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Alone on Valentine's Day

Sean and Tommy were roommates who had become close friends over the years. They shared everything from their favorite Netflix shows to their deepest fears, including the fact that they both hated being single on Valentine's Day. Although they were both gay, they were mutual friends, with no attraction to each other.

On this particular February 14th, Tommy decided to have a night in with Sean to commiserate about their single status. Rather than go to the bars and cruise for some curious straight man, Tommy thought it would be better to just hang out at home and watch a stupid rom-com. In the kitchen, he poured them both a glass of red wine. In Sean's drink, however, Tommy poured a vial of special white powder that he had bought online. After the powder had completely dissolved in the burgundy liquid, Tommy returned to the living room and handed Sean his glass. They settled in on the couch to watch a rom-com.

As Sean took his first big gulp of the wine, he felt a strange sensation in his body, almost like an electrical current running through his veins. At first, he thought it was just the wine making him feel a little lightheaded, but as the sensation grew stronger, he began to worry that something was seriously wrong.

He felt a sudden and intense heat spreading throughout his body. He broke out into a sweat as his muscles began to tingle and twitch. He felt an unusual energy coursing through his veins, like a current of electricity flowing through his entire body.

Sean looked down at his body to see that he was painfully erect. He shifted his gaze to his arms and gasped as he watched them bulge and expand in size. His biceps swelled, and he could see thick veins snaking across his newly defined forearms. His chest heaved with each breath, growing broader and thicker as his pectoral muscles expanded. He could feel the fabric of his shirt stretching tautly across his shoulders and chest. With one final heave, his shirt gave way, exposing his massive chest, which was now adorned with intricate tattoos.

He felt an intense pressure building in his legs. He could feel his muscles contracting and expanding, growing thicker and more defined with every passing moment. His thigh muscles swelled, pushing his dick together and sending waves of pleasure throughout his body. He could feel his calf muscles bulging outwards, growing more prominent with each passing second. He unconsciously flexed his legs, and his quad bulged out from his skin, ripping his pants and leaving him exposed in his underwear. His cock had grown considerably and was still throbbing and swelling.

As the transformation continued, Sean's skin began to bristle with hair. He could feel it prickling up all over his arms, chest, and face. His once baby-smooth skin was now covered in thick, dark hair, giving him a more rugged, masculine appearance. His cock had grown massive, straining against the front of his pants. He began thrusting into it, moaning in delight. With a deep shudder, he shot out ropes of cum which shot through his underwear, leaving a dark, wet spot. In a post-orgasmic bliss, Sean panted, trying to catch his breath.

Looking back at his massive body, he felt stronger and more powerful than he ever had before. He flexed his arm, and a huge bicep bulged out from his skin. He was amazed at the sight of it, never having seen anything like it before. Tommy couldn't take his eyes off Sean. The transformation was incredible to watch. Sean's once lanky frame was now bulging with muscles, giving him a more rugged and masculine appearance. He had never found himself attracted to Sean before, but now Sean had somehow transformed into the perfect man for him.

As Sean sat there, basking in the incredible feeling of his newfound strength and masculinity, he looked toward Tommy, whose jaw was agape. Sean smirked at his boyfriend, and his massive dick twitched in his pants. He leaned over and began to make out with Tommy. Sean guided Tommy’s hand to stroke his massive cock, as he moaned in pure ecstasy. Tommy’s hand was wet with the sticky substance, but he didn’t care; he had the man of his dreams on his couch, and he couldn’t be happier. Neither of them would be alone on Valentine’s Day ever again.

Replacement Barista

It’s another chilly morning in Jericho. You were exploring your hometown in Vermont, feeling a sense of nostalgia as you walk down the familiar streets. You had recently moved back to Vermont after a few years of living in the city, in search of a simpler life and to be closer to family. You've been looking for a job, and you're determined to find one near your home.

Suddenly, your eyes spot something that you don't remember being here. A coffee shop, called the Weathervane, with a bright NOW HIRING sign displayed in the window on the door. Curiosity got the better of you, and you decided to inquire about a job.

As you approach the counter, the barista greets you with a warm smile. They ask if you wanted to buy a coffee. You smile at the thought of you being so polite and amicable this early in the morning. You politely refuse their offer of a coffee and explain that you were interested in working there. You elaborate that you're specifically looking for a job that allows you to be a part of your community, and you were excited about the possibility of working in this coffee shop. With a smile, the barista hands you an apron, no questions asked. A little surprised that the barista didn't even ask you any questions about your experience or background or anything, you look back at them dumbfounded. They explain that they had recently lost their best barista and were looking for an immediate replacement. Holding the red fabric in your hand, you turn it over to see a name tag still on it: Tyler. Assuming that that was the previous owner of the apron who recently left, you dismiss your concerns, and bring it over your head and tie the strings around your back. 

As soon as you tighten the strings, you feel the breath shoot out from your lungs. You feel a strange, tingling sensation that takes over your body. Your vision blurs, and you feel lightheaded, as if you've suddenly lost your balance. It's a disorienting feeling, and you can't help but feel tense. Your heart races, and you're having trouble catching your breath. It's a feeling like you've never experienced before, and you can't quite put your finger on what's happening to you.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, and begin stumbling towards the back wall as the barista looks on at your disorientation, smiling. You use the wall to support your body as you find your way to the restroom and fumble with the handle. Pushing the door open, you fall forward and brace yourself on the edges of the sink. Your vision has started to clear and you look up at the mirror to reorient yourself, but you're shocked by what you see: the man in the mirror was not you.

Your face looks different, more handsome, and chiseled. You run your hands through your hair which was now adorned with thick curls. Your eyes had lightened into an intense green, with a heavy brow giving them a fierce look. Bringing your larger hands across your new face, you felt your smooth contours and your plump lips. You were hot. Your arms bulged against your shirt as they continued to explore your new body, which was taut with lean muscle. You were strong from lifting bags of coffee beans for the past few months. You had been working here since last summer. You loved the way this job allowed you to connect with the community and meet new people every day.

Feeling better from your sudden lightheadedness, you readjusted your apron, making sure that the “Tyler” on your name tag was clearly visible for everyone to see. You leave the bathroom, ready to continue with your shift.

Stitches

Max had been searching for a guitar for what felt like forever. He had moved to the big city straight out of college, hoping to find work, but fell in love with music instead. Thus, he was one of the thousands of struggling musicians, working odd jobs to make ends meet, and he dreamed of the day when he could finally afford to buy a guitar of his own. He scoured thrift stores, garage sales, and online marketplaces, but he could never seem to find the right one.

One day, Max was walking home from work when he stumbled upon a thrift store he had never seen before. He decided to pop in, just to see what they had, and that's when he saw it - the most beautiful guitar he had ever seen. It was love at first sight. Max approached the guitar and couldn't believe his luck. It was in excellent condition, and it was priced well within his budget. He felt like it was meant to be.

Max eagerly took the guitar back to his small apartment, and as he walked through the door, he felt his excitement reach new heights. He had always dreamed of owning a guitar of his own, and now, finally, that dream was within reach. He carefully placed the guitar on the floor of his apartment and sat down beside it. Picking it up and holding it to his torso, he got ready to play his favorite song: Stitches. He eagerly began strumming the first chord.

The vibrations of the guitar seemed to echo throughout his body, rippling and causing his body to pulsate. Max closed his eyes; the sounds of the music that he was making felt so good that he was overcome with pleasure. As Max played each chord, his body changed. The first chord caused his muscles to grow, and he felt his biceps bulge as they expanded. His arms became thicker and stronger, his veins popping out from under his skin. The second chord caused his chest to expand, and he felt his pecs become defined. His chest became wider, and his nipples grew larger. The third chord caused his legs to grow, and he felt his quads bulge as they expanded. His legs became thicker and stronger, his calf muscles rippling with each movement. The fourth chord caused his back to broaden, and he felt his lats become defined. His back became wider, and his shoulder blades grew larger.

His face became chiseled and defined, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. His eyes became deeper set, and his eyebrows grew thicker. Opening his eyes and looking through his new curls, he peered down at his body. His body was covered in hair, and his clothes were tattered on the floor beside him. He had grown too large for them.

Max was in awe of his transformation. He had never felt so powerful, so strong, and so confident. He continued to play the guitar, and with each chord, he felt the magic of the instrument coursing through his veins. Max had become Shawn Mendes, the famous musician, and he was ready to take on the world.

Secret Reward

Jake was your everyday college student who stood at a petite 5'4" and as thin as a plank of wood. He was often bullied for being nerd due to his intense love for academics and passion for learning. Despite his small size, he was a force to be reckoned with when it comes to academics. He was taking a chemistry class which was required as a science credit in order to graduate, but the subject matter is proving to be a challenge for him.

However, in class, the professor announced that there would be a secret reward for the student with the highest grade on their final assignment. This news motivated Jake to work even harder and study even more intensely. He poured all of his effort into his studies, determined to earn that secret coveted prize. When the final grades were released, Jake was elated to see that he had received an A+. He had never been more proud of himself, and he couldn't wait to find out what the reward was.

As he walked up to his professor, A+ in hand, he asked what his prize would be. The teacher handed Jake a potion, telling him that it was a special mixture that would grant him one wish. Without hesitation, Jake wished to become an incredibly muscular football player. He had always dreamed of being on the football field, making amazing plays and thrilling the crowds.

As Jake drank the potion, he felt an intense energy coursing through his body. His muscles began to grow and bulge, starting with his biceps. They expanded and became defined, rippling with strength. Next, his chest began to transform, expanding and becoming wider, with well-defined pecs. His abs became chiseled and tight, creating a six-pack that was the envy of all who saw it. His abs tapered off towards his crotch which swelled with manliness as a deep odor emenated from his throbbing member.

Jake's legs became stronger and more muscular, with quads that bulged with power, squeezing his crotch, and sending waves of orgasmic pleasure through his body . He could feel the strength in his legs, and he knew that he would be able to run and jump like never before. His back became wider and more defined, with lats that tapered into a V-shape. He could feel the power in his back, and he knew that he would be able to make amazing plays and tackle with ease. Finally, his shoulders broadened, becoming wider and more defined. They were powerful and could deliver crushing hits on the field.

As the transformation completed, Jake had become an incredibly muscular football player, with a body that was strong, agile, and full of power. He was amazed by what had happened and couldn't wait to hit the field and show off his newfound abilities.

The chemistry professor smiled as he watched Jake. Not only was he the smartest kid in the school, but he was also the star quarterback. He is unstoppable.

The Main Event

You always took a weekend to go to the nearby music festival on the beach every summer. It was always a blast. There were usually some good artists playing, sometimes a few minor celebrities: nothing too crazy. After a long, cold winter, you were ready for another good summer of live music and a little bit of drinking. However, it seems also though the vibe of the festival had been slightly changed this year.

Arriving at the beach, it was clear that something was different. There were thousands of people all huddled around the stage. Where there usually were some picnic tables or beach chairs there were crowds of people. There was no space to sit. On the stage in the distance was some DJ playing his set, and the area by the front of the stage was crowded with sweaty, intoxicated teenagers, trashing around wildly.

Although the energy was wildly different this year, you were still determined to find some way to have a good time. Resigned to the back of the crowd, you found an empty spot on the sand and sat down, allowing yourself to bask in the warmth of the sun. The morning had been cold when you got in your car to drive here and the forecast hadn’t called for so much sun, so you were dressed for colder temperatures. Your yellow chinos and white t-shirt reflected the sun's rays and seemed to be glowing in their own right. However, the brightness of your clothing didn’t prevent someone from stepping right into you and tumbling face-first into the sand.

Looking to your side, you saw an older man with a lanyard around his neck that said “Event Promoter”. He had managed to sit back up but he was wiping the sand from his eyes, aggressively trying to clear his vision.

Rushing to help the man back to his feet, you grabbed his hand. Almost instantly, you felt your mind empty. You had no more thoughts. You were fixated on this man. The man, having cleared the sand from his eyes, looked you up and down, and nodded. Still holding your hand firmly, he stood up and began guiding you through the crowd of energized people. The warmth of the bodies around you caused you to sweat profusely, but you didn’t care. This man was guiding you, and all you needed was to follow him. Approaching the front of the stage, the man separated with an aggressive shove two people open-mouthed kissing, before taking you around the side to the wings of the stage. Dripping with sweat, you stopped walking when the man turned around and held your face with his hands.

“You’re going to be the main event”

With those words, your eyes rolled toward the back of your head. You began panting heavily, trying to cool your body down. With each breath, your body swelled. Your chinos grew tight around your swelling ass and thighs. They grew taut and muscular, stretching those poor pants to the absolute limit. Your chest, as it heaved, began expanding into a shelf of raw muscle. Your abs pushed their way one at a time from your torso. Your shoulders stretched outward from your neck, ripping your shirt into pieces as it fell towards your feet. Your biceps swelled into mountains of muscle, veins snaking their way down your forearms, which thickened, and towards your now massive hands and fingers. Dark, sweaty hair swirled its way from the center of your chest, encircling your nipples and nestling its way into your armpits, which were dripping with your odor. The hair crawled down your chiseled abs towards your crotch, which pushed against your pants, swelling to an incredible size. The man took his hands off of your face and you looked down at yourself. You felt incredible. You looked incredible.

The man beamed at you, admiring your massive frame and admiring his handiwork. “Okay, Zac. Are you ready to give this crowd the greatest show they’ve ever seen?”

Staring back at the promoter, you nodded with a cocky grin and stepped out from the wings and onto the stage. As soon as the crowd caught sight of you, they went apeshit. Why wouldn’t they? You were an international superstar. You were the main event. You were Zac fucking Efron. They had all come to see you and your massive sexy muscles. Through the roar of the crowd, you could make out voices yelling at you to show off your muscles. Staring back into the crowd with all of those screaming, lustful faces, you smirked. So they want a show? You’ll give them exactly what they want.

Slobify me. I’m no coward.

Your wish is my command.

Lets start small, first of all we'll turn you into a nice cocky jock. Something to make your profile picture more suiting. Lean mass, a perfect cut six pack and exuding confidence.

I would have stopped there but you didn't want to take the risk you said "Slobify me" so I'll do exactly that. Guess that is a lot more than confidence exuding from you.

Sexy and sweating like a pig, for some I might say sweating non stop is enough to be a slob but because you seemed so confident to be one I'll go the extra mile for you.

Lets really muscle you up, we need more mass to work with, can't just have some fitness model type body dealing with all the curses you wished for. Whilst I'm at it I think some hair is in order. I haven't given any blokes hair in a while so your body will have to make up for that.

There we go, looking more like my type of guy. Huge muscles, insane strength. That sweat sticking to each strand of hair and finding it impossible to leave your body, B.O becoming worse with every second and becoming more of a permanent stench. But I dunno, you seem to be digging it and still seem pretty confident, well since you love it so much why don't we give you even more mass and some habits to work with. There is a problem though, your body can't put on any more muscle, but you wanted it so you got it.

UUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRP

oh boy that stunk like stale protein and cake mate. You're still a big burly bodybuilder, just one who took the bulk too far. We still aint done buddy. You so desperately wanted to be "slobified" so there is no turning back now. That means more hair and more stink. You'll now be coated in so much B.O you'll wanna hold your nose, hell your eyes will water up from it mate. Alright you giant hairy bulk head lets take a look at you now.

A massive beard and coated in hair, perfect for what comes next. Because you are now such a slob I hope you'll warm up to your habits quick. Things like spilling your protein shake all in your beard and down that muscled gut of yours. Things like never doing laundry again so all your clothes are coated in sweat, cum and protein stains. You'll find food and shakes permanently stuck in that beard of yours, shoving a protein bar in your face whenever you feel even the slightest itch of hunger, and you'll find most of those wrappers stuck to you, forgetting to peel them off for a few hours at a time. Just try not to sit on any mate because you'll find it near impossible to get those big arms back far enough to peel it off your ass.

But I still don't think we're done, in fact I think you still want more. So here ya go, every day you’ll get slightly bigger, slightly taller, slightly more mass, until you become 900 pounds of mass. Your sweat and stench will soak into your furniture but not only that over the next week as you grow bigger your furniture will break under you, first it’ll be your chairs, then your couch and of course your bed. Soon your house will be filled with sweaty wet stinking broken furniture.

Hope this is enough for you mate, if you want more or less just let me know and Ill give you more,

Enjoy being an enormous lumbering beefy slob mate.

The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse... you were all alone for the holidays. While your friends managed to get home and were with their families or decided to spend the night partying until sunrise, you were stuck alone at home. This wasn't your plan for this year. Your stupid boss wouldn't let you take off the day before, so you had to work on Christmas Eve. You had planned on flying back home to your family after work had finished, but a surprise snowstorm canceled your flight back home, and you had no way of getting there. While your parents were obviously upset that you wouldn’t be joining them, they couldn’t be angry at you, because it wasn’t your fault. You couldn't control the weather. 

Trying to find something to keep you occupied, you had spent the evening baking cookies for Santa Claus. Obviously, you were old enough to understand that Santa didn’t exist, but you had baked cookies for him every year with your mother since you were a kid, and Christmas Eve would feel incomplete without the smell of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. However, once the baking was done and the kitchen was cleaned, the silence that filled your house was deafening.

Placing the tray of cookies and a cold glass of milk by the fireplace, you poured yourself a large glass of eggnog and headed into your bedroom to put on a Christmas movie on your laptop. Maybe watching other people in the festive spirit will bring you some joy. Scrolling through all of the streaming services you had, you were unsatisfied with the array of films. You had seemingly seen everything. Finally, you stumbled upon that old 90s movie with Tim Allen, The Santa Clause. The idea of this toy salesman turning into Santa and learning the true meaning of Christmas was so insane! But nonetheless, you remember liking the movie when you watched it many years ago, so you decided to press play. As the movie played, you continued to drink your eggnog. Eventually, you finished your first glass and went back to get a second. With every sip of the eggnog, you found yourself becoming more and more relaxed. The movie was funny enough, but you found your eyes gradually getting heavier. Slowly, everything faded to black.

Cough cough 

You awoke suddenly to the sound of coughing. You jolted upwards. Your laptop was still warm on your legs, and the movie was still playing; it was only halfway finished. Throwing your computer off to the side, you hurriedly stumbled out of bed to see what was happening. As you turned the corner, you saw it. There, standing in your living room, was some fat old guy dressed as Santa Claus. In one hand was one of the cookies you had baked earlier, and the other was clawing at his throat. His cough had stopped, but he was still gasping for air. He was choking. Before you had time to react, his knees gave out and he stumbled backward, landing on the floor. His massive body shook the house, and then, everything was still. It was silent. He wasn’t moving. Stepping forward and raising your foot, you tried to nudge him, to see if he was still alive. Instead of meeting his leg, your foot seemed to move right through him, instead catching the fabric of his red suit. Before your very eyes, this dead man who had broken into your house seemingly dissolved into thin air. All that was left of him was the half-eaten cookie and his outfit.

You had to call the police. A man had just broken into your house. Running to your counter and grabbing your cell phone, you raced to the front door to see that it was locked. Running to the side windows, you saw that they were… locked. Walking to the back door, sure enough, it was locked too. Looking at your alarm system, you saw that it was armed. How did this guy get into your house? You put your phone down. Walking back into your living room, you stepped over the red suit and stuck your hand up the chimney. Sure enough, the flue was open. Oh my god. Did the real Santa Claus just choke on your cookies?

Now what? You definitely can’t call the police. They wouldn’t believe you that Santa just died in your room and his body vanished. Sure, you were a little tipsy from the eggnog, but knew what you saw. No one would believe you, still. Hell, you wouldn’t have believed yourself! It sounded like something directly out of a Christmas movie.

You paused. Like something out of a Christmas movie. Looking down at the outfit the fat old man had just been wearing, you thought back to the movie you were watching. It could have been the eggnog talking, but why couldn’t you just try his clothes on? I mean what was there to lose? It’s not like there was actually a dead person in your living room; only his clothes.

Looking at his hat, that had once been on his head, you picked it up and placed it onto your coffee table. You sat on your couch to deliberate what your next course of action should be: call the police or try on Santa’s clothes. Staring at this hat and looking beyond at the full outfit which lay strewn on the floor, you made up your mind. If nothing else, maybe this will put you in a festive mood.

Standing up and placing the hat on your head, you instantly were overcome by an intense gurgling in your stomach. You felt so incredibly bloated. You rubbed your hands on your stomach, only to feel it rapidly expanding outwards in front of you. Bringing your hands to your chest, you felt it sag as your pecs grew into mounds of fat drooping from your torso.

Your ass grew enormous, stretching the fabric of your pants and tearing the seams. Falling backward onto your couch, you heard as the legs buckled under your growing weight. Your thighs splayed further and further outward, ripping your pants and pushing your legs farther and farther apart. Your fingers swelled into large sausages and your feet grew massive. 

The hair across your body lightened to a gray, before becoming as white as snow. Your upper lip itched as white hairs pushed their way out, growing long and meeting up with the hairs forcing their way from your chin. Soon, you sported a large, white, bushy beard. Wrinkles began etching their way across your face and body as you aged rapidly. Standing up from the couch, you stumbled as your center of gravity changed with your massive weight gain. Slowly, you managed to bring your body to the clothes of the former Santa Claus. Reaching down and grabbing the fabric, you pulled your blubberous legs through the velvet pants, shoving your giant feet into the brown leather boots. You lifted the heavy suit jacket over your shoulders and massive beach-ball stomach, before adorning it with a buckled belt. You brought your massive fingers into the white gloves and lifted his glasses onto your face.

You looked exactly like him. You were the spitting image of Santa Claus. Looking at the tray of cookies that you had baked earlier and the big guy had just choked on, you decided it’d be best to pass on the cookies tonight. Instead, you turned towards the chimney, ready to get back to your sleigh and deliver the rest of the presents before sunrise. Bringing festive cheer and joy to the world was enough to make an old man like you laugh gaily with glee:

Ho, Ho, Ho!

Wow! I’m so incredibly grateful for my early Christmas present. I woke up this morning to see that I had passed 1,000 followers!

I started this blog 3 months ago to write some transformation stories that I wanted to read, involving men and photos that I was attracted to. I’m so humbled that over 1,000 people read my little page of writing and decided that they wanted to see more. I plan on writing semi-consistently as I continue to find inspiration in anything I see!

Thank you all again for supporting me as I explore this creative outlet.

An Olympic Diver

The local community center had recently set up a high diving board at the pool, and you were super stoked to give it a try. Diving through the air, and landing into the water after doing some flips and other moves, it all looked so graceful and awesome. If you were able to really pull those dives off, you would be the talk of the town. Maybe one day you could even win a gold medal at the Olympics! All you had to do was learn.

Since it was just diving, you decided that there was no need to take any lessons or classes or anything. You had seen plenty of videos of people on the high dive before, and you were confident that you could easily replicate them. Mounting to the top of the board, you had absolutely no hesitations or second thoughts as you approached the edge of the board.

Looking down and past your feet, you could tell just how high up the board was. But you were confident that you could effortlessly land a dive after a couple of front flips. You knew how to dive, and you knew how to flip into a pool. How difficult could it be? Plus, even if you messed up and somehow landed incorrectly, you would be landing in water, so it couldn't possibly hurt. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

With a final deep breath, you jumped off the board towards the surface of the pool. Attempting to flip, you curled yourself into a tight ball, only to open up for a dive at the last moment. However, you had accidentally released too early and lost your momentum. Unable to shift your trajectory, your arrogance shifted to intense fear as your body rapidly descended through the air. You futilely tried to thrash your body in order to shift back towards the dive, but it was far too late. With a large splat, you belly-flopped directly into the pool.

Your body was on fire, and everything stung. Your ears were ringing and you were dazed. You could feel your heart pumping in your head. In your disorientation, somehow you managed to swim to the side of the pool and pull yourself out of the water. Everything was blurry, and you were stumbling toward your towel, which you had left on the bleachers.

Fumbling blindly, you finally grabbed a hold of your towel and began to attempt to dry yourself off. When your towel made contact with your body, it began to bulge outwards. You felt a pumping in your chest as your pecs expanded, with your nipples erect from the cold breeze on your wet chest. You rubbed the towel over your stomach, as new washboard abs emerged out of thin air. You lifted your arms above your head to dry your armpits. Thick, wet patches of hair pushed their way out from under your arms, which ballooned at the contact with the towel. Your forearms thickened and your biceps grew massive with a tattoo etching its way across. Wrapping the towel around your waist, your swimsuit transformed into a tight speedo, allowing your swelling thighs to rub against each other. Your calves thickened as well, with hair etching its way up your legs and towards your crotch, which began to push further and further into your new speedo, sending immense waves of pleasure throughout your body.

The pleasure erupting from your dick was so indescribably intense that it sent you into a euphoric haze on top of your disorientation. Looking down at your swelling dick, you paid no mind to your new muscular body. All you needed was to pleasure yourself. Reaching underneath your towel, you began to rub your dick through your speedo. Almost immediately, you began to orgasm, sending ropes of thick cum into your already wet speedo. Moaning in delight, your body spasmed as the pleasure overtook you. You threw your head back in pure ecstasy. As you continued to shoot out your seed into the speedo, slowly but surely the haze and disorientation dissipated.

Finally, the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced finished. You opened your eyes to look down at yourself, only to finally notice your massive muscular chest and abs. In disbelief, you raised an arm and flexed it, in awe of the mountains of muscle you now had on your body. Ripping the towel off of your waist, you saw your massive cock in the speedo, which had white fluid dripping from it onto your feet and the floor.

"Bloody hell!" You exclaimed.

You jolted, taken aback at what just came out of your mouth. You sounded British! Suddenly, against your will, your hands raised the towel to your head and began to dry off your hair. All of your previous memories began to disappear. You were born in the U.K. You were an Olympic diver for Team U.K. You were here at this pool practicing for the games next year. Another gold medal would be nice for your collection.

As all these thoughts and memories rushed into your head, you heard your phone ring on one of the bleachers. Answering the call and holding to your ear, you heard that it was your husband, Lance. "Thomas, are you finished with practice yet? You know I can't keep my hands off of you when you're all worked up and sweaty like that." You grinned at his desperation for your sexy diver body. You had this man in the palm of your hand. Who wouldn't want a piece of you? It was good to be Tom Daley.

A Transformative Hike

Living in the country had its advantages for sure. There was plenty of vast open space. You never had to worry about running into your neighbors: the nearest one was almost three miles down a dirt road. There were so few people, meaning you were the only gay man within an hour's radius. Thus, you were inevitably perpetually single. Your parents knew you were gay, and they let you be. You could tell they weren't happy about it, but you were their only child, so they felt like they'd rather have a gay kid than no kid at all. Still, they tried to find sweet young women nearby to set you up with. They were convinced that maybe, just maybe, you could lead a "normal" life, marrying some country belle and working on one of the many nearby farms. They wanted what they thought was best for you, but they just couldn't accept that moving away from this small town and going to the big city where there were more people like you was what you wanted.

While you were laying on your bed in your room, browsing Zillow for apartment listings in the city, your mom unexpectedly opened your door and entered unannounced. Closing your computer quickly, you flung it to the side. Seeing your computer tossed haphazardly on the side of your bed, your mother sighed.

"Honey. We know you're going to be leaving soon."

Oh my god, when most normal parents walk in on their kids hiding their computers in a panic, they think they're watching porn. Why couldn't she have thought that, instead? That would have been less embarrassing. Why did she have to actually know what you were doing?

"Before you make any decisions, please just at least try and remember what you love about this place. Go for a hike through the woods, at least one last time!"

You raised an eyebrow. The forest behind your home was extensive. You remembered your dad taking you through the trails when you were younger, back before you started to detest the dirt and grit of it all. You had hiked, biked, and ridden ATVs on those trails, all with your dad by your side. You enjoyed it back then, but things were different now. You were ready to move on with your life. But before you were even able to tell your mom that you had made up your mind, you looked into her eyes. She looked so sad, batting her puppy-dog eyes. You were going to break her mother's heart when you moved out. The least you could do is go on one last hike for her.

With a weighty sigh, you nodded, and your mother's face immediately lightened up. She turned and near-skipped back out of your room. You were already dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and it was warm enough out. All you needed were some shoes. Throwing your legs over the side of your bed, you reached across your floor and grabbed your hiking boots. You stuck your feet into them and began to lace them up. Once your shoes were tied and you were ready, you stood up and walked down the hall and out the back door. Heading through the grass, you found your way to the tree line. You traced your way along the perimeter until you found the trail that you had spent so much time exploring when you were a kid. It was overgrown, but the outline was still there. Looking back at your house, you saw your mom and dad waving at you through the window. You were doing this last thing for them, and then you were gone. Taking a deep breath, you began your hike through the woods.

Following the trail left by your feet and tires so many years ago, you navigated your way through the dense woods. Every twist and turn revealed a new memory that you had forgotten: the rock that you had slipped on and sprained your ankle; the outcropping that you had stopped and camped out in; the tree stump that you had crashed your bike into, faceplanting into the moss. Taking in your surroundings, you truly had forgotten how incredible this place was. You had spent so much time reminiscing you had lost track of time, and you were winded all of a sudden. You decided to stop somewhere and take a break, you had been in here for nearly an hour, and you were just about halfway through the loop. Seeing a grassy patch, you collapsed back into it, allowing yourself a moment to rest. But as you landed, you felt something strike your back. Assuming you landed on a stick or something, you reached behind you to pull it away and toss it into the dense foliage, but instead, you felt the rim of a hat. Pulling it in front of you and inspecting it, it was no wonder you didn't see it before you landed on top of it. It was camo patterned. Some poor hiker must've lost it. Staring at this strange hat, you felt this uncontrollable urge to put it on. The previous owner clearly wasn't here anymore, so… finders keepers?

Placing the cap on your head, a strange warmth began to spread over your body. Your dick began to stir in your jeans, swelling far beyond its normal size. You threw your head back in ecstasy, falling back into the grass, moaning. The warmth intensified all over your body, pulsing, and sending you into orgasmic spasms in the dirt and grass. With each pulse, your body swelled. Your legs began to stretch your jeans, your thighs and calves growing large and beefy. Your pelvis thrusting into the air and slamming back towards the earth found support as your ass cheeks swelled into two large globes of fat and muscle. Your hands stretched and grew calloused from years of hard labor. Forearms tensed and bulged leading to your exploding biceps, becoming mountains of pure muscle and strength, stretching the sleeves of your shirt to the limit. As you thrashed on the ground in pleasure, your back expanded, slamming each shoulder into the ground with more and more manly force, and ripping your shirt clean off of your torso. Your pecs swelled into large mounds and your stomach tightened as hard muscle pushed its way outwards. A sharp stench erupted from your body, as thick, curly hair erupted from around your new massive cock. The hair weaved its way around, covering your massive ass in the thick hair, before tracing its way down your massive legs. The thick patch that erupted above your cock began to swirl upwards over your stomach and onto your chest. A beard began to push its way out of your jaw and upper lip, meeting your new curly hairline and giving you manly facial hair that you had never been able to grow before. The raw stench became even more powerful as thick forests of wet hair pushed their way out of your armpits. Still thrashing in ecstasy, your massive arms were lifted, exposing your new bushes of hair, and sending your new odor directly into your nose. The sweet scent warped your brain. You were always like this. A big manly man who loved hiking in the woods and working out. With a deep guttural moan, your dick erupted with a seemingly never-ending stream of cum.

Blinded from the intense pleasure that you just endured. You spread your massive body out on the grass for several minutes, catching your breath. You were covered in sweat, and you stank to high heaven. But you liked that. Bringing yourself to your feet, you stood up to your full height of 6'4". Laying in that grassy patch was a nice breather before you continue your daily jog. You spent a lot of time working out to keep your muscles nice and big. Your job as a farm hand had you doing plenty of manual labor. You began your jog back home, where your pretty lil' wife was waiting for you to come home. She loved the smell of you and would be more than willing to help you out with your second workout in the bedroom.

A Stolen Singlet

You had never done anything like this before! You had always dreamed of this, but never had the courage to go through with it. This was exciting! You told everyone in the robotics lab that you needed to head home early to get ahead on your AP Calculus homework. That was a lie. You grabbed your backpack and began heading in the general direction of the exit, but you had no intention of leaving. Instead, you turned down the adjacent hallway and headed straight for the locker room. The wrestling team had just finished practice and had headed out for the day. You knew that they were gone because their deep voices resonated through the hall as they walked past the lab just a few minutes prior.

Once you reached the locker room, you breathed in the humid air: it was a mix of steam from the showers and musk. You scanned through the cubbies and found what you were hoping to find: one of the wrestlers had left their singlet.

Those dumb oafs always forgot their bags and stuff in class, so you had figured that maybe they would forget something else in the locker room, and wow you were excited at the gift they left behind for you. Picking the white fabric up, your hand instantly became damp. Damn, whoever just wore this really worked up a sweat. Lifting it to your nose, you took a deep inhale. The stench of body odor and sweat filled your senses. It was intoxicating. Your measly member began twitching at the pure manliness that was engulfing you. You contentedly unzipped your bag and placed the smelly singlet inside.

Your walk home felt like forever, but in reality was short, as you were almost running because you were so impatient for what came next. Entering your home, you beelined for your bedroom. Closing the door behind you and locking it, you ripped the still-damp singlet out of your backpack. Lifting it once again to your nose, the sweet stench was pure ecstasy. Your dick began to swell again, but instead of fighting it, you began to rub it. God, it smelled so good.

You couldn't wait to try it on.

Wild with lust, you dropped the singlet to your feet and began unclothing, nearly tripping over yourself as you lifted your hairless chicken legs through the pant legs. In an orgasmic frenzy, you ripped your shirt off, exposing your pasty, gangly torso. Finally, you reached your underpants, throwing them aside and letting your painfully erect cock bob in the open air. Lifting your legs and placing them through the singlet, you began to place the fabric over your body. It was massive. You could fit both of your legs through one pant hole, and the shoulder straps didn't hold it up, as your thin back wasn't wide enough to catch them. It didn't matter. It smelled so good. You reached around the front and found your dick and began stroking it.

The sweat imbued in the singlet began to change you. Your dick, as you rubbed, it began to thicken, growing girthier and longer, dark hair swirling over top. Your small hand stroking your new massive dick began to thicken and stretch. Each finger cracking and popping and becoming stout sausages on your hands. Your forearms tensed as they grew thick and veiny. Your biceps were pumped with both fat and muscle, growing strong and forcing your shoulders apart to accommodate the extra mass. Your armpits became forests of hair, producing the same sweet stench and sweat in the singlet that intoxicated you. Your back cracked and widened allowing the shoulder straps to hold firmly. Massive pecs pushed their way from your chest, becoming enormous mounds and forming a crevice, straining the front of the singlet, as your nipples hardened and became even more sensitive, the contact with the singlet driving your lust further. Your stomach tightened with washboard abs, only to soften as you filled out the singlet. Still jerking off through the singlet, you felt your thighs explode with muscle, squeezing your dick, and sending you further into your frenzy. Your ass swelled into two globes, the same dark hair swirling its way from your dick and covering your massive ass in hair. Your calves grew as your pace quickened. Your feet grew to size 15s. Each toe cracked and popped as your feet splayed across the floor to support your massive frame. Your feet reeked! Of course, they did, you just got back from practice.

Oh god… you were so close…

With a deep bellow, you came into your singlet. Bringing your hand to the wet spot at the front, you scooped a bit of the salty liquid and brought it to your mouth. Sucking on your finger, you moaned at the taste of your own sweat, funk, and spunk. No wonder why all of those freshmen on the team loved the taste of you. They couldn't get enough of you! You had even caught one of them taking a whiff of your singlet after you got out of the shower after practice today. That didn't bother you, though. He wasn't as big as you, but he was still muscled, hot, and his ass was just right. The glint in his eyes as you dropped the towel told you everything you needed to know. You couldn't wait for tomorrow's practice. Let's just say, it's good to be captain of the wrestling team.

How Would You Feel?

Once again, you're sitting in front of your screen, scrolling through Tumblr. Your feed is filled with these muscular, brawny men. You enjoy staring at them, don't you?

How pathetic. You should be ashamed of yourself. These men didn't spend years of their lives fine-tuning their bodies just for some scrawny punk on Tumblr to get off to them. How would you feel if some losers on the internet violated you like that?

My post appears: it's a plain white photo. No hot men to arouse you. But you can't scroll away. Not now, when the fun is just about to begin.

Those men you keep staring at are hot, aren't they? Your jaw is slack as you continue staring at this strange white screen that appeared on your feed. You feel a warmth spreading across your body. Your arms grow massive, covering themselves in a coat of dark hair, leading to your armpits which become dense, damp jungles. Your dick is pressed together as your thighs expand, the same dark hair swirling its way down your body. You're still staring at the white screen, even as your eye-line increases, with your ass swelling into two globes of muscle and providing cushioning on your chair. The stench of your bare feet is pungent as they grow massive and engulfed in thick hairs, but you still stare. You lift your shirt, rubbing your hands over your now-muscular torso and washboard abs, reaching your enormous pecs. You begin to rub your perky nipples. They're so sensitive. Your dick swells in your jeans as the white screen disappears. You turn your camera on and begin filming. I hope you like being nothing more than eye candy to strangers on the internet. I can't wait to read all of the nasty comments!

An Error Code

Something happened.

My boyfriend Henry and I were playing FIFA on my PS4. We were messing around with creating our own players. There was something so invigorating about making some hot guy play sports for you. They could look however you wanted. Henry made a player who looked like some muscle oaf: beefy, covered in body hair, with some stupid goatee. My player had less body hair, and a sculpted beard, but was still well-muscled. They both were quite hot, to be honest, and looking over at Henry, I noticed that he was chubbing up looking at them. After we had both made our characters, we loaded them into the roster and started the game.

But the game didn’t start. It crashed leaving an error code on that familiar blue screen:

AN ERROR HAS OCCURRED IN THE APPLICATION: CUSTOM CONTENT NOT FOUND, RELOADING PLAYERS

We were left staring at this blue screen and strange error code. Neither of us had seen anything like it. The game began to automatically reboot. I turned to Henry to ask what was wrong with the console but instead saw a large beefy man in his place. His large hairy legs splayed wide on the couch, revealing his thick cock straining against his blue underpants. His hairy chest showed tufts of hair stemming from his neckline and coming from the armholes, which led to his massive muscular arms with thick armpit hair. His bearded face remained fixated on the screen. Looking down at myself, I saw large thick legs leading to a massive bulge in my grey underwear. Scratching my face, I could feel my well-groomed beard. My hand lowered to my giant bulge, rubbing it and moaning with my new deep voice as the game continued to load. The smell of our odor was intoxicating. The sweet, tangy scent of man permeated my nostrils. My dick swelled even further.

I heard the game begin. I pulled my hand off of my massive crotch and grabbed the controller, looking up at the screen through my glasses. It was crazy that Henry and I could make players who looked exactly like us. Seeing my beefy boyfriend's body on the screen running around and getting all sweaty made my dick swell again.

Once I kicked his beefy ass in the game, I knew what I was going to do with that ass right afterward.

A Dip In The Pool

This new gym was awesome! Moving to a new city can be hard, but at least it allowed you to start fresh. Going to the gym was something you always wanted to learn how to like, so you signed up for this cool new gym near your house. Everyone was super chill with the fact that you had no idea what you were doing. These huge muscular men would teach you how to use a machine before saying, "Soon enough, you'll look like me!" They were so encouraging! You were starting to like going to the gym. But you were still so skinny. With your curly hair and thin frame, you looked like a literal mop. All of these musclemen were super nice, but there was no way you were ever going to look like them.

As you went to the front desk to check in before you started your workout, the attendant mentioned the fact that the gym had a pool. Since when? You were still new to this place, so you're not surprised that there was something you didn't know about, but still... you don't remember hearing about it. The attendant assured you that it was free admission for gym members, so you hesitantly asked to see where it was and were led through the gym floor to the back of the locker room, and sure enough, there was metal lettering on the face of a large mahogany door: Pool.

As the attendant returned to the front desk, you decided that you might as well go for a swim and get some cardio in while you're thinking about it. Although you hadn't come prepared with a swimsuit, you decided that your gym shorts were similar enough and would suffice, so you went back to your locker to get ready. After placing your gym bag in the locker, you peeled your t-shirt off of your torso, exposing your thin, hairless frame. Reaching downwards, you slipped your slim feet out of your shoes, and peeled off your socks, placing everything in your locker. After closing the locker and securing the padlock, you turned and headed back to the mahogany door.

Pushing inward and stepping into the room, your nostrils were immediately bombarded with the unmistakable smell of chlorine. Your eyes watered: it burned! The room was dark, merely illuminated by the lights in the small pool. There were no windows, no benches, nothing. Not even another person! The pool itself was short and rather shallow. It wasn't big enough to do laps or anything, so why was it here?

Seeing steam rising from the surface, you figured that the pool must be set at a high temperature for recovery or something like that. To you, that made enough sense to justify its existence. You began to lower yourself to the edge of the pool before sliding in, but you stopped yourself. Looking around, you decided that since no one was here to tell you not to, you were going to have some fun with this pool. Taking a small step back, you launched yourself forward, tucking inwards to a cannonball position. Your body cut through the warm steam as it descended toward the pool. As you hit the water, your body was wrapped in its warmth. It was almost like a hot tub. It felt amazing. Your body submerged beneath the surface, leaving an impressive splash, especially considering your small frame.

Rising from beneath the ripples you created, you reached your hands upward to wipe your face with your hands and to push your hair from your eyes. Only there was no hair there to be pushed. Your hands went over your head, but the hair that was usually there was gone. Something was wrong.

You opened your eyes and saw your now-massive hands in front of your face. They were connected to your thick forearms which met your mountainous biceps. Your torso was huge. Looking down past your swollen pecs, you saw your washboard abs, large thighs, and defined calves. Running your hand along your abs that were not there a moment ago, you allowed your hand to explore further down, pushing its way into your shorts. You grabbed your throbbing cock and began stroking it aggressively. Moaning in your deep voice, your massive body buckled in the water, sending ripples as you continued jerking off. Your bicep bulged with strength, veins becoming more and more prominent as your pace accelerated. Your breaths became short and intense. God, it felt so good. Pure ecstasy overtook you. With a grunt, you shot out ropes and ropes of cum into the pool.

Wading through the milky substance around you, you climbed your way out of the pool. You had never gone in the pool after your daily workouts, but with all that testosterone you have flowing in your veins, an outlet is good. Flexing the massive muscles that you had spent so much time growing in the gym, you decided that you were going to take a dip in the pool after every workout from now on.

Science Can Be Cool

There was no denying it. Professor Johnson was an extremely attractive man. After graduating with his master's degree, he came directly to your school to teach chemistry. While you despised science, you loved to watch your 26-year-old teacher. His shirt was always tight around his chest and biceps and his pants always fit him just right, showing off his ass and a sizable bulge. Whenever he was teaching about titration or the periodic table or whatever, you were never looking at the whiteboard, you were always looking at him.

He was everything you wanted to be in life: smart, attractive, and charismatic. All of the girls (and some of the boys, you included) in your class had a massive crush on him. And who wouldn’t? He was incredible. You wished you could be like him.

It was Friday afternoon and Professor Johnson’s class was your last of the day. You had spent the rest of the day just anticipating another wonderful day of staring at this beautiful man, daydreaming about what he looked like under those tight clothes. After another pleasurable class of ogling and admiration, Professor Johnson explained and assigned a new project due Monday. Everyone in the class had to make an “aqueous solution” and bring it in to present on Monday. Although you spent most of the time staring at his big ass and arms, Professor Johnson was a good teacher, and you had learned that basically, he just wanted you to dissolve something and bring it in. Easy enough!

As you left school, you decided to get the project over with and took a slightly different route to get home, taking you past some of the shops on Main Street. You thought about maybe getting some sugar to dissolve, but that would be too easy and everyone would do it. Maybe you could get some artificial sweetener like Splenda or Equal and talk about how it dissolved differently than regular sugar. That would be creative! Maybe Professor Johnson would think you were smart. Your body shuddered at the thought of him patting you on the back and saying “Good job.”

Splenda it is. Walking down the street, looking at the stores, you paused. There was a sign you didn’t recognize. Aunt Sally’s Mystical Emporium. Glancing at your watch, you saw that you had plenty of time before dinner, so you decided to take a step in. Maybe there was something interesting here you could use for the project. As you opened the door, you heard the chime of the bell above to alert the attendant of your arrival. Glancing around, you saw aisles and aisles of shelves adorned with random objects, bottles, and clothes. Following the velvet carpet, you found the counter, where the woman behind was already staring at you. She was old, probably in her late 80s. She had this strange grin on her face, exposing her yellowed teeth. 

“What can I help you with?” She croaked.

Taken aback slightly at the harshness of her voice, you explained.

“I need something to dissolve in water for a school project. Something really cool.”

Her grin widened, exposing more of her yellow teeth. Without saying a word, she lifted her gaunt hand and motioned for you to follow her. Stepping from behind the counter, she began to move at an alarming pace for a woman her age through the maze of aisles and shelves. Struggling to keep up, you found yourself breaking into a sprint. She stayed composed though. How was she moving so goddamn fast?

Suddenly she stopped. You nearly tripped over yourself trying to stop in time to not trample her. You panted, trying to catch your breath as she slowly reached onto one of the shelves, pulling off a small clear vial of white powder. Holding it out to you, she said “This is magic. It will grant your deepest wish.” 

Oh, so she was insane.

Before you could even open your mouth to say you weren’t interested in some fake powder, the old woman interjected. “I can sense you have a wish in your heart, so for you, it is free.” Her face contorted into that awful grin again. So uncomfortable around this strange woman, you mumbled a thanks, grabbed the vial, and made your way rapidly toward the exit. You felt her gaze follow you until you had pushed open the door, the bell once again chiming, and turned the corner.

Finally, out of sight of the woman, you had a chance to breathe. What the hell was that?! This weird woman gave you some fake powder for free? Overwhelmed, you decided to head home for the night. You would deal with the project later. Once you arrived home, you put the weird vial on your nightstand, took a shower, ate dinner, played some video games, and went to bed. The rest of the weekend, you played some more video games, ate some more, and slept. It was a very relaxing weekend, all things considered.

When you woke up on Monday morning to get ready for school, you had barely put your pants on before you realized that you had forgotten all about the project. Professor Johnson was going to be so angry at you. You couldn't disappoint him. The thought of him shaking his head at you, or god forbid yelling at you... no. You had to figure something out. Scrambling around your room to find something to dissolve in your water bottle, you rediscovered the weird white powder. It was all you had, and honestly, it had a story behind it. Biting the bullet, you headed to the bathroom to fill your water bottle. Pouring the white powder into your bottle, you closed the lid and shook it aggressively, trying to get the powder to dissolve more quickly. As you opened the lid and looked inside, you were astounded. It was clear! The powder dissolved! As you lifted the bottle closer to your face to inspect further, your nose was enraptured by a strange, sweet smell. It was like caramel and flowers and cotton candy and every single fruit all at once. It smelled so good. This powder was incredible. You thought for a moment: maybe it tasted as good as it smelled. You lifted the bottle to your lips, and as soon as the liquid entered your mouth, your chest was filled with a raging pain.

Oh my god, the old crazy woman had poisoned you. Dropping the bottle into the still-running sink, you panicked. Your throat tightened and you couldn’t scream for help. You grabbed your phone, trying to call 911, but your vision blurred. Stumbling blindly, you slipped backward on the mat and landed flat on your back, your phone still in hand, knocking the wind out of you. In shock and still panicking, the pain abated, but the blurriness remained. Taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself, you slowly lifted yourself off of the ground, clutching your phone, still ready to call 911 for help. You reached around on the counter and finally found a pair of glasses you assumed were your dad’s. Placing them on your face, you were astounded.

In the mirror, looking back at you, was Professor Johnson. The firm pecs, the bulging biceps, the washboard abs. All of it. He was right in front of you. Fuck, he was even hotter underneath those clothes. No longer were you scared, you were aroused. You had wished to become your hot professor, and here you were! Taking out your phone, you took your first (of many) hot selfies in his hot body.

As you took this picture, you saw your dick swelling up in your pants, which stretched with your new thick legs in them. You were always curious about what Professor Johnson was packing. Heading back into your room, you went to your mirror, slowly lowered your pants, and tossed them to the side, exposing your underwear which strained at the pressure coming from within.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you admired every crevice of your new body. Your feet had grown several sizes pushing your socks to their limit. Your calves had grown and stretched the socks even more. Your thighs were monstrous, covered in veins and leading up to your monstrous dick, which was barely confined within your underwear. Your ass had grown massive and muscular, with the backside of your underpants riding up between your cheeks. Your arms had become enormous: your hands were meaty, your forearms had become covered in thick veins, and your biceps swelled like mountains, barely covering the forest of armpit hair you now had. Your stomach was covered by a thick set of washboard abs, leading up to your pecs which jutted forward from your body like a shelf. You matched your own gaze. Your face was a replica of Professor Johnson’s. You had his manly facial hair and sharp features. You had gotten everything you wished for. You snapped another picture. You were going to love your new body.

Dressing in your loosest clothing, as you now needed a whole new wardrobe, you grabbed your water bottle and left your house, and began the walk to school, ready to show Professor Johnson your aqueous solution and explain how much you loved chemistry.

Making a Boyfriend

It was your first semester in college. You were so excited to have a little bit of freedom. As soon as you stepped into your dorm room and saw your roommate, Peter, and the pride flag hanging above his bed, you knew this was going to be awkward. You had nothing against gay people. They were fine most of the time. But having one as your roommate? That was too much.

He was quiet, which was fine, but you always felt that he was checking you out. Whenever you were sitting at your desk, you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head. When you turned, he averted his gaze, but you knew. He was into you. You were not gay.

God, it was so awkward.

After taking your daily shower, you walked through the hallway and back to your room with your towel around your waist. Opening your door, you stepped in. Seemingly out of nowhere, Peter rushed behind you and held his hand on your chest. Stunned, but unable to move, Peter whispered in your ear:

"I need a boyfriend."

Suddenly, you didn't mind Peter's hand on your chest. You were gay, and you loved a cute boy to have his hands all over you.

"You're so strong, have you been working out?"

Peter's words echoed in your ears. You felt your biceps thicken your lats expand, giving you a wide back. Your thighs expanded and new, rock-hard abs pushed their way out of your torso. You were jacked. You loved going to the gym just as much as you loved Peter.

"I'm so glad that you're taller than me so I can nuzzle up to you when we're in bed together."

You felt your legs lengthen and your spine crack as your point of view rose. You were now a tall 6'4. Your hair lightened to a blond and curled. You felt your towel drop from around your waist. You rushed to cover your newly exposed ripped body.

"I love how carefree you are too. You've got the himbo vibe perfected."

Your mind felt foggy. The classes you were taking, everything you had learned so far in college, disappeared. All you could remember was meeting your hot boyfriend Peter when you moved into the dorm, the gym, and football. You slowly lowered your hand, exposing your dick, which had swelled to a monstrous 11 inches.

"Since you're already naked, let's go cuddle in bed together."

Making your way to the bed, you laid yourself on it, ready for Peter to crawl into your big, muscular arms, just as he had done since the first night you spent together in your room.

Live from New York

Standing in line to board your flight, you basked in the feeling of possibility. From here on out, anything could happen. After years of working minimum wage at Dairy Queen, you had finally saved enough money to move to New York City. You loved your small town in Iowa, but there was something magical about the Big Apple. There, you could start over and be somebody new. After high school, you wanted to go to college. Some prestigious university would've been your dream, like Harvard, Yale, or Fordham. You had the grades, but you couldn't afford to pay tuition. So you stayed. Luckily, the DQ was hiring, and you got decent pay. By no means were you living large, but you got by. Now, with enough money saved up, you bought a one-way ticket from Des Moines to JFK. You had reached out to a friend living in the city, and they agreed to let you stay with them for a little bit until you found a job and your own place. Armed with just your backpack filled with a couple hundred bucks, some clothes, and a dream, you boarded the flight.

Once you landed in Queens, you desperately navigated the terminal, trying to find your way to the E train into Manhattan. Finding the station, you waited patiently for the subway to arrive. Turning your backpack onto your stomach, you pulled it tightly into your torso. Everything you owned was in that bag, you couldn't bear to lose it. The roar of the approaching train filled your ears, and it skidded to a stop in front of you. The doors opened, and you found the car absolutely packed. You had never seen so many people in one place all at once. Forcing your way into the car, and finding a place to stand near the opposite door, you kept a close eye on the screen, waiting until the 5th Avenue and 53rd Street stop appeared. Then, as the subway stopped and the doors opened, you clutched your backpack and stepped onto the platform.

Exiting the station, you were engulfed by the sounds and sights of Midtown. Your friend lived in a small one-bedroom near 50th and 6th, right in the center of everything. Walking around, you found yourself enamored with the tall buildings and the busy people walking extremely fast. The route you were taking to your friend's apartment took you right past Rockefeller Plaza. Being the tourist you were, as soon as you passed the sign for NBC studios, you decided to pull your phone out of your backpack. Reaching in and then throwing your backpack over your shoulder, you looked up at the words. Growing up, you had seen this marquis on television, and now it was really here. Lifting up your camera, you snapped a photo.

Just as the shutter clicked, a man ran up from behind you and snatched your bag. "Hey!" you screamed. Without stopping, they continued to sprint and turned the corner before you even thought to run after them. Shit. Now what? Looking at the doors of the studio, you figured that they must have security cameras. They could help you. I mean, after all, everything you owned was in that bag. Stepping through the glass doors, you were astounded by the vast ceilings and smooth architecture. You were definitely in the big city.

Approaching the desk, before you could even open your mouth, the attendant looked up at you and gasped. "Sir, you're late, we need to get you upstairs now!" Before you even had the chance to respond, you were whisked away, being led towards an elevator. Shoving you into an elevator, the attendant mashed the button that said "8H." Looking dumbfounded, you opened your mouth to speak, but just as you did the doors shut and you began to ascend into the building.

This was weird, but hey, you had nothing else to lose. It's not like you were breaking in, you were put here. Once you got off the elevator, you would explain exactly what happened, and they would help you find security to figure out how to get your backpack back. As the elevator doors opened and you opened your mouth to speak, two female stylists rushed in and began ushering you through the hallways. The taller one began chastising you for running late as usual, without letting you get a word in. Giving up, you let them guide you into a dressing room. There, you were shoved into a seat. Finally, with the hustle and bustle finished, you finally had a chance to speak. "What's happening?" You managed to finally ask. The stylists looked at each other amused. Without saying a word, they reached towards your body and ripped off your clothes, leaving you nude apart from your underwear.

"Hey! What was that for?" You screamed at the pair. The shorter one explained. "We don't have time to take them off, Sir. Now hold still." The tall one pulled a white jar out of her bag, and the two began applying some sort of cream all over your chest. As the cream made contact with your skin, it began to heat up. As it did, firm muscles began pushing their way from your torso. Thick pecs formed a shelf and dark hair spread its way across them. The stylists massaged the cream into your arms, which flexed with new strength and were covered in that same hair. Your hands cracked as they grew large and manly. You were left with a thick beefy upper body.

The stylists massaged the cream into your feet, which grew and expanded, dark hairs emerging from the tops. After applying the cream to your calves, they stretched and ballooned as well. Your thighs were next, the short one was intensely working her hands around your thighs and shoved her hands under where you were seated. The cream made your legs thick and hairy, and your ass lifted you upwards on the chair. The short one continued to massage your thighs as the tall one applied the cream to your face. Your teeth whitened and your jawline sharpened. Your eyes lightened to a piercing blue. The tall one massaged your scalp, as your hair thickened and became immaculately styled, your head felt fuzzy. You remembered attending Harvard? No, you could never afford that. You were from rural Iowa. The shorter stylist lifted her hands from your thighs and pulled down your underwear, revealing your cock. Reapplying more cream to her palms, she began to massage your cock. Your head felt even fuzzier as the pleasure built up. You weren't from Iowa, you were from Staten Island. Your dick grew longer with each tug. You were married, and your wife loved your amazing body. The pleasure built up even more. Shit, everyone loved your amazing body. With one final tug, your thick cock shot out ropes of cum, and with it, every memory you had of your previous life. You lived in New York now.

The shorter stylist pulled out a towel and began to wipe your thick and muscled body clean, as the taller one grabbed your tailored suit off of the hanger. Standing up, you lifted your thick legs as the stylists pulled your pants on. You lifted your thick arms outward, exposing your forested armpits, as your dress shirt was brought onto your body. The two stylists buttoned you up. Lifting your arms again, you felt the fancy jacket pulled over you. Sitting down again, you were handed your tie. As you tied, the shorter stylist lifted your large feet into dress socks and placed them in your shoes. Once you finished tying your tie, you stood up, and without acknowledging the two women, you turned towards the door and began walking through the halls. You knew exactly where you were headed. As you reached the backstage area, a man placed your mic on your jacket. Finding your seat, you heard the intro music play. This was your job. The audience was applauding for you. You read your cue card.

"Welcome to Weekend Update, I'm Colin Jost."

It's All In The Hair

<<Thanks @transformation-fan for the suggestion. This was a fun one!>>

After a long day at work, you had finally begun the long drive home in your beat-up sedan. Working a fifteen-hour shift at the gas station was hard, but it was the only job you could find willing to hire you. The forty-five-minute drive home was usually pretty relaxing. Standing at the counter all day meant your legs were aching by the end of the day. The fatigue set in as you continued your drive through the suburbs and back into the city.

Arriving at your apartment, you found the nearest curb and parked your car. This wasn't a great neighborhood, but you never really worried about someone breaking into your car, because it was so beat up that it almost looked abandoned. It was your ride to work though, so you nonetheless locked it tight and hid anything in the seats in the glove compartment and center console. Satisfied, you turned and keyed into your building. Walking up the three flights of stairs, you fumbled around in the dark trying to find the other key to your apartment. The bulb in the hallway had long since burned out, and the landlord refuses to pay for another bulb. Finally feeling the teeth of the key, you poked it around blindly until it found its home in your doorknob. Twisting the key and pushing, the door flung open into your pigsty of an apartment. Pizza boxes and dirty clothes littered the floor. You worked so many hours a day that you never had time to clean up after yourself.

Throwing your keys onto the counter, you checked in the fridge to see if you had any leftovers. There were some Chinese take-out boxes that were probably still good. As you reached your arm into the fridge, you got a whiff of your body odor. Your face squinched in disgust. Although your apartment was a mess, you hated to be dirty yourself. Working at the gas station, you often came home reeking of gasoline, but today was especially hot outside, and you must've sweat through your deodorant and then some. It was time for a shower.

Stepping over the piles of clothes, you headed towards the bathroom. Peeling off your sweat-filled shirt, you twisted the handle of your shower bath. It would take a few minutes for the water to heat up. Pulling down your jeans, you stared in the mirror at yourself. God, there was so little of you. Your diet of pizza gave you a round paunch, but absolutely nothing else. You were a hairless cat with a gut. Rubbing your smooth chest, you began to wonder what it would be like to have luscious hair. The kind that people would want to run their fingers through. Maybe some muscles? Anything would be better. Sighing to yourself, and deciding that maybe next year you would start working out, you stepped over and into the shower.

The water was lukewarm, you hadn't given it quite enough time to become scalding hot. Underneath the stream of water, you began rubbing your hair. It was short enough that you didn't need to worry too much about styling or combing it, just wash it every now and again. With your face turned upwards towards the waterfall washing down over you, you reached your arm out to grab your shampoo. Fumbling about, you felt the bottle with the top of your hand, and it slipped, crashing towards your feet with a loud thud. The sound startled you, and you flinched causing you to tumble backward. The curvature of the bath allowed you to slide for part of the fall, but you still landed on your back.

Startled more than injured, you sat for a moment, astounded at what an idiot you were. Cursing to yourself, you pulled yourself into a sitting position. Finally finding the shampoo bottle, you pulled it toward you to open it, but it looked different. The generic logo on the front was gone. In fact, the bottle had no logo, no words, no anything. Assuming you had just ripped off the label some other night, you opened the cap to pour it into your hand. Immediately, you knew this was not your shampoo. The smell was divine. It was indescribable. You were going to enjoy this shampoo.

Pulling the drain closed and flipping the faucet, you started filling the bath. Luxury. You poured more shampoo into your hand before lathering it around your hair. Keeping your eyes closed to prevent the suds from getting in your eyes, you felt a strange, but pleasurable sensation. Your head was warm and fuzzy. God this shampoo was incredible. With each rub of your hands, your hair grew longer and longer and thicker and thicker. The suds dripped down over your face as you continued to massage your head and growing hair. Your eyebrows thickened, becoming sharp and defined. Dense stubble pushed its way out of your upper lip and around your jawline. The shampoo dripped down your arms, still raised towards your head. Dark hairs sprouted from your thickening forearms and bulging biceps, and your exposed armpits grew forests of thick brown hair. Dripping down your chest, the shampoo caused a forest of curled chest hair to shoot from your growing chest. Two lean pecs pushed from your chest, with a new pelt of hair adorning them. Your navel sprouted a thick treasure trail as the shampoo pushed your gut inward and traced the lines of your new abs. Finally, the shampoo reached the water line, mixing into the water and causing the surface to become sudsy and foamy. Dark hairs grew on top of your feet as they stretch along the floor of the bath. Your calves and thighs bulged with muscle as the dark curly hair swirled around. You felt your stomach get colder as your ass swelled, pushing you ever-so-slightly further out of the water. The hair curled up your thighs and into your ass, tracing underneath you towards your balls. A mass of hair grew above your crotch and around, as your dick stretched further and further away from your body. Still rubbing your shampooed head with one hand, your other hand lowered down into the water and began stroking your new, large dick. Your hand was still slippery with the shampoo, and the pleasure was intense. With each rub of each head, everything felt more and more amazing. With a final rub, you shot your load into the bath water, mixing with the suds.

Rinsing your hands of the shampoo and rubbing your eyes, you opened them. Right in front of you were large hairy legs. Looking down, you were greeted with a still semi-erect throbbing dick covered in hair. The chest below you was thick and had swirls of hairs. What the hell was happening? Trying to stand up, you underestimated the sleekness of the bottom of the tub, and you fell once again, hitting your head, knocking you unconscious, and sinking into the water.

It was dark. Oh my god, were you dead? You couldn't speak. You tried to scream for help but no sound came out. It was strangely warm, were you in hell? Oh my god, you were in hell. What had you done wrong? With one final desperate scream, you jolted upward and found yourself in a hotel room. Scared and confused you turned about, finding that your pillow was wet, and smelled amazing. Of course! You had just taken a bath with your favorite shampoo before the convention. Turning your body off the side of the bed, you saw your large manly legs and chuckled. Throwing on a yellow shirt and some pants, you stared in the mirror at your hair. God, even after taking a nap your iconic hair still looked immaculate. Smirking, you unbuttoned the top of your shirt, displaying a moderate amount of your thick chest hair. That'll surely drive the girls (and the gays) wild for you. You could have anything you want with the wave of your hand. They adored you. You were Joe fucking Keery. The chartered car came and picked you up, dropping you at the convention. On the red carpet, you heard their screams. They loved you. You knew why: it's all in the hair.

Free Vacation

When you saw the email in your inbox announcing that you had won the sweepstakes for a free stay at a "magical" beachside resort in Bali you were skeptical, to say the least. But as you arrived at the airport, and you saw a muscular suited man at the terminal with your name on a piece of paper, something clicked. Escorting you through the terminal, the strong man pushed the weary travelers aside to part the way for you. Reaching a set of double doors, he pushed them open, revealing the tarmac with a large limousine waiting for you. Without saying a word, the man grabbed your suitcase and placed it in the trunk, opening the door for you.

Stepping into the back of the limo, you felt your cares melt into the leather upholstery. After driving for just a few moments, the driver stopped, exited, and opened the door for you. Pushing your head through the open door, you saw a large luxury jet.

"Is this for me?" You asked, incredulously.

"Of course it is, sir." The driver responded with a big grin on his face. He was savoring your childish disbelief.

With a gasp of shock and excitement, you sprinted towards the staircase. The driver panicked at your sudden speed burst and rushed to grab your suitcase from the trunk. Barely acknowledging the gorgeous stewardess, you threw yourself into the cabin, reveling in the stunning interior. Planting yourself firmly into the leather armchair, you laughed to yourself. This was going to be one hell of a vacation.

The flight was uneventful and went by surprisingly quick. Time flies when you're traveling in luxury. The seemingly endless stream of champagne helped too. By the time you landed in Bali, you were intoxicated beyond belief. The poor stewardess you had hounded the entire flight now had the privilege of half guiding and carrying you to the next limo.

This driver couldn't care less about you. You were just another drunk passenger heading to this resort. Nothing out of the ordinary. Driving from the airport to the resort was another surprisingly fast ride. You might've fallen asleep if you're being honest. Arriving at the resort, a young woman, presumably an employee, opened the door of your limo. You stumbled out, face-planting on the floor. You could hear her speaking to the driver but couldn't make out any words. Trying to force yourself to stand up, you found that every move you made was uncoordinated. When you were getting off the plane, you could at least walk a little with the stewardess's help, but now, you were immobile. Were you getting... drunker? You felt two sets of large hands grab onto your shoulders, pulling you upright, face-to-face with the woman. Though your vision was blurred, you couldn't help but let your head "fall" to see her breasts. Before you even tried to focus your vision, she grabbed your jaw and pulled you into a wet kiss. Unable to move away, (and unsure you wanted to) you let her tongue explore your mouth. The hands that were on your shoulders pulled you away and carried you through the doors. The unmistakable click of high heels followed you. You heard the woman say, "I'll see you later, Robbie." Who was Robbie? That wasn't your name.

Your vision blackened. Darkness. Suddenly, you woke to a tugging at your dick. Someone was jerking you off. It was dark, you couldn't see a damn thing. But it felt so good. Moaning in delight, you lifted your arms up behind you. Your large hands cupped your head. Large hands? You felt sore all over. The tugging increased, and your dick felt wet. Were you being sucked off? God, it felt so good. With each motion, each care melted away. You were getting so close. With a grunt, you came.

Jumping awake and with a loud scream, you jolted upward in the bed. A dark spot formed in the sheets. Shit, that was some dream. Looking at your surroundings, you remembered all that had happened. You were in Bali. Looking out onto your balcony attached to your room, you could see the white sand and the bright blue waves crashing upon them. Taking a breath to recover from your dream, you stepped into the bathroom to take a piss, only to see someone else in the mirror. A large muscular man wearing boxers. Startled, you jumped back, only the see the man in the mirror jump as well. Moving your hand, the man followed suit. You reached for your head, and he did too.

Holy shit. It was you in the mirror. What the fuck happened last night. Stumbling back into the room, you fell backward onto your bed. Only to feel another body beneath you. Twisting around, you saw the beautiful woman beaming at you from underneath the covers. "Good morning, Robbie" she cooed. It was her. It had to be her. "What did you do to me?" You seethed. "Nothing you didn't want, Robbie." She smirked, enjoying your little tantrum.

"My name is not Robbie." You retorted. She indicated with her head that you should turn around. Slowly, you turned your head to face a full-length mirror. Your body was chiseled. Your face was angular. God damn, you were hot. Forcing yourself to look away, you saw a tank top on the dresser. Trying to cover your sexy abs that weren't yours, you threw it over your torso. "What's wrong? Don't you think you look good?" the woman said mockingly. Still staring at yourself in the mirror, astounded at how you looked, you said "This isn't me. I'm just some average guy. I'm not a muscle dude." The woman chuckled. "We can make you bigger if you'd like." Your arms were forced upwards against your will, exposing your hairy armpits and showing off your large biceps. A warm tingling erupted in your arms, and you watched in amazement as they grew right before your eyes.

In disbelief, you turned back towards the woman with your mouth open ready to object to whatever the hell was happening, but she had already risen from the bed, and firmly planted her lips on yours. Her tongue explored your mouth, just as she had done last night. Her hand fondled your crotch, which stretched the confines of your underwear. Blinded by the pleasure erupting from your penis, you allowed your tongue to return the favor and explore her mouth. Pulling away, she lowered herself down and pulled down your boxers, exposing your throbbing member. As you closed your eyes, with your head laid back in ecstasy, you felt all of your worries and memories of who you used to be pool up in your balls. With one final bob of her head, your body tensed up, flexing every new muscle in your hot body, and you shot everything that you had used to be out.

Italia rose from below you, meeting your eyes. "Are you ready to enjoy our vacation, Robbie?" Ripping your shirt off, showing off your rocking body, you smiled at your hot wife.

"Sure."

Wacked Out

It was late August, and you were finally on campus for your freshman year at Vanderbilt University. You had studied super hard all throughout high school, ending up with a 3.9 GPA and a 1580 SAT (almost perfect). However, since you had spent all of your time studying and doing class work and homework, you never had the opportunity to live a normal, teenage life. Now that you were already at this prestigious school, you were going to let yourself take a break and work on yourself, not just focus on school.

Your first stop was the gym. Growing up, you were always smaller than everyone else. Rather than playing sports and running around the playground, you stayed off to the side, reading and learning. That habit stuck throughout high school, but now you were ready to change that.

Shoving whatever loose gym shorts and t-shirt you had into your backpack, you left your dorm room and began the short walk across campus to the gym. The weather was still summery, and you began to break into a sweat almost immediately as you stepped into the hot sun. Luckily it was not a long walk, and you soon approached the athletic center. As you were about to key into the building, you noticed something in the corner of your eye. Turning, you saw a dark green Under Armour compression shirt. Maybe it fell out of someone's bag? Picking it up, and holding it away from your body, you thought it was around your size. Bringing it to your nose, it smelled vaguely of body odor around the arms, but it wasn't something that a simple run in the washing machine wouldn't fix. Shrugging, you decided to put the shirt in your bag and keep it as your workout shirt. Anything beat your regular t-shirt.

Stepping into the locker room, you found an open locker and placed your backpack into it. Unzipping the large pocket, you pulled out the shirt. Sniffing it one more time, it definitely smelled of body odor. You wanted to pull away, but something about it was so entrancing. Without thinking you ripped your t-shirt over your head and chucked it to the ground beside you. Holding up the smelly shirt to your nose, you felt your dick stir in your pants. Grinning, you shoved your scrawny arms into the shirt and lifted it over your head. The smell of sweat and musk filled your nose as you pulled your head into the neck hole, leaving you intoxicated with the scent. With the shirt firmly over your slim chest, you felt a pumping in your chest as your pectorals filled the compression shirt, stretching it in the front. Still reeling from the smell, you rubbed your hands lazily over your stomach, feeling washboard abs appear out of thin air. As you rubbed, you lifted your hand back to your pecs, tweaking your new sensitive nipples. A moan escaped your lips as your fingers and hands thickened, squeezing each nipple harder. Your arms and forearms thickened, leaving the sleeves of your new shirt stretched to the limits. Your thighs expanded, stretching your gym shorts. Your calves thickened as well, with light curly hair etching its way up your legs and towards your crotch, which swelled with power and masculinity. Dark spots appeared under your arms, as thick smelly hairs poked their way out of the follicles. Now you were producing more of that intoxicating smell. You lifted your arm and inhaled as you shot ropes of cum into your shorts.

Taking a breath, you left the locker room and went into the gym, heading straight for the mirror. Pulling out your phone, you snapped a photo.

You looked like Ethan Wacker, that kid from that kid show or whatever... the one who dated that girl who sang about her driver's license. He was hot?

Surprised at your new look, you ran back to the locker room. Lifting your bag out of the locker, you got another whiff of your arms. Your dick rose again. "Shit!" Why were you so horny? Breathing and attempting to will your boner down, you began to speedwalk out of the athletic center and back toward your dorm. Trying to hide your face, you threw a mask on. You had to be having a nightmare. There was no way this was real. This was impossible. As you sped across campus, you pulled out your phone again, flipping the camera to selfie mode, only to be treated with your new face.

Seeing your muscled chest and thick arms on the phone screen only caused you to panic further. Breaking into a full sprint, you finally reached the dorm. You swiped into the building and ran up the stairs, and down the hall. Reaching your room, you fumbled around your backpack, hyperventilating trying to find your keys. Grabbing the keys, and pulling them out, you placed them in the lock, but the keys kept slipping out of your hands. Shit, your fingers were so much bigger than before. Finally, you felt the key push into the lock, and you twisted every which way until the door finally fell open and you tumbled inside and onto your face.

Pulling yourself up, you ran to the full-length mirror, only to have your fears confirmed. In the mirror was a hot former Disney star. But that wasn't you. You were skinny and nerdy and good at school, not an actor with big muscles. You did have big muscles. They look kind of good. But this wasn't you. These weren't your strong man's hands. You didn't have these sexy abs and thick pecs. Your biceps weren't that big. Your armpits reeked. You pulled off your shirt, just to make sure that those pecs on your chest weren't yours. You spent your days in the studio filming, not on the playground. You didn't have time to go to regular school. Damn, your chest looked good. Why wouldn't it? You started going to the gym after being so small for so long. Lifting your arms to flex your massive biceps, the smell of your pits engulfed you. You were Ethan Wacker.

I Am Weed

Fuck. You were tired. So tired of being pushed around by everyone at school. You were much shorter than everyone else in your class, and that meant that the taller guys would pick on you. Although you were a freshman in college, your voice still had yet to deepen with puberty. You sounded and looked like a whiny teenager.

You loved music and saw that the school rock band was looking for a new frontman. There was no way they'd ever take you on. You were too short, too whiny, and had no star quality. You were not the rock star that they needed. You wanted to try it anyways. You never know!

To calm your nerves before heading to the band, you had bought some weed from Chuck down the hall from you. You had never smoked before, but Chuck told you it was strong and would make you feel much better. He even rolled it up for you, so that all you had to do was light it and enjoy the ride.

Returning to your dorm room, you pulled out your Boy Scout lighter and lit the end of the blunt. Hesitant, you slowly lifted the end to your mouth and inhaled.

Cough, cough, cough "Man, this shit is strong" you sputtered.

You lifted the blunt to your lips and inhaled once again. Everything became slightly fuzzy. Your head felt lighter, but your body felt heavier. As you sat down on your bed, you took another hit. You felt a warm sensation on your back, almost like the sun. As you sat there, taking hit after hit. The warmth spread across your body, becoming almost unbearable. You stripped naked, trying to ease some of the discomforts of the heat. As the warmth further spread, it brought with it a fuzziness and color. Almost as if someone had rubbed paint all over your body, the color snaked way across your torso, snaking around your side onto your chest and up and down your body.

As the warmth continued stroking your arms and legs, you felt them stretch. Bright, blond hairs began poking their way out of your follicles and curling on your body. The warmth stretched your torso, distorting the colors until they began to resemble intricate patterns, images, and letters.

The warmth stretched you further. You were 6'4" now, nearly a foot taller than before you had lit the blunt. The warmth massaged your face as your features began to sharpen, and your hair grew out and lightened into a fierce blond. On the opposite end of your body, the warmth pulled at your toes and feet, stretching them in your socks several sizes larger. You wiggled your toes as that blond curly hair grew all over the tops of your toes and feet. They were now Size 12s, wide and long enough to support your new height.

The warmth dissipated around the rest of your body, concentrating on your dick. As it stroked you, you moaned in pleasure, not noticing your large Adam's apple bobbing in your neck and the deep voice coming from your mouth. Your dick began to grow further and further away from your body, escaping the ever-thickening jungle of blond, curly hairs surrounding it. As you neared climax, you felt everything in your head being churned into your balls. You screamed in ecstasy as you shot out all of your memories of being a skinny, good-for-nothing dweeb.

Gasping for air, you grabbed the towel next to you and wiped the cum from your strong, inked chest. Throwing on a dirty tank top and some old white pants, you snapped a pic to upload to Instagram.

You uploaded, and the thirst comments were already rolling in. Smiling to yourself, satisfied, you put your phone away. Opening the door, you found yourself in the backstage area. Being ushered by people wearing black, you were handed a microphone. Someone lifted a jacket over your arms. You could hear the roar of the crowd: you are a rockstar. Waiting for the cue, the cheers became deafening. At the nod of the stage manager, you ran out onto the stage, at which point the crowd went insane.

As the band started playing, and the fans started jumping with the beat, you screamed into the mic:

"I Am Weed"

On The Campaign Trail

Growing up in Georgia, you had felt as though your voice was unheard. Politically, all you had ever known was Republican. Your parents had always voted red, and that was the way that you were always taught to vote as well. In 2020, when the pandemic hit, and you were sent home from college, you had to return to your conservative household, far from the more accepting and understanding friends you had made at school.

Your parents didn't know that you were gay, and they never will. If you told them, you'd be disowned. You had explored a bit during the fall semester and had come to accept yourself, but you knew that your family would never understand, so you kept it quiet. You were just another conservative teen, sent to college and "indoctrinated."

One night, at family dinner, while saying grace, your mother blurted out "And thank you lord for Donald Trump. We know under his eye, those pesky queers won't know what hit 'em." You were stunned. Obviously, they didn't know you were gay, but somehow it still felt targeted. You stood up and pushed your chair back so aggressively it shook the silverware and dishes on the table. You turned to storm toward your room. "You come back here, boy" your father yelled behind you but you were already gone. Slamming your door behind you, you launched face-first into your bed.

I wish I could make a difference in Georgia.

Almost as if on cue, you felt an intense tingling coming from your feet. Lifting yourself off of your face and turning yourself toward your feet, you shuddered with a strange pleasure. Kicking off your well-worn sneakers, you felt your feet stretching within your socks. Peeling them off, you noticed black tufts of hair on the tops of your toes. Your toes stretched further along the floor, as the dark hair trickled up your legs, which lengthened and toned. Soon your legs were covered with a dark forest of black hair. Your thighs stretched next, also becoming entranced with this new hair, but disappearing under your gym shorts. The muscle in your thighs stretched outward and around to your ass, lifting you on your mattress. You felt the jungle of hair spread around your buttocks and into your genital area. The hair trickled up your midriff and swirled around your nipples, which pushed out into lean pecs. The hair snaked its way into your armpits, which became a dense forest of sweaty dark hair, peeking out from the arms of your t-shirt. Your arms were next, lengthening and becoming covered in this same hair. Only as the hair reached the tops of your hands, which began to stretch and thicken, becoming manly paws, did you realize you had become entranced with your transformation. Realizing what was happening, you began to panic until you felt your gym shorts heat up. Pleasure began to emanate from your crotch as the fabric began to thicken. Your cock stretched and thickened, rubbing against the jean fabric that your shorts were becoming. The jeans stretched down, massaging your new sinewy legs, tapering off just above your large feet, which now donned dark leather dress shoes. The heat in your crotch continued. As you moaned in pleasure, your Adam's apple swelled in your throat, deepening your voice into a sultry, yet commanding tone. Your t-shirt began to shift as well, with a red, white, and blue pattern emerging, and the sleeves stretching down your new long arms. Buttons began to push their way out of your shirt, and a collar emerged from the top, rubbing the dark stubble emerging from your neck and jawline. Finally, the pleasure in your crotch reached an apex as you orgasmed into your new jeans.

You took a moment to recompose yourself. You had never experienced such pleasure. The only thing better would be the feeling when you are finally elected to the U.S. Senate. Looking in the mirror, you styled your hair, gave an approving smile to yourself, and stepped through the house and out onto the street. Where your supporters were waiting on the street for your rally. As you saw all of their signs bearing your name, you knew that you were part of something bigger than just you. Jon Ossoff, you are about to make a difference in Georgia.

Where is Mark?

Every day after work, when you arrived home, you set aside a half hour to simply walk off the stress of the day. Sitting in a cubicle answering phones all day meant you needed to stretch and use your legs. Luckily, you lived in a lovely condominium with a beachfront on one side and a small green space on the other. As you placed your small satchel with your computer and files onto your couch, you grabbed your phone and stepped out. As you descended the stairs you received a phone call. Assuming it was one of your coworkers calling you (again) about not turning off your monitor "properly" or something menial like that, you whipped out your phone to silence it, only to see that it came from an unknown caller. Spam, no doubt. You declined the call and continued through the lobby and out into the exterior.

You turned right onto the sidewalk that snaked around a mound of grass, lined with palm trees. Beginning your stride, you allowed your steps to fall in rhythm with the imaginary music playing in your head. You had made it no more than fifty feet when your imaginary music was interrupted by the non-imaginary sound of your ringtone. You pulled it out once again, only to see it was another unknown caller.

Furious that they had interrupted your rhythm, you decided to pick up this time and give them a piece of your mind. You aggressively raised the phone to your ear, but before you could say a word, you heard a man with a deep voice ask for "Mark." They had to have dialed the wrong number. "This is not Mark, you have the wrong number" you forced through your gritted teeth. There was a brief moment of silence. You thought maybe the man had hung up, but before you could lower your phone to check, the man said "No. This is Mark."

A sharp pain erupted in your chest, and you began to stumble, losing your footing on the sidewalk and staggering into the grass. Everything seemed so... foggy. Your grip on your phone was loosening, and you collapsed in a heap onto your back, your phone landing next to you. You could hear the small voice in the phone asking "Mark. Are you okay?" Everything was so strange. It felt like the world was in slow motion. The pain in your chest had subsided into a dull ache, but your body would no longer respond.

As you lay there immobilized on the ground, you felt your breath tightening. You thought to yourself that you were having a heart attack until you heard the top button on your dress shirt pop off, and the tightness briefly subsided. As you inhaled once again, the tightness returned only to diminish when the next button popped off. Your chest was expanding rapidly with beefy pectoral muscles, stretching out your shirt. With each breath, your chest grew, further and further out until you had a shelf. Your stomach tightened and cramped as hard abs pushed their way out of your formerly flat stomach. Still immobile and unable to see, you felt as your shoulders stretched out and your biceps and triceps grew round and thick. You heard a sharp rip as your shirt opened up underneath you You felt your forearms thickening. Your hands, which were sprawled out on the grass, pushed outward finger by finger, ripping the grass beneath it, and leaving you with meaty man hands.

What the fuck was happening. You could see anything, but at this point, you were unsure if you wanted to see.

Your thighs were next. Your former twigs were widening and forcing themselves into each other, rubbing your unimpressive cock in the process and stretching the confines of your dress pants. You felt as your lower body lifted off the ground, as your ass expanded into two perfect globes of muscle, ripping your pants apart entirely. As your thighs continued to stimulate you, your calves ached as they grew and stretched longer. Your feet thickened and lengthened, with thick hair growing on your toes. Your feet pushed out of your shoes and socks, leaving you barefoot. A sharp stench emanating from your newly exposed feet wafted back toward your face in the ocean breeze. Lastly, your cock began to grow, further pushing it against your massive thighs which grew even further and sending waves of pleasure throughout your unmoving body. Slowly, your cock stretched and thickened, rubbing sensually against your body. Your hips began to buckle. You could move, but all you could do was moan in pleasure as your growing cock masturbated itself. Finally, release. You yelled as you finished, ejaculating for what seemed like minutes.

As you struggled to catch your breath, you heard the phone again. "Mark, are you there?" You picked up the phone and slowly rose in your new hulkish body. "Yeah, I'm here now"

Call Me By My Name: Timothée

You were sick and tired of always being pushed around. Your last relationship ended because they told you would never amount to anything. They had moved out of your apartment leaving you alone for the first time in many years. As much as you tried not to stew in your own sadness, you couldn't help but find yourself isolating in your empty home, trying to distract yourself with the reliable social media rabbit hole. You sat on your bed, scrolling through Facebook, until you saw an interesting ad.

"Become A Star"

The words in bold font permeated your mind. You had just ended a three year relationship. Your minimum-wage job in the office had good benefits, but it didn't seem like a permanent position. The idea of being a celebrity always did appeal to you: never having to try. You could sit around and maybe sing a song, film a movie, or take a picture every now and again. Seemed easy enough. You wished you had that easy life. No worries about money. People throwing themselves at you. You wanted that. Badly.

You clicked on the strange ad and your browser exited Facebook and opened a new tab. Suddenly, all your other windows and tabs were shut, leaving only the new tab. "Hey!" You yelled as you had some work documents unsaved. You tried to click away from the tab, which was still loading, only to find that your mouse would not move. Heading to the power button on your laptop, you reached to press it until the page loaded with just a text bar.

Annoyed that you had lost progress on your work, but still intrigued by this strange website you looked at this text bar. There was no context surrounding it. It was a black page with a white text bar. You remembered the ad: "Become A Star"

You took a deep breath and typed in the star that you most wanted to become.

Timothée Chalamet

Hesitating for a moment, you pressed enter. Nothing happened. Your computer shut off. Now you were angrier that the tab had closed, rather than the fact that it had opened in the first place. Slowly, you allowed yourself to rise from your bed, but as you stoop up, you became extremely light-headed. Stumbling about, you tried to place yourself back onto your bed, but missed and landed directly onto the floor, smashing your tailbone in the process. As you winced from the pain, a new feeling began to arise: pleasure.

You felt an orgasmic writhing from your toes. They began to stretch and elongate, each crack and pop sending waves off pleasure through your body. Curly black hairs began to carve their way across the top of your foot and onto the tops of your toes, as the pleasure became overwhelming. You laid down on the floor, your erection throbbing in your pants. As you continued to squirm from the pleasure, you lifted your head between gasps, to see that your new feet were donning grey Nikes. and some tube socks. You squished your new feet in the shoes, the socks were sweaty, feeling damp and moist. But you liked the feeling.

Your legs began to sprout, thin, yet dark curly hairs. Your calves toned, while your thighs thinned, leaving both halves with similar masses. The hairs began to weave their way up, encircling your crotch. Your shorts began to lighten and grew longer, becoming a pair of pink pants, almost reaching your smelly socks and shoes.

Your arms, too, lengthened, with your fingers becoming thin and almost dainty. Your biceps flexed with a new, strange power, as you felt the hair work its way into your armpits. Slowly, but surely, your armpits became a forest of curly, wet, dark hair. Your chest narrowed, and your stomach flattened, leaving your torso a sort of plank-like shape.

The pleasure grew as you felt your jaw clench. Your chin narrowed and your jawline grew defined. Thin, wispy hairs sprouted above your lip as your nose thinned. Your eyebrows darkened and thickened, weighing on your eyes, which were forced to close, only to reopen an intense green color. A tickling feeling began at the back of your neck as your hair began to darken and grow out into intense curls, framing your new face. You reached for a shirt, hoping that whatever was happening was over.

Just as you pulled a grey t-shirt over your thinned body, the orgasmic waves grew stronger and began to originate from your erection. You keeled over from the pleasure. You looked down at your pinked pants and saw your bulge growing and growing with each pulse. Each wave felt like it was pushing your penis further and further away from your body. Underneath, your pubic hair began to sprout thicker and thicker, weaving its way back into your crack. After what seemed like an eternity, one final wave pushed you over the edge, and you came into your pants, leaving a dark, sticky, wet mark. The pleasure was intense. You had never experienced anything like this before.

Still reeling, and still light-headed, now from the pleasure, you sat up.

The website had worked. You were now Timothée Chalamet. Now you were a celebrity. Now you didn't have to try for anything. The world would be handed to you because you were talented, attractive, and charming as hell. Overjoyed, you went to take a shower in your new body. As you undressed, you enjoyed the feeling of your thin body against the fabric. You slowly pulled your sticky pants down, with new waves of pleasure erupting as you felt it rub against your perky ass. You needed a moment to breathe; as amazing as that orgasm was, you need to focus now. Slowly, you resumed pulling off your now sweat-filled shirt. Fully nude, you walked towards the shower, ready to clean off.

As you showered, you ran your hands through your curled hair. You traced your jawline; felt the sharpness. You began to lather up with soap, and as you rubbed your butt, you began to feel a little curious. Slowly, you reached towards the hole, but as you crept closer, the pleasure began to hit you, and your new, bigger penis began to engorge itself once again. "God, he's always horny. I need to be careful of this." You thought to yourself. But that was a later issue. The shower was private time. You continued to play around with your new hole with one hand as the other fondled your penis. God, it felt amazing. This is the life of a celebrity; nothing but pleasure. Your strokes began to speed up as you felt yourself nearing another orgasm. As you finished, you couldn't believe that this was your new life.

Stepping out of the shower, you threw on the first things you could find in your closet that would fit. Ready, and impatient to start your new life, you stepped outside of your home. After walking on the street for only a few minutes, you heard the first scream from behind you: "Oh my god! It's Timothée Chalamet!" As you turned around to look at your fan, you began to crack a smile, knowing that this was going to be such a good life.