The Main Event

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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"