The Night Before Christmas

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!

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.

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.

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."

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."

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.