Hi There, I Wish More Then Anything That I Could Grow A Muscle Gut And Become A Huge Bara For My Husband,

Hi there, I wish more then anything that I could grow a muscle gut and become a huge Bara for my husband, but I am too lazy after working to go to the gym. Anything you can do to help me grow the big body muscles and pecs my husband wants me to have, while still maintaining a taut round belly without abs?

Suddenly your body is muscled, tatts cover your new ripped body, you feel powerful and horny, which is the twist I gave you, the more sex you and your husband have the bigger you'll become, but you look and the mirror and notice more than your body had changed.

You went from over worked white boy to a true Japanese Bara, at the rate you and your husband will begin to fuck, You'll be massive in size by the end of the month.

attaining the gut of your dreams.

Working out as him was fun, but damn! I look hot with his sweaty body…

Flex!

‘For fuck’s sake bro, will you stop making me do that!’ groaned Brent as he froze in place and struck an impressive double biceps pose midway through getting out of the car.

‘But you do it so well bro!’ I teased as he relaxed the pose and slammed the car door irritably behind him.

‘Dude, I love this bod and the new threads, even the tatts but why do I keep saying ‘bro’ and ‘dude’ all the time, I sound like a total douche.’

‘Because it goes with your new image and anyway, we don’t want everyone thinking you’re some chess club dweeb do we?’

‘But I am in the chess club dude!’ Brent snapped, grimacing slightly as he added yet another involuntary ‘dude’ at the end of the sentence.

Brent certainly didn’t look like he was in the chess club but that wasn’t thanks to hours pumping iron in the gym, it was all down to the pendant.  It was a strange object which I’d seen glinting in a gutter on the sidewalk the previous day.  As soon as I touched it, I felt a shiver run down my spine and a faint voice like a whisper at the edge of my consciousness.  It was hard to describe, almost as if the pendant was feeding information directly into my brain.  A moment later the feeling had passed but it left me realising that I now knew everything there was to know about the pendant including who its previous owners had been and even more amazingly, what wishes it had granted for them.

The big catch was that I couldn’t use the pendant to change myself so instead, I’d been using on my best friend Brent to fulfil his desire to be less nerdy and mine to have a hot jock for a boyfriend.  Naturally I hadn’t told him about the boyfriend part but with the pendant, I didn’t need to worry about a little detail like that.

'Ok, well I think talking like a jock’ll make you fit in but I suppose we can make a few tweaks if it’s bugging you.  How about we make you forget you ever spoke any other way?’

'What the fuck dude?’ Brent said, a look of confusion on his face.  'Did you just change something else?’

“No, of course not’ I replied innocently.  'But I guess if you’re finding your new look doesn’t work at chess club, we’ll need to replace chess with something more appropriate.  I think wrestling would be perfect don’t you?’

'Wrestling?’ Brent exclaimed, his eyes widening in horror.

'Why not?  You look like a wrestler, so why not be one?  You’re always saying how they get the hottest girls and now you get to be one, besides, your body’s going to need plenty of exercise to stay looking like that!’

'Okay bro, I guess that’s be pretty cool.’ he agreed uncertainly.  

Of course it wasn’t like he really had a say in what was happening.  I was having far too much fun to stop and, to be honest, by this point I was totally turned on by the whole power trip.

I concentrated for a moment and didn’t have to wait long for confirmation the changes had taken effect.

'Woah dude!  What the fuck have you done?’ Brent exploded a second later.  'I can’t remember anything about chess!’

'Of course not.’ I replied calmly.  'How many wrestlers do you know who play chess?’

'But can’t I do both?’ He said plaintively.

'Don’t stress about it, chess club clashes with wrestling practice and anyway you’re one of the most talented wrestlers in the state now!’

Brad thought for a moment, his face falling slack with surprise as a kaleidoscope of new memories surfaced in his mind.

'Fuck, that’s intense!’ He said finally. 'Dude, its like I’ve been wrestling my whole life. Shit, I can even remember competing.’

'Of course you can.  In this reality you have competed and you’ve been wrestling since you were eleven.’

The look on Brent’s face had changed slightly and just as I’d hoped, the chess club nerd was evaporating and a confident jock was establishing himself a personality in his place.

'How do you feel now?’ I asked.

'Pretty awesome actually brah!  I felt totally weirded out about the whole frat bro thing before but I dunno, it feels kinda right now.’

'That’s great, Brent.  Looks like we’re nearly done then.’

'Dude, I think that’s enough changes.  I’m a smoking hot jock now just like I wanted.  And anyway, you promised you’d let me have a go with the pendant when we were done fixing me up’.

'Oh yeah, about that…’ I said, slowly.  It definitely wasn’t part of my plan to let Brent have the pendant, not yet anyway.  That could wait until later after I’d completely finished working on him.  Maybe.

'I’ve changed my mind I’m afraid.’  I continued, casually fingering the reddish crystal hanging from my neck.

Brent looked pissed.  'No way bruh, you promised’ he said reaching out suddenly but ineffectually towards me presumably to seize the pendant.

'Flex!’ I interrupted sharply, just in time, causing Brent to stop dead in his tracks and begin striking a series of perfectly executed upper body poses, smiling inanely and eyeing up his impressive guns every time they came into view.

'Sorry Brent’ I said, noting the slightly panicked look in his eyes 'but, there’s going to be a change of plan.  I concentrated on the pendant for a moment and was gratified to see Brent relax an impressive side triceps pose and stare blankly at me for a second, a confused frown on his handsome face.

'Dude, what just happened?’ Brent said shaking his head as if to clear it.  'I feel weird.’

I smiled at him pleased to see that any awareness of his recent transformation had been removed, leaving my perfect wrestling jock buddy almost complete.

'Did you have your post-workout protein?’ I asked with a smirk.  'You know you always forget unless someone reminds you?’

'Shit bro, you’re right’ he said with relief. 'I must’ve left my protein in my room’.

Brent grabbed his new gym bag from the car and as we headed up, I made a final small tweak and was rewarded by him slipping his hand onto my ass and squeezing hard.

Ten minutes later, I congratulated myself on a well executed plan as Brent, clad in one of his sweaty, used wrestling singlets took the full length of my cock in his mouth and worked my pole like a professional hustler.

The adorable look of devotion in his eyes was intoxicating and I knew I’d never tire of seeing those firm muscles rippling under his tanned, inked skin as he adjusted his position between my thighs.  

As he expertly finished me off, swallowing every drop of my cum, I was pleasurably contemplating the awesome enhancements that I would have my obedient new lover make to me with the pendant when I noticed with alarm that it must have slipped off because Brent was now turning it over curiously in his hands and looking at me with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Off Duty

Generally, I try to keep law-enforcement out of my life. With the nature of my hobby, it’s best to not gather any unwanted attention. So imagine my surprise when I find a badge in my newest acquisition’s gym bag.

I’ve never converted a cop before due to the attention their disappearance would bring. I also have little experience quoting laws and statutes so taking over his life could be difficult.

What’s done is done. I slide the scan of the off duty cop. I admire my new muscles and rub my hairless torso. Lack of hair makes him a bit different than my other bodysuits but I’m sure I’ll be able to pull more with Officer Martinez.

The university was clearly scraping the bottom of the barrel when they paired you up with your jock of a roommate. The residence hall questionnaire could only have been entirely ignored when dorm assignments rolled in and the housing department created the ultimate odd couple.

You were there to study, take notes, get a degree, and learn how to live on your own without your parents there to cook and clean. Your roommate on the other hand was there to meet bros, build muscle, and attending to the incessant needs of his cock with whatever convenient vagina he could find at that moment. And all this took president over any kind of cleaning or tidying or laundry—it didn't take long for his sweaty clothes from his routine workouts to establish a sustained odor. At the same time, you also managed to develop a raging crush on your inflexibly straight roomie.

It didn't take long for his habits and your habits to cause friction and even less time for you to get to the end of your rope. Getting out wasn't going to be an option, not this year with the dorms at capacity and no other willing swappers in their system. In your desperation to get out or try to change any aspect of the situation, you find yourself reaching out to me.

My solution is a potion that promises to make the necessary changes to guarantee he becomes the perfect roommate for you, so long as you both drink it.

Slipping it in his protein shake proved to be quite simple. Once he was off to the gym for the evening with his spiked supplement, you took the other vial in your hand, regarded the liquid for a moment, and downed it.

...

You wait for a moment, expecting... well what should you be expecting...

After a few seconds of nothing, you wonder what you really just drank. Magic wasn't real, and despite what you'd heard about me from... whatever source, you realize how foolish you were thinking a little—mountain dew maybe?—would change anything with your disgusting roommate.

Man, his musky work-out smell is really strong. You always think it's the worst it's been and then the b.o. manages to intensify. Instead, you make a feeble attempt to distance yourself from the stench by crossing to your side of the room, except it proves to be inescapable.

Ugh, you look down and see a shirt on the ground on your side of the room. He's really taking over everything now. You go to pick it up... but realize it's one of your shirts... and... it smells. Do you need more deodorant? Did you forget to put the shirt in the hamper?— Is he wearing your clothes?... Did that thought turn you on a bit?

Wait a second. Are you smelling the shirt? You were smelling the shirt. You didn't even realize it but you while you were lost in thought, you had brought the garment with his rank aroma to your nose and taken a nice deep breath... maybe a couple—you couldn't remember...

And again... it smells kinda nice... except... you realize the shirt was his. It was a lycra compression shirt, and you didn't own any lycra... why did you think it was your shirt? You didn't go to the gym, work out; you don't have any muscle like he does so it make sense because if it was yours, you'd—

You catch a view of yourself. Each side of the room had a closet for every resident, and these closets had large, fully-mirrored sliding doors. If you had muscle, you probably would own lycra clothing, you probably would check yourself out in your closet mirror like he did, you probably would flex your muscles, like...

Like this... and this...

Even though you didn't work out, you saw some shadow of definition. You felt your modest weenie chub up as your biceps bulged even just slightly. And if you fleeeeeeeexed again... you might be able to smell your own musk wafting outward from your exposed arm pits. If you strike this pose... it could exaggerate the taper of your midsection from your shoulders narrowing to your waist. If you wanted to see that v-shape even better, you could take off your shirt... let it hit the floor... add to the pile of your other sweaty rank gym clothes. If you contracted like... this, you could cause your pecs to bulge and your arms to come into clearer definition, almost like they were not just bulging with muscle, but actually swelling, growing larger. This is what muscular people must feel like—your were turning yourself on more and more making your dick grow harder and harder seeming to thicken in your underwear until it bulges obviously in your black joggers.

And if you did have a bigger dick and bigger balls you'd have more testosterone, a sharper jaw, body hair. Hair that would highlight your abs and dust your pecs and give you thicker muskier bushes under your arms. But if you did have a bigger dick, you would probably be soooo horny. You would probably be so dumb. if you were swole, you'd just need to lift and flex... and if you were horny, you'd just need a steady stream of cock and ass to tend to your own big thick dick...

you flex again... and again... and again...

if you were a nerd, you'd probably hate living with a dumb bro like you, but you got paired with the perfect roommate who just wants to flex and fuck. just like you.

The door opens and your roommate enters. You turn towards him, mid-flex. The stench of your combined musk hits him like a drug and you see his bulge swell visibly in this fuckbro gym shorts. Somehow the college had paired you with another gay bro who was always down to offer a hand or a hole any time of day or night—and you were just as willing to return the favor.