Fool's Errand

 

 

Heath, sat in his living room watching his son, Ronald, chug down some hard liquor. Tyson, Heath's best friend, sat across from the man, an awkward smile on his face. It had been quite for a while. Heath had just returned home from a business trip and was sinking into his cushion

"Tyson, when I said give him the bottle, I meant the baby bottle. Why would you give him...ugh." He slammed his face into his hands, "You know alcoholism runs in my family. We process it differently!"

Tyson scratched his head, "Well, I had to run out for a while and, He seemed to like the bottle I gave him just fine."

"'Run out?' You mean a girl was calling you." Heath sighed.

"Hey, I didn't say that, for all you know it was a really important errand."

"Was it?"

"...look, on the bright side, he's holding that thing with one arm. I swear every bit he drinks adds like 10 pounds."

Both stared as Ronald's pecs pushed out more, meatier, and his abs carved themselves thicker. His arms and biceps were large enough to lift the glass bottle like a 5lbs. weight. Every swallow his neck bulked as his jaw got squarer, like a solid block of granite.

Heath had certainly been confused when he was on the way home and his mom started asking about his younger brother. But it wasn't until he got home saw, his redecorated house with Roland and Tyson fighting over a bottle that he pieced it together. Tyson had one job. One fucking job, but couldn't do it cause he need his dick wet. Meanwhile, Ronald was activating genes passed down from his great grandfather, metabolizing the alcohol the minute it was introduced to his system.

With amazing ease, Ronald threw the empty bottle, smashing it against the wall. "Wooo!" Was all he said be fore a crude belch erupted from his lips and a hand scratched over his abs, "Bro, what else do you have to drink, this shit is getting real weak?" He hopped onto his socked feet wandering away.

Heath sighed not knowing where, most of the furniture in his house had gone. Ronald's nursery was a young man's pigstye. All the blue pastels and white were traded for dark grays and blacks. An endless collection of shirts and shoes, a computer with twitch permanently open at a desk and, and an unmade bed, not recently slept in, FUCKED in. THe rest of the house had morphed form single father's respite into a bachelor pad.

Oh Tyson was going to be paying back every piece of furniture, Heath was missing.

"You bro you look, awful." Ronald said wandering back in from the kitchen. "Have a drink, on me." He presented the next bottle his stud;y fingers had got a hold on.

"Oh, what the hell, I NEED a drink," Heath rolled his eyes snatching the bottle and taking a swig. He thrusted it back into Roland's chest with more force than he meant. Heath's body was quaking as the alcohol ran through his bloodstream and his veins rose. His body pulsed bigger, pecs spilling over, in his shirt, pants ripping in a similar fashion. It was like two of him had been stuffed into his favorite arm chair, his new wider muscled ass weighing heavier. His feet tore out of his shoes and slammed on the ground. Heavy stubble grew in around his jaw wiping away the smoothness of his face.

He gave one look at Tyson. "I hope you know, you're paying for my clothes as well."