For @teku73neku69. Im Still Typing On My Broken IPhone, So Excuse The Potential Typos That Will Pop Up.

For @teku73neku69. I’m still typing on my broken iPhone, so excuse the potential typos that will pop up.

Harry had been working out for the past two hours, desperately trying to lose his stubborn paunch. The past few years of 9 to 5 cubicle life had taken a toll on his self esteem, so thanks to a wayward Pinterest post, he bought a membership at the local neighborhood gym. After his first day of a rather pathetic attempt at the rowing machine and treadmill, he thought a nice relaxing stint in the sauna would help relax his aching legs.

Opening the thick cedar wood door to the sauna, the humid air burst forth through the opening. He walked over the creaking wooden floor, and plopped down onto the dry, warm bench. The oppressive heat combined with the subtle pain in his neck encouraged him to relax and melt into a slouch, ignoring the other patron lounging in the corner.

Like a panther stalking it’s prey, the man sitting hunched over in the corner stared at Harry. He silently analyzed him, all the while smirking with restrained excitement.

“First time?” Harry jumped, startled by the unseen man sharing the sweltering sauna. He gingerly nodded, praying to God he could escape any socialization with this… gorgeous man. The man was glistening with crystalline beads of sweat across his sumkissed skin. Every crevice between his hard muscles was brilliantly outlined with the glow of steamy sweat and light forests of hair. His rugged beard surrounded his cocky smirk, bringing direct attention to his supple lips and sweet saccharine eyes. Harry was caught off guard, tripping over whatever words he could muster.

The jock knew of his magnetic presence all too well. Many a man have been caught in his irresistible web. He’d done this schtick thousands of times over his lifetime, it’d never failed him thus. Cockiness was a given.

“Never seen ya before. The name’s Matty.” Harry shifted uncomfortably as Matty jumped down from the bench above him, plopping down right next to him. He stretched his arms out and spread his legs with a big sigh. “Nothing like a good sauna after a long ass lift session.” What appeared to Harry as dimwitted jockspeak and typical broish behavior hid a more calculated agenda, as the exposure of Matty’s pits began a process that couldn’t be reversed.

It started as a little twitch in his nostril. A tickle almost. Within moments he knew exactly what it was: the sour, salty scent of pitsweat. Harry looked slightly to his right, straight into Matty’s sticky pits. The way the dim light hit the beadlets of sweat on his curly pithairs seemed to transfix his gaze. Perspiration dripped in streams like rivers down his sides. Matty babbled ob, knowing full well whatever words he said were droned out by his mesmerizing musk.

Harry kept inching toward Matty, becoming increasingly more desperate for a closer whiff. Just a little bit of his sweat on his tongue and he’d be satisfied… These foreign, uncharacteristic thoughts both frightened and aroused Harry, and as they grew within him they became stronger and more pervasive.

Having lost track of time, Matty hadn’t realized that his rank pheromones had worked all too well, even quicker than usual. Harry had been intently staring at Matty’s body, losing any semblance of self-control. Sporting his trademark cocky grin, he grabbed the back of Harry’s head and buried it into his pits.

“Yeah, I knew you liked it. You love that sweaty stink. You love these rock hard muscles.” Harry felt the sticky sweat transfer from Matty to his face, his scent marking his territory. The pungent sour smell was intoxicating, and highly addictive. “Lap it up, man. Take it all in. I got plenty.” Harry let his tongue slip out of his mouth, and taste the salty sweat. No five star chef could serve anything as delectable. “Yeah, let my essence in. Let it mould you. Let it shape you.”

With every lap of his tongue, Matty’s musk did its work on Harry. His flabby body lost its marshmallowy padding, little by little. His mind became hazy and empty, his persona becoming completely erased from reality. His weight dropped rapidly: 250… 220… 195… with each pound lost, a brain cell followed suit. By the time Matty pulled him out, Harry was a completely blank slate. A scrawny mindless drone.

Matty rubbed his hands together, beaming with electric glee at his canvas. He swung around grabbing Harry’s head once again , and laid down onto the bench. This round, Harry met Matty’s dank, damp crotch face first. The smell here was different- buttery, sweet, maybe even a bit bitter. One thing was certain: it was just as strong as his pits. Matty eagerly pulled his shorts down, exposing his thick, long, uncut cock. Without even forcing him to do so, Harry instinctively thrust the slick, sweaty cock deep down his throat. Matty groweled in ecstasy, grabbing Harry’s hair and skull fuckibg his empty head.

“Yeah you love cock, don’t ya? Can’t deny it, I do too. I love my thick, dirty, cheesy cock just as much as you!” The sound of Matty’s pendulous balls smacking Harry’s chin as he thrust in and out echoed in the tiny humid room. Each slurp, Harry had a face full of Matty’s bush stink, unparalleled in its veracity. From within him bellowed a rumbling- a sloshing, bubbling, slimy sound which emanated from his balls. “Aww fuck man, you wanna be like me don’t ya bro? You wanna be a fuckibg king! You wanna fuck like a king, smell like a king, look like a king.” He howled as he blew his thick, creamy load into Harry.

What started as a rather large load became much much more, as Matty shot gallon after gallon of cum inside Harry like a firehose. He grinned from ear to ear as he saw Harry begin to grow, as his muscles inflated with the strange cum. Guzzling it down, Harry began to feel again. He felt the cum flow into his feet, inflating them like water balloons to a strong size 13. It seeped into his calves, his quads and hams… feeling the liquids fill him and harden into strong, powerful muscle. Gurgling and gagging noises began to escape his mouth.

“Don’t you give up on me bro!!” Matty shouted, as he kicked off his trashed white trainers and damp socks, pulled down Harry’s shorts, and began to pump his growing cock with his rank, filthy feet. Of all of Matty’s pheromones, none were as powerful as his foot funk. The cheesy, buttery, acidic smell was his secret weapon: enough to bring even the strongest man to his knees. Matty could feel his cum begin to inflate Harry’s cock, as the rod slithered and squirmed its way to a stark ten inches with a foreskin slipping over the head. “Yeahhhhh. There we go.”

Harry’s pecks ballooned out, and abs audibly popped out from his midsection one by one. His hands grew meaty and calloused, biceps bulging and veiny, shoulders burst like mountains, and pits grew dank and emanated a familiar stench. Harry wrapped his body around Matty, suckling his cock like a calf to an utter, bow actively sucking the cum into him. By the time the cum had filled his head, he was no longer Harry. He finally released from Matty’s engorged cock, and roared as he shot the excess cum from his new cock, coating Matty in a mix of his own cum and that of his new buddy. Matty looked at his work, pleasantly surprised by the outcome.

“Oooh. An Asian invasion eh? That’s new. I think it’s a good look on you.” The new hunk smirked and chuckled.

“Hahah, fuck yeah man. Name’s Kwan.” Kwan swiped up Matty’s ratty socks and wiped off his thick cock, his sweaty abs, and even took a proud whiff. Matty watched proudly as Kwan slipped the socks and trashed trainers on. After all, sharing is caring amongst bros! The two spent the next three hours fuckibg and making out, coating the entire sauna in a thick layer of their seed. As they sauntered out, they smirked knowing that two men completely filled with cum had to share… and multiply.

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Party Material

By: davidrodge

“Copy that Dispatch, we’re just pulling up to the home.” Said Officer Raymond as he switched his cruiser off. He looked over to his partner, Jennings who was fidgeting with his vest and sighed. “Let’s go shut down another house party.” Jennings pumped his fist in the air and put on a fake grin. “Gotta love Fall Break!” 

The two officers stepped out of the patrol car and into the cold November night. They had been shutting down drunken parties since 8 PM. Now it was 1:00 AM. They had no idea why this usually quiet suburban town had decided to go crazy tonight. Officer Raymond appreciate the easy going partner Jennings was, but it was obvious that they would both rather be somewhere else. Jennings would rather be at home with his young family, and Raymond would have liked to have some weekend fun with his wife. 

Officer Jennings was a shorter man. One of the younger officers on the force. He was still rocking the new cop patchy mustache, and strode up the walkway steps with ease. Officer Raymond was a little bit on the heavier side. He had been on the force long enough to know that looks don't matter that much as a cop, and long enough to be winded by a few steps.

The house they approached was a complete mess. Empty beer cans and garbage littered the once pristine lawn as ear deafening bass blared from the inside. Jennings had mentioned he actually new the owners. Jim and Sarah Hernandez. Both worked in the city offices, and both were reserved, quiet, polite people. Why in the hell they had chosen to throw an all night ranger that broke several city ordinances was beyond officer Raymond. 

The two reached the font door and gave a few aggressive raps on the door. Jennings looked through the windows and gawked. “Unbelievable. Raymond Check out the Living room..” Raymond glanced through the window and saw the mess unfolding inside. Around 30 young men. All at different stages of intoxication were yelling, laughing, and dancing inside.

From the small angle of what he could see, Raymond counted 3 holes punched into the walls, and 2 pairs of men groping each other in the corner. Raymond narrowed his eyes and knocked… or rather banged on the door again. He was used to seeing parties where younger girls would get sloppy with whatever college football drop out they could find, but he hadn’t encountered a party where… well where he’d seen this happen.

Finally was opened by a younger man. Cameron ~ the youngest son in the Hernandez family.

“Officers!” He said, sloshing a solo cup behind his back, “I know what this looks like but I promise things are winding down.”

Officer Raymond stepped forward, putting on his sterner face. 

“Cam, we need to talk to your parents. We’ve gotten 3 noise complaints on this block and we need to shut this party down.”

Cameron, seemingly unfazed by what he had just said smiled broadly at the two of them. He raised his hands.

“For sure guys, hey! I’ll go get my parents if you too just chill here for a moment!” He strode away, glancing over his shoulder as he went. 

Jennings called after him. “Hurry back or were going to have to start towing vehicles!” Hopefully an empty threat.

Raymond turned his gaze away from a younger man kept blowing kisses at him through the window.

“Why do you think there are so many guys at this party, and why are they all,” he motioned over to two young men going at it in a corner, “like that?”

Jennings shrugged. “I couldn’t tell ya. I know that Cameron is gay, but I also know that Jim and Sarah don’t really see eye to eye with him on that. I honestly have no idea why they would ever allow something like this in the first place. I talked to jim today after morning briefing and he said they didn’t have any plans tonight. Guess that changed.” Jennings shifted his gaze back into the house as Cameron came back down the stair case smiling.

“Well? Where are your parents at young man?” Officer Raymond said crossing his arms. Cameron Smiled, bouncing down the landing and held up his smart phone. 

“Sorry I had to grab this before I bring you in. I want to make sure you two fit in at the party.” Cameron held it like a TV remote and pointed it at the pair. Officer Raymond instinctively placed his hand oh his holster.

“What the hell are youuuu….” Raymond trailed off as a fuzzy feeling came over him and his body ceased to move. Every fiber of his being came to a halt as he stood frozen in place in front of Cameron. Out of the corner of his eye Raymond saw Jennings, standing motionless with a perplexed look on his face. What was this? Raymond struggled to move… anything at all. His hands remained motionless at his sides. The slight breeze shifted the two officers clothing and hair but they remained stone like. Was this a stroke?” 

Cameron smiled and took a step onto the font porch. He took a sip from his solo cup and threw it against the wall, splattering cheap alcohol everywhere and eliciting a cheer from a few party goers inside. 

“Sorry about pausing you guys, I just had to make sure that you both were in one place while I made My adjustments.” Cameron began circling the two of them out on the porch. Almost like a shark, eyeing them up like meat. 

"I think we'll start with you Mr. Jennings." Cameron stated, planting his feat and typing away on his phone. 

~What the hell is this kid talking about?~ Raymond thought, still completely unmovable. Cam glanced upward from what he was typing for a moment. Almost like he had heard what Raymond had thought.

"It's this app." He said simply with a smile. He tossed his curly hair back and kept typing.

"I got tired of people judging me for who I am. Did some searching. Turns out there are ways to change the world around me to make it more.... inclusive!" 

Raymond realed at how damn stupid this kid sounded, but felt a twinge of fear settle in his heart because no matter how ridiculous it seemed, he was after all frozen in place.

"Alright, that should finish up your adjustments Mr Jennings! I hope you like what I have in mind. Like I said, the party's winding down so it's a good thing you showed up to liven things up!" 

Cam pressed a button on his phone and turned to Raymond.

"You can watch If you want."

Suddenly Raymond's neck whipped around, almost to an uncomfortable angle so he was facing Jennings full on. 

Jennings eyes widened as his body uniform started moving by itself on his still frozen frame. His Kevlar vest unzipped itself and began melting away into thin air - exposing Jennings average body underneath. Raymond watched in shock as Jennings once average looking chest ballooned outwards, forming an overly exaggerated pec shelf. Almost as if a wave was running down his abdomen, his fat melted off of his stomach, revealing a newly formed tanned six pack. Jennings shoulders expanded outwards, at the same times veins started pressing out of his forearms as his arms swelled with muscle. 

He grunted as the changes continued running up his neck. As Jennings undershirt evaporated off of his body, Raymond watched in horror as Jennings shocked and confused face reformed. His once strong and stoic face softened, leaving him with a more playful boyish look. His Dark crew cut turned to a light blonde and restyled itself into soft fluffy curls. A daft grin plastered itself on his lips and previously piercing eyes turned dull And dark. To finish off the changes, Jennings combat pants started to fold in on themselves; changing texture and material until they had become a skimpy pair of red briefs that flaunted his manhood.

Where Officer Jennings once stood now was a scantly clad stranger that only slightly resembled the previous man. Cameron giggled and beamed with excitement.

“You look IN-Credible Mr Jennings! I think you’re going to be just what this party needs. How do you feel?” 

Raymond watched as Jennings unfroze. He half expected Jennings to scream, take down the kid, anything at all. But instead, the new Jennings ran his fingers through his styled hair and cupped a hand over his briefs.

“I feel great baby. You know I always love showing up for my favorite clients!” Jennings smirked at Cameron and gave a quick wink. “I’d love to show you how much I appreciate you calling…. Maybe with a private show?” He flexed his now massive chest. Cameron laughed and blushed a little.

“Hey, maybe later tonight lover boy. In the meantime If you could go inside and liven things up a bit that’d be great.”

Raymond watched, still completely frozen and utterly terrified as the man in place of Jennings nodded and strode inside. He gave Cameron a playful smack on the ass as he sauntered by, and was greeted by cheers and whistles from the men inside. Cameron smiled again and turned back to Raymond.

“Oh my gosh isn’t he perfect?? And honestly it didn’t take a lot of work! Just a few tweaks to his profile and he’s the perfect stripper!” Raymond felt a knot form in his stomach as Cameron began looking him up and down. His mind raced as he frantically tried to grasp his situation. More than anything, Raymond wished that his he could regain control of his hands which were a mere centimeters from his holstered weapon. As cameron circled around him, Raymond caught a glimpse of his phone screen. there was a picture of him displayed with various sliders and entry boxes.

“I don’t know if I ever got the chance to meet you,” said cameron as he rounded back in front of him. “ I know Mr. Jennings from my old scout camps but you and I have never met…” he glanced down at his phone, “…Mr. Raymond. If you wanna follow me inside we’ll get you all fixed up.” Cameron pressed a button on his phone, and like a passenger in his own body Officer Raymonds body relaxed and started following cameron into the house. As he walked past the threshold, He was able to take in the full breadth of the chaos’s inside. The interior of the home was absolutely thrashed - with broken furniture and cups littering the floor. Almost every available nook, corner, or seat was occupied by a pair or a group of men in love. Raymond caught a glimpse of what he recognized as the new Jennings grinding against some young man on top of the dining room table. Cameron turned called back to him as they exited he living room,

“Originally this party was a mixture of some of my friends from school, but I really wanted to see if this app could make my fantasies a reality, and well… here we are.” Cameron laughed as he brushed past a pair making out up against the wall of the hallway. “ I thought it might be nice if everyone experienced life the way I would like to. Oh! You asked earlier about my parents, well, here’s a picture of them before tonight.” he stopped in front of a doorway and pointed up at a framed picture that hung in the hall. Raymond recognized them both from work, just your average middle aged couple with conservative clothing and slightly graying hair. Cameron turned around and beamed at Raymond. “…and THis is them now!” He then pushed open the bedroom door, allowing Raymond to peak inside. 

Two men were making out against the far wall. One, well built, obviously pumped full of steroids, with a shaved head, covered in tattoos, and with a heaving chest. He pressed the other against the wall in a gentle embrace. The other was lankier, with a runners build, who returned the firsts kisses with an eager passion. Both wore next to nothing and were exploring each others bodies with wandering hands.

Officer Raymond was confused for only a moment, until it dawned on him what cameron had meant, that the two men in there used to be - 

“Don’t let us interrupt you two!” Cameron called in a sing song voice. “Glad you both found somewhere private to take care of each other.” The two broke their kiss for a moment. The tattooed man smirked at cameron, “Make sure to find us as soon as the party starts winding down big guy.” They resumed their embrace as cameron quietly closed the door. He looked at Raymond with a wide open grin. 

“Can you believe it!” He said excitedly. “Now I don’t have to deal with their outdated life views anymore!” He leaned close to the still immobile Raymond and whispered, “ My dad was the worst of all, So I made him the bottom. Isn’t that perfect?! Not that its a punishment or anything, I just thought he might enjoy the experience.” Cameron laughed to himself as Raymond screamed internally. On the other side of the door the bed began to squeak. Cameron sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Alight, now that we know each other well enough, lets get you ready for the party ey?”

Raymond fought with all of his willpower to break whatever force was holding him in place, to run away, or even open his mouth - but couldn’t muster a single twitch. He stood rigidly with a neutral expression on his face as Cameron typed away. 

“I’m thinking you and your partner could make a hell a duo out there.” Cameron said as he gave one final flourished tap on his phone. 

~This has to be a nightmare~ Raymond thought to himself. He had almost convinced himself of that, until a wam shiver ran up his spine. His Vest shimmered and began to melt off his body. Cameron smiled, watching the progress.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I thought we could really go big with you.”

Raymond trembled as his skin felt like it was bursting. Long atrophied muscle materialized back into existence. As his pants began to shrink and climb up his legs, Raymond’s legs swelled to massive proportions. His thighs pushed rubbed against one and other as his quads swelled. His manhood was shoved forward as his but plumped into a pair of perfect globes. He raged inwardly as his pats shifted and finally settled into a tropical colored speedo that showed off his impressive bulge. 

-There’s NO WAY I’m becoming this lunatics sex dream!!~ he painstaking thought as the changes continued up his body. Cameron ginned as Raymond’s chest and torso became defined! His pecs continued to swell until they hung off his body as a pair of muscle tits. Raymond stifled a gasp as he felt the shift race up his neck. Suddenly Raymond’s mind was on fire. Fragmented and torn. His thoughts swirled around like a whirl pool as his face contorted. As a thick fog enveloped him, He desperately tried to hold onto himself. He stared at cameron and tried to hold onto what he had witnessed tonight. He wasn’t going to be changed by this vile… perverted……. Hunk? Raymond shut his eyes tight as mind reformed. Cameron waited excitedly as he watched the final changes. Raymonds once thinning hair turned Jet black and slicked itself back. His shoulders swelled to the size of boulders, and a pair of permanent abbs materialized on his torso. His took on a deep tan and his lips became plump and pouty. Cameron beamed as Raymond opened his eyes.

“Wow, you look absolutely stunning. I think you’ll fit in just fine tonight… Raphael.” Raymond,- now Raphael eyed up the younger man in front of him and put on a cool smile. He didn’t remember why Cameron had brought him back to the master bedroom, but he hoped it was for what he thought; as pressure built in his poser speedo. He leaned back against the hallway. “Anything for my favorite client.”

Cameron grinned, as Raphael step forward and put his hands on Cameron’s hips. This chronivac app was going to be even more fun at school after fall break.

The streamer was so hot, so muscular and stood for so much right in the world that I had resisted for so long. But the more he did to tempt his thirsty fans, the more he showed off those delicious muscles the harder it became to ignore his gay baiting thirst traps.

Him and his content creator friends were making their way through gay events for pride month and it just so happened he went to one I was in. His confidence, his cocky smile and true masculinity were so hot especially with how he was handling that think that I couldnt help but CLAP my hands together as he smacked that ass, a ripple going across the twinks cheeks and through his body and up his shoulders to meet the arm of the streamer where it cascaded out into the world. The world which would meet my demands.

There is nothing hotter than a reversal so as I sent my magics out I let the twinks rippling ass and shoulders, the point of contact between the two, do the work for me. With every vibration as the Streamer tried to pull away, a bit was taken and switched from each other, the twinks body growing in size, muscle and strength. The streamers hard earned muscle and height shrinking bit by bit as their physical changes shifted further causing mental earthquakes.

Panic was setting in, the streamers arms looked slimmer, his body felt lighter, and he should have been scared more then anything but his cock was so HARD! The hardest it had ever been as it shrunk and hardened more, inches pulled away and placed into the former twink now hunk, whose bent lumbering form stood up. The Streamer couldn't help but stare at the speedo below the Hunks belt was pushed to its limits, no longer able to think of women, he only wanted to pleasure men.

With just a simple nod the once strong man fell to his knees worshipping a now straighter/ish hunk, to show him what pride was really all about

House Party

It was going to be another quiet Saturday night in. No plans expect to curl up and play some video games. Just as you were about to settle down, you hear a knock at your door. You glance at your phone; no messages from any of your friends. Maybe it’s that package you ordered? You swing open the door, only to be greeted by a quartet of shirtless, muscular Indian men.

“Hey man, thanks again for hosting!” one of them says in a thick Indian accent, as he and the rest of them barge past you into your small apartment. They pull out some drinks, turn up your speaker to some music you don’t recognize, and start the party. 

You’re still standing there, a little shocked at this turn of events. You wanted to try to kick them out; tell them you they had the wrong address and to get lost. But, I mean, you didn’t really have any plans anyway. And who were you to break up this happy group of friends?

You stand to the side, watching them dance in almost sexual way against each other. You decide to take a sip of the alcohol they brought; no idea what it is but it tastes amazing! You continue to drink, until one of them pulls you right into the dancing. 

You’re right in the thick of it, dancing with the rest of them. They are avidly chatting in Hindi; you not understanding a word. 

“Everything good man?” Raj asks you, looking a little concerned. 

“Yeah man everything's good!” answer back in Hindi. Wait, since when did you know a word of Hindi? Before you have time to think, Amar hands you another drink and you unthinkingly take a big swig.

“Thanks Amar!” you grin, giving him a playful slap on his bouncing ass. Since when would you do something like that? Something was up, you could tell… you need a break. You manage to sneak off to the bathroom, and the second you get a glimpse at the mirror you gasp.

You are a thick, dark Indian hunk. At least, that’s what your reflection is clearly telling you. But.. you weren’t like this when you woke up right? These big pecs and abs.. thick arms and legs. This massive beard around these plush lips.. I mean there’s no way right? It must be these strange-, you mean, your friends doing this to you. 

You burst back into the main room, only to find them all chilling on the couch. Clearly the party has died down a bit. Amar gestures for you to take a seat, and despite your instincts, you find yourself listening to him. Each of them exchange some sly grins, before slowly pulling down their pants, revealing the fat bulges in their underwear.

They continue, pulling out their hard, thick cocks and start stroking. You are shocked, but to be honest with yourself, much more aroused. You find Raj’s meaty hands on you, helping you join them, as he coaxes out your sexy brown cock, that of course you have.

He starts jacking you off, and you can’t help but let out a deep moan. You find another fat cock in your field of view, and you feel obliged to help him out. Soon everything merges into a sexual blur, each of you is sucking cock, taking cock, making out; its all too much for all of you. You feel a hot load burst out and paint your brown chest white, and that’s all it takes for you to cum as well.

Your mind blanks, post nut clarity hitting you like a brick; reminding you of who you are. You’re Jamsheer, born and raised in India, and a sexy gay muscular hunk who’s always hanging out with his equally sexy and horny friends.

The next morning, you always sleepily wake up, hungover as shit. They all thank you for hosting such a great party, we needed to do this again! Your phone pings, getting a text from this skinny white guy wondering why you weren’t online last night. You grin; you know exactly who’s going to be hosting the next party.

Subcontinental Promotion

Hotshot asshole loses out on a promotion to a workplace enemy and lands an apparently one way ticket to their branch abroad. Perhaps en route to India he'll learn a thing or two about decency, or if nothing else a lesson or two about being a man.

Quite like the way this one turned out! Probably the favorite piece of my own writing in some time! I hope you all enjoy it similarly! -Occam

“I hope you understand Samuel, at the end of the day he just trusts me more.” Everett made no attempt to hide the smarmy expression on his face as he broke the news to Sam. In response the exec could only sit there and stew, Everett was now directly above him and any further words spoken against his now boss were sure to only exacerbate their already long strained relationship.

After working together at RC-Tech for years it’s a wonder the two haven’t been physically at each other’s throats. The corporate ladder is quite the crab bucket, and Sam ever so much enjoys the cutthroat nature of their top floor world. Born too late to be a warrior but just on time to be a man in a suit making ruthless calls and shooting down others seeking to make their own ascent. Little does he know as he stares at Everett, mentally pleading for the power to blow up the man’s head, that his corporate coup de grace is already set in motion.

“It’s just a question of loyalty, you understand Sam. Derrickson thought I was a better fit for VP because I’m not, well you know, a cruel sack of shit.” Sam rolled his eyes at Everett’s self-appraisal before shrugging at the description of himself. It’s what he was hired to be, better to be the boot than what’s underneath it. His ears perk up despite himself as Everett continues. “After all, we’ve got the perfect opportunity lined up for your advancement Samu-”

“Cut the shit Everett. Just spit it out.” Everett stares down at the man absolutely unphased, as if he were looking at a caged animal. He’s grown adept at tuning out his now subordinate’s voice and as the moment grows nearer he finds himself growing giddy at the idea that he’ll never have to do so again. On the other side, Sam struggles not to go ballistic as glee becomes unmissable in Everett’s words. “The boss was concerned about our Indian account and I told him I knew the perfect man for the job.”

India. Sam has never been all too respectful of other American cultures. For him to day in day out be knowledgeable and understand of people a world away is beyond the perpetually egotistical man. It is, as intended, a death knell for his career. He clenches his jaw tight enough that Everett worries he may burst a blood vessel then and there. The boss’ grin quivers as he sees rage beyond rage rise in Sam’s eyes. He opens his mouth, presumably to scream any number of things at Everett, or perhaps to refuse. Instead he simply takes a deep breath and nods.

Everett’s chair creaks as he sits back in reticent thought. He had quite expected Sam to up and fold, quit immediately and never turn back. Still, Everett held out hope that he’d be cocky enough to give it a go. The man couldn’t wait to see his plan for Sam shift into high gear. He pulls out a contract describing Sam’s new role on the team and lays it in front of him. 

All this time Sam has been doing some calculus of his own. He could come back from this, India’s the fucking largest honey pot RC-Tech could have really. If he rejuvenates their HQ over there he’d have Everett singing his graces to Derrickson on the daily. His eyes dart across the fine print noticing little out of the ordinary at all about the job, ‘you will help merge our cultural identities’ blah blah ‘promote growth’  yada yada yada. Samuel does however tilt his head at the dotted line, the name written underneath is not his own but some ‘Shamir Rajput.’ He wordlessly looks up at Everett who shrugs and coyly says “Misprint.”

As fucking if. Probably some temp they were gonna send over in his stead. Sam taps his foot with haste as he mulls over the best move, he asks a question just to confirm the obvious, “If I don’t accept this I’m fired right?” “Oh yes absolutely, out of here faster than you can say Uttar Pradesh!” Sam grimaces thinking about what an uphill battle he will face to get his revenge. That will make it all the more satisfying when he succeeds.

His hand glides to sign. He starts to write and realizes he accidentally began to copy the name written underneath ‘Sha-’ before promptly crossing it out and writing his own. ‘Samuel Thomas’ Everett’s grin flickers wider as he watches what is sure to be only the first of many little peculiarities just like that in Sam’s immediate future. He can barely control himself as he pictures his tormentor losing himself. His thoughts are interrupted before he can spend too much time delighting in the beginning of the end of Sam as he tosses the signed contract across the desk.

“Wonderful!” Everett claps his hands and his assistant comes in with a car full of books and other miscellanea to ‘ease his transition’ to living in India. Lying on top of it all is a clean and fancy looking kurta. Sam almost laughs at the idea that he would wear that, biting his tongue as he realizes there is just as great an uphill battle to be waged in his own psyche. Turns out if you’re a chauvinistic asshole for years you won’t grow decency even if it’s in your self interest.

“You’ll fly out at the end of the week just so you’re aware.” Sam scowls at Everett thinking about uprooting himself in a week, on top of scrounging together what little knowledge he can on the subcontinent. Everett assures him, “Oh and don’t you worry about your affairs stateside, I’m sure they’ll take care of themselves shortly.” Sam scrunches his face and mentally jumps across the desk to pounce on the man. In reality he takes yet another lump and starts to page through one of the many books of recommended reading.

Sam continues reading for a minute or two, already finding a rising interest in Indian culture that even with his commitment to vengeance is surprising. After not long at all Everett clears his throat and motions to the door. Sam blushes and uncharacteristically apologizes to his senior. Shaking his head as disdain returns to his mind as he steps out the door, what the fuck is up with that. He turns to see Everett wave farewell with a guarded smile as the door closes behind him.

This challenge set, Sam puts his head down and bucks up. At every opportunity the man tells himself he is motivated by revenge against Everett, working hard to pretend that he is not instantly absorbed any time he opens a book on the culture. All too soon he finds a burgeoning respect, and almost affection, for his soon to be expatriated country. Though any ground gained is of course not a flame to the adoration he has for his own nation. He continues day in and out reading the texts given to him by RC-Tech, pouring himself into his studies with a fervor.

About halfway through the week Sam notices something bizarre begin to happen. It’s almost as if his hair is darkening. He is certainly going outside less, hitting the books from dawn to dusk, but would one week make such a difference? It also seems as if it’s starting to thicken! Since turning thirty the stress of work had taken a toll on his hairline. He tells himself that perhaps the return to research harkens him back to his undergrad days and his body is responding accordingly. There’s sure to be less stress abroad than sitting in boardroom meetings all day! 

He checks his angles in a mirror and feels a rising pride as he looks at his black locs. Sam can’t help but appreciate the way they fall on his head, growing with far more haste than his hair usually does. God he looks good though. The night before his scheduled departure Everett contacts him to let him know that their branch abroad is expecting him to wear the kurta they sent on the flight. 

Sam’s eyes quickly dart to the garment as he blushes. After his sudden and bizarre appreciation for Indian culture he looks at it no longer with judgment but some kind of strange eagerness to have it on. He knows it’s just an everyday piece of clothing but as he feels it it’s like a woman holding her wedding dress. He informs Everett of his acquiescence, calling the man Sir in the correspondence, which his boss takes no small amount of delight in. That night Sam dreams of his immigrant country, the bustle of the streets, spice filling the air, the feel of that kurta against his skin. 

His morning preparations go off without any great hitch. He pauses looking in the mirror as it seems his usually light facial hair seems to be coming in darker as well. He decides to shave after the flight though, not like he’ll be in the office today. He packs extremely light, the bulk of his luggage being equipment for work and some of the supplementary books given to him. 

En route to the airport he’s listening to a podcast by some Indian-American immigrants to better understand the accent. He decided against learning their language but made a good deal of effort to ensure he would always understand their accent and slang. He laughs at the idea that he’s spent so much time listening to it he may well develop the accent himself!

On the way to board the plane he notices an issue that could very well send him back to RC-Tech immediately. His name was spelled wrong on the ticket, Shamuel Thomus. He grits his teeth at Everett, sure this is yet another act of retaliation against his subordinate. Nevertheless he crosses his fingers and gives it a go. Security doesn’t stop him and afterwards Shamuel does a double take at his passport and finds it matches the ticket exactly. 

He scrambles between the two trying to figure out where his confusion lay, deciding in the end that he must go by Sham so frequently as to have forgotten his full name. Focussing on that flimsy ground, he neglects to notice his passport photo displaying his full black head of hair and stubble even thicker and darker than he has now. Sham pockets the passport and makes for his boarding zone, swiping through some Hindi influencers on twitter en route.

Sham finds himself understanding their online culture with an ease that fills him with confidence. Everett sure will eat his words when Sham turns this branch against him! Underneath his words though he finds some sick desire to make his boss proud, he promptly roots it out as he clicks his tongue to himself. Grimacing and drilling into himself that Everett only gave him the opportunity as punishment. To think, he would see working in the world’s greatest country as punishment. His blood begins to boil with ire at his boss as beyond his attention his pale skin finally begins to darken.

He sits in the window seat next to two Indian brothers on the flight. The two chat in Hindi and Sham smirks as he sits there reading the Ramayana, proud as he distractedly eavesdrops and catches a word every now and then. Already learning the language without even trying. The sun beats down on him from the window, and despite the heft UV protection his right arm quickly develops a tan worlds darker than the one he left the house with this morning. 

His tan rapidly spreads up his neck and onto his kurta-covered torso. Sham’s mind is already doing double-duty trying to read the epic and listen in on the brothers he can’t help but miss as his hands darken as if his skin were steeping tea. The brothers talk of जिम and व्यायाम, which Sham rapidly translates, his mind dashing to spending time at the gym with the two of them. He shakes it off as bizarre as he finally notices a heat rising in his body where his skin has tanned.

Sham clears his throat as his neck begins to thicken beyond the thin stick it has ever been. The tan spreads below his waist line as his previous goal of keeping weight off his thighs disappears as they begin to grow heavy, large to support an upper body that would make his country proud. He puts the book down as for the first time he takes note of something bizarre happening, why is his kurta uncomfortable all of a sudden?

Looking down he finds the barest hint of muscle forming on his chest as it begins to push against the buttons. His sleeves however look drastically fuller as he moves in his seat, the sound of the garment he oh so adored straining as he makes the slightest move in his seat. The brothers continue to talk of their maxes and conquests as Sham’s own traps push against his clothes, as if he were right there with them. He feels callouses from time spent in the gym form on his palms as they change from those of a perpetual typist to one who never passes a जिम gym without entering. 

His eye twitches as his mind continues to understand the brother’s conversation better by the second. His pale blue eyes glaze over as he sits, the sapphire color he has been proud of rapidly darkening to the brown of coffee as his skin finishes staining the color of chai.

He hears them start to begin talking of their lovers and his own package pulses at the idea. At this he audibly grunts and they go silent, turning to look at him in concern, “अरे भाई, तुम ठीक तो हो? (Hey bro are you okay?)” Sham does a sigh heavier than he intended as he tries to wave them off, “Yes yes.” he pauses as his eyes widen hearing his voice has somehow grown deeper. It must be the altitude, or something, messing with his mind. His voice just sounds deeper, or something. “I’m alright, thank you for checking.” That however does not begin to explain the slightest hint of an accent sneaking into his cadence.

The brothers smile as they look at the man wearing a kurta, they would’ve sworn it was some white guy just appreciating their culture but now that they look closer they can only see a fellow bharati. They quickly rope him into their conversation, introducing themselves as Nitant and Ardash. Less than aware of what languages their new friend speaks they stick with English as they start to chat. Beginning where they left off they start talking about going to the gym and returning to their partners after. Sham again feels something in his chest burn as his pecs pulse and strain his kurta. Even more pressing than that, he feels his cock push up against his robe as he too begins to feel the passion that seizes him after a workout begins to brew.

Despite the best efforts of his balls as they pulse and grow with lust, an existential fight or flight takes control of his mind and Sham endeavors to steer the conversation back to his own ends. Centering himself, he feels an itch on his face as he begins to explain his own situation. He tells the brothers of his new position and asks what the duo know about his new homeplace. 

With this his mind is able to return to what is important to him, doing his company proud, and sticking it to, uh, someone. He continues to scratch at his face as the brothers explain their homeland to him. His smile is soon enough haloed by stubble darker and thicker than he could ever imagine. Listening to them discuss their childhood Sham twitches as his own memories begin to be overlaid. Malls become bustling marketplaces. Memories of sitting through oppressive sermons change to walking through stunning temple complexes.

It’s quite a resource to finally talk with other men actually of the culture he’s moving into. Feeling his face in his hands as his jawline sharpens underneath the still spreading beard he wonders why he never did so before, something in his mind feels a stubborn pride that he doesn’t need anyone to tell him about India. After all, it's where he’s from right? He does a spit take as the thought appears, obviously that’s not right. One of the brother’s grabs his shoulders in concern once more, “Shami!?” 

No, that's not right. He’s American born and bred. He’s always been proud of his white identity, whatever that means. His newfound appreciation of Indian culture won’t change that. Ignoring the brown hands holding his phone he quickly goes through it looking for confirmation of his own identity, he scrolls past apps he doesn’t remember downloading and goes straight to images. There he is struck a blow that he would never come back from. Shami stares at images of himself at a जिम gym just as he imagined when he was eavesdropping on the brothers. Behind him a picture of the Indian flag His- No! Not his flag. He is distracted before he can dispute the idea anymore, red white and blue are rapidly replaced by saffron and India green.

Scrolling down further he finds quite a few more explicit photos of himself that he must have sent to someone, or more likely someones. He smirks at the idea of sending photos of his brown dick to others after steamy workouts. God he’s a horny बेवकूफ़ fucker. Nitant looks over his shoulder at his phone and shakes him a bit in excitement “Bro! पवित्र बकवास! Holy Shit! You look so good, I bet the ladies are all over you.” He pauses as Shami continues scrolling in shock, looking for anything to remind him of himself. Doing so he passes nudes from a good deal of other men, “Fuck, or the men राजा king.”

At this point a stewardess comes with their meals. Shami balks as he sees that he ordered a burger. His stomach turns as the idea of eating meat makes him sick. But that can’t be right can it? His mind races through years of meals. Times he would’ve sworn he had steaks to celebrate sales and mergers. Having burgers just like this one, hot dogs at baseball games, pepperoni pizza while moving. Landmark meals he was sure he had meat at. Or no that can’t be right? The memories remain present, though not unchanged. There is a tidal wave in his mind as any memory of meat touching his tongue vacates, obviously. He’s alwasye been a vegetarian. Even the hamburger sitting before him changes into a veggie burger as he heartily bites into it without pause. 

Whatever is left of the man who sat in the boardroom continues to cede ground as Shami chats with the brothers. He struggles to keep up a hardwall, refusing to talk of the gym as his body yearns to flex further and rip his prized kurta, now seeming more like an everyday piece of fashion to him. He’s got more at them after all, his eye twitches. Shami scrambles for an out and decides to pretend to sleep the rest of the flight. He ignores the itches that begin to rise from his armpits and crotch as they surely begin to grow thick black body hair the likes of which he somehow knew he shouldn’t have. 

As he sits and stews, trying to pay no attention to his thick thigh rubbing against his seat partner, he realizes that this must be Everett’s doing. His mind barely recalls signing the contract, the name on it not his own Shamir not Shami, and the words within. Pledging to help merge their cultural identities. His brows furrow as they thicken in his fake rest. That मूर्ख fucker! This has been some sick trap and sitting next to these उल्लू lunkheads has rotted his mind, just as Everett surely wanted. His eyes strain as his mind scrambles for salvation.

Upon landing some twenty hours after hopping on board, Shami struggles through the airport. Everyone first speaks to him in Hindi, only switching to English after he claims to be American. Though their eyes remain narrowed as he speaks that forced foreign tongue with an accent they find all too familiar. He says farewell to Nitant and Ardash, fighting the urge to offer to hit the gym with them as he departs. 

Exiting the airport he hops into a taxi and heads off to find his new accommodations. He fights with all he can against the sense of familiarity that being in the taxi brings him, spices that should not be familiar to him bringing back memories of a childhood he did not have. The faces of his parents abstracted as his father suddenly has a beard that Shami always one day hoped he would have himself. His mother’s home cooked curry filling the house with an unmistakable scent that he has long missed during his time in America. Flavors he swore he’s only read about dance across his tongue as his mind can’t help but grow eager to relive the nation’s non-diasporic cuisine.

Looking at his hands holding his luggage as hair begins to snake from underneath his kurta just as it so proudly adorns his face. His sense of masculinity grows affirmed as the taxi driver talks to him of his own strapping boys, the lives they lead and how proud they make him. He feels his balls surge with virility as he hears of their exploits at construction sites and in boardrooms alike. Everything Shami knows to be true warps as he listens to the driver.

His arms grow even larger, finally sending tears down the kurta as the man discusses his firstborn foreman. Pride burns in his chest for his job and for his boss as the driver points to a picture of an executive all similar to himself. Shami squirms as his balls grow and demand even more attention as the driver discusses his grandchildren, laughing as he suggests Shami should not always focus on his work. Hair grows on his muscular chest as he nears his destination and he bolts out, leaving the driver with more than enough fare as Shami sprints into the apartment block, desperately in need of release.

Cooped up on a plane for nearly a full day, Shami makes his way up to his new apartment without a second’s pause to realize he somehow knows the way. His larger thighs blast up the stairs as his body produces a new odor, one that beautifully mingles with the heavy spice sifting through the air from each and every apartment. Making use of his body’s new power he wrenches open his apartment door and slams it behind him rushing into the bathroom. He tears off his torn kurta and cannot help but stare at his own body.

He flexes at himself in the mirror as his cock stands to full attention, pubes inching past his waistline as his balls grow heavier at the sight. Pits exposed he takes a deep breath of his own BO and almost loses control then in there. The remains of his American mind barely keep his hand off his cock in fear that that would be the ball game. His head tilts in his reflection as the idiom he just used almost loses clarity as he retains his English fluency but something deeper wanes even yet as he feels more at home in both his body and, of course, his true home country.

Exiting into his living room Shami finds a goodie basket on the table with a note from Everett, “Namaste Shamir!” Something within him waits for the other shoe to drop, for some reason nervous about the man who left this. After a second glance he is instead wholly overpowered by an affection for his boss. What a sweet gesture after all. “I do hope this finds you well and the flight home wasn’t too bad. I wanted you to have a parting gift of all your favorite American treats from the time you spent here! After all, it will be some time before your return, I wish you the best of luck rejuvenating RC-Tech India, if anyone can do so it would be you Mr. Rajput. Yours, Everett”

Reading the note it’s as if a bell tolls in his mind. Each calculated phrasing by his boss is a final swing against his American identity. His beard grows thick on his face as his Boss calls him by his true name Shamir, giddiness filling his body as it thickens still. Reading of his flight home so matter-of-factly makes it indisputable, this was his home. This has always been his home. America was fine, if not grating. He is beyond happy to be back and as much as he appreciated working directly alongside his boss he feels power surge within him at the idea of leading his own men once more.

“Shamir Rajput” He dreamily says the name out loud and with that everything becomes crystal clear. The life of an all too hotheaded business brute fades from his mind, as well as from the minds of the few who saw him as a loved one. In their wake grows the bharati titan that stands tall in his own living room. He flexes as his mind transitions permanently from thinking in English to his true mother tongue of Hindi, though he has certainly taught himself every Indian dialect he’s come across. What kind of boss would he be if he didn’t make an effort to understand his employees after all.

Shamir disrobes entirely and begins to make for his bed to sleep off the jet lag. He passes photos of his family on the walls and a room solely dedicated to a home gym as he flops onto his bed. In his dreams he stands opposite some scrawny white man that looks familiar but he can’t quite put a name to the face. Shamir asks a question in Hindi and the man’s scowl goes greater, he opens his mouth to surely scream some obscenity but before anything can fall from his vile little mouth Shair blinks and he is gone. In his place is a large mirror, one that Shamir heartily makes use of, flexing at himself and delighting in every angle of his powerful body.

The next morning he awakes a mess in his sheets, not peculiar of course. A man of his vigor, his virility, must deal with release at it comes. Sun lights through the curtains as he stands in stretches, the same sun that woke to in America but here it just seems warmer. He opens his window to let in the sounds of commerce in the streets and to allow the spices mingle with the oppressive body odor he worked up in his sleep. He takes a deep breath and sighs, his heavy pecs bouncing as he scratches at his chest. Today was going to be another wonderful day and he couldn’t wait to make his company, and his boss, proud.

Season 2

Spontaneous Change - Rooftop Exposure

Jenny felt her body seize up. Her skin began to darken, as her body began to expand and grow in front of her girlfriends who were enjoying some drinks in a rooftop. They looked in shock and horror realizing what was happening to Jenny.

Jenny’s hands began to grow large and callous. Her biceps and arms grew longer, as her shirt began to rip apart from her growing frame. Her voice began to crack and deepen, her blonde hair began to grow shorter and change texture becoming short and black.

Jenny’s looked at her torso, as his new muscular chest broke free from small shirt. Her skin continued to darken as her legs broke free from her pants and thickened with muscle. Her feet broke her heels, as they expanded and grew. Jenny’s body was large and massive now, as he had to spread out his legs due to how massive his thighs.

The whole change was a whole spectacle as every saw a giant bulge growing between his legs. “Fuck!” Jenny said, as his face began to change and broaden. Facial hair formed on his face, as his features continued to get broader and larger.

Joesph’s mind finally snapped from the changes. Joseph looked in complete shock, as a bunch of girls looked in terror wondering who this happened. Was it contagious? “Where the hell am I?!” Joseph said, as a bystander went into his condo next door and got the giant man pants.

“Thanks man” Joseph said as he got up from the couch showing off his massive body.