Cesar likes this power

Cesar pulls away from her, the air hitting his skin as he stands tall. He takes a moment, staring into the mirror, admiring the sheer scale of his new physique—the broad, boulder-like shoulders, the thick, vascular arms, and the raw power radiating from his chest. He looks like a different man, a predator carved from granite.

He glances down at Kira. She is a heap of soft, oversized curves on the tiled floor, her chest still heaving in shallow, rhythmic breaths, her eyes vacant and glazed over in a total state of bliss. She doesn't even move as he steps over her, leaving her abandoned in the wreckage of her own pleasure.

He zips up with a smirk, the fabric of his clothes feeling tight and restrictive against his new mass. He pushes open the bathroom door and steps back into the party.

The atmosphere has shifted. The bass is still thumping, but the crowd is fragmented. He sees Marcus and the other football players huddled in a corner, looking diminutive, their clothes hanging off their shrinking frames, their faces pale with a mix of terror and confusion. As Cesar strides through the room, the crowd parts instinctively. People stop talking. Heads turn.

The girls' eyes widen, their gazes dragging up the length of his transformed body. The confidence he radiates is magnetic, almost oppressive. He doesn't say a word, just walks through the center of the room, a king returning to a kingdom he didn't know he owned.

A girl in a tight red dress stops mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open as she watches him pass. "Who... who is that?" she whispers, her eyes locked on his shoulders.

Cesar doesn't even slow his stride as he reaches her. He slides a massive hand around her narrow waist, his fingers nearly meeting on the other side, and pulls her flush against his side. The girl in the red dress lets out a small, surprised gasp, her body practically disappearing against his sheer bulk.

"Hey baby," he rumbles, his voice a deep, resonant vibration that she can feel in her own chest. "Come with me."

He doesn't ask; he simply steers her toward the exit. She doesn't resist for a second, her heels clicking rapidly to keep up with his long, powerful strides. As they pass the shrinking football players, Cesar doesn't even glance at them—they're nothing more than background noise now.

The cool Miami night air hits them as they step out onto the street. The neon lights of the city reflect in the polished paint of his car. He opens the passenger door for her, his presence looming over her, the dominance of his new body making the sidewalk feel small.

"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice breathy, her eyes wide and shimmering with a mix of curiosity and submission as she looks up at him.