he'd grow again, and perhaps this time he would grow so enormous as to become utterly inhuman, a monster of muscle. His arms already stuck out at an angle, and try as he might, he could reach no part of his back. He could barely touch his own neck. Another intense bout of growth might leave him immobile, unable to walk or stand with his legs together, unable to bend his arms. Surely that was what Belphegor intended. That was what he planned, to have Tuco helpless when he showed up again. And then he'd… do whatever else he wanted. Drag Tuco down to the Abyss, eat his soul, whatever.

Tuco didn't know how he would defeat the devil. He could perhaps eat him as he had Belzebub, but that idea did not appeal to him. If he could just get his hands on Belphegor, he could probably squeeze the devil into nothing. After all, he would have strength enough to make any physical task easy. That would be the tack he'd take. But he couldn't do that if he was immobile when the devil returned.

He didn't have to lift the stone, he realized. It was long and cylindrical, and the courtyard was mostly flat. He wandered over to it, stumbling a little around his thighs, feeling the weight of his body on his feet and knees--twenty stone? More?--and crouched in front of the stone. His thighs pressed hard against the slabs of his pectorals. He put his hands against the side of the stone, braced his feet, and pushed.

The stone did not move easily. Even just rolling it took more strength than his enlarged body could handle, and he felt again the tension flood through him, the wash of pleasure. He felt his thighs push his chest higher, his chest push back as it thickened and spread in his vision. The mounds of his traps nudged more firmly against his neck. And his arms barreled out, no longer remotely human, each far bigger around than his legs had once been, tightening into mountain ranges of power. And then the stone moved, rolling forward slowly and then accelerating, almost bouncing across the courtyard. Tuco grunted as he fell onto his chest, and by the time he got up, the stone had rolled a good twenty feet away, wobbling at one end.

When he got to his feet, he could feel that he had once again grown significantly larger. But he was still mobile, still able to bend arms and legs and look around. He waddled over to the final stone and found that pushing it the remainder of the way was a trivial task, complicated only by the stone's irregular shape that made it roll more to the right than straight-forward, so he kept having to adjust it. But finally it was on the opposite end of the courtyard.

The rain had let up, and he stood in the open air and took a deep breath, watching his upper body lift like the rising of a great beast. Then he made his way to the far corner where Belphegor had appeared before and waited. When the devil appeared, he thought, there would be a moment in which he would expect to find Tuco standing frozen, unable to move due to his own oversized body. That would take him by surprise, and Tuco would have a moment to snatch him and wring the life out of him.

He didn't like the idea of killing another creature, even a devil from the Abyss who intended him evil, but he couldn't think of another way. What happened to devils when they perished, he wondered? Did they go back to the Abyss, or did they simply cease to exist? What had happened to Sathanus and Belzebub?

Still no Belphegor. He studied the shadowy corners of the courtyard. Nothing.

“Hello?" he called. “I finished the task! I've used your gift like you said. Where are you?"

Nothing.

He sat on a bench and waited. Time passed. The sun dipped toward the horizon. Slowly, the shadows in the courtyard deepened, and the enchanted torches lighted themselves. Still nothing.

The devil was not coming.

The curse was not lifted.