He narrowly avoided hitting the shoe cupboard with his hip, but the open doorway was what ended up confusing him, because he almost hit his head. Again. He knew this house by heart. He’d grown up here, yet everything seemed different now that he was so much taller and broader in the shoulders. It was as if he’d walked in wearing a muscle suit and with two ladders attached to his legs, but those pancakes? They were familiar despite looking so small from high up.
The chicken salad sandwiches lay forgotten in the dirty truck as he packed cream, sauce, and fruit between two pancakes and ate them that way before chugging milk straight from the bottle. He wished he could have tried them with peanut butter, but because of his allergy, Mom and Dad didn’t keep any in the house.
He repeated the process with different pancake-sandwich fillings three times before he was full and sat in the barstool, patting his belly with a blissful smile. His happiness didn’t last long though.
Someone was speaking upstairs!
Right.
Gunner.
Who on earth could he be talking to? Judging by the three plates still on the counter, the wolf in sheep’s skin had sat with his parents at breakfast, and Caspian cringed at the thought of how that conversation might have gone.
But it didn’t matter. He was here to find out what had happened and put an end to this bastard’s stay in his home.
The carpet dulled the sound of his steps on the stairs, but he didn’t waste a second and headed straight for the end of the corridor in the second floor. Whoever was in Caspian’s bedroom with Gunner would fly out of here faster than he could apologize for invading someone else’s home!
Caspian pressed on the handle and entered his bedroom, but where he’d expected to find Gunner with a crony of his, already counting money from the things they’d collected since Mom and Dad had left, he saw his own naked form.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
Gunner was holding Twinkie, Caspian’s favorite sex toy.
Caspian screamed.
The big blue eyes widened, narrow shoulders stiffened and Gunner dropped Twinkie with a shrill cry.
“W-what are you doing?” Caspian uttered through his choking throat. His gaze settled on the slab of silicone and then wandered up the slim legs, the lean torso, all the way to Gunner’s horrified expression.
Gunner’s expression. On his face.
Caspian could hardly stand this mindfuck.
Gunner wouldn’t take his eyes off Caspian even as he grabbed a blanket. “I… I… What is that?!” he demanded, holding the checkered fabric in front of himself with one hand and pointing to Twinkie with the other. “I sure as hell wasn’t fucking it!”
Fire burned in Caspian’s massive form, and he slammed the door shut, approaching the tiny man, who was both him and not him at the same time. “None of your damn business! Who told you to rummage through my stuff, Russo, huh?” he roared and pushed at his chest. There was no resistance to his force, and Gunner dropped on the bed, clutching the blanket to his chest.
So this was how easy he’d been to overpower. He both resented knowing it and revelled in his newfound force. Yesterday at the gym, he’d been so furious, so angry, yet so very helpless and meek. Or so he’d thought, because it seemed he was only now realizing what true anger meant. His whole body buzzed as if he were a human tuning fork, and Gunner—the object hitting it with his sole existence. An unstoppable force raged in him with glee when he noticed the wide-eyed look of fear. Like a shark sensing blood in the water, he followed.
“I didn’t! How did you do this? And that thing has balls by the way! Are you gay, Casper?” Gunner asked with a mean twist to his lips, but his hitched breath and the pitch of his voice told Caspian everything. Gunner could at best be an angry Chihuahua while Caspian had turned into a wolf.
He loved it.
“Why? You afraid of gay cooties, Russo?” he asked with a wide grin and grabbed the slender ankle, pulling Gunner off the bed with a single tug.
It was easy to feel unstoppable being this tall and strong. To a man like Gunner, other people didn’t matter. He didn’t have to take their opinions into account, because if someone confronted him, he could beat them into a pulp. Gunner probably bench pressed more than Caspian weighed.
“Who’s got a small cock now, huh?” he asked, ripping the blanket off Gunner’s naked body.
Understanding flashed through Gunner’s eyes, and he covered his crotch in panic. “I didn’t say that!” he yelped. Was this pathetic squeak really how Caspian sounded?
Either way, the sad excuse of wasn’t-me wouldn’t help Gunner after the torment he’d put Caspian through back in high school.