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Dad Bod

Look Your Age

Monty can't believe how old his followers think he is! After stewing on it all morning he finds himself not minding the extra years as time goes on at a breakneck pace. Age Progression/Bear TF with a less prominent Persian RC on top!

For anyone who missed it I announced participants in my 2k Follower Challenge! Got some writers with extensive catalogues and others who are fresher on the scene, check them out! As ever, I hope you enjoy this story! -Occam

Monty was trying not to let the thousands of twitter gays clamoring in his replies get to him. He just posted a thirst trap with a cute caption about going back to uni for the semester only for hordes of faceless profiles to swoop in on him like vultures unto carrion. He didn’t even mention his age in the post! So why are there dozens upon dozens of interaction-bait threads suggesting he looks half a decade older than he is. Looking for an upside, the adage of all press being good press floats to the top of his mind as he sees the post continuing to garner heat before he sets his phone down and gets on with his day.

“Maybe I can flip this into opening an OnlyFans?” He muses to himself quietly as he moves to start making breakfast. At twenty he’s well above the age to post on there. Though not nearly as old as those cretins suggest! He considers he’d better cash in while he still looks young, “I mean fuck! Where do they get off!?” Unable to tear his mind away from his still pinging phone he checks it one last time as he opts to toss it into a fully different room. On the way he reads the top reply now reads, from @twunklckr: nahh he’s 25 atleast lmaooo look at that body hair n muscle def

He clicks his tongue before throwing his phone on the bed. Sure his mustache makes him look a little older, and he has pit hair like literally any guy over 18, but his chest is fully hairless and his skin is smooth! He ignores the urge to scrub the thirst trap pixel by pixel looking for anything out of place before remembering that he left the stove running. So he instead turns the other cheek and returns to the kitchen, striving to stand above any perceived haters. His steps are ever so slightly heavier as he returns, his decidedly present pecs bounce with more gusto than he recalls them doing before at every stride. Monty half smiles as he thinks of the second half of that tweet, he’s always been quite the twink; but if some rando on twitter is complimenting his build, regardless of his implications, that time at the gym must be paying off.

Cracking eggs into a bowl Monty throws himself fully into his cooking and is finally able to remove his mind from the cause célèbre of his twitter feed. Though as soon as he realizes that he’s successfully distracted himself, he wants to pat himself on the back and immediately returns his mind to the cesspit of drama. Rather than chiding his naysayers though, he congratulates himself on being the bigger man. “Guess I’m finally acting my age!” He says to himself with a wink as he starts bacon on a pan. Even yesterday he’s sure he’d fully be on his phone replying to faceless profiles all day, guess now that he’s 24 he’s a whole new man!

The thought flies through his mind with no issue. He scratches at his chest paying no heed that there is simply more mass hanging there for everyone to appreciate. Nor does he notice hair beginning to pepper the whole of his chest. Nipples widening as itchy recently shaved curls begin to blanket his weightier pecs. Monty simply hums to himself as his arms grow veinier while scrambling eggs and maneuvering bacon in the pan. Stretching his shoulders as they widen and leaning back as his hitherto tight abs begin to grow thicker layers of muscle he shouts as bacon grease begins to pop out of the pan onto his shirtless torso. “Fuck! Why am I cooking shirtless!”

Recoiling as his breakfast begins to fight back, Monty notices not that his voice has ever-so slightly deepened. Instead his ears are drawn to a tearing sound that issues from his underwear. There is an unmissable hole torn just under the waistband of his briefs, and the cause is immediately clear. His cock has grown to absolutely fill his underwear, feeling himself up he is shocked to find himself not even beginning to chub, his cock has almost doubled in size without being erect in the slightest. Though that is changing as he starts to appraise his body’s apparent new details. Reaching over the burning pan he grimaces but stays strong as his arms too are burned by oil. It’s nothing compared to the glee of seeing his new defined forearms and intense biceps.

Feeling as if he’s in a waking dream, Monty rubs his hands up his row of unmistakable abs and pulls at the hair now decorating his pecs. He then pops them just to see if he can and blushes as he sees them do so with ease, his cock is similarly bouncing as it begins to push his briefs off. Despite his newfound maturity Monty immediately runs to his bedroom to update his followers, this is absolutely a body that people would shell out cash for. His eyes glaze past his bio now labeling himself 24 and instead return to the thirst trap he posted earlier.

His mouth is agape and his face burns with embarrassment as he sees he posted a picture of himself with his cock basically out. Stammering as he races to delete it Monty quickly changes his mind as he sees how much more traction this post has received. “Oh fuck…” He whispers to himself as his chest and cock both puff up with his pride. 

Monty bites his lip as he sees post after post praising his new body. Beginning to feel himself up to the praise from his apparent adoring fans, his moans grow deeper as he feels pleasure more intense than ever before, he is just as soon thrown off course yet again. Punching the bed Monty again sees people talking about his age, “What is up with these fuckers! Why are they obsessed with how old I look, talk about my dickkk!” 

His thicker brows furrow as he finds a trending thread saying no way he’s twenty four. His fingers hovering over his keyboard preparing to tear into the poster he instead skips to the first reply from @HungIrani: persian men just look oldr XD dadash pbbly had to start shaving before he could drive lmaooo- fckin hot tho 

Monty squints his eyes at this, Persian? He’s not? He’s fully white, unmistakably white. Gets sunburned on cloudy days white. Aimlessly scrolling through tweets once more he clicks on that thread specifically and finds himself in a rabbit hole of people hypothesizing about his cultural identity as well as his age. Landing on 25 quickly enough, which Monty lets slide as being close enough, he can’t help but focus on their assigning him a persian identity. How could they know that? It’s fully a picture of his torso.

His uh white torso? Monty’s mind struggles to produce images of his parents as they change in his mind. Growing older as their pesar does, rapidly becoming immigrants who moved to America before Monty was born. He rubs his face in confusion and grimaces as he finds it suddenly overtaken by stubble. He does need to shave pretty often to stay hairless, or rather he would if he tried. His dad certainly always had facial hair growing up, to say nothing of body hair that was like a pelt.

Rubbing his face quickly shifts to scratching at the stubble he didn’t even notice he had as it continues to grow thicker and darker. The mustache he’s always stubbornly held onto now perfectly matches the wiry hairs growing up his cheeks and those now burying his jawline. Staining as onyx black as the dense persian forest on his head. Monty ignores how he now self-assigns himself the Persian identity as his mind trails to the still pressing pressure in his briefs. Promptly he tears them off and releases his beast, now surrounded by thick dark curls that he’s not seen on his hairiest hook-up. Cock unfurled, he leans back and languishes in his new body, his phone still vibrating with every reply and like that only drives him further towards ecstasy.

Mehdi’s bed frame creaks underneath him as likes continue to stream in. Settling into his new identity both as a Persian prince and a newly twenty five year old. The extra year puts a good deal more meat on his bones. His biceps bloat with strength as his hands rub through his sweaty treasure trail, the thicket of curls swiftly spread across his widening torso. Abs that in his mind he’s always diligently endeavored to maintain are suddenly hidden behind a growing gut that issues forth with a moan that resounds deeper from his heavy chest. His pecs bloat larger as hair spreads out from his nipples and up towards his never shaven neck.

One meatier hand rubs his new powerful gut, healthy weight layered over dense muscle that he spends a good chuck of time strengthening. The other hand grabs behind his thick neck onto his sturdy headboard, exposing a jungle of sweaty pit hair that Mehdi can’t help but turn to indulge in. He takes a deep breath and murmurs with delight at how every inch of him is becoming more virile, more masculine, more powerful with each passing moment. Each increasing year. Feeling his broader cock bob untouched, Mehdi’s glazed over eyes are again drawn to the flashing notifications on his phone. Someone launched a poll in his thirst trap on his age and “Not a day under 30” is running away with the contest.

He doesn’t let it bother him, so what if he looks a year or two older. 27 is just one of those ages, he thinks as hair grows thick in the center of his chest. Playing with his pec as his beard itches denser and lengthens into a clearly defined point off his masculine chin, he reconsiders. He’s not 27 is he? Clenching his eyes shut  as his head feels full and his thoughts slow down. Didn’t he just turn 28? Curls inch up his meaty forearms and begin to cover his biceps with fur. Likewise as he rubs his sculpted beard in thought his chest hair begins spreading upwards to conquer his shoulders. Smirking at how hot he looks in his reflection he remembers when he first started getting hair on his back. It was last year at 29. 

Mehdi grimaces as he remembers his fans complaining about how hairy he was getting, how much weight he was putting on. As if he fucking cared. He was a man. He was powerful. He wasn’t about to let the thirsty twinks or jealous twunks get him to feel bad about his appearance. Holding his thirst trap in his mind his hands rub down the jungle of curls now trailing the entire front of his body before beginning to explore the densest tangle around his cock. It is not long before they find themselves wrapped around his still expanding package, one that is rapidly bringing him into the new world of pleasure. His dominant hand clenches itself around his larger cock allows while the other struggles to cup his massive balls. 

Hearing his phone still blowing up he groans as the distraction prevents himself from truly enjoying the exploration of his new body. Er, well he’s always been this hot. Still it’s his first day in his thirties and he wanted some time to himself away from his reply guys and rather than just silencing his phone he decides to leave it once more and go to take a bath. Checking one last time, Mehdi is instantly reminded why he needs some me time as he sees a notif form @BetterBearlieveIt: dnt know why hes lying about his age, girl we know ur 35

Rolling his eyes, Mehdi grunts as he feels a bit bloated on the way to his bath. His deeper voice rumbles as he makes his way into the bathroom and starts the tub steaming. Looking in the mirror he smirks and is barely able to make out his mouth under his uncannily thick beard. He rubs his bloated stomach as it bulges larger. Thankfully he’s torn off his underwear long ago or his significantly larger waist would have surely blown them off with a good deal of fanfare. 

He poses in the mirror, making sure he appreciates every angle his body can muster. Mehdi’s always looked older than he is, but he feels confident he finally looks his age, and 33 doesn’t look bad on him. Pausing a second he laughs and blushes, not that one could see it under the majestic beard. He just turned 35! He winks at himself as his powerful stomach shakes with laughter, must be looking pretty good if he himself thought he was two years younger than he actually is.

His bath finally drawn Mehdi gets in. After embarrassingly finding it far too full for his powerful new form with water spilling out and soaking his bathroom floor he throws a towel down and gets to relaxing. Mehdi delights in the boiling water dancing across each and every curl of hair and sensual curve of his soaking body. He rubs his hands through his pubes as the water struggles to penetrate the curls and smirks as his cock pokes out above the waterline, immediately stimulated beyond belief. Steam curls above the bath and condensation immediately soaks every surface it can latch onto as Mehdi’s deep moans echo through his apartment. 

His mind finally free from the concerns of social media, Mehdi finds himself delighting in every tantalizing inch of his new larger body. His calloused hands dance across every curl, pull his own beard and twist his larger nipples as his musk infuses the dense air with his masculine scent. Every breath brings him deeper into a trancelike discovery of impossible new delights that his aged self can offer him. Away from his phone Mehdi isn’t aware of how discourse on his age has continued to progress.

Eyes shut in steamy reverie, nor does he see the white hairs beginning to speckle his beard. His jungles of body hair similarly suddenly begin to shift to salt and pepper as estimated ages continue to tick up in his replies. It’s of no matter to him of course, he’s well past the age where he is concerned with what his followers think of him. Let alone whatever age they perceive him to be. Decades past in fact he laughs as smile lines creep across his eyes. After loosing a few loads in his bathwater Mehdi thinks it time to get out before the whole pool grows milky. 

Taking a shower to rinse off he groans as he stands to his new height. Almost two hundred pounds heavier as he smiles at himself in his slowly revealed reflection in the still steam-covered mirror. Popping his pecs and flexing his biceps he’s chuffed as ever at how well he’s kept it tight despite the years. Chubbing up again as he sees water drip through his curls. Mehdi throws a towel around his waist as he wanders out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam and his own musk trailing in his wake. He grumbles as he walks around the apartment, deep enigmatic sounds that only make sense to a man of his wizened age. Each step fills his mind with years of experiences as his trip back to his bedroom becomes a speeding trip down memory lane.

Months spent at the gym, countless flings with men of every walk of life, making money off his ever in demand body. He walks with his arms behind his body and feels every tight muscle bulge larger with every new experience that is apparently under his belt. Mehdi sits down with a grunt on his bed, the frame of which creaks from just the daily wear and tear from a man of his prodigious size. He’s unconcerned with water still dripping from his thick beard as he grabs his phone and throws on his readers. Though perpetually unbothered by the predilections and discourse that always fills his replies, Mehdi can’t help but look to see what they’re arguing about today. 

He laughs and laughs as he sees the petty mess his latest thirst trap has stirred up. Hearty laughter fills his bedroom and joy burns clear on his face as he sees people arguing about how old he is. The most popular among them suggesting he’s 40! Mehdi is beside himself as he sees these clueless men arguing that he’s so much younger than he actually is. You’d think the grey hairs would give it away but Mehdi’s certainly not complaining. He's quite happy to at be perceived about as young a bear of his esteem can be.

Drying off completely, Mehdi feels his cock stirring yet again at his audience’s needless flattery. Opening his camera roll he looks for something special to post to keep them at the edge of their seats. Looking at his reflection right now he thinks again, why not make something fresh for them. After all, he’d love to show them what all these years of experience has to offer. He smirks and pats his powerful stomach, wondering just how he is going to show himself off. How he’s going to keep them coming back for more just as he has done countless times before.

Welcome to the Crew

“Sir, sir!” Sebastian jumped as a man threw an arm over his shoulders, “Say hi to our viewers!” The man held out his phone, capturing Sebastian’s shocked face, “Tell us your name, sir! And what brings you out here on this fine afternoon?”

“Uh, I uh...” Sebastian replied, “Hey sorry, I don’t...”

“Just your name and what brings you out here.” The man encouraged.

“Uh Sebastian.” He said, “And, I was on a jog before my next class...”

“Give it up for Sebastian!” The man cheered, the grin never leaving his face, “I’m here with Gridiron Brew! And we have some questions for youuuu!” He continued.

Sebastian internally groaned. Of course. Some stupid influencer being asked to do live interviews for views on social media. In fact, his feed was constantly filled with new ads for Gridiron Brew. If it wasn’t so annoying, Sebastian would be impressed by their intense marketing campaign.

“I don’t think I have time.” Sebastian said politely, “I’m already kinda behind and I need to...”

“Nonsense!” The man chuckled, “Our viewers are dying to know.” His tone became serious,  “Sebastian, are you part of the Gridiron brew crew?”

“Uh, not really.” Sebastian replied awkwardly, “Not really into drinking. Gotta stay fit.”

“And fit you certainly are! Give it up for Sebastian’s abs!” He cheered, running a hand across the young man’s tight abdominals. Sebastian shuddered at the touch, “But on hot days like today, why don’t you quench your thirst with a cold one.” It was like a beer can materialized out of thin air, and the man forced it into Sebastian’s hand, “A first reaction! A live reaction! We certainly hit the jackpot!” The man continued.

Sebastian looked down at the can in his hand. It was brown- the color of a football. Some guy in old football gear was on the front. But instead of holding a football, there was a can of Gridiron brew in his hands. Sebastian looked up at the man, a little unnerved by the grin on his face, and then back down at the can.

“Go on Sebastian! Chug, chug, chug!” The man laughed, “Come on! Give him some support from back home!” He called out to his audience.

Sebastian looked down at the can and against his better judgement, cracked it open. The smell wasn’t anything special. Just like all the other cheap beers he’d come across. Easier to get this over with. And under the watchful and encouraging eye of this man, he took a sip.

“And there we have it!” The man cheered, “So Sebastian, we’re dying to know. What do you think?”

“Well it’s uh...” Really not that impressive was what he wanted to say. But instead he felt his stomach rumble, “It’s uh.... BURRRPPPPPPPPPP.” Sebastian covered his mouth.

“And there we have it folks!” The man laughed.

But Sebastian wasn’t laughing. No... His stomach felt like it was on fire. His abdomen cramping violently. The young man gripped his abs and winced at how tender they felt. Sweat was starting to coat his body and he felt woozy.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Sebastian groaned. But the man was ignoring him now. Instead spitting out some random facts and history about the brew.

But Sebastian was in agony. He was sweating profusely, falling to his knees as his abdomen lurched. He let out another belch, and yelped. Something wasn’t right. The usual firm tightness of his abdominal muscles was softening. The young man cried out as he watched his abs disappear under a thin layer of fat. Followed by another. And another. His hands gripped his new abdominal fat- a beer gut that would put any frat boy to shame. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized he could grab two large handfuls of his new unwanted gut. But it wasn’t just his abdomen. His lean pecs jutted out with both fat and muscle, sagging slightly as they sat above his new beer gut.

“Gridiron brew is for that ex-jock in you!” The man celebrated, seemingly unbothered by the struggle of the young man behind him.

Sebastian yelped again as his arms and legs followed the way of his abs and pecs. Clearly muscular, but lacking definition due to the rapidly accumulating adipose tissue. In the midst of his agony, Sebastian looked up desperately at the man, hoping for some relief.

“Pl-pleeeeasseeee broooooo.” He begged, his voice cracking and becoming deeper.

He yelped as he felt a warmth fill his balls and spread throughout the rest of his body. This surge of testosterone stimulated hair follicles- both old and new- to help carpet the young man in a blanket of musky body hair. Sebastian watched in horror as his pubes poked out from his running shorts, before a dense treasure trail rapidly climbed his pudgy beer gut. As it did, hairs along his stomach grew out. And when it reached his chest- the hairs exploded across it. He ran a hand across his hairy chest, a mixture of disgust and longing for his clean-shaven form, as well as a strange unwanted pride for his newfound manliness.

“You may not be able to relive the glory days,” The man continued as he spoke to his audience, “But with Gridiron Brew, you wouldn’t even want to!”

Sebastian moaned as his face filled with some extra fat, before his chin and cheeks were covered up by a dark beard. When the dark follicles reached his wavy blond locks, they quickly transitioned to take on the same dark hue as his body hair and beard. And moreover, his hair shortened as he aged. Years of his life removed in just an instant until he was in his late 20s. Sebastian sat stunned as the pain and discomfort started to subside. He looked up at the man, who had finally turned and looked down at him.

“Seb here used to be a linebacker in college!” The man announced, “But now he gets his rush from the cool, refreshing taste of Gridiron Brew!”

But Sebastian was still in college, right? He never played football. Well, maybe he had a few lessons, right? Well not a few- his dad was really into it. They watched games growing up, throwing the ol’ pigskin in the backyard. Years went by practicing with his bros and making varsity. Fucking got into college on a scholarship. But that was forever ago, right? He was... he was... Seb smirked and hoisted himself up, grabbing another can of Gridiron Brew from the man. A smirk formed on his face and he slapped his beer gut, which jiggled for the world to see.

“Fuck yeah, bros!” Seb celebrated, chugging the can of beer, “This shit will get you where you need to be.” He grinned, “I’ll be at the stadium tomorrow celebrating, I expect to see my Gridiron brew crew there!” The man grinned and watched as Seb walked off, unaware of the life stolen from him. Doomed to live his life as a forever-frat bro, reliving his glory days on the sidelines, while drinking his new favorite brew.

“Well there we have it folks!” The man grinned, turning back to his phone, “Get yours in stores while supplies last! And welcome to the Gridiron brew crew!”

Forced Freak

Tyson was a uni drop out, nothing special about him other than his pretty face and dedication to his diet. He had no real hobbies and no real friends. The only reason people paid him any real attention was because of his body. However guys got pretty turned off after a one night stand with him when they'd wake up and Tyson would have written them critiques about how to improve their bodies and performance in the bedroom.

Tyson was the worst kind of gym bro, not because he had no real personality, but because he was an asshole with no real personality, in fact when he wasn't coming home from the gym, taking selfies in the mirror or scrolling on grinder for someone to bounce on his waist he spent a large portion of his time staring in the mirror admiring his own perfection.

"fuck yeah, I'm probably the hottest guy alive" he'd say as he rubbed his own crotch.

His arrogant attitude had essentially transformed him into a self obsessed autosexual, whilst he enjoyed sex and having a guy put in all the work whilst he laid back in pleasure he still preferred a night to himself and his mirror.

Tyson flexed his arm one last time, admiring the perfection before him before he turned off his alarm and got up to go to the gym.

"well, I'll see you when I get home handsome" he said winking at his own reflection and snapping his underwear band.

He threw on the folded red tank top and black gym shorts he had lying on his dresser, the ones he had steamed the night before. As he walked out the door he picked up his glass from his morning water and placed it neatly in the dishwasher before turning it on and leaving for the gym.

Upon arriving at the gym Tyson walked into the welcome area where he found 3 tall bodybuilders lined up at the key scanner. Tyson rolled his eyes and tried to avoid contact with them, he hated those freaks. The guys who willingly chose to inflate themselves with disgusting amounts of muscle. Who could barely fit in their cars and he huffed and sweat like bovine beasts when they got on the treadmill.

Tyson quickly got impatient and began tapping his foot as the 3 meatheads were holding up the line.

"are you beasts gonna scan in or am I just waiting here all day"

The three turned their heads to them almost in unison

"yoo you think we are beasts huhu" one flexed his enormous bicep that dwarfed Tyson's head

"hey Ty, what up lil dude. Wanna hit bench with us today? we we can help you grow that chest"

Tyson was disgusted at the thought of working out with the three of them and smelling their terrible stench or listening to them heaving for air.

"no thanks, its hard to improve upon perfection" Tyson said with a smirk

"aw come on dude, you can always improve and get bigger, you aint even close to your limit"

"and I dont want to be" Tyson said with a disgusted frown and one raised eyebrow

There was a loud ding and the three bodybuilders began waddling and shuffling their way through the electronic gate into the gym, having to turn sideways slightly to get their hulking frames in the turn gate.

"This is what I mean" laughed Tyson

"haha, can't blame us for being absolute units man"

"But doesn't it annoy the fuck out of you being like that?"

"no way bro, being this big is fucking awesome"

the three bodybuilders all began laughing and flexing

"I'm sorry I really dont see how turning myself into a...freak would be awesome"

There was a dead silence as the three bodybuilders stopped laughing and turned to him.

"that's a bit of a harsh word bro"

"yeah man don't diss the hobby coz you aint into it"

Tyson smirked flicking as he polished his fitness watch with the edge of his jumper "dude I dont think anyone is into it"

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean"

"umm being so big you have no style because you cant fit into anything, constantly covered in sweat marks, you reek after just a few minutes of exercise, you gulp down water like an elephant who hasn't drunk in a year, can barely fit in your cars and take up so much space, plus I like when guys find me attractive and aren't grossed out by my monstrous body" Tyson turned his back placing his gym bag in the locker completely unaware that the three men he had just insulted looked so red their heads could pop with anger.

"I'LL LET YOU KNOW MY HUSBAND LOOOOVVVEEESSS MY SIZE" the bodybuilder in the middle yelled through his teeth

"whoooaa jayce" the two others said in unison as they grabbed him by the chest and stopped him taking a step forward

"don't shoot the messenger buddy but Im pretty sure your husband wouldn't be disappointed if you lost 30-40lsb of muscle, pretty sure he'd enjoy date night without sitting across from a behemoth stuffing himself so full of protein like a slob"

Jayce threw his arms up in the air and pushed his two friends off of him turning around and walking away.

Tyson ignored the interaction implying pulling his towel and drink bottle out of his gym bag.

"You know what you need Ty..."

"and what's that Mark?" Tyson tiredly asked rolling his eyes

"A real good bulk, make ya real big, that'll change your mind" Mark smirked looking at his friend who was smiling back.

"whatever" Tyson groaned as he walked off into the gym.

---

A few hours had passed and Tyson was in the changing room admiring himself after his workout. It was enough to pump him to that perfect spot where he looked just slightly bigger and was a little sore, but not enough to make him sweat or stimulate the sort of growth a lot of gym guys were after.

Tyson flexed one bicep and ran his other hand down his thigh feeling himself get hard.

"Oh yeah handsome, just wait till I get you in my bed" He smirked at his own reflection.

Just then he heard the sound to the changing rooms open, his hand quickly shot up from his thigh, not wanting anyone to see his moment of lust.

He watched in the mirror as Jayce rounded the corner, his massive and wide shoulders causing him to bump into subway tiled wall. A massive smile lit up on Jayce's face as he saw Tyson standing there.

"Yep" Jayce yelled out

Dylan quickly followed behind and began walking towards Tyson, not that he thought much of it.

"Grab his left Dylan?"

"No worried Jayce"

Tyson was shocked as the two hulking bodybuilders suddenly grabbed hold of his arms and used what felt like all of their strength to sandwich him between them.

"h-HEY WHAT THE FUCK GET OFF" Tyson struggled and squirmed to get out of there grip but it felt like he was being pressed between two stone walls, he was unable to do anything other than pathetically kick his legs.

Just then Tyson heard the door to the changing rooms lock as Mark rounded the corner.

"Mark!, tell your fucking boys to let me go!"

The three bodybuilder's laughed as Mark walked closer holding a strange metal container in his hand that resembled a protein shaker.

"Hey lil dude" Said Mark with a big smirk across his face

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THREE WANT" Tyson snapped.

"to prove you wrong man" Jayce whispered

'w-what" Tyson continued to flounder and squirm to no avail

"you said being a bodybuilder sucked, well we are gonna prove you wrong" Dylan smirked tightly squeezing Tyson's arms

"h-how, Im not gonna start bodybuilding because you three threaten me"

"oh there is no threat bud, we have got something we want to try but dont know about the side effects wanna test it"

"ARE YOU GONNA JAB MY ASS FULL OF ROIDS" Tyson squeaked pathetically

"no dude, of course not" Said Mark

"we already know the side effects to roids" laughed Jayce

Mark grabbed onto Tyson's perfect hair and forcefully pulled his head back, Tyson couldn't see but he felt Jayce wrap his giant muscular arm around his pinning his between Jayce's bulky bicep and forearm and grabbing his cheeks forcing his jaw open.

"bottoms up pretty boy" Mark said as he flicked the cap off the contained with his thumb and shoved the mouth piece into Tyson's mouth.

"MMMMM -MMMM -MMMMMMM!!!!!!" Tyson tried to yell but his mouth was full of a strange thick liquid.

Mark dropped the contained and grabbed Tyson's nose still forcing the container to his lips

"gotta drink if you wanna breathe buddy"

Tyson couldn't hold it any longer

GULP...GULP...GULP.....GULP

Tyson sucked down what was in his mouth and what continued to pour from the container, when the last drop was drunk and all he could taste was air the three bodybuilders all let go in unison and Tyson dropped to the ground gasping for air.

"How long does it take to work Mark?"

"errr container says a few minutes for a start and a week for full effects"

Tyson couldn't concentrate on what the three were talking about, his body began to feel like it was being super heated, like his muscles and bones were being fried into pudy.

Tyson's hand began to tremble, as he looked at it pressed against the cold tiled floor he noticed his thumb enlarging, getting longer and thicker, it spread to all his fingers and his hand, at first he thought it was an allergic reaction but it wasn't puffy or fat, it was hard solid and defined, like all the muscles in his hands were suddenly expanding, he watched as his handed swelled up to the size of dinner plates as veins in his arms and forearms pumped in sync with his heart beat.

His forearms stared growing outwards and he felt his already tight and pumped biceps ache as they swelled even bigger. Seeing his reflection in the mirror he looked like a bad art project as different parts of his body were swelling with size and different times, his shoulders got wider as his calves got bigger, his pecs inflated as his feet grew out of his shoes, his abs bloated into a semi roid gut as his quads quickly filled with blood, and his ass pumped up into a big meaty globe as his traps crept up his back swallowing his necks.

after just a few minutes the three bodybuilders were stunned looking down at the sweaty bulky mess that was Tyson on the floor of the changing room.

Tyson had watched the whole thing in the mirror but still he couldn't recognise himself, what had happened, what they did to him.

He looked like one of them, a bodybuilder.

"w-what did you do to me" Tyson moaned, out of breath and out of energy

"damn, he got huge so quick, and he still has a week to go?"

"please, no, no bigger, turn me back"

the three bodybuilders began to have a conversation around Tyson like he wasn't even there as he tried to pick himself up off the floor. A few minutes passed and Tyson finally stood up. He felt uncomfortable, muscles he didn't even know where near each other rubbed up against each other like every aspect of his body was fighting for space.

Tyson looked at himself horrified in the mirror at the big bulky freak he had become.

"oh fuck..m..my perfect body" he turned to the three men behind him "please, please you gotta turn me back"

"you still got a week of growin left bud" Mark replied

"PLEASE I CAN'T GET BIGGER"

Jayce smirked trying to contain his laughter

"Look dude, we said we were gonna show you how being a bodybuilder is awesome, let it go for a week and we'll check back in and if you still hate it, we'll turn you back"

Tyson turned back to his reflection and flexed, freaked out by his bicep being larger than his own head.

"see, its already awesome, see you later dude"

The three bodybuilders started walking out of the changing room

"no WAIT!!"

Tyson ran over to his bag feeling the weight of his new body with every step and feeling his hard muscles bounce. He leant over and swung his bag over his shoulder. He watched as the door closed behind the three and he ran to catch up. Every step was a chore, it was like an entire workout for just one leg to hold up the weight of his new massive body.

By the time he reached the door Tyson doubled over gasping for air, he placed his giant meaty hand on the wall and slid down the the floor, he had only run a few feet but it felt like he had just done and three hours of cardio without a break, he felt the sweat running down his back and struggled to come up with a reason anyone would want to be this big, why guys would dedicate their lives to become titans.

it took 15 minutes, for Tyson to catch his breath and stand up again and by the time that happened the three he was after were already gone, he walked through the gym defeated hoping nobody would recognise him. He made it to the turn gate and as he went to go through he felt a hard pressing against his shoulders. Not at all used to his new size Tyson hadn't adjusted the angle that he approached the gate and found himself stuck between the two steel bars. Tyson pushed with his back leg but didn't realise the power behind his colossal quads as he easily pushed himself out but he couldn't stop the moment and he came tumbling forward face first onto the floor in front and multiple gym attendants.

"woah, you okay big guy" one of them asked,

Tyson looked up and saw the other two doing their best not to laugh.

"yeah I'm fine!" Tyson tried to get up as fast as he could but the sheer weight of his frame meant it was an awkward step by step process that took almost a whole minute.

Tyson quickly raced out the doors as fast as his could but once again misjudged his giant muscles and his two shoulders slammed into the automatic doors not realising they weren't wide enough for him. A loud bang rang out and Tyson looked back as the glass automatic doors wobbled and shook, and ounce more pressure and they would have surely crashed down around him.

Tyson waddled through the car park desperate to get to his car. Swinging open the door he quickly realised why he had never seen a bodybuilder in a sleek sports car, he didn't fit, just one leg stepped in and there wasn't any more room for him to squeeze in. He tried everything, moving the seat back, moving the wheel up, but still he didn't fit. After about 10 minutes of doing everything he could think of to get in he just decided to force his way in.

Sliding into the car he felt cramped, and when he closed the driver's door it bounced off his arm and swung back open denting the car next to him. Tyson tried again leaning all the way into his car and shutting the door. It shut but as he sat back up he found himself on an awkward angle to the wheel, he tried to adjust himself to roll down the window so he could stick his arm out and get more space but as he placed his arm down on the leather seat to push his own body out the way he heard a loud tearing. His clothes didn't feel loser and he couldn't see what had torn but it sounded bad...

When Tyson arrived home he squeezed himself out of his car, it felt like being freed from a sardine can but as he turned around to shut his door he had found the source of the tearing noise from earlier, in the centre of the seat, directly under where he was, was now a large split right down the leather, seats that cost over a thousand dollars to fix split apart like paper, and that wasn't the worst of it, he looked at the lower back of the seat to see how the leather had warped and swollen from the amount of sweat that had been pressed against it.

"AW MAN" Tyson moaned slammed his car door, not realising the force his arms were able to put behind it and as the door lodged into place his hand carried the momentum behind it straight into the metal of the car leaving a large dent from his palm.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME"

Tyson stormed over to his front door just wanting the day to end. He pulled up his keys to the front door and fumbled for a few minutes as he struggled to sort though them with his massive meaty fingers, finally he got in the door and shut it behind him as gently as he could which still resulted in a slam.

His stomach let out a loud groan, he had never felt so hungry so sudden in his life, Tyson tried to walk to the kitchen but realised it was more of a waddle has his massive muscular thighs slammed into each other. Arriving in front of his fridge he opened it up and grabbed one of his already made meals out and placed it in the microwave to heat up. He watched in spinning round and heard his stomach grumble as the 2 minutes felt like an entirety. Finally he heard the beep and opened up the microwave to devour his meal. What normally would have left him feeling full for hours didn't even make a dent in his hunger. Tyson opened up his fridge and moved on to his next meal without even heating it up, then another, then a protein shake to wash it down, then another meal and a couple apples, along with a banana or two, and of course he had to pull some of the muffins out of the freezer to defrost to have a bit later.

Tyson sat on his couch, feeling groggy and finally full. He looked around him, plates, protein shakers, wrappers and plastic containers were spread out all over his lounge room from the floor to the coffee table. He felt so heavy he didn't want to get up, he just wanted to pass out on his couch and go to sleep. As his eyes began to drift close...

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

The loudest belch he had ever heard forced him to jolt awake.

"aw fuc-uuuuUUURRPPP, this place is a mess"

Tyson finally realised he had trashed his lounge room in his feeding frenzy, he got up to try and clean but he didn't get very far. His body was so massive it was hard to move between his furniture and it was hard for him to constantly bend down to pick stuff up. On his second trip back from the kitchen to clean the last of the mess he finally noticed where he had been sitting, and the enormous sweat patch pressed into the fabric.

He pulled his tight tank top out from his body realising it looked like he had never washed it in his life.

"god, I need a fucking shower"

He made his way down the hall to the bathroom where he was shocked by his own reflection. He knew he had been turned into a hulking behemoth but, he looked like a completely different person now. His tank top was tight and clung to his body as his pecs hung out the sides. It was covered in sweat patches and strains from spilt protein shakes and food. His face was covered in a coat of sweat and his hair was oiler than he'd ever seen before. Tyson's gut churned as he let out another belch. He suddenly felt a tightness in his pants and he got hard.

"what the fuck..."

Tyson lifted up one arm to flex his bicep, he watched the sweat running down from his pits to his lats, he swallowed a quick gulp of air expecting maybe a small burp but was greeted with a massive room shaking belch. Tyson couldn't help it, he got rock solid staring at his sweaty body and hearing his own manly belching.

He worked his hand down awkwardly to his dick and started to pleasure himself.

He couldn't work it out, he missed his perfect body, he missed his old self, he was grossed out by being such a freak but god he was too horny to not please himself.

Right before his big moment he felt a wave of heat surge out into his body, his clothes felt tighter and suddenly the left strap of his tank top snapped as his shoulder, pec and arm practically doubled in size.

"AAH NO, NO NOT AGAIN"

Tyson watched as his dirty tank was torn to shreds by his growing body. His shorts felt tighter and tighter, soon he felt the sound of ripping fabric. As he turned to the side to inspect his growing legs he saw as his muscled ass split his pants in the back and the fabric quickly tore through making his shorts look like a bad loin clothe prop from a Halloween costume.

"OH FUCK NO, STOP, STOP AHHHH"

Tyson could only watch as his body continued to rapidly grow in the mirror...

--------------

3 weeks later

Tyson leant back on the workout bench groaning and gasping for air. It was the most he had ever lifted, not that he wanted to get bigger but it was the only thing he could do with his day at this point.

He heard the noise of 3 guys cheering as Mark, Jayce and Dyaln approached him.

"HEY BIG MAN" Said Mark

"oh great, what do you guys want"

"relax big guy, just wanted to bring you a snack" Dylan laughed as he pulled out a paper bag of drive through crispy chicken and handed it to Tyson.

"Dont forget to wash it down" said Jayce handing him a protein shake

Tyson didn't have the will power to hold back, his new muscle and size burnt so much fuel from simple existing he was practically starving constantly. He immediately reached into the bag and started eating as much as he could as fast as he could, washing it down with a swig of the protein shake, only taking breaks to gasp for air.

A river of chocolate protein ran down his cheek and dripped onto his XXXL tank top, which looked more like a medium crop top on him.

A young handsome gym attendant walked over to the group with a smile on his face.

"hey guys, just a reminder, you can't eat like that in here save it for outside okay" He smiled as he looked straight into Tyson's eyes.

Tyson's mind was racing, this guy was the most handsome guy he had ever seen in his life, we wanted to apologise for being such a slob, hell, he wanted to ask the guy on a date.

Tyson rubbed the crumbs and protein from his mouth away with the back of his hand and opened his mouth. Immediately he gritted his teeth and almost by instinct at this point cocked the side of his mouth open.

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPP!!

Tyson couldn't help but belch and burp as he struggled to get a word out.

"bro..that's nasty" the gym attendant laughed as he walked away.

Mark, Jayce and Dylan all erupted with laughter.

"DUUUUUUDDEEEE" yelled Dylan

"You aren't gonna get a date like that dude I tell you that" laughed Jayce

"They probably wouldn't date him even if he didn't burp every couple of minutes, I mean who wants to date a bodybuilder freak right guys" Mark laughed as he rubbed Tyson's shoulders

"Yeah, you're right Mark, nobody wants a freak like Tyson" Dylan chuckled.

Tyson couldn't control it, the sound of their laughter, the way the three called him a freak and a slob. His dick got hard and he felt as a mixture of pre and cum leaked into his underwear.

They were never going to change him back, he was going to be stuck as this good for nothing muscle pig, forever....

he threw himself back down on the bench..

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP

Out To Pasteurize

Calvin learns the side effects of Bro-science first hand after accidentally drinking some Raw Milk.

Read some real mind numbing takes about drinking unpasteurized milk and here we are! Hope you enjoy, in other news I’m going to throw up the post announcing the Viral Transformation participants soon! -Occam

Having been priced out by rising rent at his old place Calvin was in quite the pickle. Fate smiles upon him however as his sister’s ex, Derrick, is in sudden need of a new roommate. They run in quite different circles, Calvin the sort to stay in and read while Derrick probably has more hours at the gym than some people spend awake. Though as he’s lacking any other options Calvin is more than happy to move in with the jock. Time spent working out is time out of the apartment and Calvin has always enjoyed as much personal space as he could get.

As hoped, the living situation is not too bad at all. Derrick stays out of Calvin’s hair and he has more than enough time and space to work from home. There are few better relationships between two diametrically opposed people than one with only incidental interaction. Their lives together are not to continue without a hitch however as one unfortunate morning Calvin runs out of coffee creamer and rather than just drinking it black he decides to sneak some of Derrick’s unlabelled milk.

He shrugs as he’s sure his roommate wouldn’t mind, they’re quite amiable and Derrick’s always offering him protein powder and trying to get him into the gym, spotting him some milk is surely equivalent. Hearing his roommate’s bedroom door open he quickly pours a bit more than he meant to into his cup in a rush to get the bottle back into the fridge surreptitiously. Sure, Derrick wouldn’t mind but Calvin would prefer to not have any interaction on the matter if possible. He stirs in the milk and grimaces as it brightens his coffee to a far lighter shade than he typically prefers.

Derrick wanders into the living room, still halfway pulling up his shorts before stretching as he prepares for his favorite only pastime. Calvin smirks behind his mug at pulling off the pettiest larceny one can imagine before he takes a large gulp of his coffee. As soon as it hits his tongue Calvin is struck with a taste incredibly vile, and yet one that demands he drink more. As such he is torn between spitting up and forcing it down. In the end he’s just able to swallow it before the aftertaste of milk sour and spoiled spreads through his mouth. Regretting his decision he begins gagging. Seeing this Derrick quickly runs over shouting in concern.

“Yo bro! You good!? Do you, uhh, should I call for help!?” He stands behind and puts his massive arms around Calvin’s torso, preparing to do whatever he thinks the heimlich maneuver is. Feeling the warm body behind him as steam rises off his smooth, slowly swirling, mug of coffee Calvin pauses as he realizes in the commotion the taste is gone from his mouth. He feels the hot coffee settle in his stomach and at just that moment he is overwhelmed with a creamy sweetness unimaginable. Inches away from breaking one of the smaller man’s ribs Derrick feels his body stop struggling and go limp with a small groan, “Uhhh ye- yeah? I’m okay. I’m good.” His hands go to his head as he feels the tinges of a headache begin to come on, involuntarily he licks his lips and his eyes dart back to the mug.

Derrick backs away and returns to the other side of their kitchen island, his eyes still painted with concern and adrenaline making his hands slightly shaky, “Promise you’re good bro?” Calvin nods as he far too quickly convinces himself that that rotten taste must have been in his head. He just wasn’t expecting the milk to make his coffee taste so good, yeah. That’s it. He takes a second sip and lets it sit in his mouth, as he tries to make out the taste. It almost seems thicker than heavy cream he thinks, coating his teeth in a thin film as he swishes it around before swallowing. Calvin pauses and bites his lip before deciding to just level and ask what kind of milk it is as the desire to use it again later begins to stew. “Hey I, uh, hope you don’t mind Derrick but I used your milk for creamer.” 

Concern immediately vacates his roommate’s eyes as they grow wide in shock, he opens his mouth to respond but clearly the slow-turning gears in his head can’t quite decide what to say. Not even an Uhh spills out as he stands there. Seeing this Calvin speaks up to try and keep it light, “sorry if that was an overstep, um, dude. Though it’s some of the best I’ve ever had! If you wouldn’t mind telling me what kind it is I’d love to get some myself! Is it like heavy cream? No way it’s a non-dairy!” Calvin takes another sip and lets it again dance on his tongue, he can barely taste the coffee underneath as the milk’s creamy taste grows more prominent by the second.

There is another pause. Derrick’s eyes follow the cup and he grimaces before swallowing hard and bucking up. “For sure for sure lil’ bro. Uhhh, promise you won’t be mad though.” Calvin tilts his head and Derrick responds before he has a chance to swallow and respond, “It’s from my guy at the gym. It’s um, raw milk.” Calvin’s brow furrows quicker than a heartbeat as he hears this. His mind races with memories of the brain-rotted arguments he’s read from the most barbarous gym bros about drinking the bacteria ridden garbage, for quite literally no good reason. After that, memories flash of health reports that followed soon after, detailing the bird flu outbreaks in the community. Despite this, and despite himself, he doesn’t immediately spit take. Try as he might his lips open slower than his throat as he swallows yet another mouthful of what he now knows to be unpasteurized poison.

“What the fuck?” He says quietly, staring daggers into his roommate who is shaking his hands and head quickly. “Nonono bro bro just chill! My trainer fuckin’ swears by this stuff and he’s completely fine! If you saw the results you’d be- Uh? Dude?” Derrick pauses as he sees Calvin start to raise the cup to his lips again, he had just intended to inspect it bit. Give it a sniff or something, but it’s like his body’s on auto pilot. His hand tilts the mug and his mouth falls ajar. His throat similarly opens unnaturally as the whole of his cup, only just cool enough to drink, pours straight down his throat. His eyes widen in fear as the desire to drink overpowers every rational thought crying out for him to stop immediately. 

Slamming the mug down after essentially shotgunning his surely pathogen filled cup of joe, Calvin finds himself frozen in place. Clutching his mouth he’s lost in thought as everything in him begins to accelerate. Chugging his coffee seems to have filled him with even more energy than usual as his mind races even faster than his accelerating heartbeat. He struggles to focus on any meaningful course of action, and couldn’t possibly come to the idea to induce vomiting to eliminate the source of whatever this hysteria is. Instead, he’s struck with a deep rooted need to move, to sweat, to work hard. He is immediately twitchy as every individual muscle in his body has an urge to stretch, to burn, to grow.

This desperate need is clear on his face and when he looks up to see his hitherto antsy roommate Derrick, he simply smiles wide, wordlessly understanding what is about to happen. Calvin can’t hear whatever he says over the buzzing in his head, but as Derrick brings out his smallest gym clothes he’s able to put two and two together. Filled with impulse alien and energy unbecoming, still clearly driven by whatever strange autopilot that brought the raw milked coffee to his lips, Calvin finds himself getting ready for a horrible gym session with his roommate.

Concern at just how bizarre this situation is falls by the wayside as he feels the soothing burn of stretching. Thoughts and worries of being sick vacate immediately as he instead focuses on whatever’s going on in his body. Mumbling to himself about needing to stretch more, he allays the discomfort in his stomach as he sees just how excited Derrick is about finally getting him to go to the gym together. “Bro let’s go! Your first pump is gonna be killer! Especially after having some of my trainer’s special stuff!” He adds on, slamming his massive hand into the back of Calvin’s shoulder with enough force that should send the typically meek man sprawling.

Instead Calvin simply stumbles forward a single step, grunting as he rolls his shoulder and flexes his arm. The burn from the smack swiftly transitions to the burning soreness of exercise, before even lifting a weight lactic acid sears through his arm and veins bulge down his bicep. Calvin turns with a cocky smirk, arm raised in a bicep flex and Derrick stands beside himself with excitement, he shakes Calvin by his shoulders, “Brooo! Let’s run! We gotta make the most of your first dose!” While his body races with energy his mind slows and his eyes glaze over, not quite able to understand whatever Derrick’s implying. At any rate the two men race out the door. Calvin trails quite far behind at the start but with each surging step forward he feels himself picking up speed as his legs begin to bulge larger.

Once inside Derrick immediately sends the newbie through the wringer. Mind clouded, he’s putty in the expert’s hands as he’s ushered into machines and through techniques he should be struggling to complete. Instead every lift, every push, every pump, sends pleasure immeasurable through him. His body burns. His body grows. Gritting his teeth as his biceps fill the sleeves of his shirt and for the first time muscle begins to amass on his flat chest. Derrick’s mouth may as well be watering as he sees Calvin’s insane gains. His own pulse accelerates as he pushes Calvin well past what his breaking point should be.

“Fuck bro, you look fucking killer!? No way this is your first time at the gym.” Derrick says through a smirk as he positions Calvin at a mirror so they can take some thirst traps. Awkwardly posing as he begins to feel a comedown from both his workout and whatever concoction he unfortunately enjoyed, Calvin feels some sort of sense begin to return to his mind. Seeing himself shirtless in public he feels his lungs take brief panting breaths as he begins to hyperventilate. Inspecting his reflection he’s thrown off course, he does look killer. That’s impossible!? That’s not how working out works right? He leans in close to see pecs have somehow bulged onto his chest. Traps above and arms that could lift more weight than he could previously dream at their side. He balks as he sees his body has somehow become something beyond admirable.

He typically prides himself on his rationality, but as he sees these impossible changes he knows there can only be one cause. He gulps as he looks at his first workout partner wandering off into the gym, feeling an emptiness in his stomach that there is now a desperate need to resolve. He needs more. Calvin’s eyes continue tracing every new powerful curve of his body while he waits for his roommate to return. Somehow two steps ahead of the usually astute Calvin, Derrick returns hiding something behind his back, “Guess what I got bro!” Calvin’s breath catches in his chest as he stares at his roommate with hunger newfound.

Derrick tosses him a bottle with a smug smirk at having totally convinced the man on raw milk. Catching it, Calvin doesn’t hear the recommendations offered or see the look of shock on the jock’s face as he opts to down a good chunk of the quart then and there. “Woah bro?” Wiping milk off his face with a sweaty arm he releases a burp louder and deeper than he would ever have allowed himself to do this morning. Derrick pats him on the back once more with a laugh. Excited at having another bro to workout with, he doesn’t spend a second questioning the changes in his roommate as his stomach bloats and his pecs almost seem to grow weightier immediately. 

Returning to their apartment Derrick talks Calvin’s ear off about macros and strategies that Calvin agrees to without even half-listening. Feeling the not quite cold jug of milk in his hand he knows he has everything he needs already. While it filled him with energy inhuman this morning, drinking it after a workout has unearthed new sensations. Under his new bloated abs he feels his cock begin to stir in his pants, only now realizing that he’s wearing borrowed compression shorts he notices that he is already chubbed up. Feeling his dick stretch against the nylon fabric he bites his lip as his balls pulse beneath it. Seeing him adjust his gait Derrick fully looks down to see the man’s package suddenly bulging through his shorts.

He laughs loudly as he addresses the not-quite elephant in the room. Eyes glazed over even more now that his growing balls have arrived on the scene, he doesn’t quite hear Derrick explain the broscience behind NoFap. Converted already on drinking raw milk he continues nodding along as his balls do their best to demand his attention and immediate release. 

Crossing the threshold into their apartment Calvin feels himself tempted to already throw in the towel and enjoy the fruits of his new labor. He’s heard that masturbating after working out is a heady delight, or perhaps it was the other way around. He puts his head in his hands, groaning as there’s a drive in him to stay strong. Sitting on his bed he realizes a lifeline in self-control that sleep presents and simply lies back. Whatever happens while he’s unconscious is out of his hands he thinks with a smirk as sleep finds him quicker than it has in years.

His new changes continue their advance while he rests in dreamless sleep. Calvin squirms as his new chest immediately begins to strain the tank he threw on before hopping into bed. His pecs grow at a rate quicker than anywhere else on his body, nipples growing from the pinpricks they’ve always been into half-dollars that will rarely be hidden behind a single layer of fabric. 

Well, his pillowy pecs aren’t outpacing every part of his body. Hidden in musky compression shorts he didn’t have a chance to change out of, his balls swell to produce hormones for a man twice his size. Hair prickles up from his pubes, creating a dusty treasure trail, and out from his pits, to one day connect with a forest on his chest, as testosterone production soars higher than that of lumberjacks and the most macho military men. Morning wood pushes against his shorts and he moans and rolls over onto his stomach and clenches at the sheets.

His unconscious form moves with a ferality as he humps his bed with power that continues to grow greater by the second. In his own bedroom reading workout guides, Derrick looks to the wall in shock as he hears his roommate’s bed frame creak. Feeling his own package cry for attention he decides he’s earned a break as he treats himself to his own petit mort, imagining his twink of a roommate bulking up over time, he begins jacking off to his fantasies. Totally unaware as the man’s body in reality is already exceeding his dreamed expectations. 

As Calvin finds release, moaning loud enough for Derrick to hear his voice deepening, stubble begins to stain his face. Likely to never leave for long at all. His cock had jumped out of his waist band during his mattress humping session, leaving cum stains smattered across his new treasure trail. After this release his balls return to overdrive and begin to churn once more, filling him with desire and drive that will get him through his next workout, milk or no milk. Though given his apparent addiction to the stuff it is clear which way he would prefer.

Calvin isn’t quite sure what time he went to bed or what time it is now that he’s woken up. His morning routine of drinking coffee and getting straight to work abdicates to be replaced by his chugging whatever of Derrick’s miracle milk he can find. Seeing it still dark outside he isn’t deterred as he downs a glass of raw milk before pouring a thermos of the ambrosia for the road. Raring to go, he grabs his roommate’s workout bag and beats feet to get another steamy session in at the gym. 

Something within Calvin tries to speak up in existential fear of what has happened to him, what he is becoming. Slowing his jog he is struck with a migraine. Grunting as he picks back up speed, he feels his balls pulse and his bloated torso flex as every step towards the gym brings him closer to pleasure and fulfillment he’s never neared knowing before now. The voice in the back of his mind grows quieter and rapidly feels itself losing ground, after all hasn’t he always wanted to be this kind of guy? Who wouldn’t. His pecs bounce with every step, his new larger nipples scratching against his tight shirt as his chest aches to grow larger. 

He sneers at the early morning receptionist as she tries to check him in and she rolls her eyes, muttering something about asshole bros before returning to her cellphone. Hearing that as he continues striding forward, massive chest raised, the final meek part of him remaining grasps at its last strands. He’s not a bro. He's just a normal guy. So what he’s started to hit the gym, it’s not like he’s some dumb oaf, right? He struggles to hold this should be truth as he sees a shirt he should be drowning in hang off his chest, exposing his lowest row of abs and a treasure trail he’s never come close to having before. He avoids looking at his defined jaw underneath a beard that should have taken him years to grow. All the while he desperately fights against the mind-numbing urges issuing forth from his growing cock and bulging balls.

Making it to the locker room he immediately loses his shirt and looks at his reflection in full. Seeing his milk-bloated stomach he flexes his muscles and just as soon pauses thinking about who he is, who he is supposed to be to instead watch as every part of him bulges larger. Hungrily staring at himself his thoughts slow to a crawl, befores stopping altogether as he methodically stretches and flaunts every muscle group in turn. He hasn’t even touched a weight this morning, and yet at every movement his body seems to expand and bulge larger. Biceps peaking higher with every flex, thighs strain his pants and his calves burst larger with every raise and stretch. He licks his lips as he sees individual strands of muscle on his pecs cramp and grow larger, doing so he tastes the nectar that delivered him this deific form. 

The voice of his past self goes completely mute as his mind slows to such a crawl he’ll be lucky to ever perform actions with more than three steps again. The idea of excess certainly doesn’t cross his mind as he tears into Derrick’s gym bag looking for the packed flask of his potation. Can’t have too much of a good thing, he thinks without thinking as he immediately brings the flask to his mouth and chokes down as much as he can stand. Raw milk trickles down his face as he truly becomes the type of man he has always loathed. Unconcerned with hygiene or social moors, unwashed and apathetic to anyone around him. Why should they matter anyway he thinks as his pecs bulge larger as milk trails a path in between thickening hairs.

His stomach bulges larger as he consumes more milk than anyone should have in a week. He groans as his throat bulges with the haste at which he’s downing his miracle elixir. Thankfully he’s already torn off his shirt to ogle himself or it would have burst clean off as his stomach expands. His heavy pecs bloat even larger as they rest on his new gut. Clouded spit drips down his chin as he sits down and blankly stares ahead, saliva mixing with sweat that is increasingly covering his body from the exertion of putting on mass. The locker room bench creaks underneath him as weight it should take a lifetime to produce just pours onto his body as the last dregs of his mind, his true self, slip away. 

His swollen stomach swiftly bursts the waist of his pants as fat and muscle struggle for real estate on his new form. Veins bulge down his meaty arms as his biceps rival the size of his head, now supported on a neck the size of a tree trunk, framed by weighty traps on either side. He guffaws as he sees his cock fully exposed in the locker room and goes to cover it with one of his massive mitts, struggling to do so just as any pair of pants would from now on. There's the sound of fabric exploding and he looks down to see his feet already more than eclipsing the now torn soles of his tennis shoes. He scratches his thickening beard as he tries to figure out what to do. Slow as he may be he’s pretty sure the gym will kick him out if he wanders around the gym nude.

Digging through the pile of Derrick’s clothes he realizes all the clothes within were dirty laundry. Shrugging as that’s no longer a concern for him he finds a pair of sweat-stained shorts and throws them on, smirking at the feeling of his cock freeballing in the tight cotton shorts. No chance he’ll find a shirt large enough to cover his godly torso he doesn't even try. Why would he want to cover his pride and joy anyway. Scratching at his chest as the hair across his torso thickens into a pelt he smirks before switching to fondle his package and flex at his own reflection. 

Calvin feels pre drip down his leg as he immediately grows hard and swears he can see himself pumping larger with every heartbeat. He isn’t sure how long he stands there getting off to his own power before his roommate arrives to the locker room shouting, “Brooo! I was wondering where my gym bag went huhuh!” He runs over and gives his bro a bear hug  before trying to lift him, neck bulging as he fails to get the now behemoth even an inch off the ground. Calvin laughs loud enough for the eyes-rolling receptionist to hear as he moves to easily heave his now less massive roommate in the air. 

Derrick blushes airborne before smirking and playfully squeezing the titan as hard as he can, similarly apathetic to the filth covering his roommate’s hairy body. After the man holding him high stops laughing Derrick speaks up, “See I told you that milk was the stuff huhuh!” Moments pass while Calvin stands with mouth ajar, as he will for a few seconds anytime his slowchugging mind deigns to try and speak. His voice is a rumble as the dull words fall from his slack-jawed mouth, “Uhhhh whatever bro. I’ve uhhh, always been about drinking that shit.” Punctuating it with a rather bullish nose exhalation as he sets the man down and pouts.

His roommate rolls his eyes and ruffles his short sweaty hair as he knows when to let the big guy win an argument. “Sure sure bro. You wanna head in there and get even fuckin’ bigger?” Derrick sees Cal’s cock bob in his shorts like a dog’s wagging tail at the idea of a workout. He grunts in the affirmative and Derrick pats him on the back to usher him forward. The two men then set off to the races, Calvin now taking point. Never to be the bright one again, nothing remains in his mind to question why he knows all he does about working out. 

Rarely would any adrift shred of his past self stumble through the dense thick fog of his mind. If they ever do they’ll find themselves part of the new Cal soon enough anyway. It’s of no matter who he was before he was king of this gym. He doesn’t even need bro science anymore as he continues to grow larger au naturale. The two men become icons at their gym, every day showing the ropes to men who dream to be a fraction of what they already are, and every night returning back to their apartment for some steamy well-earned cardio.

Herbal T

After a sudden breakup Clark decides to finally conquer his wanting sex drive by overdoing an herbal remedy. Soon enough he finds himself nothing more than a servant of his newfound lusts.

I did it everyone, I finally wrote a story under 3k words! Enjoy this, only relatively brief, story of a man’s hypersensitive existence! -Occam

(Also if any writers out there want to participate in my 2k follower writing contest/challenge do check it out here: Occam2000 !)

Clark had never really minded his low sex drive. It’s not that he found sex debasing, he’s just never that horny. He wasn’t quite ace, but as many men would learn throughout the years, his libido moved at a glacial speed. After his longest term relationship to date ended due to his proclivity for nigh-celibacy, he was starting to reconsider the urgency of his desires. Over the years Clark had tried a litany of home remedies and aphrodisiacs to little difference at all. Doctor’s visits and his own research point to him being hale and hearty. Still, as he lays in his bed, alone once more, he’s determined to come to a solution.

Finding sleep fleeting he tosses and turns before he remembers some long-forgotten herbs stuffed in the back of his bureau given to him by an ex. Clark was hesitant to use them at the time, but now that he’s nearing his breaking point he’s decided that no holds are to be barred. He needs to increase his sex drive at any cost, then surely Paul will come crawling back to him. Digging through drawers to find the small tin, Clark quickly produces it only to find no information or instructions on the cylinder. No wonder he neglected to try them at the time. Opening it he can’t quite decide if they should be brewed as a tea or smoked.

Fortunately for him, as soon as he’s inhaled the fumes released from his opening the jar, Clark is immediately struck woozy. He barely gets the lid back on before he spills backwards onto the bed, narrowly avoiding falling on his ajar laptop. He babbles to himself as he is struck dumb with desire, blood from every extremity rushing to his cock with such overwhelming haste he can’t help himself but release a single guttural grunt before he is unconscious. His sleepful hands claw at his strained shorts while his package surges larger than past partners could have ever imagined it being.

Unfortunately for them, no one is to reap the benefits of Clark’s cock at its most turgid. His balls swell beneath the growing length as they send sex hormones down nerve pathways his body has long since abandoned. His mind races with fantasies and fetishes he never imagined it would entertain. Sex with faces familiar and random passersby fly through his imagination and his underpants are promptly soaked through as Clark experiences his first wet dream at such an intensity it may well make up for his decade and a bit of passed on opportunities for sex.

The new urgency in his crotch is not the only physical change coursing through his body at his first waft of the herbs. Testosterone has always been on the scene but never has it taken such a dominant position in his body. Hands rub across the whole of his body as he remains unconscious, gracing tightened skin as muscle expands beneath. Veins bulge on his arms as his hips hump into shorts that are rapidly becoming too tight for comfort. 

Clark grits his teeth as abs punch their way onto his torso. His hands hesitate their rapturous exploration of his growing chest to instead scratch at the light itches beginning to arise at every expected area. His armpit burns as his few pit hairs lengthen before thick new strands shove themselves in all the real estate available between hairs and further afield. Turning his head he feels stubble that has never quite graced his face scratch against his sweat stained pillow and his eyes bolt open.

Awake yet again his mind hasn’t even enough awareness to question the fact that he’s sitting in a pool of his own bodily fluids as his hands quickly remove the only obstacle between himself and gratification that he has never truly desired before now. His mind moves like putty while his hands are twitchy in hyperactivity, every changed muscle fiber quivers as pangs of satisfaction and a lust for even more courses through him. His fingers flit between the keyboard and his crotch, with each touch light or deliberate he writhes and his mind tosses philosophies and intelligence like ballast weight. He struggles to produce any porn at all having never had the need before. He stumbles on a website and at the first image is struck with unparalleled bliss, his core convulsing as he flips to instead hump his bed.

Face down, he continues his exercise in staining his sheets, slicking up a new treasure trail as it inches its way towards his developing chest. Hesitant to return to the overwhelming images on the screen, his eyes turn and land upon the small tin of herbs that introduced him to this state of ecstasy and and before a second passes, the canister is in his hand. Caution to the wind, fuck whatever he thought before he needs more. His lust-addled mind hasn’t the wherewithal to consider the options in consuming the dried mystery herbs within. Inhalation got him this far but that’s baby steps, he wants to be inducted to whatever plane of pleasure this concoction will usher him to.

He forces his clumsy cum-covered hand into the tin and simply shoves as much of the mix as he can muster into his wanting mouth. His eyes cross as he falls backwards onto the bed, the half-handful of the mixture that missed his mouth scatters around his bedsheets, sure to be licked up later, once whatever shreds of his mind that remain return. For now his desire, pleasure, sensitivity all rush to higher heights than one should ever experience. Clark feels the burning of his body changing, mouth lolling open as even the thickness of the air on his tongue brings him closer to the satisfaction just out of reach as he stretches and flexes in turn. He languishes on the bed, effortlessly becoming the perfect vessel to induce this ecstasy anywhere he so wills it, with whomever he desires.

His sharp wit and conscionable conscience rot in his now unending lust focused mind like overripe fruit. Taking a deep breath and smelling his own salty-sweet ichor mix with the miracle herbs, Clark couldn’t possibly bring himself to be concerned with the meager problems of his real life. He feels every thickening hair cry out with new nerve endings, from the sweaty forest of curls in his pits as they rub against each other and the fattening biceps that contain them. His mouth falls open once more as facial hair begins its spread outright, stubble that will never leave his face for more than a moment paints itself across the whole of his jaw before aiming to race towards his equally dusted chest. At the epicenter of his new existence his cock bulges larger as it is surrounded in a true jungle of dark pubes as they curl upwards towards his weightier pecs, ever wanting to expand his body into the garden of delights he oh so wants it to be.

His meatier hands need not even touch his cock as every screaming sensation, from his back on the wet satin sheets to the friction of his own sweaty skin on skin, fills him with immeasurable pleasure. Every cell sends signals so hypersensitive it's as if every part of him is an erogenous zone. His mind continues to atrophy into this state of permanent yearning. Were he even able to look beyond the explosive sensations he’s bathed in, he would see no purpose in anything besides the continual exploration of his new world of sexual indulgence. Losing count of how many consecutive cumshots he’s loosed into the air quickly enough to make one wonder if he even has the capacity to count, Clark stumbles to his feet only to find more sickly delight in his soles against the carpeted floor.

After an immeasurable time of his body continuing its development towards the end of perpetual pleasure seeking, Clark’s sluggish mind plods to the idea that he could garner even more satisfaction were there another body here with him. He swallows the drool pooling in his mouth as he grabs his phone and struggles to remember the password, after mashing a few buttons he groans before being succinctly locked out of his phone.

His arms tense as he fights the urge to chuck the machine against the wall before he starts to move and loses his footing. Completely unfamiliar with how to carry the new top heavy weight he falls back onto the bed and once more begins writhing in delight, moans of pleasure seamlessly merge with guttural grunts as he bucks. They are swiftly followed by an existential laughter as whatever mind remains within Clark  realizes he couldn’t even summon his own phone password to his mind.

  Before he’s able to begin reflecting on his new state in whatever pitiable way he can, fortune smiles upon his lustful self as he gets a phone call. Who could it be other than the man who began his descent. At the chime of the second ring, Clark has answered and wrenches the phone to his ear. It almost slips out of his hand from the sweat as he struggles to focus on his ex’s words.

“Hey Clark I- I don’t know what got into me. I-” There’s a sigh and a pause as the man on the line rubs his face in embarrassment for having put his own sex drive ahead of his love for his dearest, “Would you want to grab coffee later today?”

There’s a long pause and Paul squints as he hears Clark pant. Batting away images of the two men frotting and fucking he struggles to think even one step ahead. He grunts before he tries to speak coherently, “Paul.” His voice dry and raspy, Clark quickly clears his throat and stretches his jaw and mouth as if he must relearn how to control it. His hand reaches to his own neck and he shivers from the sensation, “Me want-, uhhh.” His eyes glaze over as something inside him realizes just how truly his higher functions have deteriorated. Given pause, his untenable desires take the wheel with another grunt and he speaks plainly and thoughtlessly, “You come here? Me- Grgh. Me over it. Fuck?”

Paul was second guessing himself as soon as he heard the man speak, sounding deeper than he did even on his sickest days. As the breathy words spill out sounding strained, he concludes something must be up. Hearing the content of Clark's bizarre words he blushes before hastening to depart to Clark’s at once, out of concern as well as excitement at the potential that they have both learned something in his petite absence. He smirks as he thinks himself to be the one to finally awaken desire in the sexually sedated man, not knowing what a beast lies in wait for him when he gets there. “I’ll be there in five babe,” he winks to no one, “Don’t forget the protection.”

The line goes silent and Clark grimaces at the words said in parting, protection? He scratches his head in confusion at what that could even mean, shifting to scratch at his pit dripping with sweat he sniffs his hand before shoving his own head directly in his pits with a deep chuckle. He’s vaguely aware that there should be some preparation done, but looking around at his sweat and cum covered bedroom cleanliness is so far removed a priority it may as well exist no longer to him. 

He flexes at himself in every reflective surface he can find, biting his lip and shivering as the cool air washes across his sweaty skin. Unable to fathom any real preparation to be done before the arrival of his, uh lover? Fuckbuddy? Whatever- He instead does the hardest thing he can imagine, taking a break from touching himself. Abstinence has a new meaning for the man now that any stray sensation can send him over the edge. 

He takes deep quivering breaths as he stands still in wait, imagining just how sweet his next release will be once he feels the incoming man in his arms. Each passing second the anticipation only continues to heighten his heady needs. By the time he arrives Clark’s so eager and hungry Paul’s lucky to get the door closed before the lustful giant pounces. Shocked at what has become of the man he knew Paul hasn’t a moment to think before he too is overwhelmed by senseless pleasure. After all, what could matter more than the pursuit of this everlasting delight.

Dedicated Roleplay

By: chaoticdjinn

Enzo's head gave a little throb, prompting him to wince visibly for the umpteenth time that night. He didn't understand why he was suddenly feeling so out of sorts. He had been fine an hour ago when he was prepping for DnD. "Sorry guys, guess I'm just sort of out of it tonight. What was your last move?" "I said I wanted to see if I could persuade the guard into letting me talk to the Half-Elf they just brought in." Replied Sam, looking at Enzo with an odd smile. “Right, right. Sure give me a roll.” “Eighteen” Replied Sam, giving a little whoop of excitement at his high roll. Enzo rolled his die behind the screen and froze. Looking between the 12 he rolled on the die and the sheet that housed the NPC’s stats he couldn’t make sense of what the total was supposed to be. What was worse, he couldn’t even remember what he was supposed to use to check against a persuasion check. “Uh, he believes you, I guess.” Mumbled Enzo, his head feeling heavier with each passing second. “What do you mean you guess? You’re the DM, does he or doesn’t he?” Asked Sam, the smile on his face growing curiously wider. “I mean, yeah he does.” Affirmed Enzo, rubbing his temple lightly. As the scene continued on Enzo found himself faltering at every interaction. He suddenly couldn’t remember any of the work that he prepped just an hour or so ago, nor did he have a clear memory of what the overarching plot of the campaign was. With a grunt and a groan, Enzo pushed himself away from the table and stood up, feeling a sudden anxious energy surge through his body. “Holy crap guys I think it worked.” Said Sam, looking between Enzo and the rest of the group. “Well yeah, I’m not the group’s Wizard for nothing.” Replied Adam, tapping his handmade spellbook. Enzo’s eyes widened as the anxious feeling inside of him exploded into a surge of energy that coursed through his entire body. He felt the seams of his tight jeans and small, snug shirt rip and tear while his body expanded outward.  A flat chest became a thick and powerful shelf of muscle. His nonexistent biceps swelled to the size of softballs, then bowling balls, his veins pressing up tightly against his skin. His ripped clothing swirled and undulated, taking on a new shape entirely. An ultra low cut muscle shirt, loose gym shorts, a backwards cap and running shoes. His head clouded and he watched fact after fact pour away from his understanding and into the void of nothingness. Where he once understood all the rules to DnD he now understood how to build a proper weightlifting routine. Where there used to be a clear picture of all of the seasons of Dr Who now was a clear as day picture of every single episode of Jersey Shore. His mind shifted, struggling to find a way to rationalize why he was actually hanging out with the skinny nerds around him. They had helped him with some of his classes back in his first year of college and they had turned out to be kind of cool guys. They helped him with his studies, he helped them at the gym. He got them to watch football with him every couple of Sundays and he played as the barb in their DnD party. He didn’t understand most of the rules, but it was fun to imagine a world where he could get through most of his problems by punching things.

“So come on man, declare your action.” Said Sam, bringing Enzo’s mind back to the present. “Uh, I punch the guy then. Isn’t that what I said? It’s kind of hard to think right now.” Replied Enzo, sitting back down and rubbing the front of his gym shorts. “What did you come over without getting off again?” Asked Sam. “You know you can’t have a boner and play DnD at the same time. We go through this like, every week.” “Well, maybe I just like having you take care of it for me.” Replied Enzo with a dumb grin. “Ok guys, five-minute break while I take care of Enzo here. Stretch, get drinks whatever.” Enzo watched the rest of his friends get up from around the table and head towards the kitchen, leaving him and Sam with a sense of relative privacy. It didn’t really bother Enzo one way or the other, with all of them watching straight up or pretending not to look from the kitchen. He had a hot body and he knew it, so showing it off was no problem.  He stood back up and hooked his thumbs around his shorts, dropping them around his knees and revealing his rock hard muscle butt. “Dude, you didn’t even wear any underwear.” Said Sam with a shake of his head as he fished his 6-inch cock out of his underwear. “It just gets in the way.” Began Enzo, spreading his cheeks. “And it’s kinda like role-playing, like Adam and his book. I don’t think a barb would wear underwear.” “Yeah, you’re probably right about that man, they’re usually pretty simple like that. Big, dumb, not much on their minds.” Replied Sam, pushing his dick between his friend’s cheeks. “Heh, yeah, that’s why I play ‘em. Way easier to play when you just make your character after yourself.” Grunted Enzo, taking the dick like a champ. While Enzo felt his body rocked back and forth by his friend’s thrusts he couldn’t help but feel as though he had forgotten something important. The idea bubbled up to the front of his mind before popping and vanishing into the ether before he could grasp it.  Shrugging he dismissed the feeling. It probably wasn’t important, and if it was he was sure one of his friends would remind him. They always took such good care of him when they gamed.

GET YOURSELF A REAL FAT FUCK 🫐🍺

(expand for alternate version)

when the fat fuck is real

The New Doctor

“Oh come on, another one?” Dr. Luke Hoffer groaned as his pager went off.

Another patient to add to the growing list. He walked briskly towards the room where his newest patient awaited him. The young doctor knew he shouldn’t feel this burnt out already. He just graduated medical school a few months ago, but they weren’t lying when they said this part of his training would be busy. He couldn’t recall the last time he had a night off, and the hospital he was rotating at didn’t have the best clinical support. But he did his best to put on a smile as he entered his new patient’s room.

“Bro, what’s up?” Luke maintained his smile but inwardly cringed.

“Mr. Reedy, correct?” Luke asked. The name sounded familiar. One of the senior doctors shared the same last name. But unlike Dr. Reedy, this man looked like your stereotypical bro. Similar to the frat guys who Luke used to see piss drunk during his college EMS days, “I see you must’ve injured your arm there.”

“Dude, the name is Cole.” Cole chuckled dumbly, “Mr. Reedy is my dad’s name.” Luke nodded. He didn’t have time for this, “But yeah broski, totally wiped out. Brett said I couldn’t climb a tree drunk, but like I knew I could.”

‘Evidently not.’ Luke thought, jotting down a few notes.

“And like, I know what you’re thinking. Broken arm. Must’ve fucked up and like I did, bro. But I made it to the top.” Cole smirked and went to punch the air victoriously but recoiled from the pain, “So yeah doc. That’s why I’m here.”

“I see, well thank you for sharing.” Luke replied, “Would you mind if I just listened to your heart and lungs? I’ll check out your arm in just a moment.” Cole nodded and Luke started his exam.

“Oh sick dude. I’ve always thought those steth... stetho-things... the ear listeny thingies were pretty sick.”

“Stethoscope.” Luke said bluntly, leaning in to listen, “And I need you to be quiet during this part of the...”

BURRRRPPPPPP

Luke recoiled as the most foul smelling burp blasted him in the face. It smelled of cheap beer and chicken wings. He immediately took a step back and did his best to hold back a gag. Cole blushed and chuckled awkwardly.

“Sorry bro, maybe you should check out my stomach.” He chuckled.

Luke forced a grin, all while mentally gagging. Maybe Cole was right about that. Whatever had crawled into Cole’s stomach and died definitely needed more help.

______________________

Luke sat at his desk after finishing his exam with Cole. Luckily there hadn’t been any other surprise burps. The young doctor continued typing away, trying to get as much paperwork done before the next inevitable wave of new patients. He hoped they weren’t like Cole. Sure, there was nothing outright wrong with the guy. But he reminded Luke of all the stereotypical meatheads he encountered growing up. Words like brash, loud, stupid, sexy... Sexy?

‘Where did that come from?’ Luke thought as he massaged his temples, ‘Must be from lack of sleep. Yeah, totally.’ He yawned and stretched his arms above his head.

“Dr. Hoffer.” Luke turned towards the nurse that called his name, “Your patient in room 15 wanted to talk.” She raised an eyebrow and Luke looked at her quizzically, “Um, Dr. Hoffer, uhhh.” It looked like she was choosing her words carefully, “Have you been using a new deodorant?”

Luke raised an eyebrow, “Uh no, why?” He raised his arm and was taken aback by the massive pit stain. But worse yet, the smell that followed caused him to gag, “Oh god, I must’ve forgot tonight.” He blushed, “Thanks, I’ll grab a new top and I should have some extra deodorant in my locker.” She nodded and Luke groaned as she left, “How fucking embarrassing.” He mumbled.

______________________

“Yo doc, what’s good?” Cole grinned when Luke entered his room.

“I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yeah bro.” He chuckled dumbly, “I uh forgot tbh.” Luke did his best to hide his annoyance, “But uh, like do you have anything that can help me with my gains?”

“Your gains?” Luke couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “No, nothing in particular. Just keep going to the gym.”

“Fuck I love the gym.” Cole remarked, “Yo doc, did you hit the gym or somethin’ after we talked. You’re lookin’ swole bro.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. Yeah, he hit the gym once in a while. Mostly cardio and occasional light weights. But he wasn’t someone you’d describe as swole. But when he looked down at himself, he couldn’t help but notice that his arms were just a tad tighter at the sleeves. And in general, the scrub top seemed to be a tighter fit, especially around his chest.

‘Must’ve grabbed a small or something.’ He thought and turned back to Cole, “I had to change my scrub top. Totally forgot to wear deodorant tonight, bro.” Cole grinned but Luke blushed. First, why did he tell Cole he forgot deodorant? And second, why did he just call his patient bro?

“Yo, you and me both, man.” Cole chuckled and took a whiff of his pit, “Smells ripe tonight. Nothin’ wrong with letting your natural scent come through.” He raised his hand to give Luke a fist bump.

“No thank you, I uh need to go see another patient.” Luke said, quickly rushing out of Cole’s room.

______________________

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Luke turned to face his newest patient- an older woman with stomach pain.

“Uh yeah, sorry.” He said, scratching his firm chest absentmindedly.

“I don’t think you were.” She replied. Luke internally groaned. Just another entitled boomer, “It looks like you’re more interested in that stupid game.” She gestured to the TV.  

“Stupid game?” Luke chuckled. Baseball was far from stupid, although Luke couldn’t understand why he was suddenly so interested in it, “Well yeah, tonight’s the big game. Like, if they win tonight, they’ll go to the playoffs.”

The woman’s face flushed red with anger, “Get out, I want to see another doctor.”  

Luke shrugged, “Fine by me.” He barely noticed the hairs now poking out from his collar.

But when he left the room, something dawned on him. Did a patient just fire him? He narrowed his eyes, confused at what just happened. He was always commended on his professional demeanor and good patient relationships. This wasn’t like him. He turned around and entered the room.

“Hi ma’am, I’m sorry for my behavior. Is it okay if we restart?” He asked politely.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” The woman huffed.

And so Luke was able to breathe a sigh of relief. And despite his urge to turn and watch the big game, he did his best to do a thorough exam.

______________________

Sitting at his desk, Luke pulled up the baseball game on his computer. He could watch and write notes at the same time. But the real distraction was his increasingly more uncomfortable scrub top. The sleeves were definitely way too tight on his arms and for a fleeting moment he thought that it would be best to go shirtless. But he shook the thought out of his mind and started typing.

“Patient presented with abdominal pain likely secondary to cholelith... chole...” He narrowed his eyes as he tried to think of the correct medical term. He should know this- it was basic, “Likely secondary to big stones.” He wrote confidently. He scratched his chin and was met with something that he knew couldn’t be right. He quickly pulled out his phone and looked at himself in the camera, “Since when did I grow a beard?” He whispered, “I swear... I mean I had some fuzz but it never grows this quick.” But before he could think more on it, another page came through, “Of course...” He whispered.

______________________

“Dude! Where’ve you been?” Cole asked as Luke entered his room, “Doc, you don’t look so good.”  

It was true. Luke looked and felt nauseous. The walk over was weird. He felt heavier somehow and unfamiliar in his own body. Each step required more thought as he adjusted to these new sensations.

“It’s nothing, brah.” Luke commented, barely registering what he said, “So uh, like what did ya call me in here for?”

Cole grinned, “Dude! Have you been watching the game?” Luke nodded, his eyes filling with joy.

“Bro! It’s awesome. Did you see that homer?”

“You fuckin’ know it. By the way, wanna come back to my place and watch? A few of the bros are there and we’ve got beer. And Andy’s bringing his sis. The one with the fat tits.”

Luke chuckled, his voice deepening as he did, “Dude that sounds sick, and like beer is awesome but I’m more into dudes.” Cole’s eyes widened.

“Wait really bro?” He said and Luke feared he was about to be judged, “Same, man! Huhuhuh I just mentioned Andy’s sister ‘cause I assumed you’d be into that.”

“Nah bro, I’d much rather suck you off.” Luke’s eyes widened this time as the words left his mouth. And while Cole’s smile widened, Luke was hit by a bombardment of thoughts telling him this was wrong, “Shit, I shouldn’t have...”

“I won’t tell anyone dude.” Cole remarked, “Besides, I could go for quickie right about now.”

“No, this isn’t right.” Luke insisted, “I uh... I need to go finish some notes.” He quickly left the room, not noticing that his scrub top was now straining against his growing musculature-threatening to rip at any moment.

______________________

Luke was growing more frustrated by the second. He tried to sit down to work on his notes, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember basic medical terminology. Nor could he remember the correct format of a medical note. He instead opted to stare blankly at the baseball game.

“Sir, you shouldn’t be back here.” Luke looked up to see his nurse standing over him, “It’s for employees only.”

“Huhuhuh very funny, brah.” Luke replied with a grin, “But like, I’m the doc around here.” He went to fish out his ID but was struggling to find it, “Uhhh like... just give me a second here...”

She raised an eyebrow, “Look sir, I’ll have to call...”

RIPPPPPPPPPPP

The nurse blushed as Luke’s scrub top finally tore and fell to the ground, revealing his chiseled pecs and tight abdominal muscles. Luke for his part, didn’t really seem to care as he continued to search for his ID. He looked up at her and chuckled.

“Must’ve lost it, bro.” Luke remarked, scratching the back of his head. His exposed pit filled the room with his masculine musk, “Uh like...”

“Sir, I’m going to have to call security if you don’t leave immediately.” The nurse said firmly, doing her best to not stare at the hunk in front of her.

“But like, I’m the doc.” Luke insisted, growing somewhat frustrated, “Like look.” He gestured to his stethoscope, “Doctors always have steth... stetho-things... the ear listeny thingies.”

“Stethoscopes.” The nurse replied, raising an eyebrow, “And I’m pretty sure a doctor would know what they were called.”

“Huhuhuh I guess you’re right about that, brah.” Luke chuckled dumbly, “Well like, fine... I’d rather hang out with my bros anyway.”

Luke stood up. If they didn’t want him here, he’d go somewhere that people would. He walked with a confident swagger to room 15.

______________________

“Bro! Looking swole! Where’d your top go?” Cole asked as Luke entered the room.

“Dude, my muscles can’t be contained.” Luke chuckled dumbly, flexing his biceps, “But like, let’s get out of here, brah. Everyone here’s an asshole.”

“Bro, I hear ya.” Cole remarked, “Why’d ya think I took a break from this place?”

Luke’s slow brain was confused, “Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“Dude! You don’t recognize me? Cole Reedy? Dr. Reedy? Well not really anymore I guess.” His dumb laughter filled the air. Luke just chuckled along with him, “So, you ready to get the fuck outta here?”

Luke nodded enthusiastically, “I heard there’re some bros watchin’ the big game. And beer.”

“Yeah man! And I also heard there’s a guy lookin’ to suck some dick.” Cole grinned. A lightbulb went off in Luke’s smaller brain and he grinned.

“You know what they say, brah. A blowjob a day keeps the doctor away.” Luke chuckled at his own joke and the two bros fist bumped.

Luke couldn’t fully process what happened to him that night. Or how he wound up sucking Cole’s dick in the back of his truck. Or how he eventually got dared to climb a stupid tree while drunk. Or how he now found himself in the emergency room, this time as a patient. But what he did know, as he burped in the face of the doc taking care of him, was that he couldn’t wait for their newest bro to join their ranks.

Muscle Camp

#TCocolicious

It Came From Down The Hall

Stealing experimental goop from the dodgy lab you work for can only have good effects on yourself and those around you I'm sure.

Vaguely sci-fi inspired himbofication, MG, and hair growth as their bodies become factories for the very stuff they recklessly reveled in. Enjoy! -Occam

Ashwin and Benny had known each other for years and were as close as two people could really be. For a while after they met they had one night flings and dated off-and-on, but eventually they just settled as incredibly intertwined friends. In the end Benny called it off, but in the back of Ashwin’s mind, far enough that it’s not even conscious most days, he holds out hope that his ex will reconsider and the bonfire of their heady passion can once more resume. 

Grabbing coffee together, as friends often do, the possibility of rekindling their less than platonic relationship is a good deal more present than usual as Ashwin explains the incredibly classified experimental drug he purloined from work. Having seen the effects of the seeming miracle drug Ashwin is enthusiastic that the pair give it a go, “I’m telling you Ben if you saw the men that walked into that trial and the absolute hunks that walked out you’d have already downed the whole vial!” 

Rolling his eyes and using bitchiness to veil the concern for his friend stealing from work, Benny replies, “Oh yeah? Then why haven’t you huh? Besides it’s not like I’m shopping around for steroids anyway girl! The last thing I want is a muscle gut or bacne. To say nothing of whatever actually serious side effects that sci-fi shit must have.” Though the man would be lying if the promise of the drug didn’t allure him in a different manner. Deep down Benny has always been partial to seeing other twinks blow up, “Do you even know what the side effects are Ash?”

Ashwin’s eyes flicker to the two vials sitting in between the two of them, “Well- No. You know they pay me to just push carts around girl! That got me the stuff and honestly seeing the results is more than enough for me. As if either of us could understand whatever BS they’re writing up in reports anyway! Here just, look at this guy-” Ashwin pulls out his phone to show a before and after pic of one of the trial patients. Benny couldn’t wipe the blushing intrigue from his face even if he wanted to.

Floundering, he points to the caption knowing himself that it’s not true, “Buh- Well I mean he says he’s all natural right there Ash.” Having known each other as long as they have, Benny knows that Ashwin  is being completely honest. He’s got tells aplenty and is reading as completely transparent and honest about this mystery goop, as he is about most everything besides the fact that clearly wants to fuck sometimes, but how could Benny fault him for that. The prospect of transformation, of being someone new, someone beyond powerful, begins to crack away at Benny’s reservations. 

Seeing this, Ash’s heart begins to flutter. His generally genuine demeanor has allowed him to keep one card up his sleeve. He is well aware of the medicine’s effect on its user’s libido, which is the ulterior motive behind this whole conversation. Growing overeager at the potential prospect he picks up the vial and shakes it in front of his ex. Seeing it slosh in the glass, something in Benny’s stomach turns and all the progress that Ashwin made quickly falls apart, “Ugh, it’s like the goop from Alien-” Seeing Benny grimace he quickly drops the vial and it settles like slime back to rest, “Nonono that stuff alien m-pregs you, this makes you more of a man!” “Girl, you can't just say m-preg in public so loud and expect to win me over!”

Ashwin sighs as Benny puts his hand delicately over his own, flashing back to the many times over the years his dearest friend has tried to let him down easy, “Ash… I’m very okay with how my body looks, we both know that,” he winks before his eyes shift serious, “I think it’s best if maybe you stop thinking with your dick. I mean aren’t you at all concerned that you’ll be busted for smuggling this, ugh, medicine out from your work? They literally have to be doing inventory on this stuff if it’s as bonkers as you seemed convinced it is.”

At this Ashwin pulls away, crosses his arms and retraces the steps that led to his little larceny. It was shockingly easy to procure. They usually run a pretty tight ship, being for all intents and purposes a lab, but things have been different since the beginning of this trial. There seem to be fewer people running around than usual, so much so that he’s been put in charge of inventory. Which is how he intimately knows that these vials seem to be going missing at a rapid pace. There has rarely been a day where all the numbers add up. When he brought it up with management they just waved him off which is what gave him confidence to take some for himself. If anyone’s gonna benefit from their less-than careful eye it may as well be one of the lowest paid aides.

Suddenly interrupting the justifications to himself an alarm goes off on his phone signaling his time to head out. Still, he gives Benny puppy dog eyes as he has done at every soft rejection and receives the same pensive smile as ever in return, “You’re absolutely sure you don’t want one?” Benny raises his hands and wordlessly shakes his head. His coy manner quickly shifts sour as he watches Ashwin shrug and grab at a vial with haste, popping the cork out of it and cheersing Benny’s mug as the furrows his brow. “Well bottoms up huh!” In shock Benny couldn’t even offer one last ‘are you sure?’ before the vial is at his dear friend’s lips with a sickening slurp. 

Ashwin makes a strange face at the strong taste before tilting his head, finding it jarringly pleasant. He swallows the goop and Benny sits there torn between disgust at the small trail of slime sticking to Ash’s lips, and concern that hasn’t left the front of his mind since Benny first unveiled the vials. Reaffirmed that this may be his best chance yet at getting back with his ex Ash smiles with a confidence he doesn’t quite have, “You’re gonna regret not hopping on  board with me when I’m a tank babe! I’ll keep the second one on me for when you change your mind.” He adds on with a wink. 

Benny almost laughs before the image of Ash drinking the goop forces its way to the front of his mind. The bulge in his neck like he swallowed a piece of food whole. Benny’s confident he’s made the right choice and worried that Ash bit off more than he could chew. Tapping the table nervously he jokes back, “Probably be holding onto that for quite a while then, love. Are we still on for next week?” Ash nods and stands up, stretching performatively before jogging in place, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world Ben!” 

Benny nods with a “See you then!” and the two of them head out from the cafe. As soon as he waves Ash off, seeing him raring with energy and better spirits already, he swiftly takes to his phone launching every google search about Ashwin’s company and experimental steroids that he can think of. Finding absolutely nothing he bites his lip and offers what may as well be a prayer to his sweet friend's wellbeing with a sigh, “Ah, I hope you know what you’re doing Ash…” At that he goes about his life like always. Just as Ashwin had hoped, he would be on Benny’s mind far more than usual in the coming week. In equal parts concern and excitement at the potential that the snake oil might actually work.

One Week Later

There was a chill in the air as Benny waited outside of Ashwin’s place, quite the blustery day. He had half a mind to raincheck on going out. Though his mind just kept flashing back to Ash swallowing that sludge. Despite their consistent texts making it clear that Ash at least seems the same he’s always been, the whole situation has kept Benny on edge. Looking out across the city block he tries to assure himself it’s all in his head. Eyes closed as he takes a centering breath a voice calls out behind him and it becomes clear that perhaps he was right to worry as he turns to find a different man standing where his perpetually gentle, ever meek, ex-boyfriend should be, “Heyyy Benny~”

Standing shirtless in his own doorway with sweat steaming off of him in the cold air is a man that Benny would never recognize as Ashwin Singh. Even staring directly at his dear’s eyes he’s still partly convinced this must be some kind of prank. Willfully hoping this is a dream as desire long gone from his mind begins to return with a passion. Ashwin puts on a smirk that has been finding itself more at home on his face as of late as he wanders up to his ex, popping his new pecs with each step. Benny squints at the man and his mouth falls open as he’s far too stunned to speak, cheekily or otherwise. His face already flush from the cold begins to burn as red as a sunburn as he hears Ashwin’s mismatched voice come from the massive man, “Ah like what you see do ya babe?” 

Ashwin’s words are a spear through Benny’s surprise as the brazen confidence is enough to bring the man’s mind back to reality, “Oh get a fast track to the abs and you think we’re calling each other babe again do you?” Still, there’s a smile on his face and a bulge growing larger in his pants as he pushes past Ashwin and into his apartment, uncharacteristically clumsy as his hands touch the warm hard body that stood before him. Ashwin traces the spot where Benny’s cold hands rubbed against his abs before turning to follow him inside, his eyes trained on the ass of the man who long long ago used to top him.

  Ash closes the door behind them as they enter the loft, having wordlessly agreed to just stay indoors as Benny goes to the kitchen to make both of them some warm drinks. He knows exactly how Ashwin likes his tea, what flavor he wants on a day like this and the precise amount of cream he wants. He knows the man like the back of his hand. But his own hands tremble as he goes about the kitchen, his mind’s eye constantly flickering back to the man’s weighty pecs and the v-line that he couldn’t help but follow down towards Ash’s burgeoning bulge. Is that still the man he knows, loves, and swore he would never get back with? And if so, would he be wrong to come crawling back now that he’s got enough muscle to break Benny in half.

Steadying his hands as he brings out mugs for the two of them they begin to quake anew as another unmissable realization occurs, Ashwin is a head taller than him now. “What the fuck Ash!? You’re like, six foot two now? That can’t be- That’s impossible?” Ashwin sticks out his tongue and bites it, sending a pulse of desire through Benny, promptly followed by loathing at how effective such a fuckboy move was on him. “Six four actually babe.” Benny’s expression sours as the man calls him babe again, he sets the drink down and prepares to lecture the man standing opposite him before Ashwin rushes to close the distance.

He puts his hands on Benny’s hips just as Benny used to do to him, holding him close to his sweaty body. Musk that has always been easily covered by a single layer of deodorant and flowery cologne now overwhelms Benny’s senses as he stammers over his words, before staring hungrily at the man’s eyes directly above him. With each hesitant breath he feels himself fall further under the charm of Ashwin. Ash had hoped this would be the case, which is why he made sure to get a quick pump in before their scheduled date. Still, he couldn’t have possibly expected that it would be this effective. Benny leans even closer, feeling the whole of Ash’s new powerful form with his own.

Ashwin feels the man’s heartbeat racing faster as his breaths grow fuller, with each pulse he feels a familiar growing bulge poking into his meatier thigh. Benny throws his arms around Ash with a squeeze, tracing the small of his back with fingers hesitant. He speaks with a breathy whisper that Ash recognizes, his own cock begins to rise with excitement, now poking against Benny’s navel which only escalates his need, “I’m gonna level with you, babe. Everything in my body is telling me to fuck you right now.” Ash squeezes Ben tighter, leaning down to take a deep sniff of his hair, which elicits a sharp gasp before Benny shakes it off and tries to push away.

“But! But, I have been worrying all week about you drinking that shit!” Even this slightest delay before jumping into bed forces Ashwin to groan as he lets his arms fall. Looking away from Benny with a pout before the man continues, “Okay big guy let’s calm down. I-” he bites his lip and clenches his eyes shut as he prepares to say words he hopes he won’t regret, “Once. Just one night and we’re back to friends. If, and you better not lie to me, if you promise that whatever that stuff was it hasn’t affected your mind.”  Ashwin brightens and fervently nods speaking quickly and loudly as his cock surges to full attention, “Is that it? Fuck I mean yeah I’m the same as I’ve always been. Maybe a little, uhm, hornier?” 

Benny looks away from the bulge pointing towards him like a dowsing rod, concluding that the myths he’s heard about steroids must not be true. Ashwin walks over and starts rubbing at Benny’s shoulder, leaning down as his other hand starts to inch its way under the man’s coat. He clears his throat and his voice almost sounds deeper as the passion and lust starts to rise to a peak. “There is uh, one thing.” Benny tilts his head as his careful hands begin to help the already half-nude man undress, “Oh?” Blush burns on Ash’s face thankfully hidden by his skin tone, “Would you mind if I topped this time?”

Something flutters in Benny’s chest as the words hit him like punches. Always more of a vers anyway he’s thrilled at the opportunity. His hands finally inch around Ash’s larger package, seeing his abs clench and flex with the desire coursing through him, Benny would be remiss not to experience all that this new package can offer. Wordlessly he gets down and positions his face squarely in front of Ashwin’s bobbing cock, before promptly taking it in his mouth and beginning the session as promised.

The two men go at it for far longer than they ever managed when they were properly together. Their bodies intertwined, soreness and pleasure rush through Ashwin’s body as he only feels his power grow with every thrust. Were Benny to pay attention to anything besides his own lustful enjoyment, having more fun and gaining more gratification than he has from a partner ever before, he would surely notice that the man is indeed continuing to grow. The patchy beard that greeted him when he walked in is continuing to fill in and lengthen as each and every moving muscle on the man burns with growth. Thighs and an ass large enough to tear every set of underwear either man owns maneuver his cock like a rocket. 

His grunts sink even lower, guttural and animalistic as he clenches at his sheets on top of a man he could crush with ease. The bed frame gives out before either man cums which only sends more flaming passion into the room. Benny feels the titan’s cock grow larger and firmer with each thrust. Each time he expects the man to have bottomed out his cock surges even deeper, bloated with veins so full and virile his cock may as well be ribbed. Moans and whimpers fill the air loud enough that it’s a shock the men get no noise complaints as they continue their session well into the night. 

Benny is quite concerned at just how rapidly Ashwin seems to rebound after each finish. Though as he begins to again massage Ben’s shoulders or dance his fingers across his legs Benny finds himself similarly wanting for more within seconds. Eventually sleep finds both men, Benny lays on the powerful yet soft chest of his ex, clenched in biceps the size of his own thighs. Ashwin dreams the night will never end, while Benny sleeps the same as ever, dreaming of everyday monotony; firmly expecting, as both agreed, that this was purely a one time deal.

Ashwin wakes up to a larger body covered in a sweat made cold as he finds himself alone in his busted bed. Immediately feeling the hole in his being that he had hoped Benny would return to fill. He hears Benny brushing his teeth and promptly stumbles over himself to the bathroom door. He gives his patented puppy dog eyes to his ex as Ben spits into the sink, blearily rubbing his own eyes, “ugghhh, babe. I told you this was a one time thing.” His eyes remain focused on his own reflection, even as Ashwin walks over and stands behind him. Hunched and groveling which prevents Benny from noticing that he has grown even taller.

“You should shower too, you’re a little musty.” He reaches up and ruffles the man’s hair, with a pitiable smile. Regret on his mind for yet again giving Ashwin hope they’d get back together. Ashwin’s hand traces his arm as he walks away to throw on some clothes, his larger fingers trailing the length of the smaller man’s before falling back to his side, colder still after feeling the warmth of the man no longer with him. 

It is important to note he didn’t lie. So far his mind is the exact same as it has always been. The only changes wrought on him by whatever alien sludge he consumed are physical. As he stands there desperate for more, for another chance that begins to change. Perhaps if he were more, if he had more Benny would change his mind. Surely Benny couldn’t deny him if he were twice the man he is now. His eyes fill with resolve and focus as he wrenches open his medicine cabinet. 

Ashwin can almost feel the vial calling out for him as his hand grasps it without even looking. The slime in the vial seems even more viscous agitated than before. His heart thrums with a need beyond anything else to drink it right now. Coming back in the bathroom to apologize, Benny cries out as he sees Ash slamming on the vial to get every last drop of the goop into his mouth. Ben hops up onto the arm trying to knock the thing out of his hand but by time he can reach he hears the gag of Ashwin struggling to swallow the goop down. “You absolute dunce! What were you thinking!?” 

His mouth falls open and Ben sees it stained dark with sludge that seems to be pulsing with Ashwin’s heartbeat. It sends a shiver down his spine that he has no time to acknowledge as the massive man’s eyes go glassy and falls on top of him. His hot laboring breathing is not repugnant with morning breath but sweet, cloying, crying out for Benny himself to reach out and get a taste. Benny struggles with Ashwin's weight as he almost grows heavier with each step. His body grows sticky and wet with sweat as the smaller man struggles to get him to the bed before collapsing right beside him in exhaustion. 

His mind racing with what to do, he taps his foot as anxiety makes it almost impossible for him to think before he hears Ashwin speak, his voice gravelly and his tone dull, “B- Benny?” The man quickly stands and looks at Ashwin as he lies there. He looks the man in the eyes as he grunts lying there, body hair that he’s always kept shaved begins growing back with a vengeance. Strands curl across his form darker and thicker than ever before, his eyes glaze over and any intelligence behind them vacates as his mouth falls open. Ashwin lays and moans as his body moves without any input, independent muscles flex and his hands hover around his cock, without even the awareness to remove the briefs as they try to masturbate through briefs inches away from ripping from the sheer growth of his cock.

Struggling with what he should do Benny’s mind latches on the one strategy he knows to get someone to spit something up. He starts doing the Heimlich, finding it impossibly difficult to force his meager body weight on Ashwin’s core as it grows stronger with every small push from Benny. Each heavy breath and gag that Benny forces out of Ash smells sickly sweet, it takes everything within Ben not to take a breath deep enough to lose himself to the scent. Using all of strength he eventually finds the mark as Ashwin spits up the substance. He collapses onto the man as he spits up the goop into his own beard, only after doing so does he notice that Ashwin looses far more of the substance than he just swallowed.

Not only that but his sweat feels far sticker than it should be against Ben’s barely clothed body. The musk that convinced him to sleep with his ex last night has also shifted, there’s notes of something unnatural hiding behind the masculine scent. Something even more compelling than the warm body beneath him or the natural musk clawing for his attention. Despite himself, despite his awareness of the horror surrounding him, Benny finds it harder to think straight with every breath he takes. He sits on his ex’s body as his sweat grows only stickier, looking down into his mouth he sees his spit too grows more viscous, almost cloudy. 

He hears confused groaning from the man as he stirs and begins to sit up. Coming to his senses Benny backs away from Ashwin, nervously keeping him in the line of sight. Briefly inspecting his own body he shouts in surprise as he’s somehow gotten the sludge on his hand. His mind flits through recourse, wipe it off on your chest. What? No, on my shorts would be fine though right? Curiosity piques as something within him suddenly wants to see what it tastes like. As his hand rises  to his mouth his senses return with a shock and he slaps himself before wiping the goop on the wall behind him. Carefully inspecting his hand to ensure nothing is off before he flees the premises he jumps in shock as he hears Ashwin begin to laugh. “Huhuhuh-”

Benny stares in absolute shock as the man flexes his bicep as it pulses larger before moving to rub his shoulder as curly hair spreads across the whole of his form. After a few seconds of stretching to new heights the man’s hands rove across the entirety of his new massive form, frequently getting caught in his stickier sweat. Benny slowly inches for the door, quietly so as to not draw the attention from the man that was once his boyfriend, ex-boyfriend rather. Flinching as he quibbles within his own mind he loses his footing and falls to the floor. His hand stuffed in his pants scratching at a jungle of pubes growing thicker, he removes it and takes a deep sniff, getting pre that is as viscous as cum all over his face as he speaks up, slowly, betraying the lack of intellect with which he shall maneuver the world evermore.

“Yo,uhhh bro. Err, babe? Did we fuck again this morning or what? Cause I’m fuckin’ wet huhuh.” Benny nods wordlessly trying to seem like a mirage rather than something for Ashwin to interact with as he scrambles to his feet. Feeling his back touch the spot on the wall where he wiped his hand he reflexively pushes away and falls on his face. Brainless but not heartless, Ash swiftly falls over himself to help, foolishly tripping and ending up right on top of his fallen ex-lover, laughing at his clumsiness as his unbearable weight forces Benny to put an unfortunate focus on trying to breathe.

His head touching the cock that has now grown beyond the possibility of being contained within Ashwin’s tearing shorts, Ben finds his ability to resist the desires of his most basal urges waning. His mouth opens and his tongue juts out, thankfully for whatever sanity remained in him, just too far to once more taste the copious amount of pre dripping from the tip of Ashwin’s cock. He would swear he could almost hear his bulging balls pulse as they shift into overdrive in production of something that Benny has a sneaking suspicion is not cum. As it turns out though, his final show of willpower is quite the moot point as Ashwin stumbles back to his gargantuan feet, guffawing as he does so. 

Without a thought or effort he hoists Benny up to standing, spreading whatever sticky substance his hands are basted in all over Ben’s form. He hasn’t the heart to look down, nor the control to look away from the man staring down at him. The light of intelligence gone from his eyes as he leans down to kiss Benny. In his final moments before he too is overcome by whatever genetic abomination has overtaken Ashwin, Benny hasn’t the prescience to do anything but take a deep breath and lean in, his mouth open in wanton waiting.

In seconds, Benny’s mind is wholly overwhelmed. The changes that took Ashwin a week to develop begin to surge through the whole of Ben. Feeling tightness in every bunched up muscle he stretches in every manner that his slowing mind can imagine. Standing on the tip of his toes as his spine lengthens, arching his back as his arms shift rail thin before they begin to bloat and bulk up, the bulge in his pants rapidly surges larger as he feels his balls expand and rapidly fill as precum flows like a river into his pants. The gears of his mind slow to a near stop as he loses the capacity to fear and in its place rises the pure need to seek pleasure at every opportunity.

As body grows heavy he pushes his weight on Ashwin and both men guffaw as they fall onto the bed. Wordlessly they both begin grinding into the other. Benny’s pecs burst larger as they sculpt themselves into perfect slabs of meat, with defined abs below them to match. His ass and thighs bulge larger with every hump in the air he consistently loses his footing, his legs continuing to lengthen as his upper body grows with heft. Feeling his hair curl there’s an itch on his face as he slobbers spit thicker than spit all over himself and Ashwin as a beard rapidly covers his jaw.

Veins bulge across the whole of his body as he continues delighting in the growth of his own massive form against Ashwin, who in turn is happier than he’s been in years as the two behemoths hear the creak of the box spring underneath them. As they continue exchanging fluids in every way their thoughtless minds can conjure, the room fills with their sweet musk and the walls are soon covered in every fluid a body can produce as they bumble about. Their massive muscled bodies continue to grow as they wander about the loft apartment fondling each other and languishing in what is sure to be their default state from now on.

Back at the lab which Ashwin theoretically still works some Yes Man storms into the office of the CEO to report the absence of yet another lab technician. “Hello Sir, sorry for the um, well. I’m sure you know there have been a few absenc-” The older man doesn’t turn to face the pipsqueak that walked in, “Get on with it.” “Ah, yes very well. Ashwin Singh has not reported for work in some time.” Smoke wafts from the chair of the CEO as he sucks on a large cigar and grumbles to himself, “Ashwin Singh hm. Not one I quite recall, but I’m sure he’s shaped up nicely eh?” “I’m sorry sir?” 

“This Singh. Did he have any close relations?” Growing antsier by the second the low ranking official’s hands tremble as he checks his notes. He’s not usually supposed to meet with the big man but his boss seems to have been struck ill as well, “There seems to be a man on file for him a, uhm, Benjamin Jones. It seems as if inquiries to get in touch with him have also failed.” The smaller man flinches as the CEO releases a loud laugh, pausing before checking his notes once more, “There also have been some noise complaints lodged against Singh recently as well as an, Oh? Odor Investigation? Never, uhm heard of that myself.”

The meek man can hear the smile on his boss' face as he issues commands, “Well that’s enough for me. Send the hazmat team over, preferably whatever men we have from the trial that haven’t lost their minds eh? Have them bring the boys back to the usual place and go ahead and scrounge up whatever we got on those two men to start filing a report.” There’s a pause as he scrawls down these orders and the CEO turns to shout, “Well what’re ya waiting for man, move! And lock th’door behind you!” The yes man quickly falls over himself apologizing and slams the door shut. 

Hearing the click of his office door locking, the CEO rests back in his chair and turns to the wall of monitors behind his desk. Flicking them on, he smirks as he looks across at the litany of men currently in the highest security lowest floor of their labs, each and every one reveling in their new gargantuan bodies. Relishing their power as they become pleasure factories for the fluid that shall only make more men in their spitting images. Looking at a pair of unlit monitors he rubs his chin as he thinks maybe this time it’ll be a two for one. After all he’d love to see what two of these behemoths get up to when they’re always together. Profit may be the bottom line, but with no real marketable use for the stuff yet the big man's only in it for his own pleasure.

A Burly Bargain

Connor had finally decided to dedicate a day to updating his aging wardrobe. An embarrassing amount of his clothes were still from high school, despite being a college grad now. He decided to check out a thrift store he’d driven past a number of times, a quaint little building called ‘New You Thrift’. There were always plenty of cars outside so he figured it had to be a decent place to try to find something new. He pulled into an open spot right in front of the door and hopped out of his car.

Upon entering he found that the outside was deceptively small; the store was massive, with aisles of every type of clothing he could think of stretching into the distance. With no one to greet him, Connor began wandering around displays and racks, unsure of what he was actually looking for. He figured he’d know when he saw something he liked, but as five, ten, fifteen minutes passed he started to stress out. That was, at least, until he stumbled upon a rack with a big sign labeled ‘Bulked Up Deals: 80% off!’. He couldn’t pass up a deal like that, he thought to himself, as he browsed the offerings. There was a lot of junk, but he found a cute short sleeve button up shirt, and some comfy looking shorts that he thought he’d at least try on. Pulling his gaze from the endless racks of clothing he saw a bright neon sign on the wall for dressing rooms, and began to make his way in that direction. 

Connor drew the curtain of the room closed and looked at himself in the mirror. He was a cute guy, he thought to himself, with a slim build and a little bit of scruff on his face. The old t-shirt and gym shorts look wasn’t doing him any favors though. The shirt was faded and he was pretty sure it had a hole somewhere on his back, and the shorts were too long and baggy. He stripped them off before pulling the new shorts up his legs, then slipped the shirt on and buttoned it up, leaving one open at the top. Connor took a step back and looked at himself in the mirror. Objectively it was a cute summer outfit, but it looked off to him. Maybe he was just too used to seeing himself in baggy t-shirts, he thought. As he looked over himself in the mirror something caught his eye; there was a speck of something dark right above his shirt collar. Concerned, he leaned in towards the mirror to look closely. It was… hair? Connor squinted at his reflection to confirm what he was seeing. Sure enough, there was a long dark hair poking out from his shirt.

Connor reached a hand up to feel for this hair, and his hand found plenty more just beneath the collar waiting to pop out and join it. He paused, thoughts racing, unsure of what to make of this revelation, when suddenly his whole body seemed to cramp up in an instant. Connor buckled to his knees, his entire body contorting as muscle began to push out of his slim frame. Two large pecs raised themselves like mountains from the flat plane of his chest. His abs enlarged and dug themselves a deep shredded valley between. His shoulders grew into boulders as the size traveled down his arms, biceps and triceps inflating with years of muscle. Connor’s back tightened as his lats and traps doubled in size, widening his upper body considerably. His thighs swelled, pushing against the new shorts as his legs strengthened. A groan slipped out of Connor’s mouth as he hunched over in front of the mirror, finally looking up at his reflection. The man who stared back was shockingly different, a shredded jock stretching the thrift shop clothes to the limit. 

Connor finally managed to get back to his feet when a strange itching sensation arose in parts of his body. For a moment he thought it was a reaction to the fabric he was now tightly pressed against, but the feeling was far too concentrated. Within moments it reached a breaking point in his pits, where under his skin tight shirt hundreds of hairs had started to push out. The soft wispy hairs that had occupied his pits before were overwhelmed by new, dark, thick armpit hairs. The hairs sprouted and curled together as a thick rug took root in both his pits, already slick with sweat. He could feel the hairs continue to push out, growing longer and thicker as testosterone soaked the follicles, adding more hairs to the muscled cavities under his arms.

Connor couldn’t help but try and scratch at his pits, hair flourishing from inside his shirt. He instead felt the sweat-soaked fabric as his pits had gone into overdrive, muscle still slowly building in his arms and shoulders. He took a deep breath, trying to still the overwhelming sensation. Instead, the top button of his shirt popped off, exposing his still-growing pecs. In his surprise he inhaled sharply, popping another button off. The blank canvas of his massive chest was revealed, graced solely by the scant few hairs he’d felt earlier at the base of his collarbone. Those few hairs began to spread like wildfire with thick hairs cropping up across his chest. They spread outward, first engulfing his collarbone before racing south, hairs coating his pecs and multiplying in the valley between them. The hairs also traveled upwards unbroken, creating a solid path of fur from his chest up his neck. The wispy scruff that grew on Connor’s upper lip and chin was engulfed by a wave of dark stubble. It stretched from his neck over his jaw and up his cheeks, hairs filling in between others, leaving him with an extremely dense layer of hair, though still short. His chest itched as the fur coat grew thicker, hairs tangling and curling together as his testosterone fueled carpet continued to expand, stretching out to mingle with the bushes in his pits. The wave of hairs continued downwards, his newly defined abs vanishing beneath a thick rug of curly hairs.

Connor, unable to make sense of what was happening, scratched at the newly grown pelt on his chest. He pulled through the dense mat, hairs curling around his fingers as whorls of hair were stretched and pulled longer from his chest. Upon pulling his hand back he thought dozens of hairs had been pulled free, stuck in his hand. In reality, his knuckles had started to sprout the same dark hairs as the rest of him. Patches of thick hairs were popping out across the backs of his hands, the dark fur surging up his forearms. His upper arms succumbed to the hairs, becoming buried beneath a constantly growing and shifting rug. The hairs traced over his shoulders, sprouting like weeds across the open expanse of his delts and traps, circling back to connect to the ever thickening carpet of hair on his chest. 

The hair on his collarbone tufted out slightly more, that same growth racing up to his face, where his thick stubble slowly began to push outwards from his face. The shadow across his cheeks lengthened into a dense beard, hairs weaving together into a solid mass of masculinity. The last vestiges of his original peach fuzz were erased as dark hairs erupted across his upper lip into a solid curtain of hair. Connor felt an itch on his back as hairs shot up across his shoulder blades, patches of hair that grew fuzzier as they spread outwards. He could feel it as the hairs began pushing against the tight shirt hugging his back, the growing forest of hair puffing out as it raced down towards his ass.

The explosive hair growth shot down Connor’s back til it reached the small of his back where it blossomed into a field of dark hairs that rested above his waistline. His ass was next up, his plump cheeks slowly darkening as hairs dusted themselves across the globes before the shadow pushed out into a curly rug. He could feel his ass inflating too, stretching the fabric of the shorts even more as hairs squirmed out between. Between the cheeks was even worse, with thick wiry hairs erupting from his crack and hiding his hole beneath a forest of dark fur. The itch of sprouting hair was unbearable as Connor tried in vain to relieve himself, but the changes beneath his shorts had only just started. 

Connor’s cock, pressed between his ever tightening shorts and his body, began to twitch. Blood raced into it, engorging his member to its full five and a half inches, throbbing against the fabric. The same itching sensation appeared in his groin moments later. Connor stifled another groan as he could feel thick, wiry hairs pushing out above his cock. His wispy bush quickly darkened, becoming a thicket of curls as hair after hair pushed out. His balls swelled up to twice their original size before flooding his body with even more testosterone. Hormone fueled follicles went into overdrive, thick hairs erupting across his balls as his bush crept outward, engulfing more and more territory beneath a jungle of sweaty hair. His cock lurched, feeling harder than it ever had before as it stretched out, growing thicker and longer. It pushed out, six, seven, eight inches creating a solid imprint in his shorts as hairs began to crawl up his shaft. His bush at last escaped the confines of his shorts, hairs blazing up to his navel and blending with the rug on his stomach. Connor looked down to watch helplessly as dark hairs popped up across his meaty thighs, at first just a handful but within moments they were sprouting across the entire surface. The carpet descended his legs, thick hairs tangling together as the growth never ceased. His feet pulsed with pain before his shoes split open, revealing his newly size 15 feet only to have them coated with hair in seconds, dusting even his toes with dark curls. 

Connor groaned as his whole body felt like it was bloated. Any movement he made brought the sounds of tearing seams as his body tested the limits of the fabric. His stomach gurgled as his newly defined abs slowly vanished beneath a growing layer of fat. His eyes went wide as more buttons popped off his shirt, his growing belly making itself known. He could feel the rest of him putting on more mass, softening as defined muscles were buried. His fingers thickened and hands grew calloused as more hairs continued to push out. The open shirt revealed the muscle gut’s growing rug as hairs filled in between others and curled together across his meaty torso.  His face itched once more as his beard grew dense and longer, hairs crawling up higher on his cheeks. His face grew more square as his jaw widened beneath the increasingly wild beard. His brow thickened and eyebrows grew darker. Connor saw the hair on his head start to retreat, the testosterone flooding his body giving him a more mature hairline as the hair migrated south. 

With a final tearing sound, his body relaxed, having overpowered the flimsy outfit and grown into its full glory. The man who looked back at Connor in the mirror was the most masculine, virile figure he’d ever seen. Built like a truck and every exposed inch covered in thick hair, it was an unreal sight. He felt like he should be angry, disgusted, shocked, anything at all, but instead he felt content. The itchiness and growing pain subsided as a newfound confidence washed over him.Sure, he couldn’t close this shirt, but he looked damn good showing off his body in it. Perfect for the Bear Night he’d seen advertised at a local bar. He decided he’d ask the cashier if he could wear his new fit out, and with that he left his old clothes, and old life behind.

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Beau Of The Ball

Forced to spend the night in a town he conceptualizes as worlds beneath him, Brock is drawn to the local mechanic by something more powerful than desire. Try as he might to flee he's becoming more of a community member by the second.

Business busybody into something of a loyal country handyman! Quite the doozy, Hope y'all enjoy! -Occam

Someone had to make the trek to Austin and Brock figured biting that bullet for the team would pay dividends down the line. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out why on god’s green earth he had to physically drive there though. Carbon footprints be damned! Starting out he didn’t quite mind the idea, getting paid his rate to just drive is not too bad a deal, but as the hours rolled past it began to lose its novelty. Worse yet, when he crossed the border into Texas he found his car beginning to make a slightly concerning clunking sound. 

Pursing his lips he briefly wonders what could possibly be making that sound in his electric car. Brock swiftly comes to the limits of his car knowledge and throws in the towel. Not wanting to be stuck in the middle of nowhere Texas however, he keeps pedal to the medal and continues speeding towards the capital. Flying into some podunk town called Smoketree, Brock rolls his eyes at their droll cookie cutter town square. They have banners up for some sure to be trite festival happening in the square this weekend that Brock can’t help but laugh at. He struggles to imagine a single thing worth seeing in this backwater redneck speck.

Nearing the edge of town he notices an acrid scent in the air and soon after his vision is fully clouded by smoke pouring from his hood. Memories of scrolling past articles of electric vehicles blowing up he swerves into the shoulder and jumps into the grass with speed he hasn’t neared in years. Covering his ears and damning his boss for sending him into this fresh hell, Brock awaits some dramatic explosion. Instead his car simply continues idling forward a few feet before coming to a stop as it scratches against the guardrail. Something under the hood shudders and the smoke, initially emblematic of a wildfire, quickly pales into steam before slowing to a stop altogether.

Brock scratches his head in confusion, grimacing at the idea of making a trek into the town he had mercilessly mocked to himself. Unhappy about the prospect of asking hicks for help and, feeling how he does about the South, slightly anxious about wandering around a place sure to be less than welcoming, Brock crosses his fingers and makes to grab his phone from the car. Plugged into the charger he finds it dead, potentially short-circuited from whatever caused his car’s failure. “Fuck!” He tosses it into the backseat and storms away from the wreckage, “God damnit!” Ruffling his own hair he struggles through some breathing exercises while struggling to plan some flight from this god for nothing country wasteland.

Soon enough there is the rumble of an approaching truck. It’s followed by the whistle of a driver, “Whooey! Yew sure got yerself into a pickle there young man! Here lemme see if it’s sumthin’ I can give ya a hand with!” The massive truck pulls ahead of Brock’s burned out husk. Ever hesitant about interacting with bumpkins, the executive quickly goes into detective mode. Sure, the man is offering a helping hand but you never know with these small town folks. Seeing a trucker’s union bumper sticker on the vehicle he feels the smallest pang of optimism. Shifting to look at the man himself as he hops down from his raised truck, Brock quickly drills himself to not be outwardly judgemental to him or the shitty town he must surely come from.

The older man sidles over, squinting his eyes as he looks at the busted car while fanning the air as he smells the residual chemical scent in the air. Brock grimaces as the overall-clad man reaches out a hand with a wide smile, “Names Arthur Rhoades!” Patience already tested by the pleasantries while he’s already teetered past the edge of disaster, Brock keeps his disgust at the man’s hand just hidden as he offers his own. He flinches at the strength with which the man shakes his hand and after a pregnant pause offers his own name, “Ah! Oh, I’m Brock. Thank you for the assistance, sir. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about electric cars would you?”

Arthur whistles again and narrows his eyes at Brock’s ride, “I myself am not mucha a mechanic, but my son Junior sure knows his way around ‘m. Howsabout we get yer ride towed on back to our place and see what he can do in the mornin’?” Brock bites his lip and quickly sifts through a handful of answers about how he’d rather die before spending a night in a place where cows outnumber people, but looking back at the small trail of steam still rising from what used to be his car, he sighs and thanks the man for his kindness, “I appreciate the offer sir. I’m sure you can tell I’m quite the city boy, as it were, and would more than make it worth your while.” 

He laughs, patting Brock on the back, “Yer not wrong there boy! Can almost smell it on ya hah! But don’t you worry ‘bout payin’ me nuthin. ‘S the least I can do, host ya for the night. Who knows maybe you’ll like it s’much you decide to stay! Hah hah!” Brock laughs as well, hard enough that Arthur can probably feel the disrespect, though he certainly doesn’t show it. Before ushering Brock into his truck the older man turns and give one last look at the car and does a double take. “You said that was ‘lectric boy?” Brock tilts his head impatiently and nods, trying to ignore another passing thought of denigration that the yokel probably hasn’t seen one before.

His eyes follow the man as he walks up to the side and Brock’s face reddens with embarrassment as he sees Arthur open a fuel door. He stammers over himself swearing up and down that his car is absolutely electric. Brock almost hyperventilates as he runs the numbers in his head and begins to question his own mind. Seeing the man who was already on edge start visibly questioning everything Arthur rushes to comfort, “Must just be a plug-in hybrid right boy? Maybe she’s just needin’ some fuel in the tank if’n youve only only been chargin’ her up?” Brock slowly nods, “Y- yeah it must just be a hybrid.” Arthur ushers the slightly shellshocked suit up into his truck, “Easy fix then I’m sure, now let’s get ya t’ somewhere ya can lie yer head.” He quickly calls his son to tow the car to their place and he starts his truck.

Setting out, Brock tries to not let it bother him as Arthur drives the opposite direction from Austin. Heading back through the town square he looses a heavy sigh and Arthur immediately tries to lighten his spirits, unaware what a torpedo shot his first question will be to the man’s psyche. “So what brings ya to town youngin? Don’t get many new folks round these days?” Relieved at the chance to just be honest Brock quickly replies, “Ah, I was just passing through for work.” Mind back to work he sinks even lower in his seat thinking of how he’s guaranteed to be chewed out after being a no-show at the conference, no matter the circumstances. He’ll just need to let someone know when he gets to Arthur’s, surely they’re not so barbaric as to not have internet. Turning back to the driver he realizes that Arthur has continued talking, presumably about whatever nonsense he thinks their shitty little town has to offer.

Saving face he speaks up, “Ah! So sorry sir, I was uhm. I was thinking about work and totally missed what you said.” Arthur smiles with an empathetic kindness and pats Brock on the leg, “No worries, no worries lad. I’m sure Junior’ll get ya back on the road early in the morn. Sportin’ lad he is! Oh! I hope ya don’t mind but we only got the two rooms, so either you’ll share with Art or ‘s the couch for ya.” His ears perk up at the idea of sharing the room with a man described as ‘sporting.’ Judgmental of hicks he may be, but Brock is certainly not immune to the charm of a rough around the edges mechanic. The prospect is so alluring he almost forgets that the man’s almost guaranteed to be straight, in which case the couch could not be more promising.

About fifteen minutes in the opposite direction of town Arthur turns down a long driveway and into quite the idyllic homestead. Realizing he’s left all his luggage in his abandoned vehicle Brock struggles not to chew a hole in the side of his cheek as he writes an explanation for his workplace in his head. He tries to keep appearances as he gets a brief tour of his gracious hosts, meeting Arthur’s wife and promptly complimenting her efforts on decorating the cabin, earning him a peck on the cheek. He tries to settle his nerves and sits on the couch that’s almost guaranteed to be sleeping on tonight as three of them chat about the town. Inside and away from the car it’s a good deal easier for Brock to pretend that he’s not stuck here without recourse, he almost doesn’t mind the time wasted here.

Though as the couple keep talking up the festival Brock can’t help but be reminded of how little he cares for the rurality of it all. The idea of this shoddy little community having a celebration that appeals to him at all is simply beyond his imagination. “Country life ain’t as bad as ya think there Brock! I’m tellin’ ya, take it slow a few days and you’ll be a changed man! Some things are better than the hustle ‘n bustle!” Brock forces a smile and avoids rolling his eyes as he laughs off the appeals, “Oh I’m sure sir, I’m sure. It’s just so,” he pauses as he struggles to find any good way to say it is a life full of nothing. Before finding an insult eloquent enough to not be insulting Arthur’s wife Martha speaks up. Waving her husband off, she apologizes to their guest, “Oh you don’t let him get to ya dear. He’s just all riled up for the shindig y’know.” How could he not the number of times they’ve mentioned it

Before he’s able to respond, the door slams open and in walks a man that forces Brock’s ajar in a pavlovian response. The cowboy’s almost deliberately styled to make Brock drool, spinning the keys to a tow truck around his pinky. He isn’t sure if his being stuck in this town is making him more attracted to rednecks or what, but Brock can’t help but follow the man striding in like a moth to a bug zapper. He sees the man's lips move to say “Who’s the twink,” though thankfully his attention is so focused on ogling the man, his ears can’t quite hear him, or perhaps he’d have lost it then and there. Turning to Arthur as he gives the lowdown Brock shakes off the stupor and offers forth a shaky hand to who must be none other than Arthur Rhoades Junior.

The man smirks and wipes his hand on his jeans before walking up to and squaring up against Brock. Upturning his chin to nod and stare, taking all there is to see of the city boy. His eyes flicker across every aspect of his being, “Brock eh? Names Art.” His stare turns to Brock’s eyes, not so much making direct eye contact but staring through the visitor. His lips are pursed in appraisal and then he reaches out and takes the outstretched hand, his palm completely enveloping Brock’s before he squeezes. Not so hard as to display his brutish masculinity, but powerfully firm. One that clearly shows who is in charge here. It’s a brief moment, but it irrevocably asserts to Brock that he needs more.

Art’s pursed lips straighten into an expressionless straight line as his eyes shift from intense inspection to bemused invitation before he heads upstairs to his room. Martha and Arthur Sr. glance at each other in some charged way that Brock wouldn’t be able to make out even if his attention wasn’t focused on the hand that Art grasped, still feeling the pressure from being held. Arthur’s voice again cuts through Brock’s bewilderment as he prepares to retire for the night himself, “Well it’s gettin’ dark early here so I’m fixin’ to head to bed. Got blankets in the closet yonder if yer lookin’ to sleep down here in the cold livin’ room. If yer thinkin’ about Art’s room or maybe even seein’ if he’ll take the couch ya probably wanna do so soon, big day tomorrow with the shindig ‘n all!” He walks over to Brock to pat him on the shoulder as the guest tries not to interpret the emphasis Arthur had on how cold the living room was. “We’ll see ya in the mornin’ youngin. Hope ya can have a good rest under our roof.”

Martha walks up and offers him some of Art’s old clothes to sleep in since his luggage is away, “Might be a little big on ya love.” Brock thanks her and she heads off with her husband. Left alone in the living room Brock can’t help but focus on the steps in the room above him, he hesitates at the foot of the staircase. Anxiety about talking with the beyond daunting man should well hold him back from action. In any normal case it would. As the seconds pass though, the air around him grows colder and everything in his body begs for the warmth that he only had the smallest touch of. Clenching his hand he pushes down his fears and ignores the couch he had all but resigned himself to as he walks up the creaky stairs.

Before he even reaches the top, the door to Art’s bedroom opens. Light from inside illuminates the landing, and with it flows the woody, musky scent within. Art’s massive form cuts through the beams as he moves to lean on the door frame, dressed down into a strained wife-beater with one arm upraised to expose his pit as an yet another invitation. He leers down the stairs at Brock just long enough to ensure he’s coming before turning back to strip further. Brock stares at his powerful ass as he almost falls over himself climbing the rest of the way into the room.

As soon as he enters the door closes behind him and Art speaks up, his rough voice rumbling sends a shiver down Brock’s spine, “Wha’ chu want city boy. Might think ya got my parent ‘round yer finger but you ain’t got me fooled.” The executive shakes his head in surprise before quickly backing into the shut door, stammering as he tries to find some foothold. “Might not hear every little thought goin’ on in yer head but I can tell what yer thinkin’.” He slowly approaches Brock, slamming a arm above him on the door as the smaller man just gets his hand on the handle. “Ya think yer better than us, ‘s that it? ‘S not all though huh.” He in close to Brock’s ear, his thick mustache rubbing against the man’s cheek, inflaming his passion all over again as it takes everything in his mind and body not to turn to jelly, “can’t right help yerself huh.”

His mouth curls into a grin as he grips Brock’s face, his hand easily covering most of Brock’s head. “Yer fuckin’ obsessed with me runt.” He pulls him into a rough kiss that could have gone on for minutes or years with next to no input from Brock as his body fights to not slide to the floor, any thoughts behind his eyes vacate as no higher function could survive the pure lust taking over. Before he knows it he’s thrown onto the bed like a ragdoll. Brock sees nothing but stars as the passion comes to a head, escalating beyond his understanding. Every inch of his from cries with sensitivity and blares with pleasure. He feels spit or cum splatter across his form, pain and pleasure become one in ecstasy as he is nothing but a sack of nerves for Art to play with.

Once the mechanic is done with him he feels something tight secured on his head and hears the man grunt out in a manner nearing affection, “See ya in the mornin’ pardner.” His dreams are a blur. Rushing through woods on four-wheelers, hunting with Arthur and Junior, home cooked meals made by Martha. He feels the rough hand of Art that he’s so intimately familiar with now in his own, but it feels almost smaller than it should be. He grunts in his sleep and in the realm of dream it sounds deeper to his ears. He looks down at his hands and sees them oil covered, rougher, and impossibly large. He turns his head to see Art smiling at him with a bestial grin. He awakens with a start, face down in Art’s bed sweat, drool, and cum crusted across his form.

“Jesus fuck man!” He hears Art’s snoring come to a stop as the massive man grunts in response. He turns to look at his plaything and Brock sees the same animalistic grin that woke him up grace Art’s face. Brock rolls off the bed and shock and feels his own face, stained with stubble that should have taken nearly a month to grow before their night together. He wrenches the camo hat off his head and hurls it against the wall, “What’d you do ta me ya-” he grasps at his throat, feeling the same stubble has inched down his neck. He feels an adam’s apple three times larger than what he went to sleep with bounce as he swallows in fear, “Ya- you monster!”

Art rolls over, keeping the same smile on as he looks down on the man once more, “Weren’t complainin’ last night bud.” Brock’s eyes follow him as he gets up to stretch, feeling his cock immediately harden as he traces the mechanic’s powerful curves, his face reddens with rage at himself. He sees Art scratch his ass and pits as he feels what must be similar itches rise across his own body, fearful of any further inspection he stands and stamps his feet, “Now you listen here, Bud. I want out of this town, now. If ya don’t- ugh. If you don’t take me to my car now I’ll-” Rolling his eyes Art puts a finger to Brock’s mouth to shut him up and he’s powerless to do anything but obey, “Now listen here, Breau-” 

Art continues speaking but Brock is unable to listen after Art says the name. Breau, it sends a powerful shiver down his spine. It’s like Art hit a reset button on the man. Judging by the blank eyes it’s clear he’s not listening so Art simply turns away and grabs some clothes, sniffing them to see if they’re dirty before just shrugging and throwing them on anyway. He grabs a stained shirt and some shorts and throws the clearly stained outfit at Breau, aiming right for the eyes glazed over. Knocked over with the force he simply lies back and inhales and bathes in the dried musk on the dirty laundry. Feeling his cock grow large enough to strain his shorts he moans and the unfamiliar sound brings him back to his senses, “wha- now gahd-damnit!”

Art laughs as he hears Breau struggle with the new dialect on his tongue, feeling his own heart rate quicken at the idea that he’ll continue to fight against it, not knowing the foregone conclusion. He sees the man’s hands hover near his bulging cock barely holding back from masturbating then and there as it pulses with his heartbeat, clearly exposing pubes darker and thicker than the city boy has ever let them get to before. The mechanic sprays a cloud of axe in the air and walks through it before heading out the door, calling back to Breau, “Now you throw sumthin’ on before headin’ down. Don’ chu be indecent to yer hosts Breau.”

Breau clenches his jaw and tries to ignore the new power he feels surging in his neck, paralleling just about everywhere else on his form. He looks for his suit hoping to just throw that on but his clothes are nowhere to be found, he can’t tell if it’s anxiety or pleasurable anticipation prickling under his skin as he thinks about wearing Art’s clothes. Looking down to see muscles bulging under his skin with every movement his balls pulse and he realizes he needs to cover up now. He goes through Art’s room trying to find the cleanest outfit he can muster before following the man downstairs.

Racing down the stairs he’s just in time to see Art hugging his mother goodbye, something uncomfortable flutters in chest and Breau grumbles under his breath low enough to not hear an accent steep every expletive. Arthur makes his way over to his guest and throws his arms around him, “Well seein’ as my boy’ll get yer car fixed up in no time this’s more than likely goodbye, son! Hope ya didn’t mind our ‘ccomidations too bad. Hope ta see ya again some day y’hear!” Breau is surprised at how overly familiar the man’s hug is, it should be awkward enough to make him squirm out of his skin but it’s like he’s been hugged by the man hundreds of times. He doesn’t even think about the fact that Art’s father hasn’t commented on his clearly changed appearance as he instead goes to hug the man back, pleasantries staining his tongue alongside the accent, “No trouble at all, Art ‘n I had a great time.” Blushing as the memories of their steamy session burn to the front of his mind his voice cracks, “Uhhh, thank ya for yer hospitality Da- er, sir.”

Arthur pats him on the back and nods, wiping his own mustache as he sets for the door, “Well see you boys later, me ‘n the missus are off to get ready for the jamboree tonight!” Martha does a little excited dance at the door before waving off their guest as well, “Besta luck with yer car now Breau!” His head twitches as Art’s mom uses the name he only just realized he has been identifying with since Art first said it. Art closes the door behind them and goes to grab a beer from the fridge. Breau quickly throws his body at the mechanic to stop him, knocking the beer out of his hand, “Now what’re ya doin’ Ugh! What do you think you’re doing Arthur Rhoades!” Grimacing at his can on the floor and the man calling him by his full name he just sighs and looks Breau up and down, “Still think yer gettin’ outta dodge do ya? Look at yerself.”

Breau struggles to ignore his words as he feels abs and a chest that have never been begin to fill a tank top that never should have fit him. “Where’re- are your keys, you hick.” Art’s eyebrows raise in surprise at the fight left in the man and whistles as he picks up his beer and promptly shotguns it, releasing a large burp before pointing at his truck’s keys. “You wouldn’t mind drivin’ now would ya?” Breau grunts and pulls at Art’s shirt as he goes for another beer, the large man smirks at the ease with which Breau pulls his massive form, eying the larger hands and veins pulsing along his thin arms as they gather all the strength with him.

Breau hops into the driver’s seat of the tow truck with ease and familiarity he shouldn’t have and starts the engine. Swiftly, the pair are off down the road before Breau realizes that he’s driving stick, his eyes grow as wide as Art’s smirk at the realization, “Yer a natural at this Breau, jus’ give in. It’ll be so much easier.” One of his rough fingers traces a bulging vein on Brock’s arm, “‘Sides, ya can’t tell me last night wasn’t the best fuck of yer life.” Breau struggles to tune out the man’s words but the still growing bulge in his pants makes it clear that his mind is flashing back to the pleasure beyond pleasure he enjoyed, perhaps for the best, lest he realize he’s driving to Art’s shop with memories he shouldn’t have.

Approaching the shack he sees parts strewn about the yard and a few hunks of junk that must be passion projects parked in a line. He quickly shuts off the truck and tosses the keys at Art before storming out of the vehicle and looking for his car, “What’d you fuckin’ do with by ride bitch?” Art slides out of the truck and meanders up to the man, chin upraised he grimaces at Breau’s rage, “Y’know I’m thinkin’ you should mind yer tongue. Yer talkin’ like someone who's about a foot taller ‘n ya.” Suddenly everything within Breau comes to a boil, he rushes at Art. 

In response the mechanic hoists him into the air by the neck of his wife-beater. He makes direct eye contact and both men feel the tension between them, as well as that in their pants before Breau forces his feet back to the ground. His whole body lengthens over a foot in height in over a second and his arms try to grab at the larger man. The smug grin of a winner returns to Art’s face as he opts to just push Breau away with his leg, keeping hold of his shirt as it tears off him. He slides into the dirt and it sticks to his sweaty back as he convulses with a level of anger and energy he’s never had to deal with before, surely a side effect of the massive balls bulging through his shorts. Art laughs at the man struggling as he pushes himself up, his body vibrating with a desire to enact violence.

Torn between impulses of fucking and fighting Breau can’t control himself in the slightest. His arms desire, lust, need to swing, to hold, to scratch at the man who is just leering at him with a confidence unfounded. He charges again but trips over his longer legs and Art calmly steps out of the way. Seeing red he stumbles back to his feet and charges once more, exhaling through his nose like a bull. This time Art catches him flat out, stumbling back a step but still maintaining complete control of the man. The smile disappears from his face as he leans down to whisper, “Now, clearly yer dealin’ with new hormones coursin’ through ya, but if yer gonna act like an animal we might need to have a change a plans hm?”

Breau’s eyes indeed flicker around like he’s an animal in his trap. Everything in his mind cries out to fight, to flee, to fuck with not a single higher function speaking up. Unable to process thoughts let alone produce words Breau takes heaving breaths as his chest tries to expand, feeling his sweaty body against Art’s he calms down and his mind fights against the lust and anger driving him, “What, what do ya want with me.” Art turns Breau to a small outdoor gym he has set out in between some workbenches and lets him go jutting at the area with his head, “Go work off some of yer energy ‘n get back to me. ‘N we’ll see ‘bout yer car.” Immediately feeling feels every muscle fiber in his being cry out at the challenge, the desire to be even more powerful sends him barrelling to the meager set up.

Art goes to a fridge in the shop and grabs another beer as he watches Breau mindlessly exercise Smirking as he imagines the mileage he’ll get out of every expanding muscle in the man. Picturing pecs as large as his own and biceps that might even be able to hold him down one day. He scratches at his stomach as he looks around the yard trying to remember which car even was the man’s. Turning back to see pounds of muscle piling onto the man he wonders if he’ll even remember that he was some pansy executive by the time he’s done working out his anger. Judging by the expression growing even duller with each rep he’s not even sure the man will remember his own name.

Breau isn’t sure if he’s done two sets or thousands, everything within him burns with years of pleasurable soreness. He feels his cock bulge through his shorts as each rep drives him even deeper into bliss. Pre stains his briefs and sweat drips so fully across his form it’s like he’s in a rainstorm. The exercises drive him so deep into mindlessness he indeed forgets his anger, his balls instead cry out for release that he knows only Art can bring him. Art Rhoades, he looks up to see the man and sucks in the drool that has apparently been streaming out of his mouth this whole time.

He saunters over with a new gait, not used to the larger cock swinging between his legs, and speaks up to the man, “Done gettin’ ripped. Can ya fix my car now.” His head twitches to the side as he feels something is off about the way he’s speaking, the idea graces his mind that his voice just sounds even deeper which turns him on even further. Ignoring the question, Art tosses him a beer and gets to his feet with a groan, beckoning Breau follow him into the yard. Absolutely ravished having grown exponentially in every regard he finishes the beer in seconds before grabbing himself two more from the fridge, burping as he trails the man he can now only think of as a ticket to endless pleasure.

“You remember which one of these beauts was yers Breau?” The theoretical executive looks across the yard, littering the empty cans behind himself as he rolls his eyes at the dumb question, obviously it’s uh. He squints as he struggles to even find a car, it was a hybrid right? His face twitches at the idea, as if he’d drive some pussy shit like that. Nah obviously he must be drivin’ the biggest tanker here yeah? He scratches his ass and Art just smirks as he walks up to a large truck missing a tire, and points to it, his mouth lolling open as is its default state. Art bites his tongue to prevent from bursting into laughter at the idea of that puny man hopping up into that rig. Keeping it under wraps he saunters over and feeling generous gives the man one final out, “You sure about that hun?”

Questioned, the conviction in Breau’s chest only grows as he puffs up his chest with pride. He checks the back seat and smirks as he sees a bag filled with his belongings, tearing it open hoping to find a laptop for reasons that escape him; he instead finds a toolkit, some lube, and old work clothes. Still, each object in the bag is unquestionably his. He tosses the bag at Art with a smirk, “Uhhh, obviously I know my own truck ya fucker, tryin’ get me all confused like!” Art laughs it off as he begins his victory lap. The whole thing began as some karmic payback and all but fuck, if he ain’t excited at the prospect of having someone on his level to fuck around with. Though he bites his tongue as deep in his chest he desires something more meaningful than that.

Art tosses the bag to the ground and looks over at the missing tire and scoffs at the oaf, “Now Breau, surely ya don’ need my help puttin’ a tire back on yer truck?” Breau’s face reddens with embarrassment at the idea and he pushes back at the man now only slightly larger than him. His pride challenged, he quickly runs over to a workbench to grab a tire wrench, Art watches new muscle and fat bounce on the man’s body as his whole form jiggles with power, before moving to wheel over a tire. Breau stumbles running back as his mind begins to fill with the proprietary knowledge of mechanics that any handyman should have, grease stains his shorts and oil his hands as he forgets corporate boardrooms that had already fallen by the wayside.

In no time at all he’s under the truck, shooting off the flat with a haste and finding another problem to fix while he’s under there. Every word out of his mouth drips with an accent deeper than any of the Rhoades’ “I knew t’wasn’t just a tire yew ass! Mah whole strut’s fucked up!” Art watches as the man appraises and immediately sets to fixing the issues found, smirking as the man scratches his exposed pubes in between drilling and sniffs at the forest of hair in his pits that somehow overpowers the smell of metal and motor oil in the air.

Art offers a helping hand that the man in his confidence didn’t ask for and the pair quickly get the truck up and running with ease. They work like they’ve done so for at least a decade, and as sweat runs down one of them onto the other their minds shift to make it clear they have. The job said and done Breau quickly turns his mind to another car on the lot and Art shrugs as they start hammering away at another job that has long been left on the back burner. Working the day away, eventually Art has to step in and convince his new partner to throw in the towel.

The sunset’s beginning to crest over the horizon and Art gets a text from his folks asking when the pair are to make their way over to the festival. Art is uncharacteristically nervous as he looks to Breau, fearful of flubbing so close to the finish line. He clears his throat to calm his voice, lest there be a quiver, “‘S a shame yer not gonna be able to make it to the festival tonight eh Beau.” The oiled up man shakes as he hears the name, his name, who he is, shift one final time. The itch of his pubes races up his abs as he nears the virility, the power, of his partner.

The strength and muscle of the man  who forced him against the wall, ragdolled him onto the bed, hoisted him into the air, bursts into his own arms as there's the sound of a fabric tearing, bones cracking, in the air. His bulge expanding to a size that his underwear could never hide, he smirks at the idea that he’d ever wear them anyway. Always been more of a commando guy. Every muscle in his body vibrates with energy as he surges even larger, hair rapidly covers his pits before spreading beyond them as his beard curls even thicker. Sweat drips down his body, wetting his pants and sending an itch down his ass that makes it clear that no inch is spared from his new hirsute masculinity. He grunts as the idea of missing the festival fills him with a greater sadness than he’s ever felt before, “Now why’d I ever go ‘n do a thing like that there Art.”

Suddenly a devilish smirk forces itself onto Beau’s face as his mind changes from affection and back to a lust uncontrollable as his balls surge even larger and he again charges at Art. This time tinged with no existential anger as he knocks the man to the floor. Art smirks as he feels himself pinned to the ground and the two begin wrestling in the dirt, their powerful bodies in a dead heat as they frot in the middle of his lot. Their messy beards wet with spit as they engage in an even sloppier session than they had the previous night, with each thrust Art finds more power within Beau than he has felt from even the most masculine fuck he’s enjoyed previously. 

sees the look in Beau’s eyes he’s filled with confidence, and he’s splattered with cum. After hearing both their phones ring the two men call off their heated session and quickly struggle to seem like they weren’t in the middle of having marathon sex as they answer to hear both of Art’s parents. Beau doesn’t stop to realize his phone is again functioning, and also a far older generation than the one he once preferred. After all he doesn’t need all that fancy shit to get his job done anyway. The two hop in Beau’s recently repaired truck and race to the Rhoades’ residence, Art is shocked to find a full size cabin now built next door to his parent’s house before he sees Beau saunter into it with a confidence and pride that answers all of his questions.

After a moment he races to follow the man, his other half inside and is struck with his new life. He assumed he was holding all the cards but clearly that’s not the case. Looking down at his own body he finds he is not without his own changes, having similarly grown in virility he chides himself for thinking with his balls so much before he is again chided by the man stepping down the stairs. “Didja not hear yer mom on the phone Art! Get fuckin’ ready so we can get down there before yer folks blow a gasket!” 

Art takes the little moment he can to observe all the new perfections of his apparent life. He stares at Beau’s sculpted chest, the pattern of perfect hair trailing down his body like fur. Massive thighs filling jeans to their max and a bulge that tells everyone he’s a stud in between them. Art blushes as he rushes into their shared bedroom, unaware as his step grows heavier with every footfall, his own chest straining the tank that was only just hanging in there. He quickly puts on an outfit matching Beau, almost forgetting to throw back on his silicon wedding band before racing back into the living room and draping himself around his husband’s shoulders.

Beau acknowledges him with a grunt and juts his chin towards the door. The two head off towards the city center, Beau’s head filled with affection for the man to his left and for the town of folks around him. Art is blissfully unaware of the two way street that clearly dulled some of his own edges as the pair step out into the festival and begin throwing down in a line dance, as they do every year. Beau moves with precision and joy as he celebrates his favorite place and favorite people. Can of beer raised high as he shows off to a crowd adoring.

Constantly stealing glances of each other the husbands are uncaring as everyone in the town square also has their eyes on the pair, such a perfect match it’s no wonder they are the celebrities of the little town. Martha and Arthur Sr. watch blissfully, beyond overjoyed that their son has finally found a man for himself, and the city sighs as the two men take turns showing off at every turn. Beacons of Smoketree pride and Southern hospitality in only the best of ways. Ever striving to better themselves and their town and always trying to one up their other half.

The Olde Candy Shoppe

After trying some vintage candy Eddie finds himself rushing into the life of his dreams, with a the man of his dreams to boot! Sweet bearification/age progression!

Bit of a long one but I quite enjoyed writing it! Hope it's not too saccharine for y'all! As always, hope you all enjoy! -Occam

It was Eddie’s first day off in a few weeks. He doesn’t really mind the hours but working in an office has been a little less than fulfilling for him. Quite the recluse, he was originally planning on just staying in on his day off but his friend from work, Tony, encouraged him to explore town. He acquiesce, for nothing else than hopefully having something new to talk about with Tony when he’s back at work, secretly hoping that taking his friend’s advice could lead to something a little more exciting between the two of them.

Looking around the town square he’s immediately bored, seeing almost entirely places he’s already written off in the time he’s lived in the city. Eddie doesn’t want to go daydrink or buy some new clothes and he’s already kicking himself in the leg for forgetting that he hasn’t gone out in some time for a reason. Right before he calls it a day and returns home to hop on some video game he sees something new and alluring: The Olde Candy Shoppe.

It looks quite out of place, like a mom and pop shop shoved in between newer developments. Eddie stares in disbelief unsure how he could have possibly missed the anomaly before now, he’s been here before and is almost certain that it has not. Though by all appearances it seems far and away to be the oldest building in the square. He digs deep trying to recall any friends mentioning a candy shop in town and comes up blank. Sighing he decides to push no further, obviously the building is there so there’s no sense at all to go crazy about it. Beside that, the longer he spends thinking on it he realizes he could certainly do with a sugary pick-me-up.

Eddie enters  the candy shop and any edge or nerves remaining were left at the door. The atmosphere was immediately soothing and warm, sweet but not cloying. The cool white light filters through aged windows and bathes everything with the yellow warmth of perpetual twilight. Looking around the shop Eddie just feels at home, he sets to browsing the aisles when he hears a loud deep voice shout, “Welcome in lad! Glad to have ya!” Quickly removed from whatever reverie he was in, Eddie turns to find a man otherworldly. Masculine like a grandfather, the giant would seem more at home at Santa’s workshop than the city center in which his store sits. 

Eddie simply stares at the man who quickly laughs before putting a hand on his hip and walking over, “You know it’s impolite to stare young man, Hah Hah!” His whole body bounces as he laughs and Eddie closes his agape mouth, not even realizing it had fallen open. He tries to speak but stumbles over his words as he massive man comes to pat him on the back, “What can I do ya for lad?” Eddie swallows hard and finds his caught tongue, “Oh, ah well, I’m just looking around I suppose. Sorry-” The bear of a man laughs heartily once more before continuing, “Well I’m certain you’ll find exactly what yer lookin’ for. Ya just shout if ya need anythin’!” With that he goes off to organize the racks behind the counter, leaving Eddie to his own devices. 

While never on his A-Game in social situations, Eddie is absolutely gobsmacked at how off he was talking to the man. It’s almost like when someone way out his league flirts with him, but Eddie’s never been the type to go for men so, wizened. He blushes as he thinks about that man in such a light and promptly focuses his mind on the merchandise to prevent any further embarrassment. Attention drawn to the shelves Eddie finds sweets familiar and novel, something in the back of his mind tells him that anything he could ever possibly want rests somewhere in the labyrinth of crowded candy aisles. 

He wanders around for quite a while, unaware or apathetic to the passage of time, every so often picking up a treat he knows he likes only to put it down in pursuit of something better, something out there calling to him. The stairs creak as he meanders up to the equally cluttered second floor of the candy shop. Reaching the top he turns to look out across the open aisles, bereft of other customers. The square was bustling when he was wandering outside and yet he hasn’t heard the bell on the door jingle once since he’s entered. As soon as the thought enters his mind a saccharine smell overloads his senses and he shakes it off. Anxieties rational or not fade away as he turns to find some ancient candy he’s never seen before.

He grimaces seeing wafers that clearly have been extant for hundreds of years before he was born. Prepared to turn his nose up and return to the more exciting eclectic candies of today Eddie is shocked as his body takes a step towards the sure to be stodgy treat. His hand reaches out to grab a ream of them and suddenly he feels a presence behind him as the booming voice of the proprietor speaks out once more, “Mmm excellent choice Boy. Those are favorite’s from my youth. Would ya like to try one?” Eddie turns to find the man’s hand outstretched and in the center one of the small chalky discs. Unsure why he would ever want them in the first place Eddie plans to turn him down, but his body feels otherwise.

Before a second passes Eddie has already snatched the piece of candy without a thought and shoved it in his own mouth. What should be the muted flavor of a candy that has sat unpurchased on shelf for years instead explodes in his mouth. Every sense is overwhelmed as flavors of a lifetime dance on his tongue. His mind goes blank, unable to process the experience of thousands of thoughts and feelings soaring into and through him. Warmth fills every inch of his being as his mouth again lolls open, he feels every piece of fabric on his dry skin before they grow sticky with sweat as he begins to sweat from the impossible experience. Eyes glaze over as he mindlessly stares at the jolly unmoving face ahead of him. It is impossible to say how long he stands there absorbing everything there is within the small piece of candy as it dissolves on his tongue. He only breaks out of it as he feels drool spill out of his wide open mouth. 

Eddie slurps in embarrassment and mumbles an apology, barely able to will his body to do anything at all as he recovers from a state of ecstasy he couldn't possibly understand. The proceeding minutes are equally foggy, try as he might Eddie is running on fumes as he wanders back down the stairs, the old man ushering him with a gentle hand towards the door. He isn’t sure what awkward things his mouth must spurt out as he accompanies the man through the store. The only concrete recollections he can find as he exits are the man’s smiling face as he puts a small bag of the treats in Eddie’s hand and the jingling of the door bell closing behind him as he is again on the cold streets of the downtown. 

“Did I pay for these?” He mumbles to himself as he wanders towards his apartment. Eddie doesn’t quite care what the answer is as he promptly tears into the pouch of multi-colored wafers, desperate to continue whatever high they brought him before. He shoves a handful of the chalky treats into his mouth and is promptly ushered again to a state of jubilee. His feet stumble onward as his mind grows mindless once more, his face smiling wide and his eyes glassy with ecstasy he still cannot grasp. It’s more akin to discovering a new sense than a new taste as every second passing brings him more rapturous pleasure. His clothes pull on his body with every movement. Tension created between himself and the world around him brings him delight beyond measure as, beyond the heighting of every sense, he begins to feel bloated.

Holding back a burp he arrives at his front door and closes it behind him. Eddie falls to the floor, dropping the now empty bag of wafers, as he experiences release from what feels like a lifetime of heightening pent-up pleasure. Eddie tears off clothes that have been hugging him tighter with each step towards home, doing so with an ease that should certainly be a red flag. Barely aware of his actions the strength suddenly coursing through him only brings him pleasure in a manner he has until now been pushing down as he feels his package swiftly strain briefs still clinging to his rapidly bloating thighs.

Falling face down on his bed he fully and unconditionally gives into the experience, humping the bed like an animal until his cock  breaks free from his underwear. His arms grow larger as he pushes against his bed, widening palms grasping at sheets. Beneath the carnal pleasure of growth across his body he feels burning itches rise. Ever a hairless twink he begins to feel a long absent signifier of manhood begin to grace his form. While his thin arms become biceps, beneath them the thin blonde bush in his armpits darkens and begins a transformation from a garden into a jungle. The few hairs on his chest and around his nipples, in which he had but the smallest pride, stretch longer and do their best to spread, his cock growing even harder as he imagines thick untamable hair covering more of his form than he could even imagine.

Memories of shaving daily fill his mind as a mustache suddenly graces his ever-hairless face. He grits his teeth and clenches his jaw as his neck flexes and his vision flashes white as everything in his being cries with a desire to grow more, to be more. He scratches at his frail form as every disparate part of his body struggles to obey. 

The room fills with the scent of his sweaty body grinding against his mattress. His pert waist expands, his ass ballooning into the air as his thighs fill with power. In his crotch a thick bush of pubes scratch against his cock as it bulges larger yet. Just as he’s about to lose control, his more powerful arms shaking with both the effort of growth as well as holding up his larger body, he takes a deep breath and a dumb grin spreads on his face. Behind the powerful scent of his own musk, there is an unmistakable saccharine haze hiding. With that he moans loudly, his chest vibrating as a deeper voice bellows forth and he collapses in his own mess as his cum stains a treasure trail still inching higher on his torso.

He awakens a completely different man. He groans and scratches at stubble he never dreamed he could grow and pushes himself with arms larger than his thighs used to be. He rubs himself up and down feeling sweat stained, and otherwise crusty, hair covering all the real estate he so wished it would. Unaware of the extent of his changes he allows himself a few moments to play with the new muscle and weight on his improved form. Flexing his biceps, delighting in the soreness therein as he bounces pecs that he certainly didn’t earn, Eddie quickly wakes up to reality and jolts up. Brimming with energy, anxiety he’s always had heightens to a new degree as he jumps up to inspect himself in a mirror.

He turns and inspects every inch of his new body. Pushing and prodding at impossibly developed muscle, twisting his neck to look at his defined jawline underneath stubble, pinching himself only half-hoping to awaken from the dream and yelping as his new clumsy fingers pinch with more strength than he thought possible. “Fuck!” He clenches at his throat as the voice sounding forth is unrecognizable, as well as one that would get any man to drop his pants. He blushes before checking the time and remembering the struggles of his all-too-real reality. He can’t go to work like this.

He scratches his hair and feels that while everywhere else on his body hair has grown fruitful, before multiplying beyond even that, the hair on his head has lost some of its youthful bounce and thinned. No time to worry about that. He wipes a sobering hand across his face, feeling its rough palm scratch at itchy stubble. Eddie forces down the butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the idea before dialing his workplace’s phone number. The phone rings once before the receptionist answers, “Hello this is Chloe with Blue Willow LTD. What can I do for you today?” 

Eddie clears his throat and answers, “Hey Chlo this is Eddie I uhh, don’t think I’m going to be able to make it in today.” There is a pause as the receptionist checks a calendar before she replies, “I see, Eddie, is it? Did you have an appointment today?” This time Eddie pauses, taken aback that Chloe didn’t recognize him. Sure, his voice probably sounds a little deeper but they’ve worked together for years. 

“What? No, Chlo you know me, it’s Eddie?” She promptly replies, “I’m not seeing an Edward or Eddie on my calendar, nevertheless I am sorry you won’t be able to make our company today. If you want to set up a later date I can certainly do that for you sir.” Eddie bites his tongue as he tries to think of anything to prove his identity to Chloe and comes up blank, in fact the longer he sits there the more he has trouble even picturing her face. “Sir? Are you still there?” He grunts in surprise, “Oh! Yes I, sorry for the bother. I uhh, it must be a wrong number.” “No problem at all sir, thank you for calling and we look forward to serving you at a later date!”

There’s a click as the receptionist hangs up. Eddie sits there staring at his phone and sees that he doesn’t even have a contact for the number he just called. He scratches at his stomach as the hair there is crusted with something he can’t quite recall. Unsure of his next move he hops in the shower and cleans up, taking time to play with his wet hair as it’s covered in suds. Still filled with impossible pleasure at the novelty of having this new form he pulls at his pubes and scratches at a face that somehow already has more stubble on it. After that he raises his arms to languish in his thick pit hair and the new musk it carries. Before washing it away and throwing on deodorant that’s leagues stronger than what he usually wears, he catches a whiff of something sweet in the air and it all comes flashing back to him. The candy store, it’s got to have something to do with that.

Eddie ignores the mountain of ulterior motives that returning to the candy store provides as he throws on a button up that barely fits and races out the door and towards the shop. The place is almost exactly as he remembers it, snug in between two businesses not of note and a smell of cinnamon and other sweets wafting through the shut door. Grabbing at the door handle he finds it locked. Briefly noticing the lights off inside, a small letter falls from somewhere he can’t see into his awaiting hands. Breaking the wax seal, his eyes scour the note, “To a not so young Edward. Congratulations on your new life, check your pocket.” Unsigned. Eddie grimaces as he checks his pocket to find a key.

Unwilling to dig into the implications of the note and grumbling to himself about being referred to as not so young ,he shoves the key in the lock and turns it. The store immediately comes to life. The light pouring in through the large windows is somehow brighter than it is outside. He steps in and takes a deep breath, finding himself again overwhelmed with delight as he enjoys the overpowering smell of his, er, the store. After a few moments he shakes it off and sets out to find the old man who presumably owns it. 

Never could he know what he is to lose as he returns to the scene of his rapture however. Crossing the threshold he completely forgets about the hitherto slowly fading life of Eddie the salesman. The job he never truly enjoyed becomes the nothing it had been to him all along as he scratches his stomach mindlessly. Abs he only just received begin to bloat with a different, greater, type of strength that only years upon years of living could bring. 

Walking down the aisles he doesn’t notice as the top button of his shirt pops off and chest hair begins to grow towards his neck. Memories of stocking the aisles by hand flow through his mind as he walks through each one. His goal of finding the proprietor he met yesterday slowly shifts as he instead carefully inspects every shelf, as if he were preparing for the day ahead.

 Ever too lanky for his own good he remembers countless people telling him he needs to eat more and so he does, grabbing a treat or two as he loads shelves to their capacity. Each bite puts more pounds on his body as the hair covering him continues to thicken. Feeling various parts of his new form tighten Eddie stretches and finds his vantage is suddenly closer to the ground. There’s a crack in his back and he grumbles, his voice getting even deeper as his stomach pushes its buttons to their brim.

Suddenly the bell at the door jingles and his face alights with a smile. Setting whatever self-assigned tasks he had aside, he rushes over to help his customer find what they’re looking for. He takes no time to consider that said mission is far easier than it should be. Taking almost no time at all and as soon as it is done the bell chimes once more as a second customer arrives and after them a third. Soon enough the entire store is bustling with patrons looking for sweets and novelties that Eddie is beyond happy to offer. Each and every interaction fills him with purpose and delight as he in turn does all he can to make sure everyone walks out of his shop with a smile.

Walking around with a confidence and pride he’s never held, Eddie doesn’t even notice as he seamlessly works the store all by himself. After all, he's done it for years. Memories fly by and fill him with fulfillment as offers free samples at every opportunity, doing little magic tricks he certainly never honed, and introducing himself as Ed whenever the chance presents itself. After a long day of peddling his saccharine wares and spreading joy Ed eventually locks up and collapses into an old chair behind the counter. The chair creaks underneath him and a few more buttons pop off his shirt as he takes a load off. Wiping his brow after a day well done he takes no note of the dense hair poking through every undone button.

He scratches at his hair and feels it even thinner on his head as that on his stubbled face and chest hair have grown only thicker. Looking down at the barreled body that he would have sworn was far more lithe this morning he pats his stomach and smiles. Looking around at a store growing more familiar by the second, he remembers his apartment upstairs and gets up with a groan. The lights in the store dim without him touching a button as he makes his way to his home he made for himself above the storefront.

Looking around he finds it filled with possessions that decorated the apartment he woke up in this morning. After all where could that have been but right here. Beyond that, the domicile is chockablock full with clutter gathered in a life longer lived. Rubbing his beard in thought he is filled with a desire to explore his new sensuous form as he did the night before, though as he sits there his bones feel familiar. Same ones he’s always had after all, eh? Instead of following heady lust, he yawns with an intensity he’s never quite mustered as he sits in the bed that’s well large enough for two. Sleep comes to his eyes before he can make up his mind to do anything else and he falls back, sugar plums dancing in his dreams as potentiality rushes through him.

Ed wakes up early, as he always does. Sensing something afoot he quickly throws on clothes and makes his way downstairs into the store. Taking the briefest moment to admire how he fills out his uniform he winks at himself and throws on an apron before making his way down the stairs to see a young man standing outside the store and looking in the windows. Seeing the figure something at the back of his mind prickles that he should know who he is, the bizarre feeling compels him to let the man in before the store opens. After doing just that, the sensation only grows more prominent.

The younger man quickly makes his case, “Hi I’m so sorry for the bother I know you’re not open yet I just- Something told me I had to come by.” He pauses briefly and stares deeply at Ed as the older man scratches his beard in thought, “Eddie? Is that-” He is quickly cut off with a guffaw by the candyman. “HAH! I haven’t been called by that name in years, young man!” Despite the brash laughter, something begins eating away at Ed, and from the looks of it, it’s eating at his guest as well. Locking the door behind him lest another visitor sneak in, Ed offers a hand out, “The name’s Ed, welcome to my little slice of the world, uhm,” he pauses and waits for the visitor to offer his name, which he does, “Tony.” 

That sends an eruption of memories through Ed’s consciousness. Tony. Immediately he remembers seeing Tony shirtless and blushes, was that from an Instagram post or had he somehow seen the young man before now in a less than pure manner. He shakes it off just as soon, surely Tony would remember him in the latter case, and he certainly doesn’t have social media, hah! Even if some of his new employees are trying to get him on there. Ed finds himself adrift in his own mind, quite unable to determine what is true and what is faction. Either way the image of the young man’s body is burned into his imagination and he doesn’t understand why. He swallows hard as suddenly an idea pushes itself to the front of his mind, flowing into him as if it’s coming from the store itself.

“You know young man, why don’t you have a look around to see if your friend Edward left something here. If something’s calling out to you I’d be sure to follow it.” Tony nods wordlessly and sets off, following an unseen trail to exactly what he’s sure to be looking for. Ed clears his throat and stays back, not wanting to make the younger man uncomfortable in any way. His mind keeps going through memories foggy and otherwise in between his morning chores. Soon enough he begins to come across a few memories of Tony alongside his younger self, and then there were more. Suddenly he’s flooded with ideas, dreams, memories from his youth. In each and every one he sees the young man right by his side. He scratches at his beard in thought, as he often does, before deciding to simply relinquish his curiosity, washing his hands of his concern, confident that the situation shall work itself out soon. Things have a habit of doing so in the store.

Ed grabs a box and sets out to begin stocking, preparing for another busy day that surely awaits after he opens his doors. As soon as he turns down the first aisle his mission changes. He sees Tony paused, staring at a jawbreaker like it’s a talisman holding the answer to all of life’s mysteries. He watches as the young man reaches out for it and suddenly holds it in his hands before he turns and stares directly at Ed who simply nods. Immediately understanding, Tony tosses it in his mouth and his eyes immediately glaze over just like Eddie’s did the day before and suddenly it all makes sense to the store owner. 

He immediately sees Tony fill his tank top, muscle pouring onto his frame much faster than it did his own. His sharp jaw swiftly lines itself with a sculpted beard that any man would be proud of as his jaw expands large enough to easily hold the large piece of candy. His chest hair quickly spreads beyond the capacity of his tank, up towards his beard and quickly moving to connect with his pits. Staring at the man Ed decides it’s impolite to watch whatever fantastical changes are occurring as he instead opts to get back to work. After all, he was there for the man’s changes the first time.

Turning away, Ed is again overwhelmed with flashes of memories between himself and Tony. His mind flashes back to the large bed he slept alone in last night and is filled with comfort at the idea he will never have to do so again. While much of their lives together remained ephemeral, still to be defined as Tony’s new form the most important thing was clear. The pair were, are, and will be evermore inseparable. He remembers as if it were yesterday the day they met and from that moment on the pair were two halves of one whole. Nothing quite matters to the men besides that they are together.

Memories of Tony as a young personal trainer, or was it a handyman flitter across Ed’s psyche as the man standing in the aisle continues to mature and grow. Already taller than Ed he sprouts even higher, his thick thighs strain the shorts he had thrown on to rush to Ed’s shop and his feet swiftly outgrow his tennis shoes.

The details of their past and their lives lived together don’t quite matter at the moment as Ed stares at the love of his life growing into the man he’s always wanted to be. The ephemerality of their past together holds nothing to the flame burning in the chests of both men. With a grunt Tony grows large enough that the tank top hastily worn rips off of him and falls to the floor. Seeing his hairy body exposed as his package makes itself incredibly apparent, Ed sighs and walks over to his husband. Oft-adjusted gold bands swiftly appear on the ring fingers of both men.

“How many times do I need to tell you to buy clothes in your size Tony!” The recently younger man turns and laughs as he looks down to find himself barely clothed in the middle of their candy store. The two men kiss before Ed ushers his husband upstairs so he can keep getting the store ready for the rush right around the corner. Tony collapses on the bed with the weariness that decades of rapid aging wreaks on the body. Smiling at his sleeping husband Ed tucks him in before returning to the storefront with a cup of coffee. He smiles in serenity as he hears the bell jingle as a crew of other employees arrive and begin stocking and doing other work he has never minded doing himself. 

Colors shine even brighter than before as sun beams in through the large windows. There is a hum of something otherworldly in the air as every inch of the store buzzes with whimsy. Ed sighs with contentment as he hears his husbands snoring through the apartment walls behind him, waving at the new hires, as they rush about the morning’s preparations. Smiling as the life of his dreams has somehow fallen at his feet, he too prepares to do all he can to spread joy as his goal. Tightening his apron Ed heads downstairs to open The Olde Candy Shoppe for business, eager as ever to spread sweet delight.

What You Wanted

Richard wanted to better himself. At first, as a wide-eyed new freshman, he was looking to make a change. Having always been more nerdy and unathletic, Richard prioritized his studies rather than his physical fitness growing up. But after years of fearing the gym, he took his first step. And the rest was history. He grew lean with muscle and learned the ins and outs of the gym routine. He found a gym buddy and quickly climbed the social hierarchy. Smart, fit, and now entering his junior year- he was living his best life.

“Richard!” Thomas’s nasally voice cut through the air, “Are you even paying attention?” Beady eyes narrowed behind his thick rimmed glasses.

Richard shrugged, “Sorry, I must’ve zoned out.” He was thinking more about his gym session earlier that day instead of paying attention to whatever nerdy movie Thomas picked, “I’m just not feeling it today.”

Richard and Thomas were friends since middle school. Both unapologetically nerdy, each surviving their fair share of bullying. But while Richard’s interests in fitness blossomed, Thomas remained entrenched in all things nerdy.

“You’re never feeling it anymore.” Thomas lamented, “I’m worried about you.” He looked at his friend closely, “Are you becoming like them? One of those stupid, smelly meatheads?” Richard knew Thomas never approved of his new friends- especially since many of them gave off the same vibes as their former bullies.

“Thomas, look.” Richard started, “I just... We’re obviously very different people now.”

“Not true! We both study Biochemistry! We’re both applying to graduate school in a few months!” Thomas interjected.

“Yeah, but Thomas, I’ve changed. I don’t really like superheroes and Battle Monsters and all that stuff anymore.” Richard sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I mean, its fun from time to time, but you’re obsessed with it.”

“Obsessed?”

Richard nodded, “Look, I need to get going. I have an exam.” He grabbed his backpack and started towards the door.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Thomas yelled, “So you think you’re better than me too? Just like all those stupid jocks, right?” Thomas continued, “Fine, if you want to be a stupid, smelly jock so bad, go for it! Don’t come crying to me!”

“Whatever.” Richard said, “See you around.”

_________

Richard worked through his thermodynamics exam with ease. It became such a mindless activity that his thoughts wandered to Thomas. They had been close for years. And Thomas gave him an outlet for some of his more nerdier interests. Sure, he wasn’t as interested in all that nerd stuff like he was back in middle school, but Richard did value the time he spent with Thomas. He frowned. Maybe he was just a bit too harsh.  He’d apologize once he got done with his exam. But as he continued to write down the answers to these complex questions, he felt something welling up from within him. Something physical... something...

BUUUUURRRRPPPPP

Richard’s eyes widened and he quickly covered his mouth. He felt his cheeks flush red and looked around the room, noticing a few looks of disgust, as well as a few snickers from some of his classmates.

“Richard?” The professor said, looking up from her book.

“Yo, my bad dude.” Richard’s eyes widened, as did the professor’s, “Whoa, brah! Didn’t mean to say that!” His face reddened even more.

“Richard, please focus on your test.” She said sternly.

He nodded, trying to tune out the snickers from his surrounding classmates, ‘What the fuck was that?’ He thought to himself, trying to regain his composure, ‘Okay... just focus.’

But as he stared at the problems on his exam, he noticed small drops of water appearing on his paper. He raised an eyebrow as more drops appeared on his test, smudging his work.

“What the...?” He whispered, “Sweat?” He rubbed a hand across his forehead, “What the fuck?” He said aloud, again disrupting the class.

“Richard!” The professor slammed her book down.

“Dude, just back off.” Richard snapped back. He heard a few audible gasps from his fellow students and his face flushed red, “Bro, that came out wrong. I don't get why I'm sounding like this, bro.” His face flushed red again and he suddenly stood up and headed towards the door, “I gotta take a breather.” He said. But as he approached the door he could feel the same heaviness in his stomach, “No, no no... buuuuuuuuurrrrrpppppppp.”

He slammed the door behind him, and fled from the classroom.

_________

Richard walked across campus as fast as he could. He needed to get back to his apartment as soon as possible. Or maybe to a doctor. But wherever he went, he just needed to be somewhere private. The young man wiped some sweat from his brow and cringed.

“No way dude, I’m like a waterfall.” He whispered, “Oh fuck, look at my pits.” Dark pit stains rapidly formed beneath his arms and continued to grow larger. Richard stopped in his tracks and raised his arms, taking a deep whiff of his own stench, “Huhuhuh that’s ripe, dude.” He chuckled to himself. It was the judgmental stares of nearby students that broke him out of his train of thought, “I’m sorry!” He whispered, blushing deeply, “I didn’t mean to... burrrrppppppppp.” His face reddened even more.

“Haha nice one bro!” A nearby jock laughed.

“Yeah dude! Been dropping bombs all day.” Richard replied with a grin. He quickly shook his head and ran towards his dorm room, ignoring the jock's attempt for a fist bump.

_________

Richard slammed the door to his dorm room shut and threw his backpack across the room. At this point, he didn’t know what to do. His shirt had soaked through from his sweat and a new manly musk was clinging to his sweaty body.

“Okay, I just gotta go to an urgent care.” Richard whispered.

He walked over to his dresser to change his shirt, and he quickly stripped out of his soaked t-shirt. But when he looked down at his body, something wasn’t right.

“Yo dude, since when did I get abs?” Richard mumbled, “Oh shit, look at my boulders.” He rubbed a hand across his large shoulders, giving them a squeeze and chuckling dumbly, “Huhuhuh why do I need a shirt?” He flexed his bicep and watched as it bulged with strength, “Woah fuck look at that!” He watched as his bicep seemed to get a bit larger too, “Dude... that’s buuuuuuurrppppppp.” Richard chuckled, “Fuckin’ new protein powder. Makin’ my gassy as fuck.”

His plans to visit an Urgent Care were quickly leaving his mind. Instead, he continued to focus on his various poses, and amused himself with each growing muscle. Richard walked over to the couch and fell back onto it, grabbing his phone and posting a new picture of himself on his social media. All the white, he absentmindedly scratched as his massive chest, which was starting to sprout a light dusting of hairs. He grinned as various likes started appearing on his picture, and he felt his cock start to grow. He grabbed his massive cock and started stroking it, moaning with each tug.

“Fuck yeah.” He moaned, “Fuck people would be lucky to ride this dick.” He grinned, “Dick’s dick huhuhuh.” A knock at his door broke his concentration and he groaned with disappointment. His cock remained tented in his pants, but he didn’t care. He opened the door, casually scratching his hairy pit, “Oh fuck, Thomas dude! What’s up?”

Thomas grinned, “Richard?” He asked, “Wow.”

“Impressed broski? And don’t call me Richard. More of a Richy.” Richy grinned, “Come in, bro! Look, I’m like totally sorry about earlier. All that nerd stuff that you like. Didn’t mean to be a dick about it.”

“You don’t have to worry, Richy. You made it quite clear that you’re not a nerd anymore.” Thomas chuckled, “You wanted to be a stupid jock, well now you are.” 

Richy raised an eyebrow, “Stupid jock?” Something about that wasn’t right. Stupid jock? The words kept echoing in his head, “Stupid jock?” He repeated again, scratching his head, “That’s not... I...” Richy grabbed his head and looked at his friend. For just a second, the dull, dumb look in Richy’s eye was replaced by a knowing intelligence. A horrific realization evident in them. But it quickly lost its spark and his eyes dulled, “Huhuhuh yeah, I guess I’m pretty stupid. But doesn’t really matter when you’ve got this.” He grabbed his bulge and smirked, “Dude, you see that pic I posted? You think I could make it on OnlyFans?”

Thomas nodded, “Yes, I think you could. But I ought to go.”

“No wait bro!” Richy said, blocking his path to the door, “I mean... I know you always say you hate jocks. But its ‘cause you’re into us, right bro?” Thomas’s face reddened, betraying his secret, “So like...” Richy smirked and walked up to Thomas, who’s own khakis were now tented, “You wanna star in my first OnlyFans vid?”

_________

Richy stretched his hands above his head and sniffed his ripe pits. His dick twitched at the smell and he grinned. It’d been a few weeks since he posted his first video to OnlyFans. And yet here he was again, rewatching his first video: “buff jock fucks gay nerd.” Without fail, it always made his dick hard. And even though he posted several more videos since then, he always found himself coming back to this one. But even a masterpiece gets dull and Richy pulled out his phone. He ignored several horrified texts from his parents asking why he dropped out of school, as well as deleting multiple invites to interview for grad programs, whatever those were. Instead he found Thomas’s contact info.

“Hey bro.” He messaged, “Be at my place ASAP.” He took a quick selfie and threw in a few eggplant emojis to get his point across.

Afterwards, he tossed his phone somewhere on his bed. He didn’t need to see Thomas’s response. Sure he was stupid, be he did know one thing. No one, especially not Thomas, could resist this dick. And the knock on his door not even ten minutes later was all the confirmation he needed.

He just wanted to grow his ass! NOT HIS WHOLE BODY! Gavin was your average fresh out of highschool, first year of college gay young adult. He had so many fantasies, ideas of how it would go, the parties he'd go to, the people he'd meet and also FUCK. There was just one problem, his self esteem and image of his own body. Gavin was from a smaller town with little to no access to the outside world, his world view was narrow and when he saw everyone else. Their builds, their style, he couldn't help but compare himself, pick his body apart for months till it was halfway through his second semester and he got desperate.

That's where KOKSTRAPS (KOK JOCKSTRAPS) came into the picture. Instead of realizing that he was cute, that he was also the very possible epitome of others desires, he traded that all when he found our website. Through multiple social media posts reviewing the products, men saying how the KOKSTRAPS changed their lives, grew their perfect bodies, he was sucked in. He navigated to the site, his parents credit card memorized he bought the first jockstrap that promised to grow his ass, his biggest insecurity since getting on campus as a skinny twinky bottom.

Thing is folks, those posts were right, the KOKSTRAPS did change lives. And if Gavin had bothered reading the rest of the product summary, he would have read that this KOKSTRAP makes the wearer into a serious DOM TOP. Sure it grew an ABSOLUTE dump truck of an ass, but it was just for show and thrusting power. It also made the wearer incredibly horny, dominant, cocky, grew their muscles to huge proportions and took their brains, and pushed them allllllll the way down their balls causing them to bulge bigger and make their cock a guaranteed 10 inches AT LEAST.

So when twinky Gavin's slipped off his pants and underwear and pulled up the KOKSTRAP, and felt that warmth spread, he got excited. Watching in the mirror as his ass bubbled out, becoming, thick juicy and round made him flex his hole in heat. But with every flex it got tighter, and tighter, making itself virgin again. His legs were next, stacking his thighs and calves with pure beef he watched in confusion and then fear as halfway through the process he tried to take the KOKSTRAP off.

As his twig like arms pulled at the waistband he watched as each finger inflated, before the warmth spread and swallowed his palms, wrists and forearms. Watching as hairs surged forth with muscle, his vascular system getting stronger in his arms by the second. As his biceps started peaking he felt the warmth surge up his legs to his torso and back meeting in that middle ground between the two at his shoulders.

His back became a work of art as muscles carved themselves, a natural arch forming itself on his lower back as he couldn't help but embrace the HEAT. His chest heaving with heavy breaths as with each inhale it grew, and each exhale it fell a little less, till he had two delicious mounds. His shoulders were forced to broaden to keep up with their growth and width. His abs began to pop out one by one until he had the perfect 8 pack everyone dreamed of.

He was moaning from pleasure, and begging at the same time for it to stop, that he wanted to turn it all back and even if I wanted to help him i couldn't, he made a rash choice. He didn't realize what he had til it was gone. His moans became deeper as this throat thickened with muscle, his Adams apple bulging out. His once cute, feminine soft face shifted and changed as that warmth raced up his jawline, pushing it out into the perfect lantern jaw. A chinstrap forming, framing his perfect plump lips. His nose once button like became strong and stoic. Then to give him a more JOCK like look I moved his brow forward and down, making any stare down he give in any fuck a more dominating feel.

The changes were almost all done, at this point he hadn't looked at himself in the mirror and as he stared at himself he could feel his smaller cock twitch, his hands covering his clothes bulge in some attempt at modesty for his own eyes "FUCK..fuck... Please...what's..undo it..un...fuck I need to..." He began to say feeling that warmth center on his forehead and bulge. He was getting horny, his meaty hands once covering his cock and balls began to grope them through the jock.

"FUCK..fuck bro..I fuck I need to fuck some..bros I need to FUCK SOME BROS!" The warmth around his brain began to pull and make it sink and shrink. As he continued to jerk his clothed cock to his reflection, getting faster with one hand, the other worshiping his muscles, he felt himself thrust into his hand, thrusting and thrusting until he felt that warmth sink to the HEAT around his balls expand them. Producing so much cum. All thoughts besides, lifting, sports, partying with his gay bros at KOK, and fucking BROS fading away.

The twinky Gavin was gone when his cock started precumming, the twinky Gavin was gone when his cock started bulging bigger in his hands, and he was definitely gone when he had to use two hands to fuck into instead of just one. As he came out his past he let out a roar of satisfaction, of freedom, his intelligence and body issues gone, he'd never take this for granted.

He had to get ready for practice, coach wanted to see him early to go over plays!

IN THE LOCKER ROOM

Where am I? Fuck bro, my mind... I clutch my head, but all I can think about is... is... men bro. Fucking big ones. Ones with abs like mine. Ones who are are hairy like me.

The jock grins. Nah bro, not with abs like that. They're so tight, so toned. You're a fucking wrestler now, and the team doesn't need a lightweight. The teams needs a fucking horse.

I feel my body fattening up. My abs are coated in a layer of firm fat and my torso thickens. Hehe bro, I guess this new body has been eating like a pig for years. Pizza after pizza, and all that protein. FUCK YEAH, where else do you think all these gains came from?? And that's not to mention slamming down all those beers. I grunt, and give my new stomach a squeeze.

Wait, grunt? I do it again. My neck is like a horse, a bull. Strong, and as thick as my head. My voice has dropped. Duh bro, you think I'm gonna squeal like a pussy? You think I'm gonna moan when a guy grabs me on the mats? Nah bro, of course I'm fucking grunting, I'm a fucking animal.

FUUUUCCKKKK. Ive got all this energy pent up. I want to get out there, on the mats. I want to fucking slam a guy. I want to fucking BE slammed. I lift up my arms, flexing my huge new biceps, showing off my steamy pits. I give one a sniff, its like a fucking locker room.

Huhu, makes sense.

A guy comes up to me from behind and slaps my ass. Hell yeah bro, give it a squeeze, I know you like it. This beef is for my BOYS, bro. What's that? I need a uniform? I fucking think so bro. I feel my pants melt and ripple up around my legs, flowing like a fluid, fusing with my tshirt into a tight singlet. It snaps into place over my hairy body, releasing a mist of sweat. I look down and see it plastered over my huge cock, and grab my crotch. I'm so fucking horny. Underwear? Nah dude, my balls need to breathe.

That's what I'm talking about, huhu. I'm grinning like a fucking idiot. Bro, I AM a fucking idiot. The dude turns to my face. He's the captain, and he wants me on the team. Uh, duh, why do you think I'm here bro? Great. He grins and pats me on the shoulder. Welcome dude, we'll have you squirming on the mats in no time.

Until then, bro, fucking enjoy yourself.

Customizer

Slow down, fatten up

Hm~ wonder what this program does...

Don't expect to see this level of video effort often 😂

By popular demand over on my Tumblur we have the chosen TURKISH BEAR.

Similar stories and gainer content on my PATREON

Aaron to Amir

Aaron stood Infront of the hotel rooms fill height mirror, posing for his Instagram. He put on a blank expression and stood, one hand in his pocket as he took the photo. He was popular for his chav look, which he did naturally as a lad from London. “Noice one bruv” he said to himself as he admired the photo and posted it, along with some others he’d taken out clubbing in Turkey the night before. He only had to wait a few seconds before his phone exploded with messages, reposts and comments asking about his trip and shouting about how amazing he looked. Aaron cricked his neck and put the phone on silent, he’d look again later when he had to do his mid day posts, this morning he had to go find the photo shoot with the other lads. Aaron had been unlucky, finding himself on the outskirts of Istanbul rather than near the city Centre, where the clubs, photo opportunities and the rest of his gang had managed to snatch places to stay.

Aaron turned, grabbed his hotel key, wallet and passport for clubs and anything he might get stopped about. They’d been warned to do so at the airport by tourism advice and he didn’t want to take chances of stuff going bad and ruining a video. Plus he was sure the press briefing would require his real ID as there would likely be a few people there. Aaron took a final look at his suitcase sat on his bed, stuffing the items into his pockets as he walked out and down towards the streets outside.

It was hot, it probably always was, but damn Aaron wasn’t prepared for it. It had been cooler at night when they’d arrived, but now the whole world looked like a yellow haze. It was busy with people in every direction, loud with traffic, shouting in languages he didn’t understand and the heat made it all into a hot bath of sweat and dust. “S#it-I got no clue where I came from” Taking out his phone only to find the signal wasn’t good enough to get a decent reading of where he was, let alone to make a call. Istanbul was massive and without his guide on the phone he was lost. “Well, I only gotta get to the middle, how ‘ard can that be ay’” and he walked forwards in the rough direction he was sure he’d come the night before.

“Alright guys, im walking about in this awesome city, got myself some new trinkets!” he held up some smoking pipes and cloth he had tied around his waist. “Still making my way down town! Will keep you GUYS AND GALS updated as we go! Aaron out!” He paused the video , quickly adding his own youtube intro and outro, then posted his update to twitter and facebook. He sighed, wiping his brow. He’d been walking just over half an hour when he decided to stop at a market and do some videos to pass the time. But he was still lost. Suddenly a large hand landed on his side, turning him around. Aaron spun to see two large Turkish men sat either side of a large, decorated shisha (Smoking Bong). The larger one spoke quickly in Turkish, pointing into the distance and back to him but Aaron had no idea what he’d said, before the second man leant forwards. “My brother here says he think you are lost my friend”

Aaron hesitated, he wasn’t keen on talking to random weirdos, he’d been warned about pick pockets and thieves would pick on him for looking like an easy target. “I-er-nah-I’m Good mate” Pulling back alittle from the mans grasp. “My friend come sit, why such a rush?” The man held the end of the long colorful pipe towards him, but all Aaron could see was the dirt on his hands and the smell of the room they were both sat inside. “-Na mate I don’t think so-“ as he turned his nose up and glanced left and right for anyone who might save him. Of course, there wasn’t. Before he knew what had happened, the arm had wrapped around his side and pulled him down onto the thick carpet. His view snapped back forwards in time to see the large bearded face and gold chain staring back at him. “No -no! You are not in rush, talk to us about your problems my friend” Aaron almost shivered as he saw the dusty handprint left behind from the Turkish stranger and could only hope it didn’t stain his neat and expensive clothes. He gulped hard, it was no less hot and clammy in the buildings shade. “Look guys-I’m a bit lost but I’m fine, just-I have to go-” But he was cut off again before could finish as the Larger one that spoke basic English raised an arm and slammed it down clumsily onto his shoulder. His thick paw slapping several times leaving a dirty white smear. “My brother you are not lost-we can help you“ he spoke in a slow tone that calmed Aaron slightly. The huge hand covered his whole shoulder as Aaron took a deep breath to steady himself. Instantly he coughed as he inhaled the open pit sit stink for the first time and was forced to look across as the thick forest of black hairs pointing at him.

Aaron finally snapped. This dude had grabbed him, made him sit here, it was hot, he was lost and probably late for his photoshoot with the gang. His clothes were now covered in this blokes dusty sweat stains and now he was being asked to sit here while he waved his arms around and stank the place out like an animal. “Na bruv f@#k that stink-im out’a here-oi-Get The hell off me!” Aaron tried to stand but the thick hairy arm held firm and only pushed him closer to them. “Friend your in safe place, no swear at your brothers” The heavy set mans voice once again seemed to calm Aaron for no reason he could understand. He blinked a few times before a stick was pushed into his hand. The one that didn’t speak any English chatted at him for a few seconds, his deep Turkish voice almost passing through him. Aaron finally snapped out of his daze and saw the Shisha Pip in his hand. “My brother here says you should smoke, will clear mind. No longer lost”

Aaron wanted to leave, his mind was foggy, and he was desperate to escape, feeling heavy he looked at the two huge men. “S-so if I try this, youll let me go right? I-REALLY have-I really have to go. I have a photo shoot to be at-“ he half muttered as the huge man nodded. “Yes friend, you smoke and your problems will go away ok!” He slammed his hand into Aarons back, who gulped hard. He looked at the pipe and huge glass shisha, bubbling loudly. He had no idea what it was, but knew most people back in the UK would go mad to try one. If it meant getting out of here, he’d do it.

Aaron took a long drag and could hear the shisha bubble into life as he breathed it in. Both large men smiled and a few other brutes around them even jeered on as he went. This is ok. He thought to himself as he breathed out a huge cloud of white smoke, it tasted of some spice of tobacco he had never tried before and it was having a strange effect om him. So much so that Aaron instantly began to breathe in a second lung full. His chest felt tight as he did it. “This-This is alright mates” he managed between clouds as the two men smiled back. “Now you will know your way my friend!” as he reached for the pipe and Aaron slowly passed it back, after a final, longer toke of course. “Cheers my friends, but I do HAVE to go.” Finally managing to stand and pull away, he staggered to one side, grateful to get away as they shouted after him about maybe seeing him again soon. Aaron only muttered to himself “Not if I can help it mate, I’ll be out this dump in 2 days and off to America for the awards….if ic an find this f@cking photoshoot”

Now covered in large whiute dusty hand prints and stinking of Shisha Smoke, Aaron looked around staring out at the busy crowd at the many streets in the distance. Then, like a bolt of electricity, he just knew. “Oh wait…actually-I think I gotta go down there…” Totally unsure how, he finally managed to gain some idea of where he was and continued his way towards the city Centre. “Maybe those stinking weirdos weren’t so bad after all” he laughed to himself as he started to walk. His body seemed to steer itself and guide him down small streets and alleys he was sure he had never used, but was somehow equally sure it was the right way.

Finally he appeared from a thin ally into the centre of town. Music was playing, people were pushing food carts and his nose was suddenly bombarded with smells and senses he’d never been attuned to before. He stopped dead. Even back in the UK spice and incense had been a big no for his delicate senses, but all of a sudden his nose held towards the market and he felt compelled to explore it. “I-I guess I can find 5 mins innit” he said as he glanced at his phone, it was half 11, so he did technically have time now he’d somehow found his way so fast. So Aaron turned towards a large food stan and walked towards it, reaching for his wallet.  

It must have been at least an hour later, Aaron wasn’t sure, only that he’d taken a seat at this market stall and soon the guy had been showing him food he’d never have even have considered at home. It wasn’t longe before he felt a little bloated and had to stop and take a breather.  He’d spent half of the cash he had in just that one sitting! Aaaron wiped his face and looked up from the metal chair. “Can I get a coke my friend!” and the large man behind the café bar looked back down. “Bro, if you’ll stop eating everythingh haha! Of course you can.” as he threw the can towards him. Aaron caught it as if he’d done it a thousand times and as he went so stand.

-RIIIIP- his shirt tore down the side as his belly seemed to pull down as he stood. “W-wait what the?!” Aaron gasped as he felt the heat of the sun against his new bare belly. His grey joggers now tightly hugging his expanded waist. “-B-but when did? UGH!” Aaron yelled as his belly pushed out another inch and like a beach ball, popped into a round ball gut that his small shirt was forced ride up and sat above. No matter what he did, it wouldn’t pull down over the new orb of flab he’d somehow gained. The market owner just laughed “I’m always saying you need to watch what you eat bro” Aaron looked back as the Turkish seller. “What are you saying?! I just came here, I wasn’t this fat what did you do to me?!” But the guy only looked confused. “Er, a big guy like you should be eating ay, It is hot you should sit down” but Aaron pulled away and turned into back into the crowded street. “My friend wait!-“ the man shouted after him Aaron felt a new sensation. His belly began to itch. He scratched aimlessly as hairs began to spread across it.

“No no no!” He shouted as he walked as fast as he could for the Photo Tent, his gut bouncing as sweat started to gather in the matted hairs. He could feel his shirt becoming damp with it. “W-what the f@#k is goin’ on! I need to get to the shoot, maybe the guys at first aid can help me. Its this damned place, all filthy and hot. I just need to get back, I can fix this!” He kept pushing forwards, the odd person looking as this bulging white kid running through their streets unti Aaron burst into a public toilet not too far from the shoot. “F@#k! SO HOT~” He gasped as he slammed his head under the tap and turned it on, gulping down water. He knew he couldn’t be far now, he was just desperate for a drink. Then he saw them. His eyes widened as he took his hands off the tap.

“The- F@CK?!”

His hands were almost bear like, thickening by the second. He tried moving his fingers and could actually FEEL them rubbing against each other as they expanded. The hairs matted and hooked together. Sweat was even making them look damp. “Na bruv- t-that’s impossible….” Aaron stagged back. Trying to rub the hairs off, they HAD to be fake. This was a prank right? He patted his growing gut and could feel his whole body wobble as the layers continued to pile on, his new hairy body hugging his once expensive sweat soaked shirt. It was real all right.

“Oh for f@#ks sake! My new shirt!” Huge sweat stains were growing under his arms, he looked down as he could watch a new patch gathering in the middle of his chest. His moobs starting to pull on the fabric. He turned and stepped back into the street door. Almost as if on command a new Turkish man appeared. He pulled him aside “You say you need clothes, I have best ones and all for good price! You wont reget. Big man like you needs good clothes uh!”

The man pushed Aaron towards a stand and was thrown a large blue shirt. It was a knock off brand and it was a XXL. “Listen I don’t think-MUFHF” The man grabbed his dusty jumper and in one pull it tore off as he pulled the blue shirt over him. “No my friend you are not wearing such small clothes. Big man ay! This will fit much better” As he stood back, admiring the new man. Aarons old tattered shirt and jacket that had cost him over 300 quid has now been replaced with a 5 dollar knock off that was way to big for him. “Please I just want-“ was all he managed but the man had nothing more to say, shoving him away. “No money, you go!” Aaron was spinning. His clothes now gone he fell forwards back into the crowd again. He took another deep breath, his hairy chest expanded further as the XXL shirt went from too big, to just right. He belched hard. “BURRRRRRRRRP” as he got his Barings. “This is insane…what’s going on, gotta get to the shoot, stay focused” Aaron shook his head hard as new sweat stains already began to  form on his back and stain the pits of the brand new shirt. He almost cried “What’s going on! Just leave me alone damn-it!”

He could smell himself as his arms were pressed open by his new beefy body. He smelt Ripe. Rank. It was thick and his pits were sweaty and hot, slimey almost. His shirt clung to his skin and felt uncomfortable in all new paces. “No-this is a nightmare-where the hell is-AHHA! THERE!” He pointed happily into the main square as he rounded the corner. He could see youtube staff and a load of police around a large white tent. He ran towards it, his gut bouncing as he did, reaching the crowd and eventually reaching the front where a guy in uniform stopped him. “Passport mate”

He looked up, “Course, Im AaaronGamexi so sorry im late, listen I need ya help-“ he fumbled into his jacket. His jacket… “My jacket!” He shouted, turning to look back the way he came as if it would appear there. “Sir, I need to see your passport to confirm your identity or I cant let you in” Aaron felt the blood drain from his newly tanning face. “No no! I lost it, I’m swear I’m AaaronGamexi the youtuber and insta guy. Ya know, I did the video on Five Nights, with the dance, that was me remember-“ but the man just laughed. “ALRIGHT then yeah sure ya are. Listen you might at least try to get someone who looks like him if your gonna try and impersonate someone. Now get outa here” But Aaron was desperate and pushed forwards, the staff member lost his playful look and called security who grabbed him in seconds. “No please, I’m Aaron I swear! Get the guys inside to come speak to me they’ll know it’s me!! ITS ME!!” Before he was tossed backwards by two huge American bouncers. “Go back home. If we see you again we’ll call the police. And they ain’t too kind here from what I heard about your country” Aaron was shocked, his heart skipped a beat. His country?! Did they think he was a turk?! He went to stand and push back but got another hard shove from a guard. His flabby new body was not going to help him anymore than his tanned skin and thick black body hair did to convince them he was some English teenager. He stood up, now covered in dust again, sweating and covered in fat and hair he looked around as people moved to avoid him. A few recording his ordeal on their phones and making Instagram videos about this weirdo pretending to be him. “Oh s@it this is serious-“ and he ran back towards the toilets near by, there had to be a mirror inside. He couldn’t really be unrecognizable?! Could he?!

He couldn’t speak. He saw a huge Turkish bloke looking=ng back. Tanned skin, thick beard, stinking like hell and sweating like a hog. His arms and chest, back, legs, pits and beard all linked into a single thick matted fur coat that was getting worse by the second. “BURRRRRRRRP” His gut forced a belch from him as it expanded another inch. Filling his shirt out to really complete his thick bear appearance. His gut only helped to secure his huge man status.

“I can’t-I need to sort this…who-and why, what did I-“ then it hit him. Those two men, the shisha, did they do this to him? He looked at his huge, thick hands and turned for the outside world again. He had to get there now, before this got any worse, and apologize, or whatever they asked. He needed his body back to how it was! Or his life was over. He ran back the way he’d come, a cloud of dust and flies starting to gather around him.

He arrived back at the market and ran past the place where his clothes had been taken, desperate to reach the two huge men from that morning. “FFFFFUUURURRRRRRRRRTRTTTTT!” His ass farted as his gut rumbled loudly, he had to slow down, his bulky body was too beefy to run smoothly now as his gut slapped around.

Next he pass the ally and the food stall where his shirt tore, a few lads on holiday in UK football shirts laughed and jeered as his hairy frame bust from his prison. “Oh no! It was an XXL?! I’M gonna be a freak! A damned stinking freak!” He tore it off and kept walking, his whole upper body now open to the baking sun. His tan darkened, his skin thickened, his feet swelled as his legs and arms thickened until he could almost barely walk. It was so uncomfortable, so hot, he’d do anything to stop and sit down. His balls were tight and sweaty, his body hurt and ached, and he was almost wet with sweat.

A large hand grabbed his side. “My friend you came back after all!” Aaron turned to see the massive Turks sat by the shisha. He’d made it! Aaron went to speak but saw that the dude that spoke English was smoking. “But-who-“ he half guessed ony for the second huge man to lean over. “Hey my Brother! You have had a good mornin yes!” and slapped him on the back, the bare skin contact have him a instant hard on. “But how can I-“ He began as the other huge dude exhaled the cloud of white smoke. “My friend, you  are not lost now? Sit!”

Aaron slowly did so. But his arms and chest were so hairy and thick that they pressed against each other, making him look comically rounded and muscled. Everything he hated, from the stink and hairy body to the beard and layers of uncomfortable fat and muscle.

“Your one of us now my brother” and handed him the pipe again. Aaron, or should I say, Amir reached out and took it. “I know my brother, I am sorry I got lost on way here, all these tourists” he took a long drag. Flies started to gather around the three of them as they slammed their fists together. The two agreeing to take Amir for wrestling later and get him settled. After all, he was going to need a job and place to stay now, he wasn’t going to be Aaron the online influencer ever again. Now all that was left was the huge Turkish bear Aamir, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

===================

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Pre-Homo Sapience

Devolution story at last! It's not everyone's cup of tea I imagine but I think this turned out quite well! Hair growth, mental corruption, muscle growth, and loss of self ahead!

Thanks to all who offered suggestions! Went back to a prompt from one of my older follower celebrations! This story came quite naturally, as it were, haha! Enjoy! -Occam

If they didn’t want him to touch the thing they shouldn’t have simply left it out in the open like that. Chris knows such instructions are typically a given in a museum, but staring at the cut on his hand he is indignant and wishes there was at least a sign up. Surely it should be in a case or something. Feeling the warm blood start to trickle down his palm he looks up at the artifact and almost feels it calling out for him to touch it again. He raises his non-cut hand as it is magnetically drawn to the prehistoric piece before shaking it off and going to get first aid.

Chris plays coy with the volunteers, not wanting to out himself as either a scofflaw or irresponsible dullard. His desire to prevent this from happening to another museum goer fades to the back, well behind his need to appear like a man who wouldn’t try to grab an object older than the written word. To that end he is desperately trying to convince himself that he wasn’t bizarrely drawn to the object, though as the stone shard graces his mind once more the desire to hold it in his hands returns.

After getting his cut bandaged up Chris opts to remain discrete and toss a note in their suggestion box. En route there however he passes the stone shiv and finds it encased in a glass box, one that the cut on his hand proves could not have been there minutes ago. He hand stings as he clenches it and he races up to inspect the display. There’s yet another drive by his hands to grab at the piece only to be met with a cold bump against the glass. Nearby a student eyes him suspiciously and Chris nervously laughs, embarrassment clear on his face.

He takes a picture to research the object later, hopefully to find the root to whatever weird compulsion is affecting him. As soon as he snaps the picture he feels a hot flash, his forehead suddenly  burns as he is overcome by a harsh fever. Through the sudden headache and slight delirium from his still rising temperature he stumbles out of the museum and to his car. Chris’ body goes on autopilot as he barely maintains consciousness on the drive home. Slamming the door behind him he just makes it to the couch before passing out, the last image before an empty unconsciousness being the all too alluring artifact clutched in his bleeding hand. 

Sun streams in through the windows alighting the clothes strewn about the floor having apparently been discarded while he was asleep. Chris stretches and loudly yawns as a sunbeam shifts to land on his face. Blocking the rays as he rubs his eyes and groans, he scratches at his stomach and looks down shocked to have slept in the nude. Covered in dried sweat he stumbles into the kitchen to get a glass of water, reaching for a pitcher he sees the bloody bandage on his hand and the events of yesterday afternoon come rushing back to him.

First Chris sets a thermometer going, fingers crossed he can call out. While that’s on he sets to remove the bandage, where he discovers that whatever oddities happened yesterday are not done with him yet. The cut is completely healed. Rubbing the spot where it should be he finds rougher skin, slightly darker than the rest of his pale palm. Quite the opposite of his standard experience with scars but hey he’s no doc. He grumbles to himself that he’d better not have gotten some ancient sickness from that stupid rock before starting his coffee brewing and sitting down to research said artifact before work.

Chris prides himself on the ease with which he usually scours the internet for information. Though to find anything concrete on this, by all accounts, indistinct piece of ancient detritus is a more difficult mission than he was prepared for. His eyes glaze over as he grows bored from staring at barely significant rocks and pottery sherds. He scratches at his jaw finding he could do with a shave before going to pour himself some coffee. He chews on his lip as his mind struggles to put any two thoughts together in his mind on the matter.

On the way back to the desk he takes a sip of his coffee. Chris immediately gags as the coffee tastes stronger and far more bitter than any brew he has suffered before. He can’t help but spit it onto the floor as he stands there still unclothed. It splashes onto his feet and he grunts in pain, his arms raise in rage though finding no target he limps to sit down and check his burns. His brow furrowing at how he could have messed up his coffee to such a degree. Looking back it tasted like it always has? Just stronger, more intense.

He shakes off his contemplation as he brings his coffee stained foot up into his lap. The skin is obviously red from the light burns but there seems to be no long-lasting damage. His eyes drift from his feet to his hands however as he notices something the most bizarre occurrence yet, there is hair on the back of his hands? He doesn’t know how he’s possibly missed it, there are dark brown hairs spreading out from his wrists, down his forearms and towards his long fingers. He’d almost swear his eyes are playing tricks on him as the hair on his right hand, once bandaged if not cut, looks thicker and darker than that on its pair.

Chris ponders on how unaware he must have been lately to miss the hair on his arms growing at such a prodigious rate. Muttering to himself about not doing enough self-reflection he remains unaware of more drastic changes happening across his body. Perhaps if his hands and feet were not observed at the same time he would notice as all four extremities are larger than when he fell asleep the day before. His wider palms briefly struggled to maintain grace on the keyboard earlier but the lengthened fingers found their marks with enough ease to bury the lede. His feet cover more of the floor than they ever have before and, much like his hands, hair is sneaking down from his ankles and creating a hobbit-esqe patch on the top of them, while stray hairs curl out further on each toe.

His mind is torn whether to get back to researching the artifact or to call a doctor. Before either side wins however he takes a step and promptly steps in the coffee sprayed on the floor. He grimaces in shock that he didn’t clean that earlier, it’s unlike him to make such a mess and not immediately clean it up. He groans and rubs his hands on his face, blaming his befuddlement on the fever while ignoring how his whole wider palm now matches the should-be scar. Both hands are darker and rougher on his face as they scratch against his increasingly thicker stubble and harsher brow. As soon as Chris tosses a towel down onto the mess his alarm goes off and he sees it’s time to head to work.

The man rushes for the door and almost exits before looking down to find he’s only clad in a surprisingly tight pair of briefs. He blushes, embarrassed that he almost left the house nigh-nude. The shock of it all hides how darker hairs curl up from his strained briefs as well as his package bulging out further than ever before. Throwing on whatever is easily grabable in his wardrobe with no thought spared on consistency or fashion he makes excellent time throwing on clothes. He doesn't worry about how much sloppier he looks in the mirror, it’s just stress. He pointedly ignores how his arms inch out further from his long sleeves or how his pants bunch at his ankles as they’ve never done before. He skips socks as his feet fit far too snugly in his oxfords for some reason. No time to shave stubble that even since waking up has spread further up his cheeks and down his neck as he again races to his car.

The drive seems to take longer than usual, though the clock on his dash would disagree. Not usually prone to road rage Chris finds every delay due to traffic far more irritating than usual. His brows hand thick over his eyes, casting shadows that can display nothing but contempt as it almost seems like a ridge is beginning to bulge on his forehead. He grunts and clutches at the wheel as the car in front of him hesitates to go on a green. His jaw cramps from how hard he’s clenching it as he avoids blaring on the horn. Underneath his shirt veins bulge down his forearms as hair begins to grow even thicker underneath them as they begin to put on weight and grow in strength.

He scratches at his chest as his clothes feel only increasingly itchy and tight, “God what is up with me today!” He takes a centering breath as his usually then chest pushes against his button up. With a sign he resolves to stay calm the rest of the drive. Having chilled out at all Chris realizes his hand that’s not on the wheel has strayed and is scratching at his crotch. He bites at his lip as he feels a burning itch there as his pants feel far too tight on his waist and in his crotch. He pretends not to see his cock bulging down a pant leg as he’s stopped at another light. He sighs as he maintains his composure and starts to watch passersby to help the light pass quicker.

Staring out the window Chris’ eyes are immediately drawn to a massive man jogging down the road. His mouth waters as he stares at the man’s muscular body shifts with each step, perfectly bouncing in the air. His mouth is not the only thing to water as he grunts and his cock forces into even more of a bulge as it starts to produce pre-cum in a manner it has never done before. His lust changes to envy as he imagines the freedom of the man, shirtless under the sun as his chest itches once more against his wretched garment. The car behind him honks as the light above him changes to green and Chris sees red, his arms again flex and the top button of his shirt pops open as something new burns in his chest. His foot accidently presses harder on the brake before shifting over as he speedily jets off.

Arriving at work just on time he rushes in the door, unfortunately unaware of the sweat-stains under his pits or the unmissable spot of precum in his pants were anyone to study his massive bulge. Rushing in the elevator he bumps into a coworker, Jake, who almost bursts out laughing in shock, “Hah! God Chris you look fucking awful!” He grabs at Chris’ arm lift to poke fun at his too-short sleeves, raising his arm and exposing the pit; he instead bats at the air and exhales, “Pwoh dude, you absolutely reek!?” He shifts to look at Chris’ unshaven face and sloppy hair and his expression drops slightly, concern tinting his eyes. “You are alright, right Chris?”

“Uhhh yeah. Little uh, fever.” For some reason Chris was almost struggling to keep up with his friend’s words. The speed at which he moved from observing aspects of Chris’ appearance was simply hard to follow, as soon as he put his mind to inspecting his own arm as his coworker called it out he was laughing at the next thing. Probably for the best, lest anxiety build in his chest and he cause a scene. As his arm is raised Chris smells his own body odor in a way he’s never been able to do before. The idea that you shouldn’t smell your own armpit mid-conversation does not occur to Chris as the scent briefly drives him crazy. He shoves his own head in his pit and takes a few deep sniffs.  His mouth opens as if he’s wanting to lick as his beard scratches against his tighter shirt.

His friend smiles and backs away, “Chris?” Hearing his name Chris snaps out of it, shaking his head a few times to get his bearings he sniffs the air a few times and is shocked as his sense of smell has clearly increased beyond what he would have deemed possible. He smells the cafeteria as the elevator passes it on the ascent. Less appealing than his own musk he can smell Jake’s cologne and beneath that something bizarre. Chris can smell fear coming from the man as readily as he can read it on his face. Chris’ back hunches as his shoulders grow weighter and his upper body bulges larger as he leans in to inspect Jake more closely.

Jake backs into the corner of the elevator seeing something shift in Chris’ eyes. Not so much crazed as curious. Jake’s own curiosity would be piqued were this whole situation not bizarre and nightmarish. Standing almost a foot shorter with his hunch Chris sees Jake cower and he does his best to calm his friend down. Something in his gut compels him to do a wide toothy smile, that it’s the quickest way to appeasement. He raises his arms and backs away from his scared friend and there’s a tear as his clothes rip from the sudden movement.

Jake chuckles uncomfortably and eyes the button for the elevator doors, reaching for one to allow him a quick escape. Chris nervously goes into damage control, everything in his mind screams at him to act normal but the concept of normality seems increasingly alien to him. He waves his larger arms in the air and clears his throat to try and speak, “Jake. Me- I am sick, yes?” Jake covers his mouth with a handkerchief and stops the elevator on the next floor. Talking through his kerchief he agrees, “Yeah, you should work from home today Chris. You’re clearly, um, out of sorts.” 

The doors begin to close and Chris’ eyes light on the control panel. He blinks hard a few times trying to make out which one will keep the doors open so he can talk with his friend. Just before they close he grunts and he shoves out a meaty fist, causing Jake to flinch, “Yes. I go home and work, uhh, there. Good idea. You bring-” Jake steps back and nods fervently, “Yes, yes. I’ll drop off whatever you need just, go get some rest.” 

Chris offers another toothy smile and grunts in agreement as he lets the doors close. He scratches at his head as he again looks at the panel in confusion. Distress fills his mind and anxiety his chest as he stares at the panel knowing this should be a beyond simple matter. Before he touches a button the machine begins moving down and every muscle in his body tenses. More tears shoot down the back of his shirt as he flies into the corner of the tiny room. Hair pokes out from every button in the front as he pants in fear of the sudden movement. Body tight with fear muscle continues to grow heavier on his body, undefined and powerful as he unknowingly nears the ground floor. 

Arriving at the ground floor the doors open and he rushes out falling on his hands in front of the elevator. His eyes are focused and expression clueless as he breathes through his mouth and pushes past a woman about to step into the elevator before she smells the stink inside and recoils, scoffing at the man. Eying the torn clothes she grimaces at Chris, “God are you an animal?!” Chris’ thick brow furrows and he grunts at her, “Me- I- ugh!” With that he sprints as fast as he can away from the business and to what he can only just remember as his car. He kicks off his shoes as they grow painfully tight, his harrier feet race across the concrete as his soles feel increasingly suited to stomping across matted earth.

He pauses at his car’s door for a second hesitating at the method of entry before hopping in and slamming the door behind him. Everything laid in front of him is impossibly familiar, he’s been at this wheel thousands of times. He moves his hands across the leather wheel and tries to force it to turn, grunting as it stays firm. He wrenches at it with all the might he has, sure this is how it must go. He knows how to drive after all. He’s not stupid. His brow grows even heavier over his eyes as his beard thickens with every grunt. His biceps put on the mass of a weightlifter as the wheel jolts and his car alarm begins to go off. 

His car blaring he has no recourse but to punch at the wheel as anxiety grows. His chest heaves with nervous breaths. He scratches at his chest and feels the hair beneath it thicken and curls as it spreads towards his shoulders and up towards his messy beard. His wild eyes still as he sees another man jogging down the street shirtless as he too rips off the tattered remains of his button up. Grimacing at his confined thighs he tears at his torn pants as well, fighting the urge not to bend down and gnaw them off. Hairy thighs unveiled, his hands try to reach and tear off his impossibly tight briefs as well before his chest pangs and his head wrenches back. He can’t do that. He needs to keep them. He twists in discomfort as two impulses vie to this end. His face grows red under his still thickening beard as he is barely able to retain this smallest shred of dignity.

He pushes open the door with his newfound power, only accidentally getting at the handle before down the street. The weight of his upper body, and the apparent shorter length of his legs, puts the idea in his head that his arms could well help him run faster. His heavy knuckles hang low and he barely maintains his mind as he sprints as a man does and makes a better time back than he ever could in that stupid car. He exhales in pride as he gets to the door of his house. It was thankfully left open by his thoroughly less scatterbrained morning self. This time as he worms his way in he leaves it consciously ajar.

His stomach rumbles with hunger and he sniffs to find a suitable quarry. He squints as he smells food behind cabinets, opening them he finds packages of processed snacks and containers unrecognizable as food. Chris grunts as he knocks a few of them off the shelves onto the floor, grumbling as he grows hungrier by the second. After knocking a glass bottle to the floor, the shattering sound returns awareness to Chris’ eyes, grunting out a “Wha-” 

Seeing the mess he’s apparently made he stands back in shock, looking down at his hairy body and thick arms. His cock finally outgrows his tight briefs and his heavy balls hang low underneath a bush hairier than any human should be able to grow. He searches for his cell before realizing he must have discarded it with his pants, “fuck!” he shouts, clenching at his thick throat as his voice resounds a deep bass.

Standing in his kitchen his mind slowly crawls to find any idea worth pursuing as concepts and meaning begin to fall from his mind never to return. His train of thought is interrupted before he can even realize that he doesn’t know his own name anymore. Language begins to fall by the wayside, another thing not worth knowing as his need for food continues to grow. Every groaned word grows thicker and slower in between grunts as his mind dulls and his senses continue to grow more sensitive, “Me… Hungry…” Barely understanding what a fridge is he grabs and pulls at the door and uncovers a packaged pound of raw meat. 

Chris’ mouth immediately waters as he rips into the package and begins forcing it into his mouth with a speed that would make one think he’s never eaten before. Eating is not a ritual but an act of survival. Not nearly full he continues tearing into anything that is obviously food in the fridge. Handfuls of lettuce and fruit follow a jug of milk and at last the man is sated. What was intended to be hamburgers later this week litter the floor around him as milk trails down his sweaty body. Seeing ground beef stuck under his nails and lettuce caught in his dense beard something deep inside Chris screams before it is buried beneath the powerful will of a creature who has yet to develop the ability to understand.

The ultimate task of survival currently conquered, Chris sniffs the air and sets to tackle the next challenge presenting itself. His cock bulges out and his balls pulse with the same primal hunger that rings from his stomach. He grabs at his cock and has a eureka moment more profound than when his kind discovered fire as he feels more pleasure in the moment than in his whole life preceding.

He falls to the floor and immediately begins masturbating, his balls bouncing with every movement, his hips can't help but rut the air as his brain was hard wired to do. Drool drips into his beard from his open mouth as his eyes again glaze over from the sheer pleasure invoked by his mindless pleasure seeking. After finishing he languishes in the less-than cerebral pleasure, feeling every inch of his  powerful body before his cock begins to rise again and in short order he looses another load onto his own hairy torso.

Sniffing the air he has an urge to scoop his own cum into his mouth. Thankfully, for whatever mute anemic shred of Chris’ humanity remains, he is interrupted. His laptop left open from his flight early this morning chimes and his attention is firmly drawn to the mysterious object. The screen displays mysterious characters that he couldn’t hope to read ‘From: Jake omw.’ beside the enigmatic symbols his attention is drawn to the centerpiece of the screen, finally something he can recognize. Smack dab in the middle of the laptop is the stone shiv from the Natural History Museum. Chris’ exhales with interest and fury as he knows beyond a doubt that the artifact is his. 

Chris’ dull eyes shift as he struggles to make even the most rudimentary plan towards retrieving his shiv. He grunts in irritation as he finds the gears of his mind turning impossibly slowly, at the edges of whatever consciousness is to him he suddenly remembers that he saw it yesterday. He knows where it is, he just needs to go get it. His chest burns with excitement and he is filled with the desire to beat at his chest and cheer. He looks around for any tools that could help in his foolhardy mission before impatiently grunting and turning towards the door.

Outside Jake is approaching, blissfully unaware of what impossible horrors await inside besides an unusually slovenly and sick Chris. Seeing the entrance ajar he hastens and drops the paperwork he brought as concern trumps whatever busywork he brought his friend. “Oh Fuck! Chris!? Are you okay!?” Crossing the threshold his nose wrinkles as he smells odors that men have not produced for hundreds of thousands of years. The scene almost stuns him as he sees a creature that has barely a similarity with the man who woke up on the couch this morning. The fridge door lies on its hinges next to a pile of food waste. There are globs of inhuman cum staining the walls as what was once Chris beats his chest now opposed to Jake. 

The office worker can’t use the one advantage he has over the behemoth. Freezing up as his mind goes blank Jake whispers, “God, you look like a fucking caveman.” Jake stands in the door frame, scared and unsure of what could possibly be going on. Chris quickly jumps down to meet him, sniffing him to find a familiar, if not friendly, scent; he attempts to push him gently out of the way. Unaware of the frailty of modern man he instead bowls him over and sprints off into the distance, unconcerned with the man he’s barrelled past or any of the other weird submissive beings covered in mysterious cloth just as he was. He’s got a mission and more than anything he needs to feel his shiv in his hands once more.

Lightly concussed Jake later awakens to find his clothes stained with Chris’ bountiful dinner and, worse than that, his seed. He grimaces and takes off his button up then in there before heading inside to inspect his friend's domicile. Each step within sharpens his senses and dulls caution as his friends' pheromones draw him further in. while initially beyond repulsive it becomes more alluring by the second. Why should Jake be concerned by the sudden itchiness rising across his form. The rising pressure in his crotch as he takes deep breaths is far more compelling. Clothes feeling uncomfortable and constricting, he rips them off and pays no mind to hair darkening and spreading wide, his mind too dull to recognize how he too is changing like Chris. 

Wandering out of the house he smells a fading trail of Chris’ pheromones going off towards the museum, his cock bobs larger in his pants as it  takes everything in his mind to stop from sprinting after him then and there. Shaking off the lust, sensibility returns to Jake’s mind as the breeze cools his almost entirely nude body. He writes off his phone and clothes, sure that reentering would spell his doom he instead sprints for his car. Before any further action though the wind delivers the beyond pleasurable smell of Chris’ approaching. 

What was once Chris barrels down a field ambling between charging on his legs and all fours, slightly scratched from breaking glass with a stone shiv in hand. Having regained his artifact his body has grown in every possible manner. Jake can’t help but lustfully stare as the massive man approaches and his decaying mind has no ability to prevent him from following his desires. He discards whatever remains of his plan to fly and instead bounds towards the brute, with each step his body devolves. Growing hairier as his mind prioritizes only survival and the seeking of sexual pleasure. His cock surging as he nears his friend, his superior, nothing ever to grace his conscious again besides the desire to fuck and be fucked.

Coach's Favourite

I can’t fucking believe this.

Jack had never been so humiliated in his life. He’d have thought that years of being bullied in high school would have prepared him for this. But he had no idea why someone as smart as him would supposedly believe that going to college would fix everything.

He was still just the scrawny bespeckled nerd just like he was a few years ago. The only difference was his age and location by now. He slammed the locker room door behind him, letting the sounds of distant laughter be blocked out. It just hit him now just how tired he was as his knees felt shaky. 

He had to admit that he didn’t think he’d skip his Dungeons and Dragons session for some gym time. But here he was. He let himself fall down on a bench in the locker room, sweat streaming down his brow and staining his tanktop and shorts.

How did I even get myself here in the first place? He knew the answer to that question. Coach Wilson of the football team had always seemed to be a fatherly figure to all the students on campus, even if they weren’t in sports. He remembered how the man found him lingering near the fields during football practice. 

Jack hadn’t meant to ogle, he was just curious. He’d been so absorbed in finals lately and hardly ever went out that he never really paid much attention to the jocks. But old habits die hard - at least that’s what Jack learned that day. He’d spent time staring at the guys, captivated by arousal and jealousy.

Coach Wilson then noticed him and spoke to him, suggested maybe that he should go to the gym. Jack now wished he had never listened. This would be his first and last time that he’d ever even think about going to the gym. He had only spent half an hour working out before some of the football jocks had wandered in and mocked him when he almost got stuck under the bench press. Jack had tried to push himself too far - as he always did, just to end up with disappointment. He just quickly went to his locker, opening it only to be hit with a pang of disappointment. 

“Damn it, where’s my clothes?” muttered Jack as he was sure he left a change of clothes. The gym showers weren’t working and so he made sure to bring his own clothes. Jack was definitely sure to bring his own. But instead, there were just some other clothes with a note: Hey there, I noticed you didn’t bring any spare clothes. Here you go kiddo - Your coach.

Jack picked out a pair of sneakers, shorts and a football jersey. This was far from what he usually wore but at the same time he still appreciated it. Jack sighed. He may as well have put it on now, since his clothes had just disappeared. 

He fished out the clothes and stripped out of his sweaty gym wear. However, something started to happen, a pungent smell began to emanate from the clothes.

What the hell?

Why would he give me some smelly clothes? And do I really need sneakers?

Jack blinked as he found himself beginning to peel off the sneakers. I might as well try these, he was nice enough to give them to me. As he put on the sneakers he suddenly felt a great heat building up in his feet.

These are way too big for-

“What the hell?!” He tried to yank off the sneakers but they wouldn’t budge as they suddenly felt too small. But they were far too big just a moment ago. He wriggled his toes and suddenly felt himself awashed with nervousness as he realised that the shoes weren’t too small...His feet had suddenly grown too big. “Oh god what the f-”

His feet had somehow elongated to size 12, however it got far worse when Jack’s hands began moving to put on the shorts.

Wait what the hell? I can’t put these on! I just put the shoes on and when did I take my pants off?

What the hell is-

But his thoughts and body were two separate beings as somehow Jack managed to wrestle the shorts on.

As they climbed up his legs, he could begin to see them transform, growing larger and thicker. His calves began to widen, thickening with muscle as his legs began getting scarred and stained from mud. He looked almost like he had been playing too much football. He blinked as his lats broadened. Didn’t he play football?

No I don’t! Why did I think that?

Just what the hell is-

But it didn’t matter as he groaned from the sensation of his ass growing out and his cock getting bigger. He watched his bulge inflate in his shorts, underwear suddenly replaced with a tight fitting jockstrap.

No this isn’t right. I gotta get out of here before- 

But all thoughts of trying to escape was dashed from Jack’s mind when he started to put on the jersey. As it passed over him now he could definitely smell the musk. Just the raw scent of it all had made him grow incredibly hazy, his eyes blinking as new memories flashed before him. It was as if he got deja vu of a life he had never lived.

Or had he lived it?

Everything felt so dreamlike, that sense that he was detached from reality, that none of what was happening was real, it just seemed real. He started to think about Coach Wilson, memories of being trained in the gym by the man, memories of being driven to football practice.

Wait but I...I study Accounting...Why would I be at football practice?

It was a good question that Jack felt too dumb to answer as he finally tried to fight back - physically at least. The last of his intellect could tell that if his mind was fading then he’d have to fight back another way. He had to tear these clothes off. But as he tried, he suddenly stopped when his fingers dug into his jersey. 

Jack watched with surprise and a semblance of glee when he saw his fingers start to feel this surge of strength, growing so big and wide. The fingers lengthened and dug into the jersey more easily. All the while he could begin to feel his own hands getting larger and bigger, more befitting for someone of his stature.

My stature?

Yes his stature, as he groaned and started to feel his back begin to stretch, the bones clicking as if he had just sat up after a long while of laying down. However, this was far from the morning stretch. This was something that made his cock throb and Jack grunt in pleasure and some kind of relief, as he stretched from his meek 5’9 frame to a whopping 6’2’.

He could easily tear the jersey now, especially from the new strength that coursed through his arms - that whopping adrenalin. His own arms began to bulk up, scratches and scars from more rough time at football practice beginning to get to him. 

Yet the memories were growing more familiar with Coach Wilson, beginning to picture memories of him taking him to the gym for the first time, getting him into football to begin with. He wasn’t just his coach, he was...his father?

Yeah my dad! Jack smirked with new confidence as he tousled his hair. He shook it as his short hair grew slightly more styled and slicked back. His hair became a vivid blonde as he felt himself grow slightly older, getting into college later as his jaw grew sharper. His cock throbbed in response as Jack looked down, grinning at his body from his set of six pack abs and flexing biceps. 

“Oh fuck...Fuck that session was so hot I’m gonna-” Jack couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t even speak as he felt his breath taken away when his cock throbbed and he felt himself cum.

The orgasm that struck him almost made him black out, his body shaking as he almost fell back down on the bench, one hand on the locker as he humped the air.

He felt his cock throb again and again, cumming each time and as he did he jetted out more and more of his old memory. After a while, his sweaty sexy self was now a jock, now falling back against the benches.

“Woo fuck, sorry pops, guess I stained these new clothes.”

Jack muttered as he tried to catch his breath. What was he doing here again? He couldn’t remember. But it was the familiar locker room and he was sweaty. He must have just had a gym session.

“Well I better get back home to coach.” Jack remembered as he smirked and got up, stretching his body and leaving the locker room - a new man.

If you want to read more stories of transformation and hypnosis, then click here.

A Bubbly Boost

Eddie had signed up to a new supplement trial a few months ago and heard nothing back, he had almost forgotten about it entirely until this morning when a package arrived for him at his door. It was small only slightly bigger than a ring box and when he opened it up there was a small vial filled with a clear fluid. He checked the box for the instructions.

drink and report how long changes tank using qr code

It was all it said, it seemed simple enough. Eddie swallowed it down without a second thought. It was disgusting and tasted like bubble mixture and was thick like glue in his mouth.

After swallowing it Eddie quickly rushed to get a glass of water to wash the taste out. Quickly gulping down the glass his stomach felt straight, light and hot, and a little bloated. It was a weird sensation that he couldn't describe.

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP

Eddie suddenly let out a huge belch he didn't even feel coming. After he felt his stomach get heavy as it began to make a large gurgling noise.

BUUUUURRRRRRRP

Eddie felt it that time but couldn't stop it

"aw fuck.." UUUUURRPPP

After the third a sensation began to spread across Eddie's body, like he had just spent 6 hours in the gym doing a full body workout, his body was tight. His stomach felt like it was expanding outwards. Eddie rushed over to a mirror and saw he was in fact bigger, like he had gained 10 pounds of muscle in the last 5 seconds,

he felt the sensation creeping up his neck

BUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPP

Eddie watched as his body expanded with each passing belch. He began to panic but couldn't look away.

At first his shoulders grew wider

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPP

then his chest and lats inflated with mass

BUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

His arms blew up so large his bicep would make a basket ball look like a tennis ball.

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP

His legs began expanding and he had to adjust himself as his massive thighs pushed his dick and balls awkwardly forward.

Eddie began to feel a powerful sensation brewing in his stomach. The gurgling sound rung out through his house and he placed both hands abs feeling the vibrations as he braced himself.

His face grimaced as he felt extreme discomfort brewing under his abs

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP

UUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPP

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP

UUUUUUUUUUURRRrrrp

Eddie began to panic as he watched his perfect abs begin to bloat out into a roid gut

"AW FUCK WH-WHATS HAPPENING TO ME"

Eddie stared in the mirror, his body was ruined, he just wanted a pound or two, not two hundred, and he didn't look anything close to natural, the big growth hormone gut and the small stretch marks that appeared on his pelvis near it made that abundantly clear...

6 Months Later

Eddie couldn't drop even a pound of muscle no matter what he tried, he even took 2 months off from the gym and went on a diet but nothing...not a pound down. However after a bit it started to grow on him, he liked how much he could move in the gym, he liked that he could eat whatever he wanted and it didn't impact how much fat he carried, he liked nobody ever tried to take his seat at house parties, mainly because nobody wanted to sit on sweat soaked fabric but there was one perk he had fallen in love with, something he didn't expect to be such a turn on all the time....

Eddie got home from the gym, dropping his his gym bag and 3 bags of take out trash on the floor, he striped down and left his sweaty gym clothes in a line trailing to his couch. Over the past month Eddie had stopped caring about picking up after himself, it didn't matter anyway he was always sweaty better to embrace it...

Eddie sat down on his couch hearing the thing bend under his weight and watching the sweat from his thighs bleed into the fabric. He put his massive sweaty feet on the coffee table feeling the relief as the massive amount of weight he carried shift onto the couch.

His stomach let out and aggressive gurgle, he placed his hands on his roid gut rubbing his abs feeling them stretch outwards and become tighter. A loud glugging noise rung out into the room

Eddie threw his head back and moaned in response as the tight bloat reached its limit

"ah fuck yeahhh" Eddie lifted his head and smirked feeling the pressure rush up his body

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!