Landlord The Remote of Transformation chapter 6 by deleted_user

The knock came again, sharper this time, like someone rapping with a ring the size of a doorknob.

Brandon sighed theatrically and opened the door a crack. “Mrs. Hargrove! What a delightful—”

“Save it, sparkle boy.” The door pushed open fully as Mrs. Hargrove bulldozed her way inside like she owned the place—which, technically, she did.

She was in her late forties, built like a brick shithouse that had given up on diets sometime around the Bush administration. Short, bottle-blonde hair with dark roots showing, a permanently sour expression, and a body that strained against her faded floral blouse and mom jeans. Heavy breasts, thick waist, wide hips, and an ass that had seen better decades. She smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and lavender Febreze.

Her eyes swept the room and immediately narrowed.

First on the half-naked, six-foot-four slab of muscle that used to be Vince. Then on Paul, red-faced and clutching a protein bar like a shield. Then on Brandon in his pink silk robe.

“What in the fresh hell is going on in here?” she barked, hands on her hips. “Rent’s three days late, the hallway smells like a gym sock had sex with a pizza, and now I’ve got—” She jabbed a finger at New Vince. “—some roided-out stripper standing in my apartment wearing half a pair of shorts? Jesus Christ, boys, I’ve seen some shit in this building but this is new.”

Vince couldn’t help himself. He flexed one massive arm, letting the bicep peak, while his other hand casually adjusted the heavy bulge in his shorts. The motion made his low-hangers shift visibly. “Hey, Mrs. H. Like the new me? Just hit the gym real hard lately. You know how it is.”

Mrs. Hargrove’s gaze flicked down, lingered for half a second on the obscene outline, then snapped back up with pure disgust. “I don't know who you are, and put that thing away before I call the cops for public indecency, you walking protein fart.”

Paul stepped forward, trying to sound responsible. “Ma’am, we’re really sorry about the rent. We’ve just been busy with midterms and—”

“Busy?” She snorted, stepping closer. “Busy turning this place into a gay brothel?"

"I wish," Brandon snorted.

"I want the rent by tomorrow or I’m evicting all three of you horny idiots. And you—” She pointed at Vince again. “Cover up. Some of us are trying to keep our lunch down.”

The remote was still behind Vince’s back, warm and humming faintly. The screen now read Target acquired: Mrs. Hargrove because he’d absentmindedly kept it pointed in her general direction while flexing.

Vince’s eyes lit up with pure chaotic evil. He mouthed silently at Paul and Brandon: Watch this.

Paul’s stomach lurched. “Vince, don’t—”

Too late.