Listen Up: All-American

Listen Up: All-American

Oliver was stressed. The rent on his cramped London studio was a lot, and he couldn’t work enough to cover his costs while completing his studies. His work toward a law degree produced enough mental anguish on its own.

He’d seen the mindfulness CD atop a pile of various used items at an odd store - which seemed to stock all manner of things new, used and downright weird.

For obvious reasons, the record was alluring to Oliver. Anything that might lower the mental burden was an option worth trying. So when the handsome proprietor offered him the disc for less than a quid he couldn’t say no.

The drive buzzed on his desk as the contents were ripped to his computer after a late, stressful night of study. Oliver sat back in his desk chair placed the wireless headphones over his mousy brown hair and opened the resulting file that appeared on his desktop.

“Welcome. This audio program is custom designed. Just for you…”, a deep, manly voice read. Custom designed? The words made Oliver raise an eyebrow in suspicion. “What a load of bullshit", he thought.

“Ensure you are in a comfortable, private place. You will not want to be disturbed… You feel calm. Tranquility and stillness.”

The deep, commanding - and almost erotic voice - continued onward. Suddenly, Oliver felt awash with relaxation.

“Relax, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Focus your concentration on your top of your head, moving down slowly down the tips of your toes. Take in your body.”

Oliver unwittingly obeyed. His eyes shut and, taking a deep breath, he focused on the position of his body in space.

“This… actually isn’t too bad”, he admitted to himself.

“Empty your mind. Focus on the tingling across your skin. A pleasant warmth filling you up.”

Oliver was less impressed about the direction this was going now, was this going to turn into some erotic thing? But, suddenly, he did fill awash with warmth and tingling. Like a hot bath. He was surprised, no calmness app or anything similar had ever achieved this effect with him.

“Focus harder on that warmth and tingle. Make it stronger.”

Oliver sighed, feeling the pleasant sensations fill him up entirely.

“Stronger. Stronger. Stronger.”

The sensations intensified more and more; and although he felt good all over, in his head he began to panic. And so, he fumbled to stop the playback.

“Keep listening, Oliver. I guarantee you’ll like what you’re going to hear.”

Oliver’s eyes widened in fear, did the voice just use his name? Was it aware he tried to stop the playback? Surely this was just a co-incidence in the script?

But Oliver realized it was no coincidence when he became unable to click pause, his finger repelling like a magnet from the trackpad.

“You’re gonna to become a real man, Oliver. Like you’ve always wanted. And you’re gonna enjoy it.”

“Ungh… What the f- fuck?!”, Oliver whimpered. The unbearable heat and tingling sensations intensified. Whimpers turned to loud moans as pleasure and testosterone flooded his body, his cock filled with blood and hardened in his tight jeans.

“A real man has huge, muscular arms. Much like you do, Oliver.”

Oliver let out a groan as his upper arms began to match the spoken words and expand. His slim t-shirt’s sleeves strained as muscles began to appear under the skinny arms. They throbbed and wriggled, expanding larger and larger, thicker and thicker.

“Your arms are fucking huge. Every part of them.”

Oliver bit his lip and whimpered as he flexed. The thin twigs that were his upper arms surged and tore the sleeves of the shirt. Individual muscles squirmed and bulged as they reformed large and powerful. His forearms pulsed and ached as they too inflated with muscle. Veins protruded and snaked across the swelling muscle. These arms were huge, muscular machines designed for the gym.

“You’re tall…”

Energy rushed through his body in response to the words, but technically Oliver had always been a relatively tall and lanky 6′0″. So, nothing happened. It was if the recording was teasing him.

“P- please… more…”, Oliver begged. Resisting was never an option to begin with, but Oliver needed no orders to desire what was happening to him. His new arms were a taste of the masculinity he’d always desired, and it felt better than he could have imagined.

“…Really tall…”

“Oh fuuuuuuck yeeeeaaah!”, Oliver yelled. His cock throbbed in his denim while his entire body seared with the bliss of growth. His back pushed up higher and his legs stretched longer out from the chair. The muscular arms elongated as well to keep up, more muscle packing in order to to maintain their size.

“How do you manage to type on this thing with those massive paws?”

“Ahhhh shiiiiiiiiiiiiit!”, cracks and pops filled the air as Oliver held out his aching, pulsating hands. His skinny fingers twitched vigorously as they pushed longer and thicker. His palms were being tugged in all directions, stretching further and further outward. The ends of his fingers creaked as they reshaped, the chewed nails regrowing, broadening and elongating. These were indeed a real man’s hands.

“Your chest is fucking ripped. Powerful pecs. Bulging abs. Manly hair.”

Oliver bit down hard. But as his chest and shoulders swelled in every direction, he couldn’t hold it and let out a long whine. Muscle wrapped around the widening shoulders connecting with the stunning biceps. Growth flowed downward, forcing two huge slabs of muscle to grow out of his flat, bony chest. The tightest abs Oliver had ever seen exploded out from below his thick, tight pecs. His cock pulsed as he rubbed the rippling abs. He could feel a treasure trail forming and hair flourishing across the beautiful pecs. His cock tingled as his waist pulsed. Tight cum gutters formed below the glistening abs, leading down to his aching erection.

“Don’t forget your back.”

Oliver hunched forward as the muscle growth swept from his massive shoulders and chest across his back. His bony back rippled and bulged as sinew and muscle swelled.

“Everything about your legs screams power and masculinity. With an ass to match.”

Oliver’s kicked and twisted his legs feeling his thighs balloon with new and growing muscle. The skinny jeans began tearing and splitting at the seams as more and more muscle forced its way outward. His calves did the same, stuffing themselves with more and more power, stretching the fabric to breaking to point. Every muscle in his legs contracted as it swelled and grew. Oliver flexed the legs causing a final burst of growth and shredded the tattered jeans and underwear from his body. His flat ass, now free from its confines, began to inflate dramatically, pushing him upward in his seat. 

“Size 13s must be hard to find…”

He clenched his mouth shut, muffling a cry as snaps and crackles emanated from the socked feet. His fairly average UK size 9s burned with pressure as the socks began to stretch in an attempt to contain the growing feet. Oliver pressed his feet hard into the floor feeling the soles soaring across the carpet. The toes curled and gripped further and further, lengthening and thickening into 10s, then 11s, 12s… The sound of a tear was met with a moan as unbelievably long, thick, masculine toes jutted through the ends of the socks leaving him with UK size 13s.

“You’re such a looker, Olly.”

Oliver knew what this meant and trembled as he opened the webcam app on his laptop, watching in shock and pure desire at the image of his face moving and shifting. His neck bulged and swelled, the grunts coming from his throat deepening. 

His narrow, oval face stretched and snapped wider and longer, enlarging to fit the upper body he now possessed. Oliver rubbed his hard cock as his face began to look more and more masculine. A wide, thick jaw formed where before there was barely one at all. His lips inflated, his nose enlarged and his brow deepened. His hair darkened as it grew out, straightened and flopped messily across the headphones.

“I look… ungh… like a jock!”, Oliver gawked, turned on by his unbelievably hot new visage.

As he muttered those words he gasped repeatedly. Insatiable lust overtook him at watching his gorgeous, masculine face moan. His rigid erection ached and drooled at the sight.

“That cock is just like the rest of you. Oversized.”

Oliver stumbled upright and planted his hands on the desk and began to thrust across the table top as the 5 inch cock commenced its expansion. The continuous ecstasy that had been tearing through him since this started concentrated into his swelling dick.

Oliver’s screams of delight could have woken the dead. He bucked and thrust violently, shaking the desk as the rock hard rod swelled with girth and pushed outward longer and longer.

“You’re a real fuckin’ man. That cock’s designed for topping.”

Thoughts of working out, sports and fucking tight jock asses overwrote the introverted bottom’s personality.

“Not just a real man. You’re an all-American jock.”

Oliver spluttered as his British accent shifted to a distinctly American one. Memories of coming to London for exchange replaced his own. With a blinding flash of ecstasy, his foreskin merged with the now 7 inch shaft, giving Oliver the big, cut, all-American cock he’d always admired.

“Mmmmmphhh… Fuck, yeah dude! I’m… arrruuughh… a fuckin’ jock!”

The shaft surged longer and wider. The head of the oozing cock fattened, expanded and flared outward. A massive, drooling mushroom head formed at the end of the 8 inch dick.

The sweating, horny jock was but a second away from release, worshiping his own body and tightly, furiously stroking his cock. But the audio interrupted…

“I bet those 10 inches are popular online.”

Oliver howled as his encroaching orgasm was prevented. The blissful build up rushed back into his cock as it shot forward in seconds to an enormous, veiny 10 inches. He recalled making good money selling pictures and videos of his hot body and huge dick.

The stud gripped his thick python tight in his meaty hand and stroked fast. The voice on the audio track began to tease Oliver even more than it had been.

“You’re a real man.”

“Huhhh… unnnghhh.. yeah… I am!”

“You’re a fucking alpha.”

“Hnnnnggghh, fuck yeah!”

“Cum, stud.”

With a delightful roar, the beautiful, cut pole shot cum like a hose across his the desk, the wall and over the floor. Then again. And again. And after what felt like an eternity, the muscle stud’s orgasms slowed.

“Remember to share this recording with your friends…”

And on that command, the track ended. Oliver grabbed his phone, his huge hands dwarfing the device as he snapped a photo of his cock and incredible body to post later for his adoring online fans.

Now all the jockified Oliver needed was bros - and with the audiobook he knew exactly how to get them. But who to share it with first? Old friends, a few dedicated online fans maybe…

hey man just found your blog, some great work coming out. I'm a bit burnt out, I was wondering if I could get a transformation? Im a fit 21 year old guy trying to get massive, I love long hair, huge muscles and awful B.O. but why don't you surprise me and transform me any way you see fit?

Well, if you’re gonna give me free rein to transform you, I’m gonna personally make you a real hottie, just for me.

At first, you think you’re just getting some really exceptional gains. Your muscles are bulking up at unprecedented speeds. Your posing sessions get longer and longer as your pumps get sicker every day. Somehow, it seems like your hair is growing out, too, so that you have to tie it back to see the incredible definition of your back muscles.

You notice the sweat, too. Just a little more at first, on leg day. Your shirt is soaked and smelly after you deadlift, so you take it off and continue shirtless. But by the end of the week, you’re winded and sweat-soaked after just walking down the street. All your shirts are getting covered in sweat stains, and no matter how much deodorant you use it just sluices off, leaving you musky and stinking.

But the next day, you simply can’t bring yourself to care. Your thick, musky Asian muscles are fucking hot, after all. Yeah, you’re pretty sure you’re a simpler guy than you were before you asked for my help, but that just means you’re less stressed. Can’t burn out if all you do all day is sweat, pose, and sniff your massive muscles and sweaty armpits.

What? Your dick? Oh, it’s a total monster, but don’t expect to use it much. You get off so much from your own smell that you cum all over your musky bod just from the stench, without even touching yourself.

Not to worry, you get your turn to use your powers, too. Now that I've transformed you, you can transform me however you like. I have this fantasy of being a carefree mass monster of a himbo, but I'm sure you know what's best. ;)

Hey there, been an avid follower for your TF stories and would love to be a subject of your TF as well. I wish to be transformed into a big horny muscle bull, but I’m unaware myself. Slowly having issues with everyday clothes and addicted to eating more and lifting heavier. Not forgetting the relentless lust for more muscle too! Hope to hear from you soon!

Something odd was going on that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Over the past few weeks, you’ve been noticing that your rhythm had been thrown off the slightest bit. You worked as a fitness model-- your trimmed yet muscled frame blessed ads in magazines, with tons of adoring fans drooling over your proportional bod. You frequented the gym and made sure to watch your diet like a hawk.

Then one day, one of your photographers had made some weird offhanded comment about how you’d look hotter if you bulked up, which you’d brushed off.

That had seemed to be the catalyst for all the off happenings that you slowly began to notice.

It had started at the gym. You stuck to a strict workout regimen that was professionally designed to keep you slimmed and toned. However, there would be times when you would be performing curls in the mirror and then noticed at the end of your workout that the weights you’d been lifting had been far too heavy to achieve your desired results. What was even stranger was that they had felt lighter than your usual, like your strength was increasing dramatically.

Over the next few days, all your clothes had shrunk. It had to have happened in the wash, because whenever you looked in the mirror, you were always greeted with the slim muscleboy you were used to. However, none of your pants would fit over your legs and you could never seem to button them. Your shirts were even worse. Your sleeves would always slit apart when you yanked them on, and they always rode up your stomach, looking more like a crop top. You’d asked your assistant to go buy you some new clothes, telling him your size. However, he must’ve messed up because the clothes he’d brought you were ill-fitting as well. 

Lastly, you upped the frequency of your cheat days for your diet. You couldn’t help it. No matter how hard you tried to resist, you always strayed away from your salad and wound up ordering three large meat lovers pizzas-- devouring them entirely in one sitting. Luckily, your reflection in the mirror didn’t show any change since you still had a slender torso and a low body fat percentage.

When you went to a photoshoot run by the same photographer who’d told you to bulk up, you noticed the wide grin on his face when you walked in and stripped down to your bathing suit.

“Lookin’ real good,” the photographer smirked as he took numerous photos. “Real good.”

After the shoot, you looked at the pictures displayed on his monitor, seeing that a lot of them were of some bulky powerlifter. The man was massive. He had to have weighed well over three-hundred pounds with all that bulk he was carrying around. His musclegut protruded far out in front of him, totally obscuring any abdominals he had under them, and his cumbersome pecs were large mountains that rested atop his gut. His thick, bull neck was nearly swallowed by immense traps, creating the illusion that he was as tall as he was wide. This was only supported by his thick legs that pushed against each other, forcing the stud to adopt a wide stance. All of that manly muscle was so hot on the man, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly aroused the more you looked at the muscle mountain.

“Who’s that?” you asked the photographer, gesturing at the beefy stud on the screen.

The photographer just knowingly smiled as he ran his eyes up and down your frame. “My new star client,” he purred.

Fucking hell! What a spectacle this man is!

The sweep on those quads is otherworldly.

His pecs so thick and engorged with muscle that his chain has been captured and forced to squeeze in between them.

Obscene mushroom cloud lats poking out, terrorising everyone who sees him from behind.

Delts and traps so juicy they scream STEROIDS

And the veins that feed every inch of him are just fucking porn.

God I want to be this man. I need to be this man.

Oh shit, I can’t seem to stop the growth that I’ve accidentally activated! It’s adding a pound of muscle every second, and I’ll be too damn huge by the end of the hour. I need to do something about it before it’s too late, damn it!

Ugh, the workout shirt is getting way too tight! I’m feeling my pecs bulging and heaving by the second. Fuuuuuuck, the waves of erotic muscle bliss washing through my entire body. The immense lust for perpetual muscle growth is building up and bursting through the seams. So hard to think right now, almost impossible to resist the urge to fleeeeeex. With a simple rip, the sound almost feels like sex. I can feel the cold breeze on my bare skin as my pecs burst through the shirt. Heh, won’t be missing it all that much. Hello, monstrous pecs that command attention! Want to feel them bounce in your hand?