Let It Dangle. Adult. A man gains the powers of a cockroach. (standard:humor, 5218 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jun 21 2020	Views/Reads: 1355/1012	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Security guard Bubba intercedes in a alley, finding he’s saved a huge cockroach. The roach is a god-in-training and gives Bubba the powers of a roach. Bubba’s problem is that one part of his body is NOT affected.

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then lying back. "That was good," it voiced, if that's the word, to its 
benefactor. "Restoration and regeneration takes energy. Even for a 
god." 

"You're a god? A cockroach god?" 

"Na. Not particularly of roaches, though I was a cockroach in life and
am here visiting relatives. Right now, I only have the strength of a 
cockroach. A large one, of course." 

"You're kidding. I thought gods were invulnerable." 

"Oh! So you know gods personally, uh? Besides me, that is?" 

"Well, no. Not really." 

"Then how do you know what gods are like?" 

"Uh. Yeah. Point taken." 

"Those lowlifes caught me off guard and could have stomped me like a ...
well ... like a roach. And you saved me." 

"I couldn't stand by and let anyone be hurt like that. It's my nature." 

"I see you're a good man." The roach stood, rubbing its bad leg with two
more. "I'll give you the power to help others. Use it wisely." He 
touched Bubba on the forehead, giving the guard a funny shock, 
something like an electrical one but different in that it didn't hurt. 
It did leave a small bright-red circle in the middle of his brow, right 
above his nose. "From now on, Bubba, you have the powers of a 
cockroach. You can run up walls, cloud human minds to seem invisible 
and alter your size as needed." 

"Cockroaches can do all that? Jeez. I didn't know." 

The huge roach looked embarrassed, eyes downcast while it crossed and
uncrossed its legs. "We don't advertise. How do you think we can get 
into tiny places or onto the top shelf of your closet?" 

As the large cockroach opened the door to leave, it turned back,
finishing with, "Except for your genitals. I'm only in phase two of god 
training and my powers don't extend to reproduction yet." 

As Bubba stood, trying to understand what the hell the roach had been
saying and still feeling the effects of the touch, the visitor left, 
closing the door behind itself. 

By the time he recovered enough to check, the mysterious bug had
disappeared into the night. 

Shaking his head in wonder, Bubba cleaned the mess and resumed his
duties. It was four in the morning, time for his next patrol of the 
plant. Still a little confused and wondering how or even whether he 
should write the incident in his logbook, Bubba forgot his keyring as 
he left the office, the door locking behind him. 

A little later, when it became necessary to unlock a door to a secure
storage room, he noticed the lack of a key. The guard office was on the 
other side of the building -- also locked. 

Faced with that problem, Bubba was at a loss as to what to do. He
should, as in the past, call a company employee to come in to unlock 
his office. Instead, remembering the strange incident, he dropped down 
onto hands and knees. Maybe, just this once, he could see enough 
through the keyhole to mark it as "secure"? He also wished he WERE 
small enough to crawl under the locked door. 

He was. The space under the door seemed huge, so he scurried into the
next room. Bubba's only problem was in squeezing full-sized male 
genitals through the crack. 

After inspecting the room, he left the same way. It was easy, though he
had shrunk out of his clothing and dressing was required when he 
finished. 

One room in the plant happened to be three-stories high. On a whim,
Bubba placed both palms on a concrete wall, with a strong urge to swing 
a foot up to plant it on the surface. He paused, thinking the idea 
silly, before gingerly lifting the foot to try. Since it stayed, sorta 
glued, he tried with the other one, finding his butt hanging almost to 
the ground. But he stuck, didn't drop to the floor. The guard found 
that running up a vertical surface seemed simple, wondering why he'd 
never tried it before. For a half-hour, he played at the game before 
tiring. 

Trying to stretch on a walkway fifteen feet from the floor, he became
large enough to simply step down. It split his pants and shirt in many 
places, but he did have extra uniforms in a closet. That cockroach 
hadn't been lying. 

*** 

Bubba didn't get much sleep that day. He walked and ran around his
apartment, up the walls and across the ceiling. Then he'd shrink 
himself and scurry across the floor, balls dragging and bouncing behind 
him. Balls? Yep. Balls. No matter his other dimensions, his penis and 
balls remained normal-sized. 

The realization put quite a damper on his first idea, that of becoming a
famous crime fighter. He didn't know about the invisibility thing, 
since he could still see himself. But an invisible crime fighter's 
abilities would be sorta screwed up if he'd be guilty of indecent 
exposure while fighting other offenses. 

Climbing walls would work, but he could go a lifetime without finding
such an opportunity. Although able to change his height, Bubba's mass 
and strength seemed to stay normal. As a giant, he wouldn't be able to 
pick up cars. 

A life of crime also interested him. He could always rob banks while
invisible ... though identifiable through dangling appendages. What if 
an ex-girlfriend saw a television clip of the robbery? He'd always been 
proud of that unique red-star birthmark in the past, but not now. 
Robbing that bank as a giant would be too clumsy, what with seven-foot 
doors and narrow doorways. As a midget, it was laughable. Nope. Being a 
crook was as bad an idea as a superhero. 

How, he thought, could he benefit from his new abilities? Bubba wanted
to be rich or famous or both, and as quickly as possible. 

*** 

"I dunno, Mr. Brooks," a circus manager said, frowning, "where we'd find
a pair of shorts that wouldn't split when you grow large, and your ... 
well, you know ... genitalia would be too large in your shrinking mode. 
People would only laugh at you when you're the size of a mouse, with 
... them even larger." He grinned at the prospect. "Even invisible, 
either your clothing can be seen ... or them." 

"I can also climb walls." 

"There's not much use for a climber in a tent. We'd have to build an
expensive wall at each stop we made." 

"I can probably climb inside a tent," Bubba said. "Roaches can do it." 

"No good, cause it would violate fire rules and your weight might harm
the fabric. Sorry, but I don't think we can use you." 

The city fire marshal felt the same. 

"But just think of it, sir. I could climb burning buildings, taking the
hose up to the top." "Do you have any idea how much those hoses weigh, 
per foot? No one man could do it. And we can't afford to keep you 
around for the few times you'd be needed. Now," the marshal added, "if 
you would give me your cell number, you could be on call as a 
volunteer?" 

Bubba couldn't get rich that way, he thought, though in time he'd be
famous. And it could interfere with a real job. "No. Out of the 
question, sir. Thanks, anyway." 

The police department said they could, maybe, use him but he'd have to
go through all that academy training. There was no reason to wait for 
an officer to climb buildings when helicopters could fly them there 
more quickly. Also, an invisible cop wouldn't be too effective with his 
nightstick dangling in plain sight. 

Of course Bubba tried private industry, also without much luck. Although
he could be huge, he still only had the strength of one man. When 
small, his normal-sized genitals got in the way for many tasks. 
Speaking of genitals, he found they were susceptible to heat, cold, and 
bullets. Invisibility had its use, such as being a private 
investigator. Or would have except for a pointing pecker. 

The only job offer he came up with was as a satellite television
installer. They liked his wall-crawling ability. He turned it down. It 
paid the same as a security guard and the security work was easier. 
Bubba was used to sleeping and reading through half his shift. 

Disappointed, Bubba kept his old security job at the distributing plant.
At least he could break the monotony by practicing his cockroach 
powers. 

*** 

One night, a week later, he was again dozing at his desk. The creaking
of leather woke him. When he opened his eyes, it was to see a ring of 
stern-faced men standing around him, one with a shaved head and all 
staring at him with intense hard gazes. 

"Freeze!" baldy ordered in a female voice. The voice quivered a bit but
her 9mm semi-auto was steady, aimed between his eyes. 

Bubba froze. 

"Clasp your hands behind your head," another, a male ordered. 

"Down on the ground," a third screamed at him. 

"Now! Hands behind your back, asshole," yet a fourth ordered. 

"Do it! Now," the fifth man screamed at Bubba, waving a tech-9
machine-pistol for emphasis. 

"Well," the bald woman screamed, "do what I said." Not waiting for an
answer, she grabbed Bubba's hair and pulled his face down to the desk, 
mashing the guard's nose into the surface while one of the others 
handcuffed both arms behind him. 

Still in shock, Bubba was jerked to his feet. He felt many hands on his
body, rubbing and grabbing, pinching and slapping, apparently, he 
thought, looking for weapons. A hand, one with sharp fingernails, paid 
special attention to his privates. 

"These seem normal to me," baldy said, asking, "Any weapons on this
bastard?" 

"Uh, uh." 

"Nope." 

"He-he. You should know, Evens." One laughed. "You just about tore his
nuts off." 

"You didn't find anything?" 

"Shut your dirty mouth, Jablonski," from the female. 

"Wh ... What's going on?" Bubba asked, getting slapped in return. Before
he could speak again, a rubber ball on a string was shoved into his 
mouth -- the string tied at the back of his head -- and a thick hood 
placed over his face. 

He was hustled into a car. It was a long trip. Bubba, eyes covered and
mouth gagged, had no idea just how long. The few times any of his 
companions uttered a word, the female would order him to, "Shut up." In 
the imposed silence, Bubba eventually fell asleep. The idea of using 
his powers to escape never occurred to him. Bubba, like most good 
citizens, meekly submitted to their implied authority. 

A hand shaking his shoulder woke the security guard. 

"Come on. We've arrived," the female told him, ordering, "Out. And don't
try anything. If you shrink, we can still shoot you in the nuts." 

"You'd love to do that, Evens," one of the men said to the sounds of
male laughter. 

"Shut your nasty mouth, Jablonski." 

Bubba was hustled up four flights of stairs, metal from the sounds of
their footsteps which thundered loudly as they advanced. A hand on his 
shoulder forced him down onto a soft surface. He felt hands behind him 
as they removed handcuffs. 

As they seemed to leave, ending with the sounds of a door locking, he
dared to take off the hood and pry a red ball from his mouth. 

He sat alone on a narrow cot. The rest of the room, painted a
light-green, was empty -- not even a chair or table in evidence. At the 
apex of a high ceiling, a single bulb illuminated what was evidently a 
kind of jail cell. 

Invigorated by his nap on the way there, Bubba occupied some time in
running the walls, floor, and ceiling at a three-foot height. By that 
time, he felt comfortable in that he could control the sometimes 
crippling effects of a wildly swinging penis. Larger would be awkward 
in the small cell and reducing further affect his balance. 

He figured he'd been kidnapped by the government and was curious as to
why? It could, he realized, even result in gainful and lucrative 
employment. However, at the moment his incarceration rapidly became 
boring. 

He was trotting, for the umpteenth time, across the floor when he
noticed a space under the door. Veering off, he reduced his size to 
that of a normal cockroach and slid under it, into a tiled hallway. It 
did take a minute or two to squeeze completely through, though without 
appreciable pain. 

Genitals bouncing behind the rest of his body, Bubba slipped down the
hall, exploring. Halfway to the end of the corridor, he heard a loud 
scream. A bespectacled lady stared at him, a pile of account books at 
her feet. She seemed shocked at a two-inch insect sporting normal-sized 
human equipment. 

There. Another door he could slip under. Bubba tried but caught
something awkwardly in the opening. Pulling like hell and scratching 
his nails on the floor did no good. Like though unlike an auto, he had 
a twisted drive-shaft stuck on a bump under the door. 

"Don't you dare, young lady," someone within the room called out, just
as a shadow fell over Bubba. 

He could see the sole of a huge shoe poised over his head. 

"Damn!" he heard, sounding like Agent Evens. "I don't know why you want
this idiotic flasher, insulting every woman he comes in contact with." 

"I'll explain again, Janet. Right now, you can open the door and let him
in. You," the stranger continued, "you'd better get up to full-size 
before I turn her loose." 

At the size of two-inches, Bubba looked into eyes as large as suns and
just as fiery. He wasted no time in acquiring his full height. Just as 
quickly, he hurried to cross palms over his privates in a move to 
shelter them. "Uh. Hi, there," he stammered. 

"Agent Evens. Agent Evens. Please get this man something to cover
himself." 

Although her eyes were still hard, her mouth smiled as she brought Bubba
a yellow and blue miniskirt from a shelf in a corner of the room. "Try 
this on, asshole." Her other hand held a pair of pink panties which she 
also offered. 

"Agent Evens," the man ordered, "that's enough of that." 

"Damn." 

She was ordered to leave the room and retrieve Bubba's original clothing
from his cell. 

After dressing, the man ordered Bubba to, "Have a seat. We have'ta
talk." 

Bubba also wanted to talk, to bitch about being kidnapped and ask why he
was there. He was uncomfortable, though, knowing Agent Evens was in the 
room, somewhere behind him and unseen. All manner of thoughts went 
through his mind, such as whether she would slit his throat or simply 
club him senseless. 

In all, Bubba didn't have much self-confidence as he waited for the
stranger to address him. The only thing he could think of that might 
help was to increase his size by three feet. At least she'd have to 
reach high to garrote him. 

"We belong to a special operations team named "DUFUS," the man told him.
"It stands for Dept of Urban Fantasy Underlined by Stupidity. DUFUS 
employs CIA trained agents who passed the entrance tests and CIA 
training but failed every test since then. It used to be called the 
FUCUPS. The government spent a lot of time and money on training us to 
kill, maim, and to be half-way dangerous. After telling our mothers we 
were assured of lucrative positions, they felt we shouldn't be left 
loose on polite society without constant supervision. 

"You, we feel, will fit into our organization. As with the rest of us,
you tried hard for employment utilizing your unique skills, but failed 
in every attempt. As such, you deserve one more chance to succeed." 

"Stupid ass," Bubba's nemesis whispered from behind his left shoulder. 

"Precisely," the man affirmed. "Don't feel rejected, Mr. Brooks. One of
our number recently made it all the way to the Presidency of the United 
States. I don't think I have to name THAT gentleman. 

"This is a great country, where anyone, no matter their handicaps, has a
chance to reach the heights. Why," he said with a wide grin, "you can 
already turn into a giant at will." 

"Uh. Thank you, sir ... I think. May I ask your skill, or is it
non-skill?" 

"You may. Although testing near the top of CIA pre-employment records,
it was later found that I can't walk a straight line without falling on 
my butt. Consequently, I'm assigned to this sit-down desk job, making 
you people run errands and do work for me." 

He looked past Bubba's shoulder before continuing. "Agent Janet Evens,
here, failed to bond with any of her peers. It was found she can't seem 
to get along with anyone for more than five minutes. After passing the 
course, the Agency found her mother had filed a restraining order, 
keeping her from coming within twenty-yards of any family member. That 
was when she was two years old." 

"The bitch," Agent Evens said from behind him. "She should never have
been allowed to have children." 

"Does that mean I get to attend CIA school?" Bubba asked. 

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Brooks. The CIA changed their employment policy.
Without a college degree you can't take the test, and we can't wait. 
Now they check applicants all the way back to pre-natal records. 
Anything but a normal birth and you can't get in. Even if your 
umbilical cord was too thin, or if you cried out for a pizza on exit 
from the womb." 

"Really?" Bubba asked. 

"One Italian-American applicant is said to have done just that." 

"Hard to believe," Bubba replied, shaking his head. "And what would,
will, be my duties, sir?" 

"Most of the time we sit in a lounge with padded walls behind a furnace
in the basement of the building, watching television," the man told 
him. "It's better now, though. They hardly ever lock us in." 

"We do have work, even important cases," Agent Evens told Bubba. "Such
as tracking down and restraining stray cats in the Pentagon." 

"Some of those felines are adept at hiding," the man assured him. After
looking around carefully, he lowered his voice, "Personally, I think 
they belong to Al Quuiida, or whatever. How can they be that sneaky 
without going through a terrorist training camp in Afghanistican?" 

"We'll beat those dastardly pussies," from Agent Evens. "They can win a
thousand battles, but we'll still win that war thingy." 

"Uh, yes, Agent Evens. Keep at it. I'm sure you and Agent Brooks can
handle those kitties." 

"Me ... and Dick, here? You must be joking, sir." 

"Bubba," Bubba corrected her. "Bubba Brooks." 

"You'll always be a Dick to me. I can't work with Old Sliding Dick,
here." 

"You will, and that's an order, Janet. He's assigned to you for On the
Job Training." 

*** 

Their initial training session started off on the wrong foot, literally.
The first thing she requested of Bubba, once alone, was to show her 
again how he could take the size of a cockroach. When still a little 
over 18" high, he noticed her foot was raised and zipped back to his 
normal height. 

"No frickin' way," he screamed. 

She led Bubba downstairs and to the basement. There was a door behind
the furnace, just as his new boss had told him. A half-dozen people of 
at least both sexes sat and stood around, seemingly at random. The two 
of them proceeded to a far dim corner where a table stood with only one 
chair. Signs were placed at each side of its otherwise bare surface, 
warning "Keep away, land mines." Yellow police barrier tape surrounded 
the table on two exposed sides at a distance of five or six feet. 

"This is my reserved seat," Agent Evens said while leading him to that
dark alcove. "Follow my footsteps ... exactly. I have painful personnel 
mines planted under the rug to keep these other assholes away. I guess 
I'll have to let you in, even though not by choice, and you better keep 
those obnoxious things in your pants. You show them and I'll kick the 
bastards off." 

When she sat down, forcing him to squat at the edge of the table, she
told him to, "Keep those slimy hands to yourself. You touch me and I'll 
kick--" 

".... kick my bastardly hands off." 

"Correcto." 

"I see you don't associate with your peers." 

"Look at Adam, over there. Would you want him around you?" She shoved a
finger toward a man dressed all in black who was busily bumping himself 
into a wall. He'd back up a bit, then step forward until he thumped 
into the concrete. Shaking his head, he'd repeat steps one and two. 

"I see your point. Why's he doing that, Janet?" 

"To you, it's Agent Evens. He says it helps him think. And there's Mary.
She sits all day, watching television." 

"What's wrong with that?" 

"See that hand in her pants? Whenever a dog comes onto the screen, she
plays with herself." 

"Oh. I don't think I'd like her either. She seems like a real sex
freak." 

"You're one to talk, sliding your privates across the floor." Agent
Evens giggled. "At least she doesn't drag herself across the floor to 
frighten secretaries like Ethel." 

"Now, you look here, Janet. I didn't frighten that woman on purpose." 

"Of course not. I believe you. Now you tell that to Ethel." 

"You don't like anybody, do you?" 

"What's there to like, your nuts? Can they crawl by themselves or do you
always have to drag them? I don't see what Harry, the boss, sees in you 
... 'less he's secretly gay." 

"I can do things. I can even get along with other people. You could too,
if you tried." 

"Hah. Says you. I really wanted to finish CIA school. I know I'd be a
good agent ... real agent." 

"You can try again, you know." 

"I want them to like me. Then I can pick the ones I want to like and
kill the others." 

"It doesn't work that way, Janet." He leaned a little closer, stopping
at a growl. "You have to accept others as they are, not as you'd like 
them to be." 

"Mama kept doing things to me that made me angry. How could I accept
that? She even molested me, constantly, every day." 

"That sounds bad, Janet. How?" 

"Whenever my diaper felt nice and cool and soft and comfy, she'd take it
away and put a dry scratchy one on me. I -- I couldn't stop her. I was 
too small." 

My god, Bubba thought. He noticed she hadn't objected to him using her
name. 

"Uh, do you still fill your pants? You don't have to tell me, I'll
understand." 

She looked around before replying in a whisper, "Sometimes. It feels so
nice and helps keep people away." 

Maybe he could get to her? Bubba thought. She was already accepting him
more than most others. He looked around at the "others" and shook his 
head, deciding to humor her. 

"I do too ... sometimes," he whispered back -- lying. Jeez. 

"Really? I thought I was the only one, but it feels so good." 

"Maybe. I dunno. Maybe we can do it together?" 

"You mean it? Really? You'd do that for me?" 

*** 

Since they weren't locked in that day and no stray cats were reported,
Bubba took Agent Evens home with him that afternoon. Before long the 
place smelled like shit, as did the two agents. A little while later, 
it rang with laughter as they spread joy and other substances around. 
Bubba even showed her how he could do it from the ceiling. 

After joining in cleaning the room, a joy for her but almost making
Bubba add vomit to the mess, they also joined in his bed ... several 
times. 

For the next few days, Bubba tried to teach her how to get along with
other people, but in more socially acceptable ways. For instance, they 
stopped at a grocery store. 

At the meat section, Janet spoke to a clerk. "Hey, asshole," she called.
"How much you charge for this putrid horsemeat?" 

"No, no," Bubba pulled her away to avoid an incident, "that's not the
way to talk to him. Use a little empathy. The poor guy probably makes a 
quarter of your pay and works four times as hard to earn it. I doubt he 
even knows what part of a horse that meat came from. Imagine you're in 
his shoes. He'll work all day for pocket change, keeping an eye on his 
boss and trying to steal enough to feed his family. Feel sorry for him, 
not superior." 

He wouldn't let up, correcting her constantly in her human relations,
trying to get her over that obsession of keeping people at a distance. 
Janet didn't mind being close to Bubba, though she didn't think him as 
good a lover as Ric, the one other man she'd had sex with. 

Matter of fact, she realized one night after an aborted attempt, she'd
even neglected to remind him of his deficiency ... something she would 
normally have pounded in to anyone else. Even foregoing the chance to 
laugh during his efforts at sex. 

She was changing, and Janet realized it. At work, others didn't hug the
opposite wall as she walked past. They didn't spit on the floor behind 
her anymore. Some even talked to her, with her replying. 

*** 

Janet rushed into Bubba's apartment to throw her arms around his neck
and kiss him on the lips. "Hurrrrray!" she screamed. 

"So you made it this time?" 

"Yes. Yes. Yeeeesss. I'm a full-fledged CIA agent." 

"I knew you could do it, honey." 

Bubba was glad for her, only sad that she would soon be reassigned. The
next morning he slept late, waking at an odor he hadn't smelled in a 
long time. He looked alongside his bed to see the cockroach god 
watching him. 

"Well. My so-called benefactor. I'm not sure I want to see you again. My
life was never so screwed up as now." 

"That's why I'm here, Bubba. It.... Well, I seem to have overreached my
authority. My boss sent me to take back those powers. I hope it's not 
an inconvenience for you?" 

Bubba jerked up and onto his feet. "Hell no. They've caused me nothing
but problems. If it weren't for my girlfriend, I'd cut my balls off and 
put them through the garbage disposer." 

Did you ever see a cockroach blush? Well, that god certainly did. 

"I'm truly sorry, Bubba. Tell you what I can do, though. I finished my
instructions on genitalia." He reached a claw over to touch Bubba on 
the forehead. The red spot faded away. "You're now a normal human 
again." 

While Bubba digested that information, he was touched again, that time
leaving a green spot. "Now, as compensation, you have the sex drive and 
skills of a cockroach. You have full control over your erections and 
prowess." 

Before Bubba could reply, the cockroach god faded into nothing. 

That night, Janet was even happier than the morning before. In fact, her
lover's new sexual performance actually felt better than shitting her 
pants. 

The End.


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