Getting Comfortable

Getting Comfortable

“Wait! Lemme get a little more comfortable before we hit the road,” Rhett chirped giddily in a high southern accent as he snatched the jeans and t-shirt out of his bag in the backseat. His small, pale, twig-like body flung out of the car in a hurry.

“For fuck sake Rhett, it’s an hour and a half to Nashville, how ‘comfortable’ you need to get?! We’re gonna be late to the show!” Tanner snapped angrily from the driver’s seat in a deep Tennessean accent. He’s been a fan of this particular band for as long as he could remember and wasn’t going to let Rhett fuck it up. He had always been the more alpha of the two of them: more body and facial hair (hell, any body and facial hair), deeper voice, loads of friends and admirers, thicker build. But that didn’t mean Tanner was some good ol’ boy hard ass. His politics emphasized justice, he tried his best to be an ally, and he even fancied himself sexually liberated, not really ascribing to any labels. They’d known each other since they were roughly the same size, but their bond didn’t have trouble lasting through their drastically different physical developments. Tanner and Rhett were inseparable. They’d been friends for years and years, and let’s face it, Rhett always needed someone caring enough but stern enough as Tanner to look after him.

“Just a sec, won’t take long!”

Tanner threw his hands up and leaned back against the headrest, rolling his eyes at Rhett’s delay. He reclined in the seat and rubbed his eyes, not excited to travel an hour and a half, but looking forward to the destination. He just hoped Rhett would hurry up inside.

Tanner lowered his hands and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Rhett was standing just outside the car door and he had already removed his shirt. He was lowering his shorts quickly, exposing his pale, flat ass and his limp, weak dick.

“RHETT, the fuck?!!” Tanner yelled from the driver’s seat. He brought his voice down, but to a sharp, stinging hiss, “Fuck, man, you tryna get busted for indecent exposure?! Jesus H. Christ, man…”

“Chill chill chill chill chill…” Rhett responded in a carefree, sing-song voice, busying himself with his dressing/undressing and dismissing Tanner’s scolding.

Tanner threw his hands up again and brought him down forcefully on the steering wheel.

“Almost done,” Rhett reassured as he lowered the blue jeans down and stepped into them without any underwear. He wiggled each foot through the sleeves of the fabric and pulled them up. They wore pretty damn high on his waist and seemed several sizes too big for him. “And now…” he buttoned the pants at the waist, but still had to hold up the pants to keep them from falling.

Tanner didn’t want to mentioned how clownish he looked in the jeans as risk of hurting his friend’s feelings, “Good, then put the damn shirt on and get your ass in the—“

“Hhhuurrrrrnnnnnnggggghhh…”

As Rhett grunted, Tanner could see him rise up, gaining several inches in height in seconds, seemingly out of thin air. Tanner’s jaw dropped.

Rhett cocked his head down to see into the car, “Just give me one more minute, bud, I gotta-UUhhhrrrrrnnnnnggghh…”

As Rhett grunted again, Tanner watched as he inexplicably gained more height, several more inches than the last time, shit maybe even a full foot. It was hard for any 23 year old to be 5’4”, which was one of Rhett’s many crosses to bear, but Tanner guessed he could easily be around 6’7” or 6’8”. Fuck, his friend grew well over a foot, in seconds.

Tanner swallowed hard, “Rhett… Man, what’s—“

Tanner couldn’t see Rhett’s head anymore. The jeans at least looked to be the right length on his body, but Tanner saw Rhett hold his still-too-large pants up with his hands gripping the waist of the jeans, “Now, just hold your horses, Tanner, damn, just a couple more—Oh, HHRRRRNNG, Uuuuuuuhhhhh…”

Tanner felt himself chub up as Rhett’s body suddenly started to swell all over as he made his vocalizations. His body filled up well, muscles pressing up against flat, almost emmaciated skin, which deepened to a slightly darker color, as if he was gaining more health, just slightly sun kissed. Tanner could start to see, just barely, the jeans making contact with the shape of his legs for the first time. From Tanner’s vantage, it looked as though Rhett did a modest amount of gym work, maybe 1 or 2 times per week, which Tanner knew for a fact Rhett never did.

“Ah, almost there, like a said, just a couple… more…. HHHhhhhhuuuuuUUURRRNNNGGHH!…”

Tanner was at full mast as Rhett swelled up even more, his modestly muscled body gaining mass at an unbelievable rate, his vocalizations seemingly encouraging his growth. Rhett could let go of the waist of his pants, as his legs slowly filled out the jeans some more, stopping their growth when the jeans were about one size too big. The pants were caught from falling on his ample ass, which had swelled up to an impressive rounded shelf that slightly jutted out from behind him, and exposed the root of his cock and the light blonde whisps of his pubic hair. This time, Tanner could hear bones crack dully from the outside of his car, as Rhett’s body broadened to accommodate his growth. His abdominals and pecs pulsed larger and his waist tapered down to a V, which Tanner always found so sexy on dudes. His skin rid itself of any and all imperfections and deepened even darker in color. Fuck, Rhett developed a proper swimmer’s body in a matter of seconds! How in the hell was this happ—

“One more,” Rhett panted with effort. “One more second, I.. Oh…. I just—aww fuck—I just… gotta… UUUUUUUURRRRRRRNNNGGGGGGGHHHH!!!”

Tanner started absentmindedly, slowly stroking his dick over his shorts as Rhett’s body entered its final stage of growth. Tanner heard the fastest and most pronounced series of bones cracking and shifting as Rhett expanded even more. His skin deepened to a golden, spotless tan. His legs swelled larger and larger, looking like he could effortlessly crush a watermelon between his thighs. It looked like the jeans were painted on his body, hugging every curve. Speaking of curves, his ass swelled even larger, pulling the jeans tight around his impressive glutes. The tightness didn’t help the next developement, as Tanner saw the root of his cock began to pulse and his crotch began to twitch. With each pulse, Tanner saw the root of his cock plump thicker, thicker, thicker, thicker, leaving Rhett with an imposing cock the size of a Red Bull tall boy. His bulge fattened up nicely as well, as Tanner watched Rhett’s balls make large mounds in pants that were already tight as hell. Rhett grabbed onto the waist of the jeans and pulled them up to relieve his wedding tackle of the tightness his ass created, bouncing a little to make sure all his bits were settled in. With his bouncing, Tanner saw his pecs pound hard and thicken into rock hard slabs. His arms, still gripping the waist of his pants, pulsed and bulged and hardened into a set of guns that would rival Captain America’s. Fuck, Tanner had such a weak spot for arms. Finally, his abs cut into sculpted ridges and his waist developed the most mouthwatering set of cum gutters Tanner had ever seen. Rhett was now over a foot taller, and several feet broader than he was just maybe a full minute ago. Just from what Tanner could see from his vantage, Rhett could model anywhere, he’d be scouted in a heartbeat.

“Woooo!!!” Rhett yelled out enthusiastically to the sky and the (thankfully) empty parking lot as he bucked his hips, flexed his abs, and pumped his guns.

Tanner realized he hadn’t taken a breath for several seconds and inhaled deeply, feeling like he was a hair trigger away from busting all over himself and his car.

He swallowed hard, “Uh, Rhett—“

“I know, I know, Tanner,” Rhett answered in his still-high Tennessean accent, his head still obscured by the limits of Tanner’s viability from inside his car, thanks to Rhett’s massive gain in height. He started slipping on the blue shirt, which moments ago would’ve been way too big on his body, “‘Put on the goddamn shirt and get in the car,’ ya don’t hafta repeat yourself.” He pulled the shirt down from over his head.

“No, dude, it’s—“

Tanner was interrupted by another dull series of cracks, as if bones were breaking and shifting under bags of cloth, hearing Rhett grunt slightly, and seeing Rhett’s new godly pecs and his thick neck twitch. Finally, Rhett let out a hard, wet cough, cleared his throat, and Tanner watched his upper body pivot as he spit away from the car, hearing a heavy, wet slap against the pavement.

At last, Rhett swung one foot in and lowered himself into Tanner’s passenger seat. His face was sharper, more angular, and just downright more sexy and handsome. His hair was thicker, his skin was flawless. Everything, literally all things about this new creature that lowered himself into Tanner’s car bared all resemblance to the Rhett Tanner had always know, except if you took Rhett’s fuckability meter and cranked it up to 1000 and ripped out the dial. He was a fucking hunk, in literally every sense of the word.

Rhett pulled his sleeve back as he entered, knowing it would send Tanner over the edge.

“Alright, let’s move, cowboy,” Rhett said, grinning perfect teeth at Tanner, his voice an impossibly deep bass laced with a thick southern drawl.

“Rhett—!” Tanner moaned and gripped on hard to the steering wheel, cut off by his cock exploding inside his pants, without touching it at all. He moaned louder than he ever had in an orgasm, and veins popped in his arms while gripping the steering wheel as he bucked his hips, his cock still erupting thick volleys of cum.

Rhett, still grinning and chuckling while Tanner voided his balls. He was loving the impact he was having on his friend that he had always seen as a hell of a stud, and decided to give Tanner’s ‘no-hands’ ejaculation the parting shot it deserved. He took his strong hand, turned Tanner’s head towards him, and covered his mouth with his lucious, pillowy lips, shoving his new wider, thicker, longer tongue down Tanner’s throat. Tanner moaned into Rhett’s mouth as one last powerful shot burst out of his cock head.

Tanner was still gripping the steering wheel, heaving panting breaths, “Rhett, buddy, what the hell happened to you?”

“What, ya don’ like it?” Rhett asked with a feigned insultedness. He grinned and flexed his arm a bit more for Tanner’s pleasure.

“Nahnahnahnah, s’not like that at all, but like…. FUCK, man, you got a fuckin’ god bod! You’re a goddamn stud, man! How?!”

“Appreciate it, brother,” Rhett responded in his new, deep, drawling bass with a small blush and settled into his seat. He leaned his head against the seat and rolled his head to look back at Tanner with his hyponitizing green eyes, “You know that woodsy, spiritual shit you’re always giving me guff over?”

Tanner thought for a second, then cocked his head and narrowed his eyes in disbelief at Rhett. Rhett beared his pearly teeth and then spread his arms out, as if presenting his new body.

“No. Fuckin’. Shit.”

“‘Fraid so, my guy,” Rhett responded proudly. “Tried out this ritual last night. Didn’t have a lotta confidence in it, but figured what the hell. Hadta soak these britches and the shirt in this oily solution and let it dry, but once it did,” he displayed his body again as Tanner forced out a few disbelieving chuckles. “Took a helluva lotta self-control to not lose myself in hours and hours of self pleasure…”

“Shit, man, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. Why didn’t you?” Tanner asked admirably with a small laugh, picturing the image of Rhett writhing around on his floor all night, busting nut after nut, worshiping himself. Fuck.

Rhett lowered his head and went somber for a second, “‘Cus once I bust one lookin’ like this, all this,” he punctuated his words by gesturing up and down his new bod with his hand, “is here to stay.” he smirked at Tanner.

Tanner started chubbing up again, and chuckled, “Well, shit, brother, what’s the hold up?!”

Rhett’s smirk dropped and he looked dead in Tanner’s eyes, “Well, ‘cus I wanna do it with you, man.” Rhett started unbuttoning his jeans.

Tanner’s cock flooded with blood, “… Rhett, dude, I—“ Rhett lowered his zipper, “I don’t—“ Rhett pulled out his thick, uncut trouser snake and let it flop against his torso, and son of a bitch it was even bigger than Tanner imagined, “… uh, fuck, know what—“ Rhett spat into his hand and stroked as his cock thickened even more (if that were possible) and pointed straight up, his cock head beginning to peek through his foreskin, “—what to say, I…”

“Just suck it, dude, you know you want to.”

Tanner’s breath heavied. Should he? He looked at the cock. He’d never seen a boy’s dick look so goddamn inviting. He licked his lips. This was really happening.

“Fuck it.”

Tanner threw himself over the driver/passenger divider and eagerly took Rhett’s cock into his mouth and started bobbing his head and sucking with animal intensity. He reached his hand up to Rhett’s new, sculpted tits and squeezed, greedily groping his impressive rack.

“Yeah, man, get yourself a handfula that.”

Tanner gave a blowjob that would put to shame any bj he’d received in his own life, and Tanner was no slouch. Rhett grit his teeth and groaned with ecstasy, his powerful hand running through and gripping his friend’s thick, dark hair. He grinded his hips against his best friend’s face and ran his other hand and meaty arm down Tanner’s back caressing him, reaching under his shorts to squeeze his ass and play with his hole with his new, thick fingers.

“Awww, FUCK, bro, yeah keep suckin’, I gotta little surprise churnin’ in these fuckin’ sacks just for you, my man, awww fuuuckk yeah keep suckin’…”

Tanner obediently sucked, very eager to please his friend. Rhett speeded his grinding against Tanner’s face, his lower abs pressing into the side of Tanner’s head. Tanner could feel Rhett’s mushroom tip swell in the back of his throat, fuck he’s about to nut.

Tanner started to pull off Rhett’s dick, but Rhett forced his head back down, “Aww no man, you gotta take this, gotta little something special, get fuckin’ ready, I’m gonna-gonna-HHHHUUUURRRRNNNGGG!!”

Rhett groaned deeply, his head tilted back and veins protruding out of his thick neck as he unloaded a massive cum dump into Tanner’s throat and mouth. Tanner’s eyes watered as he felt hot, fresh jizz fire down his throat and fill up his mouth until his cheeks were bulging. Rhett took deep, heaving breaths, his huge chest rising and falling, wet sweat darkening his shirt around his neck and under his pits, his face glistened in the light and beads dripped from his hair. Then, like an electric jolt, he felt a cool, fizzing pulse flow through his body. Something changed. He was new. He let out a shuddering, emotional moan. This was Rhett now, he mused. Rhett with the ‘god bod.’

Rhett realized just then, in his euphoric bliss, that he was still holding Tanner’s face against his spent crotch.

“Whoops, sorry there, buddy. But I need you to listen real careful, y’understand?” Tanner furrowed his brow and grunted, Rhett still lodged deep inside his mouth/throat and his seed sloshing around his mouth. Something was off, though… Rhett’s spooge tasted strangely sweet like fruit, and fresh like pine needles, and he could feel it swirl hot and bright, like stardust. “I needja to drink all that baby batter down for me, think ya can do it?” Tanner nodded enthusiastically. “Awright, aww fuck man you ain’t gonna regret this!”

Rhett moaned as he felt the muscles in Tanner’s throat contract and release again and again as Tanner swallowed and swallowed. It took him 4 separate swallows to get all that fuckin jizz down, but the taste made it more than easy. He lifted off Rhett’s cock with a wet *sluuuurrpPOP* and Rhett shivered.

Tanner wiped his lips and chin and crashed back into his driver’s seat, “Jesus H. Christ, Rhett, you are somethin’ else,” Rhett just shrugged and flexed. “So whadya reckon happens now?”

“Well,” Rhett began as he zipped up and buttoned his pants again. “We do have a show to get to.”

Tanner paused then laughed dumbly, “Damn, that completely jumped my mind,” *guuurrgle* Tanner felt his stomach turn. “Then after that?”

“Well, man,” Rhett stared off, “I’m thinkin’ stay in Nashville.”

“Stay??” *guuuuuuurrrrrrrgle* Tanner felt and heard something turn in his stomach. What the fuck?

“Yeah, bro, stay! New me, new city, ya know?” Tanner’s stomach gave off another heavy, loud gurgle. Rhett continued, “Maybe try my hand at music. Always did love singin’.”

“Well you got the voice and the body for music now, that’s for goddamn sure!” the two laughed but Tanner felt another massive turn in his stomach, this one making him shake in his seat. Rhett stared at him greedily, biting his lip. Tanner gave out a nervous chuckle, “Say Rhett, why were you so insistent on me drinkin’ you down?”

Rhett grinned, “Well, ‘cus I want you to stay there with me, babe.”

“Wh—“ Tanner began but was stopped by another gurgling started, only this time, it didn’t stop. With his eyes wide, Tanner, already a modestly swole, tall-ish individual, began to swell steadily. It started in his neck, as it swelled and hardened, widening to a thickness similar to his thighs in his present state. “*grrrrrrgle* Shit, Rhett, what’s you do to me?” He made concerned eyes at Rhett, but Rhett just leaned back watching him, smirking and nodding at him slowly. Tanner returned with a grin, albeit a slightly nervous grin. “Awww, fuckkkkk *ggurrrrrgggg*

Tanner next felt his shoulders and back broaden, causing the threads in his flannel to snap and the seams to tear. Tanner was always keen on wearing tight clothes, but as his shoulders, arms, pecs, and abs began to slowly inflate like he was a giant balloon, a symphony of rips and tears sounded through the car as his swelling skin peeked through dozens of holes in his flannel. Rhett squeezed his own pecs and teased his nipples with his thumbs, taking in open-mouthed breaths of air, never taking an eye off his swelling new lover. As his stomach kept turning, Tanner turned a renewed confident eye to Rhett and smiled slyly. His stretching and growing hands grabbed onto the front of his flannel, and with bulging new arm muscles, he yanked sharply with a feral grunt as the flannel exploded off him in shreds, he yanked both of the sleeves off too to free his massive arms. All that was left was one of Tanner’s loose tanks he always wore under his clothing, his skin retaining the sexy dusting of hair all over him. He tossed the torn fabric over to Rhett, who brought it to his face and inhaled deeply, rubbing his crotch and moaning, still not taking an eye off Tanner, who was swelling so large he started to seem too wide for his seat. Tanner leaned back and lifted his hands behind his head to grip the headrest, his broad triceps bulging over his hairy pits. He braced himself for the next part he could feel coming.

“MMMMMmmmrrrrrfffffff….” Tanner bucked his hips and flexed his ass as he felt it round and firm up under him, lifting him a bit higher off the seat. His thighs thudded into sinewy tree trunks and he clenched his teeth at his calves lengthened and hardened, giving him about 4 more inches in height. His new massive ass and his tree trunk thighs compounded to make his gym shorts appear like way-too-tight boxer briefs. With its tightness, opaque, white jizz rose to the surface and pooled from Tanner’s ejaculation earlier. With his shorts as tight as they were, Rhett had a perfect view for the next part. “OOOOOoooooooohhhhh…” Tanner winced and moaned, closing his eyes, as Rhett saw Tanner’s cock and balls swell and fatten and bulge and rise and thicken against the taut fabric of his gym shorts. His junk now formed three massive lumps that pressed hard against the front of the shorts.

Finally, Tanner let out satisfied groans as he felt his jawbone sharpen and point. He felt the movement across his mouth as his lips involuntarily puckered, giving him a great set of fuckable lips. He again retained the sexy dusting of hair on his face as before, but he felt the hair on top of his head straighten but thicken, giving him a naturally styled, quaff.

He turned and looked at Rhett, who was slack-jawed and sweaty in the passenger’s seat staring at him, Rhett’s thick rod, hard and long, pressed against the fabric of the jeans. Tanner was proud to be the one to make this blonde model hunk bone up.

Tanner smacked his lips, “Well, fuck, Rhett, I’d say you got some pretty potent cream.”

“Hhhaaaaaaaaaa…” Rhett moaned with a deep as hell bass and a slack-jawed grin as his jeans darkened with spurting wet spots from the tip of the bulge his cock made.

“Shit, man, you had s’more of that hulk-out juice and you ain’t gonna share? Gimme some,” Tanner goofily reached a finger across and scooped some of Rhett’s jizz that he seeped through the jeans, grazing Rhett’s still-hard cock and making him shudder, and brought it to his lips, sucking his finger.

“‘Fraid not, brother, that’s all me,” Rhett said panting, grabbing some napkins out of the glove box and wiping himself off. “Plus I think we’re both gonna be cummin’ like hydrants, my guess is that our regeneration cycles have sped up like 1000%.” Rhett tugged at his crotch as though relieving his overworked balls. He paused before his next thought, “I neglected to mention that the ritual gives your last nut has these ‘special properties’ or whatever. I’d assume most guys just slurp up their own spooge, ya know, give ‘emselves a boost on toppa what they’re already gettin’… Sorry I spooked ya… wanted it to be a surprise.” Rhett scratched the back of his head and blushed.

“Woodsy, spiritual shit…” Tanner mused admiringly.

“Woodsy, spiritual shit.” Rhett confirmed with confident nods.

If that’s the case and it really worked with this kind of success, they’re gonna have to take advantage it way more. Tanner was in love with Rhett, he just realized. Nashville, huh? All he could think about was the drug scene he’d been told about there (well, that and of course the music business. Dude’s popping those little black pills and doing all sorts of things. He couldn’t see why he and Rhett would need them anyways, now that they looked like this. Nah, they would keep each other grounded, they cared for each other too much. He’s never really been one to enjoy the big city, but he was more than happy to give it a shot with his friend. His best friend. And his lover.

Tanner leaned in, “Well, consider me very pleasantly surprised,” he turned Rhett towards him and tenderly kissed him, “and very pleasantly spooked,” he kissed him tenderly again, “and very happy to join you.” Rhett’s eyes lit up and he grinned widely with excitement. “Let’s do this, babe.”

Their tongues interlocked as they exchanged one last big smooch.

“Now, let’s get this show on the road,” Tanner stated as he turned the key in the ignition, starting up the car. “Against all odds, we still got time to catch the show tonight!”

He and Rhett chuckled. Some outlaw country crooner belted deeply from the radio, ‘That’s gonna be Rhett,’ Tanner thought, knowing it to be true in his heart. He drove out of the parking lot and headed to the freeway, rolling the windows. Rhett looked over confused as the cool air passed through the cabin.

“Got to smelling like a Turkish bathhouse sauna in here, if y’know what I mean.” Tanner responded plainly.

The two erupted in laughter. Silence fell over them for a second.

Rhett broke the silence, “Y’want some road head?”

“Fuck, yes, man, thought you’d never ask!” Tanner answered immediately with childlike enthusiasm.

The two started tried to work Tanner’s shorts off of him, but they only budged slightly due to the tightness.

“Ah, fuck it.” Tanner said as he gripped one side of the shorts and tugged sharply, causing it to split wide open, his new, massive cock springing and slapping his lower torso. Rhett grabbed it and brought it into his mouth, immediately going to work with his skillful, large tongue.

Tanner writhed and grunted in pleasure. Shame about the shorts, but he had to buy all new clothes anyways.

Some clothes, a new job (mechanic? He’d always loved fixing cars and getting dirty), a new apartment, develop a new routine, and buy new supplements to maintain their physiques for his new life with his new lover.

I was just looking at new headphones. Could I get the yellow headphones? I need a new pair for the gym.

Hi. I’m sorry you waited so long for your gift, but I had a lot of unfinished business. Well. You want new headphones? There’s a pair of yellow headphones in the bag, but I have absolutely no idea what owning them will do. Will you take them to the gym? Whatever you say. I’ll follow you and see if you don’t mind. 

You’ve already changed into sports clothes and put on your new headphones. They played your favorite music, but suddenly you felt a slight dizziness and goosebumps coming from your head to the coccyx. You continue to do approaches, pulling iron, but at some point you realize that it became more difficult for you to carry out your approaches. You’re almost at the end of your strength and barely finish your 30 push-UPS…

You don’t understand what’s going on, but I can see what’s going on with you. All your muscles that you worked so hard at this gym are starting to melt. You become slim and thin with a small amount of muscle, which is only enough to pull up on the bar 10 times and boast to the beach with your skinny abs. Your sports Jersey turns into a black long sleeve t-shirt and your shorts into jeans. Your hair is getting lighter and longer. I think you should watch a couple of online lessons on long hair care now. Your face rearranges and becomes more refined and beautiful, as if you were created for the stage. For the stage? what were you just thinking? 

Oh yeah.. as it turned out, these headphones long time ago lost one of the members of the University drama club. His skills are yours and his roles, of course. While you cope with the influx of all the scenarios and roles, holding your head, let me capture you for my readers. Good luck ;)

Cross Contamination

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I’m fucking furious. To most people Jack Wilson is a hockey hotshot, but to me he is just my wife’s ex that can’t let go. She said they had another encounter, but wouldn’t go into details, saying it wasn’t just his fault. She couldn’t help herself, she said. Knowing how much she loathes him I suspect she was afraid of him turning violent. He is a star athlete after all, known to have punched more than a few players on the ice.

I know he’s training at the stadium right now. That’s how bad it has gotten, that I even know his schedule. I’m probably speeding getting there, but nothing else is important right now. I park the car in the huge, but almost empty parking. Neverending slabs of concrete to allow for the cars of thousands of cheering fans during game day. Well, I’m certainly not a fan. Still fuming as I exit the car and heading towards the arena I see him and a few others from his team running towards the same building from across the car park. They must be out for cardio or something. I stop and shout towards them “Hey! Jack!”

I can see them slow down a little, Jack saying something to them, and then breaking apart jogging in my direction while they continue at speed towards the stadium building. I remain still, just glaring at him as he closes in on me. He slows down quite a bit away and saunters towards me, still panting. He has an aura of smug superiority. He’s good looking, despite his matted, sweaty hair and week-old beard. It’s not just because he’s in top shape, but he has that classic athlete chin cut, and mesmerizing eyes to go with it too. He’s quite a bit shorter than me, and way denser and muscled, but I would bet my weekly martial arts practice can match him if needed. “Hey, cocksucker! You managed to find your way here,” he yells back at me.

“I want you to know…” “Shut up”

I don’t know why, but I can’t look away from his intense eyes. It’s like they can see into me, see every part of me. I’m frozen in place just watching him getting closer. “I said hey cocksucker. What are you waiting for? Go ahead and suck my cock.” He says this as calmly as he can, never breaking eye contact. I don’t think he blinks. I don’t think I blink. I slowly go down on my knees,  grabbing the hem of his sweatpants, and pull down. I still keep eye contact, so I have to feel my way for the waistband of his underwear to pull it down too. I can feel the heat radiate from his steaming body. There’s a smell of sweat, not the stale, musky kind, but from someone who showers every day and uses fresh clothes for each workout. He’s professional and they got staff. I can hear his heavy breath as he is still recovering from the sprint. And I can feel a rather large cock in front of me that is erect, or at least a good way there. I grab it in my hands and guide the tip to my lips and begin to lick it. It doesn’t really taste of much. I open my mouth and get more and more of his compression shirt wrapped abs and pecs in my view as I stare into his deep eyes, and take his big cock deeper and deeper into my mouth.

The tip reaches some point at the back of my mouth and I start to gag, making horrendous gurgling noises. I move back from him. “All the way. I want to be balls deep down your throat, cocksucker.” I do as he commands, and push it in again, further. It’s somehow much easier this time and my lips are tickled by his moist bush of pubes. I then start to work it, in and out, in and out. The noise I’m making is still horrendous. A wet, sloshy sound, and I hate it. “Yeah, you like that, cocksucker. Now, faster.” I grab him by the hip and increase the pace. I get lost in the actions, like nothing matters but his cock, the noise, and his eyes.

I don’t know for how long I was in a trance, but I feel him tensing up, pulling me tight to him, and shooting a big load of his cum down my throat. Suddenly the gaze that had held me like a vice breaks and he looks at my face rather than into my eyes. The spell is broken. I’m kneeling in a parking lot with Jack Wilson’s cock down my throat, and my nose nuzzled into his pubes. His eyes suddenly widen, and his face turns into horror, like he is looking at a monster. Everything is going like in slow motion. I begin to push him away, to get his disgusting cock out of my mouth as he shoots his second load. Somehow in shock I manage to breathe in his cum. He pulls away from me as well, and his third load ends up just next to me on the concrete. “Fuck!” he says, visibly upset. “It’s still in the bloodstream. Spit it out! Spit it out!”

I’m not sure I even have any in my mouth to spit out. It just went straight into my belly and into my lungs. Lungs that are desperately trying to cough up his spunky goo in phlegm-filled, deep whoops. “Fuck!” he shouts one last time, pulls up his sweatpants, and runs towards the Stadium building with one hand holding the pants up. I’m just folded over on my knees coughing and coughing while my mind is racing to make sense of what just happened. My chest is burning and I feel nauseated. There is the salty, bitter taste of cum in my mouth and a stench of athlete sweat as I gasp for air in between the coughs. I keep coughing, but less and less of substance is coming up. I spit out specks of Jack’s spunk on the concrete in front of me, and realize what she had meant when she said she couldn’t help herself. Did he fuck her? After what just happened I wouldn’t put anything past Jack, and there is literally nothing I wouldn’t forgive her for having done. She would have been helpless to stop.

I can feel my whole body burning as I get up from the concrete. I’m very aware how my clothes rubs against my body, like my senses have just gone into overdrive. Everything, every single muscle in my body feels sore. My head is spinning. Still coughing I stagger towards my car and get in behind the wheels. As I close the door the world goes silent. I can only hear my own exhausted panting. I’m confused about what is happening and feel sick as shit, but at least the world isn’t spinning anymore. Somehow I must have been poisoned. What did he mean with “in the bloodstream?”

I start the car and carefully drive from the parking lot and out in the direction of home. Perhaps I shouldn’t be driving at all. Crashing while driving is worse than crashing while sitting in a parking lot, but I really don’t want to have to call anyone for help. Not after what I’ve just been through. I so sympathize with the movie cliché of a girl sobbing in the shower. I only want to cleanse myself in any way possible. To get rid of Jack from me. Even now I can feel the smell of athletic sweat, like it was clinging on to me.

There is a big pop accompanied by one of the chest buttons on my shirt shooting off in the car. The pop isn’t so much heard as felt, as a reverberation in my body like someone just punched me in the chest, with dull spikes of pain in the joints. I swerve dangerously close to the side of the road. It feels like my shoulders pops into their sockets, like my chest just suddenly expands and the rest of my body catches up. There is no mirror I can look in, but I can clearly see something is off just by looking down at my body. What little movement I can make while driving the car feels different.

There is another big shift. Knees and hip joints this time, I think. I’m a little more prepared to handle that one without swerving, but this time I’m instead missing the brake pedal like the seat is set wrong. I scoot forward on the seat and reach the pedal. Now I’m getting real nervous what is happening. I’m almost home though, but I can feel my thigh muscles involuntarily flexing, my feet are hurting, and my stomach is gurgling like bad plumbing.

Her car is not home yet, thank God. I park mine as calmly as I can, screaming inside that I need to get inside and see what the fuck is going on. As I step out of the car I get a first inkling about the enormity of the changes. I almost trip stepping out of the car, and sit down again on the edge of the seat. The fabric on the trousers are straining, and I realize that my feet are probably hurting because they have swollen up inside the shoes. I try to kick off one of the sneakers, but it’s stuck enough that I have to untie them. My movements feel off. It’s not that it is hard to move. The opposite in fact, but different somehow. Me feet thanks me in relief as they are freed,

With the shoes off I awkwardly make my way into the house and step into the nearest bathroom. It’s me in the mirror, of course, but me 5-10 years younger. I’m touching my face in disbelief. But this isn’t just me regressed a decade in time. I was way taller than this then. Curious I unbutton the remaining buttons on my shirt and throw it on the floor. The chest and abs are not me 5-10 years ago. I’ve never looked this buff before. For one I’ve never had washboard abs, and the pecs and shoulders are wide and meaty. The arms more slender, though still muscular, and the core is built more for function than aesthetics. A bit too dense for the show off V shape. Dense, with a low center of gravity.

It’s the body of a hockey player.

I rip off the straining trousers and the socks. Sure enough, massive leg muscles, big thighs, big ass, big feet. Jack the fucking cheater is a fraud in all areas. Whatever the fuck he is taking must have concentrated in his balls, shot into my lungs, and from there gone straight into my bloodstream to do whatever the fuck it’s done to me. And there is nothing I can do to hurt him with it. Who would believe me? This is so far from any science I’ve heard of.

I take a closer look in the mirror again. Perhaps it isn’t all bad after all.

Are You Sure?

The best part about my boy is the part of him that peeks out, whatever I change him into. He’s always just so eager to play, to learn the rules of whatever role I’ve just shifted him into.

It’s almost a challenge for me at this point, to see if there’s some kind of guy that I can turn him into, where I would actually have a hard time finding him within.

I was astonished how much he just went with it when I first changed him.

“How would you describe yourself, Matt?” I asked him, lying in bed as he poked through out closet, picking out a shirt.

“Um…” he said, not really turning. “To who?”

“What kind of vibe do you give off, if someone were to see you on the street,” I said, staring at his back.

He gave a light laugh and slight shrug.

“I dunno, probably your average Brooklyn hipster, early 30’s, tall, skinny, boy next door in flannel,” he said.

“Are you sure?” I said, and he stopped. “Are you sure they wouldn’t see you as some scruffy jock on his way to the gym?”

And suddenly, he stood all the way up, his arms swelling, his floofy hair shrinking down into a buzzcut. A short beard crept along his face as his chest broadened, stretching out a Nike tee across his meaty pecs. He shrank down a few inches, his loss of height offset by his sudden broadness.

He turned to me. I froze, waiting to see his reaction.

And then, without missing a beat, he popped his arms behind his head and flashed me a grin.

“I can’t help it if people stare at my guns,” he said in his now lower voice, flexing his biceps, and taking a step toward me. He looked down at himself, and then back at me.

“Like what you see, babe?” he said.

I did.

He took a step closer.

“Want a whiff of these pits before I hit the gym then?”

I did.

I kept him as a jockboy for a week. And then, one morning, as he was pulling out a pair of gym shorts, I asked him, “How would you describe yourself?”

He gave a low, gruff chuckle.

“Probably some dumb, scruffy jock,” he said.

“Are you sure?” I asked, and he froze. “Are you sure people wouldn’t see you as some just turned 19, smooth faced skater boy?”

He looked at me the whole time he shrank, as his frame got leaner and leaner. Years melted off him as his beard and body hair disappeared, and a golden glow ran over his face and skinnier body. His lips got puffier, his eyes softer. I caught a glimpse of his slightly longer, spiky hair as a blue skater cap appeared on his head. The former gym rat, now 5'7’’, maybe 130 pound skater seemed less cocky, more boyish.

“I mean, the skateboard kinda gives it away,” he laughed, light and bubbly, still not breaking eye contact.

I stood up. He came up to my chest now. I wrapped my arms around his now lithe frame and kissed him. He melted into my embrace, leaning into my grip.

Our kiss finally broke and I looked down at him. And there he was, eyes alight. My same boy.

And so it went, for weeks. We would never talk about the change. I never asked him if he liked being one man over another. He had the same eager grin, no matter the man, no matter the role. An older dom daddy: my boy. A twinky porn star go-go dancer: my boy. A chubby chain smoking bear: my boy. A clean cut sailor on leave: my boy.

It’s Friday night. He’s about to cook us dinner when I call out,

“How do you think people see you?”

“I’m sure the glasses and patched elbows on my blazer give away that I’m some kind of academic,” he says, gently.

“Are you sure?” I grin. “Are you sure you’re not a kinky, gear addict slut?”

He adjusts the harness as it wraps around his chest and stares at me, on the bed.

“Dinner can wait, boy,” he growls.

And as he steps toward me, massive dildo in hand, I see it flash in his face.

My boy. I’m sure of it.