Two weeks had passed since Baxter had been found on the park bench in Far Rockaway, Queens. His hair was growing back - but his memories of the last several months had gone. There was a hole in Baxter’s mind - and nothing he could do could bring the memories back.

There had been some changes over the last two weeks. Firstly, Baxter’s appetite and metabolism had gone off the charts. In the mornings Manuela was joined by Cheryl in the kitchen as they prepared an almost endless delivery of food to Baxter, who sat at the kitchen table guzzling milk from plastic jugs and stuffing his face with food. Baxter had taken a leave of absence from work - and Ambrose Pollard was very accomodating. Baxter has said he felt fine - amazing in fact - and that he would be fine to return to work, but his doctors wanted him to rest after his unknown trauma.

Baxter was also getting bigger. Over the last two weeks Baxter had noticed that his clothes and shoes were getting tighter. On this particular morning Baxter stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom while Cheryl helped Manuela prepare his mighty breakfast downstairs. Baxter studied himself - he studied his chest and shoulders. They were covered in a new, hard layer of muscle - muscle that hadn’t been there before. Baxter flexed his biceps, and there was muscle there - hard, strong muscle. Baxter studied his face - it appeared as though his face was becoming more defined, almost chiseled. Baxter studied his stomach and thighs. His stomach was hard, and his abdominal muscles were beginning to protrude - and his thighs seemed thicker and more powerful. And then Baxter studied his penis - he must have been imagining things, but it seemed longer and thicker. He held his penis in his hands, and massaged it. Soon his penis became erect, and he looked in disbelief at the size of it. Baxter studied his penis - it had never felt so hard and erect before. He tapped the underside of his penis on the marble counter, and it felt like he was hitting the surface with a police truncheon. Baxter slapped his penis down harder, whacking the surface again and again - and then the surface cracked. Baxter froze. How had he cracked a marble counter with his penis? - he thought to himself. It was not possible. Baxter stared at the crack, and his erect penis in his hand began to go limp. He must be imagining things - he thought. That crack must have always been there - but he never noticed it before. Yes, that was right. The crack had always been there before. Baxter left the bathroom and went to the dressing room. He pulled on a pair of underwear, and they barely fitted him. He tried to pull on a pair of chinos, but he couldn’t pull them over his thighs. Baxter struggled with them, and ripped the fabric as he tried to pull the pants up. Baxter found a tracksuit, and pulled this on. Baxter tried to put on a pair of sneakers, but he couldn’t get his foot inside of them - so he put on a pair of sliders Cheryl had bought him for their vacation to Bimini last year. The sliders just about fitted, just like the tracksuit.

Baxter stood and stared at himself in the full length dressing room mirror. What is happening to me? - he thought. He was at least five inches taller, and his physique was changing from an unathletic office worker to that of a bodybuilder. And what was going on with his penis? - Baxter thought.

Baxter arrived in the kitchen, and Manuela and Cheryl were working away. Baxter went straight to the fridge and grabbed a gallon jug of milk, which he began drinking from. Cherly put a plate down on the kitchen table - it was a stack of five T-Bone steaks. Manuela put another plate down - and it was stacked with fried potatoes. Baxter picked up one of the steaks, and began eating it - ripping the flesh from the bone and chewing and swigging more milk. Cheryl and Manuela continued cooking - getting the next batch of food ready. Baxter stared at Cheryl’s behind as she cooked. She was wearing yoga pants, and the tight fabric accentuated her buttocks. Baxter felt his penis twitch. Baxter stared at Manuela’s backside - she was wearing a pair of shorts, and Baxter thought he could see a glimpse of buttock everytime Manuela leaned forward - and Baxter’s penis twitched again.

To feed Baxter took a couple of hours. By the time breakfast was done Baxter had eaten ten steaks, and five pounds of potatoes. He had drunk a gallon of milk - and two pots of coffee and about 30 teaspoons of sugar. It is not normal, Manuela would whisper to Cheryl as they prepared the food. Cheryl would agree. After breakfast Baxter had told Cheryle he needed to speak to her in private, so Manuela was left to clean the kitchen and Baxter took Cheryl up the stairs to the bedroom. Cheryl looked exhausted, and she flopped down on the bed. Baxter began removing his clothes.

‘What are you doing?’ - said Cheryl.

Baxter stood in front of her naked - his muscular body seeming to be even bigger than just a while ago when he was studying himself in the mirror.

‘Jesus Christ Baxter - what is happening to you?’ - said Cheryl, amazed at Baxter’s transformation.

Baxter turned around, and flexed his biceps.

‘You eat like a goddamn horse, you seem to be growing about an inch a day - and your body…and your - your dick, Baxter! Everything is bigger!’

Baxter climbed onto the bed and told Cheryl to get undressed. She was exhausted, but she did as Baxter said. Baxter kissed her, and then flipped her over and pushed his now erect penis inside of her. Cheryl gasped, and gripped the bed. And then Baxter began pumping - and Cheryl groaned, and then screamed.

Ten minutes later Cheryl was laying naked, and dripping with sweat. Her face was dazed. Baxter was laying beside her on the bed.

‘Happy?’ - said Baxter, massaging his still erect penis.

Cheryl groaned.

‘I will take that as a yes’ - said Baxter, climbing off the bed and heading to the shower.

Cheryl couldn’t believe what had just happened. They hadn’t made love in over a year - due to Baxter’s erectile deficiency. And now, out of the blue he had fucked her so hard that at one point, she literally thought she was going to pass out. Cheryl was still seeing stars - and she looked towards the bathroom and tried to work out what was going on with Baxter. The disappearance, the memory loss, the change in his physical appearance, his insatiable appetite, and now his giant penis and the best fuck she had ever had, and maybe ever would have. Cheryl couldn’t work out what was going on with Baxter - it was like he was a different person.

‘I am fucking starving!’ - Cheryl heard Baxter calling from the shower. She groaned. The thought of going back to the kitchen with Manuela and spending another two hours feeding Baxter was too much.

‘Order some fucking pizza…’ - she heard herself mumble.

Baxter came back to the bedroom, and was drying himself. He pulled on the ill fitting tracksuit, and squeezed his feet into the sliders. Baxter kissed Cheryl on the cheek, and she dozed off to sleep. Baxter went to the kitchen, and Manuela was still cleaning up. Baxter went to the fridge and took a jug of milk and gulped some back. He stood and watched Manuela as she cleaned, she was bending over and wiping the front of the stove - and Baxter stared at the fabric of her shorts pulled tight between her buttocks and his penis twitched. Baxter thought about taking his penis out, and making it hard and then showing it to Manuela. She would be impressed by its size, and how hard it was - and she would want to touch it. Maybe, Baxter thought, she would want to suck it. Baxter had to stop himself - he was already pulling down the front of pants. He gulped some more milk and put the jug back in the fridge and left whilst he could still control himself - he left the kitchen and headed to the apartment reception and grabbed his wallet and keys. Baxter left the apartment and was soon downstairs in the lobby. Ernie, the doorman, was on duty.

‘Good morning Mr. McGill - how are you doing?’ - said Ernie, instinctively.

‘Amazing, Ernie. Really amazing!’ - said Baxter as Ernie held the door open for him.

‘You look different Mr. McGill’ - said Ernie, sure there was a difference, but unsure what it was.

Baxter stepped out onto Park Avenue, and Ernie followed him.

‘You seem…taller, Mr. McGill’ - said Ernie, now looking at Baxter in the daylight and working out what the difference was.

Baxter smiled at the doorman, and then headed south. Baxter headed several blocks south, and then came to a pizzeria. Baxter went inside and ordered a fully loaded wagon wheel pizza, and five 20 ounce colas. Whilst the pizza was cooking, Baxter slurped back the sodas, and then ordered another five drinks. About 15 minutes later the pizza came out, and as it was being put on the table he ordered another one. The waiter stared at Baxter as he grabbed a giant steaming slice of pizza and pushed it into his mouth, and washed it down with soda. The second pizza came out, and Baxter ordered a third, and more sodas. The waiter went to the kitchen, and the cook came from the kitchen and watched Baxter eating the second pizza, and guzzling back the soda.

‘Are you some kind of competitive eating dude?’ - asked the waiter as he brought the third giant pizza. Baxter let out a giant belch, said no, and started work on the third pizza. The other people in the pizzeria were staring - with some of them videoing Baxter demolishing the pizzas. Baxter paid the astonished waiter for the food, and stepped back out onto Park Avenue. Baxter continued south until he was in midtown Manhattan. Baxter glanced down one of the side streets off of Park Avenue and he saw a red neon sign that said “full body massage”. Baxter turned and headed down the street, and stopped outside of the shop where the neon sign was. The outside of the shop had blacked out windows, and it was called ‘The Russian Experience”. Baxter glanced around to see if anyone was watching him, which no one was - and then he stepped inside.

Baxter wasn’t sure what was going on - but his sex drive seemed to have gone off the charts, just like his appetite for food. Baxter stood in the small reception area of the Russian Experience, and a middle aged Eastern European looking woman was sitting behind a counter.

‘Hello dharling!’ - said the woman, smiling - ‘You want massage?’

‘Yes’ - said Baxter, taking a step towards the counter.

‘You want one girl or two?’ - said the woman, very business-like.

Baxter thought for a moment and then replied that he wanted two girls.

‘$400, 60 minutes’ - said the woman, smiling.

Baxter pulled out his wallet, and put four one hundred dollar bills on the counter. The woman swept the money up, and smiled - ‘This way’

The woman walked down a dinghy corridor, and opened one of the rooms. It was a small room with a massage table in the middle of it and it had a red light bulb, without a shade, hanging from the ceiling. The walls were painted black, and it smelled damp and grimy.

‘Get yourself changed, girls come soon’ - said the woman holding the door open for Baxter and smiling.

Baxter stepped into the small room. There was a white towel laying on the massage table - and Baxter pulled off the tracksuit and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. He laid down on the massage table, and covered his naked buttocks with the towel and he waited. Baxter lay waiting for a while, and then he heard voices outside the room - the voices were female and they were speaking Russian. There was a gentle knock on the door, and before Baxter could say anything two young women stepped into the room. The women were busty and had lots of make-up, their hair was bleached blonde with dark roots and wore tatty looking lingerie and their arms were tattooed. They smelled of cigarettes, and cheap perfume.

‘Hello baby’ - said one of the women, running a hand up Baxter’s leg and up the inside of his thigh.

The other woman was on her phone, typing messages and not paying anything else any attention.

‘My name is Tasha’ - said the first woman, her hand now moving up Baxter’s back - ‘What is your name, baby?’

‘Mike’ - said Baxter.

‘Nice to meet you Mike’ - said Tasha, now standing at Baxter’s shoulders and rubbing them.

The other woman continued to type into her phone, ignoring Baxter.

‘You want nice massage, Mike?’ - said Tasha.

‘Yes, nice massage’ - said Baxter.

‘You want sexy massage?’ - said Tasha, still rubbing Baxter’s shoulders.

Baxter felt his penis twitch - ‘Yes, sexy massage’

‘$500’ - said Tasha, and she stopped rubbing Baxter’s shoulder. The other woman continued typing into her phone, and was now animatedly shouting at Tasha in Russian and waving her phone.

Tasha loudly replied in Russian, sounding forceful and angry. The other woman continued to type into her phone.

‘I already paid $400’ - said Baxter.

‘What?’ - said Tasha, sounding annoyed.

‘I said I already paid $400 - to the woman at the desk’ - said Baxter, pushing himself up.

The other Russian woman was muttering in Russian as she typed into her phone, clearly upset about something.

‘You pay for room, not for sexy massage!’ - said Tasha, aggressively.

Baxter sighed, and climbed from the table and took his wallet from the tracksuit pants and fished out $500, which he handed to Tasha. As soon as the money was in Tasha’s hand, she smiled again - ‘Thank you baby’

Baxter lay down again, and Tasha began rubbing his shoulders again. The other woman continued muttering in Russian and typing into her phone. Tasha leaned against Baxter, and he felt her large breasts press against him, and he reached a hand up and placed it on Tasha’s buttock. The other woman slammed the phone down and began to rub, half heartedly, the back of Baxter’s legs whilst she spoke to Tasha in Russian. Baxter was trying to live in the moment, but the two masseuses continued to have a loud conversation over him in Russian, and they seemed to be discussing a lively topic as they would suddenly start shouting at each other before subsiding again.

‘Okay, turn’ - said Tasha, and Baxter turned himself over. His penis was hard and stood erect. Baxter had expected the Russian girls to start caressing him, and to take his large penis in their hands and to be excited. But the both just stood and stared at it, and then spoke to each other in Russian, and then there was silence.

‘Is there a problem?’ - said Baxter.

The other woman said something in Russian, and then picked up the phone again and began typing.

‘Sexy massage not possible’ - said Tasha.

‘Why?’ - said Baxter, confused.

‘Your thing is too big’ - said Tasha.

Baxter lay and stared at Tasha for a moment - ‘My thing is too big?’

‘Yes, sexy massage not possible’ - said Tasha, and she took a packet of cigarettes from her purse and lit one.

‘I thought you would like a big thing?’ - said Baxter, confused.

‘No, big thing require too much work - and painful when inside’ - said Tasha.

‘Too much work…no good’ - said the other woman as she typed into her phone.

‘So what do we do now?’ - said Baxter.

Tasha took a drag on her cigarette, and blew the smoke towards the red light bulb - ‘Now, you go’

‘But I paid for a sexy massage’ - said Baxter.

‘No refunds!’ - said the other woman as she typed.

Baxter lay there for a moment. Tasha smoked her cigarette and the other woman continued to type into her phone.

‘I want to speak to the manager!’ - said Baxter finally.

Tasha walked to the door and opened it and then shouted out into the corridor in Russian. She then turned back to Baxter and took a drag on her cigarette - ‘Manger is coming’

Baxter sat up, and laid the towel across his genitals - and waited for the manager to come. Tasha continued to smoke and stare at him, and the other woman continued to type messages into her phone and mutter.

After a while the door opened and a thick set man with a serious face wearing a black turtleneck sweater with a gold chain around his neck, and a black leather jacket stepped into the room. His hands were covered in tattoos. The man looked at Baxter, and then spoke to Tasha in Russian. Tasha rattled off a loud outburst in Russian to the man, and then he turned back to Baxter - ‘I am manager, what is problem?’

‘I paid for a sexy massage, and these…these ladies said that my thing is too big’ - said Baxter - ‘...and I want my money back!’

The manager spoke to Tasha again in Russian, and the other woman said - ‘Da - thing to big, no good!’

The manager turned back to Baxter - ‘Show me thing’

Baxter stared at the manager for a moment, and then stood and pulled the towel away. The manager stared at Baxter’s thing for a moment, and then shrugged - ‘Thing is big. It is a very nice big thing - congratulations!’

Baxter wasn’t sure if he should say thank you.

‘But if girl say thing too big, then thing too big’ - said the manager.

‘Well if my thing is too big, then I want my money back…’ - said Baxter, still standing naked in the grimy room as Tasha smoked and stared at him, and the other woman continued to message on her phone.

The manager shrugged again - ‘No refunds. Company policy’

‘I already tell him no refunds’ - said the other woman - ‘But he no listen, want to speak to manager!’

The manager shrugged - ‘That’s the way it goes’

Tasha and the manager stared at Baxter, the other woman continued to type into her phone. Baxter felt a rage boiling up inside of him - ‘Now you listen to me. I want my fucking money back. The $400 I paid at the desk, and the $500 I gave her!’ - Baxter jabbed a finger towards Tasha.

‘If you want to walk out of here, my friend - I would suggest you get dressed and fuck off now, while you still have the chance’ - said the manager, and another larger man, dressed almost identically to the manager, stepped into the hallway behind the manager.

Baxter stared at the manager, and glanced at the bigger man in the hallway behind him. And then he thought of his penis, and how he had whacked it on the marble counter and cracked it. And then he thought how amazing he felt - and of the muscles that rippled across his body.

‘You know, I think I am going to need that money back - and if you want to walk out of here, I would suggest you hand the fucking money over while you still have the chance’

The manager shrugged, and stepped out of the way. The larger man stepped into the grimy room, and reached out and arm to grab Baxter. As the man extended his arm, Baxter punched him - faster than the eye could register - and there was a crunching sound. The large man doubled over, and then fell to the floor gripping his ribcage. Baxter had shocked himself at how fast he had moved - it was though the large Russian man had been moving in slow motion. Baxter had felt the man’s rib snap as he punched him - and now he lay on the floor moaning and crying. The manager took a step backwards. Tasha stared at the man on the floor, and moved away from the door and Baxter. The other woman stopped typing, and stared at Baxter. Baxter leaned over and took his ill fitting tracksuit from the hook, and pulled it on - ‘$900, please and fucking thank you’

The man on the floor continued to groan. The manager said something in Russian to Tasha, and she pulled Baxter’s money out from her bra and held it out. Baxter counted it - ‘$400 more, and we are all square’

The other woman said something angry sounding in Russian.

The manager took a roll of money from his jacket pocket, and pulled off four one hundred dollar bills, which he held out, and Baxter took and put in his pant packet along with the other money. Baxter squeezed on the sliders, and stepped out into the gloomy corridor. The manger stepped away from him again, and Baxter turned and headed for the exit to the street. Baxter left the Russian Experience, and headed back to Park Avenue, looking for somewhere to get something to eat.

***

It was the next day - and Baxter had been fed and had ravished Cheryl and she was laying exhausted on the bed upstairs. Baxter was thinking about Manuela - and was seriously considering going to the kitchen naked and showing her his big thing when the phone rang.

It was Gordon Smythe, Baxter’s accountant.

‘Hello Gordon’ - said Baxter, rubbing his crotch and thinking of Manuela.

‘Baxter old boy - how are you doing?’

‘Amazing’ - said Baxter.

‘Listen Baxter, I need you to come over to my office - there’s a few things we need to discuss’

‘Sure, when?’

‘Well, as soon as possible old boy’

‘In about an hour?’

‘Splendid - see you soon’ - said Gordon, and he hung up.

Baxter was starving hungry again, and aroused again. He wandered to the kitchen and went to the fridge and took the jug of milk, and began drinking from it. Manuela was cleaning up after the epic breakfast service. She turned and looked at Baxter - ‘Mr. Baxter - you are getting bigger, and taller’

Baxter continued to drink the milk, and then nodded.

‘How you grow so much? It not seem possible’

‘It’s your cooking, Manuela’ - said Baxter, smiling and winking at her.

‘But since you get home - after you go missing, you are getting bigger with many muscles!’

Baxter fought with every instinct he had. He wanted to say - ‘The muscles aren’t the only thing that has grown’ - and then he would show Manuela his big thing. And Manuela would want to touch it, and….

‘I gotta go…’ - said Baxter, and he slammed down the jug of milk and hurried to the apartment exit and he was gone.

Baxter was wearing the same ill-fitting tracksuit and sliders - and had stopped on the way over to Gordon’s to buy half a dozen hotdogs that he drenched in mustard and then forced into his mouth one at a time, whole.

Baxter sat in the reception area, and waited for Gordon to come and get him. People were staring at him, with his tight tracksuit now covered in yellow mustard stains. Baxter had grown again since yesterday - and the tracksuit was at the very limits of being wearable. After this meeting with Gordon, Baxter was going to have to go and do some clothes shopping.

‘Baxter old boy’ - said a voice - ‘What the hell are you wearing, and where has all your hair gone…?’

It was Gordon. Baxter stood up and put out a hand.

‘Jesus Christ Baxter!’ - said Gordon, seeing Baxter’s full frame now that he was standing - ‘What the hell has happened to you?’

Gordon was Harvard, like nearly everyone else that Baxter worked with or knew and considered a friend. Gordon and Baxter played racquetball together sometimes, and were also members of the same club, and had gone to the same prep school, and the same school, and the same university, and the same business school. Gordon lived on 5th Avenue, and also had a place on Long Island about 20 minutes from Baxter’s place.

‘Baxter old boy - it seems as though you have grown a bit, and gotten quite a bit more muscular!’ - said Gordon, looking at Baxter with a quizzical expression - ‘The muscles, I can get my head around - but the height! What are you taking? Is it HGH?’

They walked to Gordon’s office.

‘Gordon - have you got anything to eat around here?’ - said Baxter once they were in Gordon’s office.

‘Sorry, what do you want, old boy?’ - said Gordon sitting down behind his desk.

‘Like some food - do you have anything to eat around here?’

‘Something to eat?’ - said Gordon, a look on his face like Baxter had asked for the most ridiculous thing imaginable.

‘Yes, anything’

Gordon picked up the phone and waited, and then spoke - ‘Yes, hello Megan - I was wondering if we have anything to eat available…yes…yes food…it is for a client…yes, if you would, thank you’ - Gordon hung up the phone, and smiled at Baxter - ‘My assistant is going to check if we have anything’

‘So what’s this all about - you said you need to speak?’

‘Yes old boy - speak we need to do!’

There was a knock at the door, and Megan opened it and stepped in - she was holding a white cake box.

‘There is this leftover birthday cake, sir - from yesterday. It was Bruce’s birthday, and…’

‘Will a day old birthday cake do?’ - said Gordon to Baxter, cutting off Megan.

Baxter stood and took the box from Megan, and thanked her.

‘Would you get Mr. McGill a cup of coffee to have with his birthday cake, Megan’ - said Gordon, his face horrified as he watched Baxter rip open the box and begin filling his mouth with the cake using his hands.

Megan left, and Gordon stared at Baxter as he devoured the cake - his fingers, mouth and the end of his nose covered in chocolate frosting. A short while later Megan returned with a coffee that Baxter finished in one gulp before Megan had even left the room.

‘All fed and watered, and ready for business?’ - said Gordon, not quite sure what to make of his old friend's appearance or behavior.

Baxter wiped his hands on his tracksuit front, and nodded.

‘Okay’ - said Gordon - ‘Now I have reviewed your accounts for the last month Baxter, and there appears to have been some pretty strange stuff going on’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, it appears as though you liquidated everything you own, mortgaged your beach house, took a personal loan against your apartment, and borrowed $5 million from your father’s trust fund…’

Baxter stared at Gordon.

‘Now here is the funny part - you withdrew $15,000,000 in cash over the course of two weeks and that money appears to be gone’

Gordon stared at Baxter, and Baxter stared at Gordon.

‘You don’t happen to have $15,000,000 sitting around in your apartment, by any chance, do you Baxter?’

They sat in silence for a while, and then Baxter spoke - ‘I…I don’t remember any of this’

‘What do you mean, you don’t remember any of this?’ - said Gordon, now irritated.

Baxter went on to explain being found on the bench at Far Rockaway, and his memory loss. Baxter explained that he had no memory of the last several months - and that the doctors said he may never get that memory back.

Gordon sat back in his chair, and smiled at his old friend - ‘Well, here’s a shock that might bring your memories back, Baxter. You are broke!’

‘What do you mean, I am broke?’

‘I mean you are broke - you owe a payment on the personal loan you took out against the apartment, you owe a mortgage payment against the beachhouse, and you owe your father’s trust fund $5,000,000, Baxter. Add onto this cooperative fees, club fees, life insurance, food, drink, and entertainment - you are broke!’

‘I just don’t understand…’ - said Baxter - ‘Where did all that money go?’

‘Beats me - but I hope you had a good time spending it! At the end of this month, if the banks don’t get a payment they are going to call in the loan and the mortgage and then you will be broke and homeless!’

They continued to sit in silence for a while. Baxter was lost in thought - trying to work out what was going on, how he had taken everything he had and converted it to cash - and then the cash disappeared.

‘Sixty six and three eighths’ - said Gordon

‘What did you say?’ - said Baxter, snapping out of his thoughts.

‘I said - what are you going to do?’ - said Gordon.

Baxter stared at his friend - ‘No, you said sixty six and three eighths - I heard you’

Gordon smiled at Baxter, and then stood - ‘Look Baxter, it seems as though you have been through it recently. Now I am here to help, but I am afraid there is only so much that I can do. Why don’t you check again about the cash, and get back to me - maybe Cheryl knows something?’

Baxter stood as well, and Gordon led him to the door.

‘And Jesus Christ, Baxter - get yourself some clothes that fit, you look like a goddamn hobo!’ - said Gordon, opening the office door and laughing.

Baxter walked through the office, and past Megan’s desk. She looked up and smiled - ‘Sixty six and three eighths, Mr. McGill’

Baxter stopped and stared at her - ‘What did you say?’

Megan looked a bit confused - ‘I said, have a nice day, Mr. McGill’

Baxter continued to stare at Megan, and then left without saying another word. Baxter arrived at the elevators, and there were a group of men waiting ahead of him. Baxter wasn’t paying any attention - he was too concerned with the $15,000,000 hole in his finances and the massive loan and mortgage payments he was expected to make in the next couple of weeks. Baxter was staring at the floor when he heard the conversation the men ahead of him were having - ‘...there is an emergency meeting up on the sixty six and three eighths floor…’

‘What did you say?’ - snapped Baxter

The group of men turned, and saw Baxter dressed in his ill-fitting tracksuit stained with mustard and chocolate frosting - and his feet squeezed into a pair of sliders and his shaved head. The men, all dressed neatly in suits, glanced at each other.

‘You said you are going to the sixty six and three eighth floor - what is sixty six and three eighths?’ - demanded Baxter.

The men again glanced at each other, and then one of them nervously offered - ‘We are going to the 66th floor - for a meeting…’

‘You said sixty six and three eighths’ - barked Baxter.

The men nervously stared at Baxter, and then the elevator arrived heading down. Baxter pushed past the group of men and stepped into the elevator. He pressed the ground floor, and checked the numbers of the floors - there was a 66th, but not a 66th and 3/8th. He closed his eyes as he rode down and breathed deeply. He left Gordon’s office building, and went to find somewhere to get something to eat. He found a deli, and ordered three smoked meat sandwiches and a family sized bottle of cola.

‘That will be sixty six and three eighths’ - said the cashier, placing the sandwiches in a brown paper bag.

Baxter stared at the cashier. The cashier stared back at him.

‘$66.38, buddy. Cash or card?’ - said the cashier impatiently.

Baxter pulled his wallet out, and paid for the sandwiches and soda, and left the deli turning back and glancing at the cashier who was now taking care of the next customer. Baxter went to a small park next to a church and ate the sandwiches on a bench, and drank the soda.

‘$15,000,000’ - Baxter said to himself, as he watched the pigeons peck at the crumbs from his sandwich on the ground.

After a while Baxter left the park and found a sporting goods store, He bought a couple of new tracksuits - one that fitted him, and one that was too big - and a pair of sneakers and some t-shirts and underwear. Baxter changed into one of the tracksuits, and the sneakers and headed back home.

***

Baxter arrived back at his apartment, and it was quiet. Cheryl was still sleeping, and Manuela wasn’t around. Baxter unlocked his mini-museum room - and stared at his collection of Mr. Amazing memorabilia. Baxter took off his tracksuit top, and pulled off the t-shirt he was wearing. Baxter stared at a poster of Mr. Amazing as he ran his fingers across his chest, feeling the hard muscles under his skin. Baxter felt his stomach muscles - hard and defined.

‘What is happening to me?’ - Baxter said softly, as he stared at the poster of Mr. Amazing.

Baxter left his mini-museum and sat on the couch and turned on the TV. He was flicking through channels, and he stopped at the weather channel. A female presenter was standing in front of a map of New York City - ‘...temperatures today and tomorrow are looking to be around the sixty six and three eighths range…’ - Baxter sat forward, and stared at the weather presenter. He changed the channel, it was a hospital drama, and a nurse was talking to a doctor - ‘...we moved the patient to room sixty six and three eighths…’ - Baxter changed the channel, it was an old black and white western movie, and a rancher was talking to the sheriff - ‘...those Johnson boys came right through here this morning, headed out to sixty six and three eighths, Sheriff…’

Baxter turned off the TV, and stared at the blank screen - ‘Sixty six and three eighths’ - he said to himself.

The rest of the day Baxter spent trying to avoid any outside stimulation - he listened to music, but the songs kept repeating sixty six and three eighths in their lyrics. He tried to read a magazine but in the text he kept imagining that certain passages were replaced with sixty six and three eights, over and over again.

Cheryl came downstairs and was hobbling, she said that she could barely walk after the sex this morning. Baxter fell asleep on the couch and had a vivid, disturbing dream of an elephant being electrocuted. He could hear the elephant screaming and smell its burning flesh and see the terror and pain in its eyes. Baxter awoke dripping with sweat, and left the apartment and went to Starbucks and bought the several of their drinks with the most calories. The cashier told him it was sixty six and three eighths, and Baxter just put a $50 bill down and she gave him change. Baxter sat in Starbucks and watched the taxis and cars racing down Park Avenue. A bus stopped at a traffic light, and Baxter glanced at the scrolling sign on the front of it. It was going to Sixty Six and Three Eighths.

‘I am going fucking mad…’ - said Baxter to himself, looking away from the street and staring at his drink.

That evening Manuela had made a huge pot of Bolognese sauce, and Baxter ate several bowls of pasta and sauce and garlic bread washed down with a gallon of milk. After eating Baxter went to bed, and tried to sleep. He managed to fall asleep - and again dreamed the horrible dream of the elephant being electrocuted.