CALL ME RICK

CALL ME RICK

I had no idea how quickly Richard would take to the mind control. Not to mention how completely invested he was in this new persona.

Richard had been dating my sister for a year or so now. He was a good guy, a model citizen if you will. He was a nice, friendly happy go lucky sort of guy. Not to mention he was very handsome, but was very modest about it. We didn’t talk much but when we did he was always super friendly and tried to get to know me as best as he could. He knew I was gay and had no problem with it, he wasn’t weirded out like some of my sisters ex boyfriends had been. Honestly he was a really stand up guy. The problem was me. I have a serious problem. It’s kind of a strange fetish that I’m into and have always wanted to try on Richard.

Ever since high school I’ve found myself interested in hypnosis. I really enjoy watching a person, preferably and attractive man, go completely under then have their mind and personality altered. The more drastic the alteration usually the more arouse I get. This was why Richard would be the perfect subject, and I think I just found the perfect time for it.

I came to him and my sister about a problem I had. I needed to haul some stuff over from a friends house but they lived about 2 hours away and I needed a truck to do so. Richard offered right away to use his truck, which I knew he would. The. He even offered to come with me as kind of a bonding trip. This was exactly what I wanted to hear I graciously accepted the offer and the next morning we were on our way, just the two of us on the open road.

About an hour of the ways out, I finally brought up the subject of hypnosis. I asked if he’d ever been hypnotized and Richard kind of just laughed. He assumed hypnosis was just a bunch of tricks on tv, and that it couldn’t possibly work. I explained to him how interested I was in the subject, and he suddenly changed his tune. I guess he really wanted us to get along so he even offered if I’d like to try it on him. Everything was going so smoothly. I asked him to pull over so I could drive while I induct him into the trance. I didn’t want him falling asleep behind the wheel. I told him to watch the road as I slowly pulled him deep under control. He had been counting backwards from 20, but he barely made it to 8 before falling completely under. That’s when I started taking apart his personality and then piecing things back together, but piecing them the way I wanted.

I knew exactly what persona I wanted I give Richard the moment I met the guy. I wanted Richard to be the most Texan, masculine, hickish, cowboy he could be. As stereotypically sexy as I wanted. I started manipulating his speech first, making him think of westerns, and how the cowboys he has seen on tv would speak. Giving him a southern drawl. Then his attitude, I wanted him to feel like a proud Texan baron and raised all american cowboy. His ignorant, and rude attitude to be prominent, and his masculinity to be very important to him. I told him he would ease up on shaving, to avoid that clean shaven look he normally wore. I gave him love for hard work, nicotine, alcohol, and last but most importantly me. See, the thing about my hypnosis is that in the end I like to give my subjects an insatiable list for me. Because once they have changed there personality this much, all I want to do is fuck there manipulated brains out.

I pulled out a hat that I snuck into the glove department just for this occasion. I placed it on Richards head and told him that whenever he wore that hat he would become the person that I had been hypnotizing him to become.

He groggily nodded, “Ahuh, becomes that person.. When wearing hat..”

Unfortunately, the induction took longer then I thought and we were almost back home. I didn’t want to see this new persona of his until after he was ready, I gave him a shopping list of things he needed to discretely buy and then we would meet back up in two weeks time. That he would make an excuse to go with me somewhere so my sister wouldn’t get suspicious. He gave me the same groggy nodding as before but I’ve hypnotized enough people to know that I ha gotten through to him, I was getting so excited about this new personality I could barely stand it.

Two weeks of waiting were agony but I knew it would be worth it. I hadn’t seen Richard since then so I wasn’t positive if he’d done what I’d asked or not, but then I got a call from my sister. She told me that Richard was ready to go whenever I was and that I had offered to help him haul some cinderblocks to the dump since he helped me last week, she thanked me for being so helpful and was glad we were getting along so well. She had no idea.

I showed up at the house and when I saw him I could already see he had accomplished one of the things if asked him to do which was his facial hair had grown in. He had a duffle bad in hand with what I assumed was the items I asked him to get on my list. We took off in Richards truck. Richard still acting like himself completely unaware that he was doing all this under hypnosis I had placed on him. I was currently wearing the hat that I had basically infused what would be Richards new personality with. I waited until we were a bit a ways before I started complaining about my hat and how it didn’t fit me. Then I suggested he try it on, at first he just smiled and kindly refused. But I was so persistent and nagging about it, that he finally gave in. He placed the cap on his head and then suddenly his whole body stiffened and the car jeered a little at the sudden change in person. He blinked a few times then pulled the truck over.

“Something wrong Richard?” I asked feigning ignorance.

He looked over at me, his for head wrinkled in a confuse look that wasn’t like Richards normal happy face “You’re goddamn right there is, what kinda pansy ass shit m'I wearin?” He said looking down in disgust at his buttoned down collared polo and khakis.

“Beats me, here why don’t you try these on while I make a quick phone call,” I said handing him the duffle bag dull of the clothes if told Richard to buy. I stepped out of the truck and walked away to call my sister, and tell her that it might be well because were having car troubles. But I told her we had it under control but we might not make it back until late. I didn’t want her getting suspicious while I had my fun.

When I walked back Richard was sitting on the back of the truck completely decked out in his new Southern cowboy attire I made him buy, and was even smoking one of the cigarettes he had packed as well. He looked damn hot I could feel the blood rushing to my cock just looking at him. He took a drag blew out another stream of smoke before noticing me, then spit on the ground before waving me over.

“Hey Richard, feeling more comfortable in those clothes I hope.”

He responded by flipping me off while taking another drag, “Aye fuck you, call me Richard. What kinda bitch name is Richard?”

I laughed a little at how quickly he had become so appalled by his old life that even his name wasn’t manly enough for him anymore.

“My bad Rick. I forgot to mention I am loving the new tattoo.” I said just noticing the tattoo he now had on his right bicep that was visible now thanks to his sleeveless Texan shirt. His eyes glanced down to his new ink and then he smirked at me while flexing his bicep.

“Goddamn right,” he said continuing to flex and show off his new ink, “Got this innkeeper done about a week ago, Karen got all pissed off about when she first saw. She’ll quit her bitching soon though, I think she secretly likes it anyway.”

“I know I do.” I said a little flirtatious this time. I was ready to see how much of this hypnosis had gone through.

His smirk widened as he patted the seat next to him, “C'mere, why don’t ya take a load off?” He said blowing more smoke out of the corner of his mouth. I eagerly did as I was told and plopped down next to him.

“Ya know Karen told me you’re queer.” Was his opening sentence. I just nodded in agreement.

“At first that shit creeped me out, but now I get the feelin like I could get into it.” Then Rick grabbed my my hand guided it onto his crotch and had me grasp his junk through his tight jeans.

I looked over at Rick, and our eyes met. I could still see underneath this Country man bravado he’d been hypnotized to have, he was feeling shy and embarrassed at what he was about to do. He put his cigarette out on one of the cinderblocks then leaned in kissing me roughly.

“Ya better not say shit to your sister about this.” He threatened, but I took him by the back of his head and pulled him in for another quick kiss.

“Don’t worry cowboy, it’ll be our little secret.” I said as I pulled Ricks shirt up over his head admiring his muscles as he flexed and showed them off for me. He unbuckled his pants and then I reached down to pull off one of his board. Slowly removing them one by one and massaging his feet with my tongue, tasting his sweat as Rick started moaning and pulling off his pants completely, then as he stood there butt naked his picked me up carrying me. As I felt myself up against his naked buff torso, my hard cock scraping against his body. He lay me down across the seats in his truck and straddled me.

“Imma ride you’re ass so hard right now, you’re gonna be hollering something fierce.” He said in his sexy southern drawl. As he burrowed his cock deep inside of me, I moaned and shouted only to be muffled by Ricks mouth as he kissed me shutting me up and filling me with more pleasure. After Rick finally released the last of his juices inside of me he hovered over me his sweat trickling down from his muscles body. He wiped some sweat from his brow then pulled out another cigarette lighting it up and he pulled on his jeans and buckled his belt.

The rest of out trip was fun too, Rick pretty much did all the work throwing out the blocks of cinder, and I kind of just admired his strong body going to work. He knew I was watching too, because every once in awhile he would give me a really cocky smirk and a wink. Then on the ride back he had me give him a blow job while he blasted his country music to drown out the sound of his moans and shouts.

We made it home late that night, I gave Rick one more kiss before saying good by then I took off his hat and the look of confusion on Richards face was priceless, he looked down at his clothes in horror then looked at me his eyes wide and crazy.

“Something wrong Richard?” I asked feigning ignorance.

“I just.. How did I get here. And what am I wearing?” He breathed I to his hand took a whiff, “Have I been smoking?”

I laughed, “Woah Richard, buddy, I told you not too drink that much.”

His eyes got bigger, “I’ve been drinking? But.. I don’t even remember..”

“All day actually. I guess that’s why the call it black out drunk. You should probably go home and get some rest.” I suggested.

“Oh man.. Yeah you’re probably right.. Oh no, Karen! She’s going to be furious when she finds out be been drinking all night, first my tattoo and now this! She is going to kill me!”

I smiled at him reassuringly, “Don’t worry about it Rick, it’ll be our little secret.”

Can u do like one with a dorky geek being forced against his will to be turned into a jock and become like the star quarterback for the team like me

“You see, the problem with modern society is that, suddenly, all the emphasis has shifted from physicality and physical endeavours to cerebral enterprises and the furtherance of technology.  Societally speaking, that can only lead to a slow downfall of everything we, the human race, have ever built.  We have to get back to basics!”  On each word of the last sentence, the man banged the meat of his palm on the desk in front of him, emphasizing each point.  His gaze, however, never wavered from the array of students sitting in front of him.  His eyes swept the room, as if daring anyone to disagree with him.  He held the menace in his teeth, playing the silence out, and suddenly relaxed, shifting entirely into another mode, that of easy-going, affable Coach.  “But the pendulum swings, boys, the pendulum always swings.  One extreme to the other, and boy, when it comes,” he chuckled, swaying his head and clicking his tongue, “it’s gonna come hard.” 

The bell sang its saw-song through the air, jarring everyone from their respective trances.  Matthew snorted, turning to his friend.  “Are you kidding me?  One logical fallacy after another.  And that pseudo-social science he was spouting?  Did you even hear that?  Why did we even have him in class today?  What was that supposed to teach us?”

Sanjay shook his head.  “Which one do you want me to answer first?”

“Any.  None.  It doesn’t matter.  Just doesn’t make any sense.  Why have the coach of the football team lecture us on how intelligence and critical thought and technological know-how is actually, you know, in disguise, the downfall of human civilization!  Oh, yeah, let’s prize barbarity and tout physical achievement as opposed to …”

Honestly, Sanjay tuned him out.  Sure, Matthew was his friend.  Yeah, he was smart.  Probably one of the smartest kids in the school, but he had a demanding, needy persona that was just sometimes hard to bear.  He could be arrogant, almost preening, constantly displaying his prodigious vocabulary and scorning anyone who didn’t reach his impossible standards.  Still, better to have him on your side, Sanjay reasoned, than not.

“So, yeah.”  Matthew tossed his hair back from his eyes.  He’d been letting it grow long, some rebellion thing.  “Wanna watch foreign films tonight?”

“Uh,” God, again?  He had a passion for subtitles that bordered on the pathological.  Sometimes, he’d even quote the French when the appropriate time arrived.  “I can’t, tonight.  Family … thing.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Well, a toût a l’heure, mon ami!”

“Seeya,” Sanjay moved off into the hallway throng.  “Weirdo.”

o

The faint, overlapping sound of calls and cries, short and shouted, that echoed from the field.  Some grunting.  Matthew hated that, in order to walk home, he had to follow the small sidewalk around the back side of the school and around a fairly large chunk of the football field.  He usually had his earbuds in, and today was no exception, with Einstürzende Neubaten playing (and only because of the name) in his ears.  He tapped his hands idly against his thighs as he walked, tapping out a badly-timed beat to the song he was listening to.  His eyes he kept firmly fixed ahead.  He refused to look at the game in progress, or the training, or whatever.  Can’t deny that his eyes did flick to the left, but he didn’t turn his head, so that doesn’t count.  Or so he reasoned.

Out of all the sports, Matthew hated football the worst.  He could make concessions for “real” football, or soccer, if he was pressed, but American football, the NFL, all of it, just left a bad taste in his mouth.  Stupid celebrity body-glorifying inane banal moronic and, on one occasion, mentally retarded, were all words that came out of his mouth whenever confronted with the topic.  Team sports on a whole repelled him: the whole notion of conforming to a set, of being reduced to a function, caused him to shiver way down deep inside his skinny body.  He was furiously proud of his body, liked that he could slip in and out of places unnoticed.  He wore mostly blacks and grays for the same reason.

Of course, he was bullied.  What kid isn’t?  Matthew is no idiot.  He’s read books, seen movies, he knows.  The bully does it because the bully feels like he’s inferior in some way, is over-compensating.  Yeah, he knows the “why,” but the “what” keeps happening.  Physical threats.  He’s been tripped, kicked, spat at.  He does not let himself break to the bullies.  He knows that he is superior to them, and one day, they’ll be pumping his gas.  The knowledge of this certain future is enough to glaze and harden the sneer on his face whenever he runs into them.  

He looked up just in time, swerving to miss the outstretched hands of one of his classmates.  He didn’t even have time to notice which one it was.  All he saw was a wide grin and the palms of the hands, and the world yawed above him, sky to treetops to treetrunks to dead leaves on the ground, and he was falling, poorly, ungainly and akimbo, ass over teakettle, and rolling, crashing through various underbrush, skinning his palms on ill-placed rocks, the world became a splatter of color on a palette, and then turned to gray fuzz as he came to a halt.

“Whoa, kid, kid, holy fucking …”  Someone had rushed to his side, but Matthew couldn’t tell who it was.  His eyes were unfocused, his ears were slamming loud carillons of hiss and bells, he throbbed, nearly all over.  He thought, well, nothing’s broken, and remembered relief.  He cracked his mouth and a strange noise flopped out, like a broken bassoon.  “Are you OK?  Did you just fall?”

“Stupid … question,” Matthew said, and passed out.

o

He woke up at home.  In his own bed.  His posters on the wall, his strange Russian propaganda posters, his vintage movie posters.  He still throbs all over.  That part wasn’t a dream.  This is, however, that weird murky space between waking up and really waking up.  Surfacing, sort of, through the shallows.  He remembered … falling.  He remembered … being pushed!  His head is like an anvil factory.  Jabs of clanging pain twinned to his heartbeat.  He groaned, and ground his hand, hard, into his left eye.  The pain did not abate.  He rolled over, the sheets followed, and he untangled himself, with some amount of confusion.  There was a slightly heavy … slightly wet smell in the air, almost as if someone drenched in cologne had been there recently.  It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Matthew thought murkily, then shook his head violently.  No!  It was awful!  It smelled like a locker room.  How the fuck did he get home?  He reached for his phone, which was where he always kept it, on the night stand next to his bed.  He thumbed it open.  No missed calls.  No new text messages.  The time was 10:30pm., on whatever day.  He idly thought he might have amnesia.  It was dark, and he could hear the crickets sawing feverishly away outside his window.  He felt a stab of hunger, and slowly swung his legs out of bed. 

The anodyne glow of the big-screen television was near-blinding as Matthew limped down the stairs.  Weird, he thought.  No one in this house is usually awake at this hour.  He moved closer to inspect.  No one on the couch.  Not a sign that anyone had been there, actually.  It was all very Roanoke.  He half-expected to find “CROATOAN” carved into the coffee table.  It gave him a little, dull chill.  As he moved closer, the sound of the television grew louder, and the picture seemed to clear, resolving from white noise to figures, moving back and forth on the screen.  The white noise resolved into the sound of … an audience?  Matthew squinted at the screen, came even closer, outstretched a finger to prod at its surface, delicately.  Then he backed up, shaking his head, chortling.  “C’mon,” he said out loud, the sound of his voice flat in the living room.  “Don’t be a moron.” 

It was a game on the television.  A football game.  NFL, from the looks of it.  Uniforms … orange and white and orange and black.  The, uh … Broncos and the Browns.  Right.  That’s a lot of orange.  I didn’t even know we got this channel.  What channel?  Oh, ESPN, right.  The football’s pretty fucking elusive, doesn’t seem like anyone can get a handle on - oh, there we go.  That guy’s running.  He’s got the ball.  Feels like something’s going to happen.  Oh, hey, this guy’s coming out of the, no, no, he’s gonna make it he’s - oh.  Nope.  That guy jumped on top of him and he wasn’t close to the end zone.

Matthew felt a strange sense of disappointment, almost deflation.  He cracked his neck to one side and frowned a little.  The players were reassembling.  Some of them look kinda goofy.  The uniforms are kinda cool.  I mean, sorta.  It’s like armor, or something.  Representing … uh, like, houses, or … hey, they’re playing again. 

He found his muscles tightening, his hands forming into fists, as the football was snapped into play.  His eyes watched it as it described its arc over the field, soaring, spiralling, toward the eager and outstretched hands of – and

“INTERCEPTION!” 

Matthew snapped back to himself with all the force of a comet smashing into Siberia.  He blinked, blinked again, and then shook his head.  Was that something rattling around up there?  Jesus, he must’ve hit hard.  He should get some more sleep.  Was he just watching football? 

And … was there a moment there, just a moment, where he … kinda enjoyed it?

o

“Day 2,” Sanjay mimed a gun at his temple, lazing back in his chair.  The windows were open, and a light breeze sashayed in.  “Seriously, though?  Mandated physical education in the form of indoctrination?  Not sure that’s what they had in mind, but … hey, it’s gettin me out of class, right?”

“Yeah,” Matthew mumbled.  He was still kind of out of it, bruised up and scraped pretty badly, but with no lasting injuries.  “Sorry,” he said.  “I must’ve really rattled my brains in that fall.  Shit…”  He dropped his pencil and fumbled around under the desk for it.  “I’ve been so clumsy, today, too…”

“Maybe you got a concussion or something, man.  You should check in with the nurse.”

“Naw, it’s … I slept, last night, so, I don’t think it’s a, uh, you know.  That.  Man, this headache.  I keep taking all this aspirin.”  He shook out a pill from a plain white bottle.  “Don’t know if it’s actually helping, or what.”

Sanjay cocked his head at his friend and shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  Your funeral.  And I wouldn’t take so much advil, man.  Five, at the most.”

The door to the room slammed shut, and the coach walked in.  He never wore street clothes, or, if he did, his street clothes were the same as his regular clothes: basketball shorts and t-shirt, sneakers and socks.  He was a younger man, probably in his early 30s, with a corded, muscular body and a commanding presence lightened only by an aloof affability.  “Welcome back,” he said, and the room immediately quieted.  His eyes swept the room again, much in the same manner as before, as if surveying a course of meats.  “I - “ he stopped as his eyes fell on Matthew.  “Matt,” he said.  “Hope you’re feeling better.“

“It’s Matthew,” he said clearly.  “And yeah, I’m fine.  No thanks to the guy who shoved me.  And I will find out who that is,” he added venomously.  “And when I do, you can be sure I’ll be taking it to the proper author - uh - “

The coach seemed expectant, then shook his head and continued.  “Well, recent drama aside.  We’re here today to talk about the benefits of fitness, and how being physically fit is important in all ways, and, in some ways, how it is the most important.  Your brain won’t function if your body isn’t fed, right?  And we feed our bodies by giving it nutrition and exercising it just like we would a machine.  Sometimes … those machines need a tune-up.  I bet most of you here need a tune-up or two.”

“Not me, Coach!’  Brody piped up.  Matthew’s eyes skated over to him.  He was the QB.  He was just over six-foot and weighed twice what Matthew did.  He sat in his desk and possessed it of a gawky adolescent superiority.  His voice was deep and his face was shadowed around 5 o’clock.  “I’m runnin’ on all cylinders.”  He lifted his arms and flexed.  Most of the class groaned, some of the girls looked sideways, and a paper ball or two was tossed.

“Yeah, well, simmer down there, Bro.  It is true, Brody is at his peak physical form for his body type and his age.  That’s something you can all aspire to.”

Matthew felt dizzy.  The top of his scalp itched.  His throat itched, felt swollen.  He glanced at the back of his hand.  He watched it detachedly as it rose of its own accord, sleepily at first, then erect as a flagpole, fingers straight, unmoving.  “Yes, uh, Matthew?”

His words sounded, to his own ears, as if they had been dredged out of him.  “How do we .. uh, do that?”

The coach stared at him for a minute, inscrutably.  “Good question, Matt.”  Matthew let the name go, almost like a bullet in slow motion past his ear, creating auditory ripples in through his ear and passing through his brain - “Well, we can work out, we can play a sport and join a team - shameless plug, football team still needs some good bodies, signup sheet’s outside the door - but there’s lots of different ways to achieve your physical potential.

“You really don’t look so good,” Sanjay commented.  “And what was that all about?”

“Nothin,” Matthew said.  He felt drunk.  “I, uh, it’s fine.” 

The class continued, and Matthew sat there, silently, eyes fixed ahead.  The buzz and pound in his head continued.  It was almost as if the dream he’d had about watching football on the television was still playing, projected on the inside wall of his skull, and he was hearing it from far away.

o

The bell announced in its shrill, strident way, the end of class.  Matthew filed out with the rest, past the coach as he was erasing the whiteboard.  “Matt,” he heard, and he stopped.  “I just wanted to … are you OK?”

“Yeah,” he heard himself say.  “I’m good.”

“Well, you had a nasty spill.  You said someone pushed you.  You hit your head and you scraped yourself up, but nothing was broken.  We used your phone and called your roommate and they came and picked you up.”

“Oh,” Matthew said.  “It’s Matthew, you know.”

“What?”

“You keep, uh, callin me Matt.”

“Well, I guess it’s just easier.  Just a nickname.  What’s so wrong with Matt?”

“It’s, uh.  It’s not my, uh.  Yeah.  Whatever.  Look, I - “

“Want to sign up for the football team.”

“… Huh?”

“I’m joking.  What’s up?”

“I, that question I asked.  Maybe I should, you know.  Work out.  So I don’t, you know, ‘fall,’ anymore.”

“Hey, Matt, that’s a great idea!  Not to mention it’ll really help build up your confidence.  Who couldn’t use some of that, huh?”

“Right,” he agreed, a little uncertain why.  A weird molten surge of … something, was starting to heat up in his stomach.  “Yeah.”

The coach dropped his big hand on Matthew’s shoulder and grinned.  “I’m so glad you want to do this, Matt.  I really think it’ll do you wonders.  How about I take you down to the gym for your free period and show you the ropes?”

“My - how did you know I have a, next?  I didn’t -”

“I get all your schedules.  C’mon, I’ll show you and I promise, you won’t be able to stop once you start.  It really is addicting.”

“Yeah, right,” Matthew mumbled, but was already being ushered to follow by the coach’s arm and hand.  Before he knew it, they were walking down the hallway, out through into the dazzling sunlight, and then back inside via two metal doors with arrowslit-like windows, metal wiring.  The gym.  The echoes began almost immediately.  Basketball sneakers against the floor with their skreek skreeking, rubber on lacquer.  The clang and repeated thud of weights against racks.  A pumping soundtrack, fading in and out. 

“You’ll be right at home,” the coach said.  “Trust me.”

I doubt it, thought Matthew, but Matt’s face was grinning, and Matt’s mouth was saying, “Awesome, Coach.”

o

“So, how’s the recruiting stage going?”

“Great.  Aspirin was a great way to hide it.  No one knows.”

“And after a minor, accidental, spill, pain relief … is somewhat necessary, wouldn’t you say?”

“Brody is a good QB.  He’ll do whatever I tell him to, even if it does include a little … hooliganism. ”

“How about your white whale?”

“Oh, Matt’s doing amazing.  You know, you wouldn’t believe it, but the kid’s twice his size.  We’ll have him on the football team for this coming season, and he’s gonna make a hell of a QB after Brody graduates.  Isn’t even a trace left of who he was.”

“We want to thank you for allowing us to test our new drug out on your student body, as it were, Coach.”

“Well, I understand the need for a return to the fundamentals of society.  If that comes at the expense of some brain cells, well, so be it.”

“Quite right.  Excellent work.  I assume you’ll be having another winning season?”

“Year after year.  Year after year.”

Chris

After transforming Chris, I was inspired. Never had I ever imagined changing someone else could feel so liberating, so addicting, so… powerful. Sure, I had played pranks on my siblings and altered my own appearance many times over the years, but that all felt so inferior after Chad’s transformation.

Chad was the first of many to experience shifts in their realities. Every one of my selections was picked carefully – some individuals were worthy of my gifts; others needed a lesson or two.

This is one of those worthy individuals.

After perfecting my “ideal” body type, I decided LA was the perfect place to settle down in: a solid gay scene, entertainment galore and good-looking men at nearly every corner. What else could I have asked for? I mean, LA did bring me Chad, so I know I made the right decision.

Even though I could have maintained my body in perfect shape without lifting a single pound, I had to keep my powers on the down low. So, I regularly frequented this gym about five minutes from my place. I also just enjoyed the feeling of the weights in my hands and seeing how well my muscles handled the exercise.

Throughout my time at my gym, I met this kid: Chris. 21, shy, scrawny, and kind of a nerd. He wore thick black frames on his face, a shaggy haircut, and workout clothes that always made his thin body look even slimmer. But he was a nice guy. Whenever I saw him, he’d always say hi and engage in small talk with me. After a couple months, we actually became friends. He would make movie recommendations to me; I’d give him a few music suggestions. I even took him out to celebrate his birthday at my favorite bar.

I liked Chris. Initially, I thought he was just trying to flirt with me. I mean, I couldn’t blame the man; I was a fit, dark and handsome. But, after a few conversations, I just realized he kind of admired me in a different way. He liked my muscles, sure, but he didn’t want them on him. He wanted to have them. He wanted to bulk up.

So I would help him out in the gym a bit; spot him whenever he wanted to. That of course garnered us a few looks from people probably wondering why I was hanging out with him. I guess it might have looked a little odd, but Chris was my friend; I couldn’t have cared any less.

“You don’t have to always work out with me, Raul,” Chris said. “Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate it. Even though I haven’t made too much progress over the past few months, at least weight wise. I just don’t want you to lose your mass because you aren’t working out as hard as you could be.”

“Chris,” I said, with a smile. “Trust me, I won’t slim down or chunk up because I work out with you. I have a tight regimen that I stick to. I’ll keep my bod’, so don’t worry your little head too much.” I lightly punched his shoulder.

“You know what I mean,” Chris said, rolling his eyes. “You’re not gonna be much help to me if your muscles shrink and you’re a dweeb like me or if they all turn to fat and you’re a lard ass.”

“Wow, and to think that I thought you actually cared about my health,” I said. I placed my hand over my heart, feigning hurt.

We both laughed, walking over to our next station: the bench press.

“Besides, Chris, I actually enjoy working with you. We have good conversation.”

Chris and I picked up the plates from the racks and starting placing them on the bar in front of us. He really had been making progress. At the beginning, picking up a 25-lb plate was near impossible for him. Now, he only grunted occasionally; usually when we had a strenuous workout the day prior.

Once we had the weights in place, I laid down on the bench, adjusting myself in the proper position. Chris stood behind the bar, prepping to spot me. I reached for the bar and began my reps.

“Why doesn’t Chad ever come to the gym with you?”

“Uhm…” I said, lowering the bar down towards my chest. I had to think of a lie, quick. “Well, he’s always working. Plus, he mentioned to me once he doesn’t really like this gym, so he goes to one across town.” I continued my set.

“Oh, I see,” Chris said.

As I wrapped up my first set, a man walked towards us. John. I hated the guy. He tried to convey this macho, punker vibe, but, to me, he just came off as a try-hard douchebag. He always wore tank tops at least a size too small, with the deepest v-cuts I had ever seen. He was a total tool. I placed the bar back on the rack.

“Hey there, ladies,” John said, with a smirk. “Raul, how’s training the loser going today?”

“Get out of here, John,” I said, pulling my chest back as I sat back up on the edge of the bench.

“What?” John said. “Am I hurting your girlfriend’s feelings? It’s not my fault he’s been working out here for what? Four? Five months now? And he barely looks like he’s put on five pounds. He’s a joke. You should be working out with someone like me; at least I can give you a challenge. All this kid can give you is a sigh of relief that you don’t still look like a freshman in high school.”

“That’s enough, John,” I said, standing up, inches from his face. I scanned my eyes up and down his body until I landed at his face. Subtle freckles lined his medium-toned skin, highlighting his piercing green eyes that glared back at me. He was an attractive guy; too bad he was such a dick.

“If I were you, I’d walk away now,” I said, controlling every impulse I had to not draw my hand back and smash my fist into his nose.

“Whatever.” John said, with a scoff. He glanced at Chris, and smirked. “See you around.” He pushed his shoulder past Chris as he walked towards the bicep curls machine.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” I said, sighing. “I don’t get why John is always such an asshole.” I turned to my friend and noticed he was picking up his bag. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“I think I’m gonna call it a day,” Chris said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. “A light workout won’t hurt, especially after how hard you worked me last week.”

“Chris, no,” I said. “Don’t let John get to you; you’re doing a great job. Let’s finish.”

“It’s okay, Raul,” Chris said, beginning to walk away. “I’ll see you around.”

That’s when it hit me – I knew what I could do for Chris. The same thing I did for Chad, and for almost the same reason: I could make his dreams come true.

“Wait,” I said. I walked over to Chris, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Come back to my place. I think I know what’ll help with this.”

“What,” Chris said, laughing. “A bottle of vodka? Cause if so, yeah you’re probably right.”

“No,” I said, smiling. “Something better. Much better.”

–

Chris and I headed back to Chad’s and I’s apartment. We talked about some new anime Chris was watching on Netflix that I had never heard of. I was only half-listening because I was too preoccupied with my own thoughts. I was nervous for this transformation. But, my whole body felt like it was vibrating because of my simultaneous excitement.

When Chris and I walked through my front door, I made an excuse to run to the bathroom to wash my face. I stared at myself in the mirror, my tee still damp with the sweat from my workout.

“You can do this, Raul,” I said, trying to convince myself that making my friend happy was worth risking outing my abilities. “It’s for the better good, and you can trust him.” I splashed my face with water quickly and headed back to the living room.

“Okay, Raul,” Chris said as I entered the room. “What do you have that’s better than me getting plastered and finishing up a season of my anime?”

“Trust me, Chris,” I said, walking to the front of the room. “You’re going to love this so much more. Close your eyes.”

“What?” Chris said, furrowing his brows and sinking further into my couch.

“Trust me,” I repeated. “Just close your eyes.”

He looked at me confused for a few more moments before sighing and shutting his eyes.

I decided against repeating my mistakes with Chad and skipped the whole “I’m a wizard bit” and decided to cut right to the chase.

“What’s your dream body, Chris?” I asked.

“Raul, what are we doing,” Chris said, with a groan.

“Just answer, please,” I said. I held my hands out towards Chris, emitting a small wave towards him. I couldn’t leave room for Chris to stall or be sheepish, so I chose coax his mind into being fully truthful with me.

“I don’t know,” Chris said, sighing. “I guess your body is something I would love to have, but, you are kind of short. I’d like to be taller. I know I’m already 5 foot 10 inches, but I’d be nice to be like, 6 foot 5 or something. And I definitely want more muscles, even a bit more toned than yours. Arms are my favorite – I’d really want big biceps and tris. A strong core, and solid legs. My face is kind of on the softer side too. I’ve always dreamed of having a chiseled jawline.”

I smiled, watching my friend transform before my eyes. Hearing his desires out loud and allowing them to become a reality… I felt the same feeling I had with Chad.

“And I hate how shy I am.” Chris said, continuing. I guess that’s not really physical, but I just wish I was more confident. Kind of like John, just not like a douche. More ironic, in a way, but to the point that people actually found me charismatic and it’d make them want me. To be my friend, fuck me, date me - whatever applied to them.”

Chad’s body stretched, contorted, and grew into the perfect mold he had only imagined before. I watched my slender buddy turn into a hulking man that would tower over me if we stood side by side. No one would ever confuse Chris for a high school kid again; that was a fact. I tweaked his internal suggestions, boosting his confidence, and amping up his likability. And, for some final touches, adjusted his clothes to fit more comfortably.

Now, I was left with one more decision. I knew, deep down, I couldn’t allow Chris to know about my family and my abilities; at least not in the way I brought Chad into the mix. If I continued to increase the amount of people close to me know about my powers, I put myself at too much of a high risk with getting exposed. So, I knew I couldn’t let him remember his old life. With a flick of my wrist, it was done.

“I understand, Chris,” I said, lowering my hand. I walked over, bringing a hand mirror over and holding it in front of Chris’ face. “You can open now.”

“Shit!” Chris said, yelling and smacking the mirror out of my hands. “Did you really have to put that right in my front of me? I wasn’t prepared to look at my sweaty ass face!” He stood up, shaking his hand up and down playfully.

“I’m sorry,” I said, with a laugh. “I just know how easy you are to scare, and I never get tired of seeing a big, tough guy like you getting so jumpy.”

Then, I snapped my fingers, allowing Chris, just for a split second, to recognize everything that had just happened. His eyed widened as he noticed the extra inches of height he now had on me, and his breath hitched so slightly as he felt the dozens of pounds of muscle he had packed on in just minutes. At last, he achieved what he always wanted. And he smiled, and I knew he was thanking me.

“Ah,” Chris said, shaking his head as his reality shifted to fit his new life. “Sorry, uhm, what were we talking about, Little Dude?”

“You know how much I hate when you call me that, Chris,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“I know, I know,” Chris said, chuckling. “But you know I’m just kidding. It’s not your fault you’re so short. Plus, I would never want to piss you off, cause I know that you could still knock me square on my back.” He crossed his arms, smiling at me. “You’re like my, shorter but older brother, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I guess,” I said, laughing back. “But, to answer your question, you were just talking about how funny you thought that shirt you’re wearing is.”

“Oh yeah,” Chris said, with a smile. “It’s hella dumb, but I think my arms look really good in it. It felt nice to lift in today. Don’t you think I look good in it?” He posed for me, jokingly.

“Yes, Chris,” I said. “You look really great. And I’m sure Chad would agree too.” I smiled.

Ape boy

--- Originally posted on 2017-01-10 on realhankmccoy ---

“Just don’t make me dumb, man, I want to keep everything about my mind totally intact,” I told my friend at the lab.

I was totally willing to go through the procedure but I didn’t want it messing with my intellect any – my job and lifestyle were too important to me.

They promised me a whole new masculine experience, that they could bring out the man in me in ways that were easily accessible through epigenetic therapy.

I’d be fitter, more energetic, more attractive and just altogether healthier. It was in the beta testing process and they said they’d throw in $3000 if I signed off, too. I’d only need to take a few weeks off work for an outpatient trial.

“That didn’t seem so bad,” I said after the doctor finished up removing the slow drip from my arm and the infusion was complete. Took two different bags of fluid but I mostly felt fine, if a little faint at first.

I got home and realized I was pretty tired so I stripped down and went to bed. I started noticing the changes the next day already. I did have more energy. My face seemed handsomer, just a tad. After two days I was feeling pretty into this.

It was the third day when I started noticing that I was getting beefier.

That was cool, I thought, but then I noticed I was feeling hornier, too. I ignored it at first, but by the end of the day I was jacking off in my bedroom, hard. I got up off my bed, still stroking my dick, to check myself out in the mirror.

“Looks hot,” I thought, stroking it slowly. If this stuff made my sex drive a little stronger, that was fine with me.

I started getting obsessed with checkin’ out the changes in the mirror, and I had so much energy that I started working out. I’d be doing pushups on my hardwood floor and getting excited over how I was going to flex in front of the bathroom mirror after I finished a set of 50.

I went back to the lab and they didn’t seem to think it was a problem.

So I figured, what the hell, I might as well enjoy this. Pretty soon I was hanging out in just my underwear all the time. That didn’t make me dumb, I knew, it just felt good. I might as well get into it, I figured.

Only problem is I got used to it pretty quick. I hate wearing clothes now, dudes.

I looked in the mirror one day and I just looked so fucking good with these thick pecs and the thicker stubble on my face. I figured I should have fun with a haircut so I got kind of a high and tight, cut real short though, and that just turned me on. Even my facial structure has changed from this shit they’re doing to me. My ears look like they stick out more, like some dumb ape or something, and that just makes me hard. I’ve hot this thick abdomen and these beefy deltoids. I feel like I look more like a football dude, even, and I started watching football even. Might as well have fun while I’m stuck in outpatient anyhow.

They told me it wouldn’t alter my mind any but it’s like I’m addicted to working out, flexing in the mirror, taking selfies, hooking up – with dudes – I just find em on my phone. I stopped reading. I look at these hairy legs and I get hard just touching em, I rub a hand across my pecs and my nipples are hard right away and I feel my cock jump up wanting a piece of the action. All I can think about is my goddamn cock, man.

So I took another week off work because I’m not ready to go back, and told myself on Monday I’d start getting ready to get my life on track. I just procrastinated the whole day, jacking off in bed, mostly, slowly stroking it. I guess my new bod’s so awesome that it’s just depressing to think of going back to the office.

My alarm goes off on Tuesday, and I throw it against the wall and say fuck it. One more day of fun’s not gonna hurt. Dudes, I look so fucking good. At least I’ll be productive today, I tell myself. So I start off the day with a ton of pushups, make myself a protein shake, and I look so ripped in the mirror that I figure I’ll score myself a hookup off Grindr. Guy comes over, and his hairy, hard pecs crushed against mine – my rubbing the short beard I’ve got started all up on his asshole, and that turns him on enough that he’s letting me lift his legs and plow the shit out of him..

After he’s gone, I’m back in front of the mirror saying “you fucking stud. Yeah you fuckin’ ape boy. Fuckin’ just want to fuck with dudes, don’t you, gay boy. Yeah you jocked up fuck. Just want to get naked and fuck, don’t you?”

Still hard, still horny, so just stroking my dick slowly while I put the game on for ambience. I don’t know how Thursday’s gonna shake out but today I just went out and bought a basketball hoop for the driveway so I could burn off some of this energy. Felt fuckin’ great, too, goin’ out in the sun in just some shorts and Nikes working on my game. Soon as I was back indoors though, man, just stripped back down to my underwear – I can’t stop admiring this body. Gotta get another dude over here to mess around with. Fuck work, man, you only live once, right?

Think I’m gonna pick up a big screen for the bedroom because that’d be pretty cool, and I just found out gay dues have their own hockey leagues you can join so I’m thinking of that. How hot would that be – those dudes are fuckin’ built, man, and I could pick it up pretty quick I bet.

Fuck, let me know if – oh, fuck it, I’m gonna order a pizza and see if I can find a hot hookup for tonight. Some dude with pecs as thick as mine and who’s like me slapping this cock all over his tongue for a couple of hours while I tease the shit out of his hot jock ass. Yeah man. Fuckin’ hot, man, I could pump a full load into some dude’s muscle butt and be ready to score again two hours later. That’s how good I feel. Friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it as long as it’s none of that lovey-dovey or dramatic shit – I’ve got em on the phone. Sex, muscle, good food and workin’ out, so glad I met those lab rats.

One of my all-time favorites!

Career Day

“Hey bro, do you think you have what it takes to be a firefighter?”

You stop dead in your tracks. Next to the rows and rows of folding tables set up for career day is a big red fire truck. But instead of free pens and buttons to entice you in, three half-naked firefighters stand laughing, rubbing their thick muscles through their loose handing fireproof jackets.

This has to be some sort of joke, you think to yourself with a scoff. One of the meat heads approaches you with a hunky swagger. “So,” he asks again, “you think you have what it takes?”

It’s been a pretty boring day overall, so you decide to have some fun. “Alright,” you say with a sarcastic smile, “tell me: what does it ‘take’ to be a firefighter?”

“Well,” the guy says, “first, you’ve got to be jacked. Like… really jacked.” As he says this, you begin to feel your clothes grow itchy, like they don’t seem to fit quite right.

“Yeah,” you say trying to keep an air of confidence, “and what else?”

“Well,” he continues, “you’ve gotta have tough skin. Tough enough to withstand serious heat.” The itching is insatiable now, and you look down to see a rough callous develop over your hands, which are now bulging with muscle. You frantically look around the room, but no one else seems to be noticing the muscles now begging to escape from your tight clothes.

“You’ve got to have a lot of upper body strength,” he says before you can stop him, and suddenly your arms grow sore, biceps the size of baby heads bursting at the seams of your shirt. “And good legs…” he says, sending your thighs tearing through your jeans. “Not to mention a good core.” And with that, your chest expands into two square pecs and a rack of abs directly below.

“Is that it??” you plead with him, struggling to contain your new body as it continues to grow per his suggestions.

“Not yet,” the guy continues, “you’ve also got to know a thing or two about firefighting. Not much else though, you don’t want your brain getting too crammed if you know what I mean.” You try and resist the overwhelming feeling of numbness that envelops your mind. You feel memories of training and lifting with your fighter fighter bros begin to replace those of your friends, family, and education.

You, moan, trying to resist as a new feeling overtakes your body. “No… please…”

“Oh yeah! And one last thing. You’ve gotta be pretty hung. It can get pretty boring at the station with nothing to do. Some of us like to fool around a little bit. Wouldn’t hurt to have a 9 inch dick.”

You know it’s coming this time. The testosterone, the heat flooding your pelvic region. You look down just in time to see a full, 9 inch penis burst forth from your briefs and unleash a wave of cum all over the floor. With it escapes all your knowledge of your past life; you’re nothing more than one of those meathead firefighters now, nothing else on your mind by saving lives and sucking dick.

“Here,” says the guy as he leads you over back to the truck and away from the crowds, “lets get you into something more comfortable shall we?”

You nod stupidly, eagerly awaiting the minute you can get him into bed with your thick new cock, both your muscle bodies rubbing sweaty together for hours. As he slips you into your firefighter’s coat, you know you’ve chosen the right career. Even if it wasn’t exactly your choice…

Massive & Mindless

--- Original creation #3 ---

"You want to be a jock?"

Asher, the school's quarter back looked at you quizzically.

You didn't look like the type that would be interested given your small frame and size.

"Hmm. No can do I think. Not like this at least"

You became nervous as the quarter back stepped closer to you, giving a clearer view of his pecs that were nearly spilling out his stringer tanktop.

"You see," he started saying as he grabbed onto your arms, lifting them both up. "you need some serious arm muscle if you want to do a ball sport".

Pure ecstasy came over you as your arms expanded in size. You looked at your arms as you flexed them seeing them grow even larger in size.

Barely recovered from the kick you feel his hands touch your chest.

"Of course, you can't move your arms well if you don't have good pecs to match"

Immediately you felt the pull your shoulders pulling on your chest. What was once flat had now become two slim yet firm slabs of muscle to accompany your new strong arms.

"How could I forget about a good core?" Asher said, thoroughly enjoying your face of pure euphoria.

He now looks you in the eye as you feel him draw a line vertically across your chest. Next, you feel his finger go horizontally. As you look down you can see his work. Where his finger went were now deep grooves forming an impressive core, including beautifully sculpted obliques.

As you look up your eyes meet again and you could feel a heat start to rise inside you.

"You've also got to be able to withstand a good bash, can't have you falling on your ass while on the field" Asher said.

You feel your legs grow. The gap between is slowly closing with pure muscle. Soon you find that you can feel your thighs touching each other.

All the while, the heat inside you kept growing. You could feel your excitement rise.

"You need to have a good grip on the ground as well"

Your feet swelled, only able to accommodate size 13 now.

"Of course we like to have fun as well after our games" Asher said, shamelessly staring at the out print of your cock visible on your shorts.

"Like your muscles, we like it massive"

You already knew what was coming. You felt his touch and as he did you could feel your dick grow. It reached a bigger size than you had even seen before.

"Like your teammates, we like it mindless"

You could feel his hands plant themselves on the sides of your face as his face closed in on yours. A pair of lips planted themselves on your face as you felt his stubble rub against your skin.

If you weren't fully excited already, now you were. As you kept kissing Asher you could feel a haze encroach your mind. Every second, you felt your concerns, your worries, everything fading away.

You had reached cloud nine.

As Asher broke contact, he couldn't help but smile.

You were lost in pure bliss. You hadn't even noticed as a slight bit drool escaped from the sides of your mouth.

As a final act Asher stood right up against you. You could feel his crotch straining against yours. As he placed his forehead on yours you could feel new thoughts entering your mind.

Strategies, faces of your teammates, times spent together after practice.

What you would have considered foreign moments ago now felt right, it felt normal.

It felt like it always had been. Like the jock you've always been.