Ape Boy

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.

Dissolving Swim Shorts

Inspired by a video I saw

Tanner was a lonely college freshman. Thin, nerdy and very body shy. He was surprised there were very few clubs at his school, it seemed like all of the guys were in the frats or sports. He felt self conscious seeing all of the bigger guys in the halls wearing tight revealing clothing to show off their muscles and hair. One day he found a package outside his dorm, which contained a bathing suit, a tank top and an invitation to a big frat pool party. The invitation said the outfit had to be worn to be admitted, Tanner sighed. Even a sleeveless shirt made him feel uncomfortable showing off his skinny arms and lack of body hair. But he was lonely and bored so he forced himself into the suit, noticing the material felt oddly light and strange to the touch. He shrugged it off and put on some shoes and went to the party.

He made it to the gate where two large frat boys in just swim trunks stopped him.

"No shoes bro, only the outfit you were sent, thats the rule".

Tanner felt his face reddening but he had already come this far. He tossed off one shoe and then the other, revealing his small, pale feet. The guards took the shoes from him and waved him in. As he went past they laughed and tossed the shoes in the garbage knowing he wouldn't need them anymore. Tanner quickly noticed he was by far the smallest guy there in a crowd of hairy studs all flexing, chest bumping and playing beer pong. He wandered around near the pool when a pair of hands suddenly hit his chest hard sending him toppling in. He looked around at all the smiling frat boys who stared at him with looks that said they were expecting something. He looked down in horror to see his shirt melting off. His small nipples, flat stomach, all bare. He raised his hands meekly to cover himself only causing the other guys to laugh.

"Show off show off!" They chanted.

Tanner felt an odd heat and pressure as if the pool was warming up. His hands were starting to be pushed away from his chest as his pecs grew! Muscles ached and expanded until a definitive shelf had formed. His nipples enlarged and pointed slightly down. That wasn't all, his stomach had expanded, hard muscles could be felt there but also a bit of fat like he drank too much or was just lazy between work outs.  Tanner turned a bright crimson, embaressed but also oddly turned on by having this new muscle. His small joy quickly faded though as an itching spread over him. The newly enlarged chest was now sprouting curly brown hairs everywhere! Gross, he thought, muscle was one thing but he didn't wanna end up a hairy frat boy like these guys! He splashed towards the stairs in a hurry, hoping getting out of the water would halt the changes. Just then he felt a rush of water around his privates and saw in horror that his bathing suit had disentegrated.

"Show it off bruh!" One of the frat bros shouted. Tanner let out a loud, deep moan as he felt his dick slowly growing.

"No, no, nooooo" he moaned as it grew thick and hairy, dark hair swirling up around his dick to meet the pelt on his chest before swirling around to connect with his newly hairy ass that had also pushed out into a firm bubble butt. Tanner was overwhelmed with shame. His big, hairy, sexed up body exposed for all to see.  Even his hands and feet had swelled greatly. Hair pushing out on his feet and toes. No way those old shoes would fit now. Not that hed be wearing shoes. Against the embaressment a new thought was fighting to take over.

"Damn, Im hot" Tanner grunted not realizing he had said it aloud. But it was true. As much as he had felt grossed out before a growing part of him loved this big, hairy body.

Sexy.

Thats what he was.

Enough to get any girl and maybe some guys. He needed to show off. A cocky grin grew across his face which had changed to become more angular. A 5 o clock shadow growing in and beaming blue eyes under heavy eye brows. He took a big wet hand and slicked back his curly brown hair with blonde highlights before striding out of the pool, proudly letting his new cock swing between his legs, half erect already from all the hot people at the party. He fist bumped the other guys and grabbed a beer before chugging it. 

"Lets party!"

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.

Hi, i was hoping my Touristics trip would take me to Greece?

Well of course we can arrange a journey to Greece, we even have multiple packages to book. Looking at you I think you would it would be good for you to book our Mt. Olympus package. Climb the mountain of gods if you like or drive to the coast, it’s only about 5 minutes by car. But that would be up to you. Oh you would like to climb the mountain first. We can arrange that. 

As you leave my shop, you find yourself on an uncommon street. It isn’t the same you entered the shop through, but you aren’t bothered at all, it feels just right to be here. You wander around and finally a man speaks to you. He is cute, a twink and reveals to have a soft almost feminine voice as he speaks to you: “I have searched for you, you are the tourist the man at Terrence & Ford told me about, aren’t you?” You confirm this and the man leads you down a few roads and then you are able to see your destination, Mt. Olympus.

The little man shows to possess a whole lot of endurance as you climb the mighty peak. Just as he struggles with a particularly high stone you notice his butt, it’s really big from what you see through his pants, and it looks really round and firm. “But wasn’t I supposed to be straight.”, you think as you scratch your head, only the noticing how big your biceps are. You look at them in awe, totally entranced by he twitching of the mighty flexed peaks and the criss-crossing veins running along them. 

Carefully you approach the still struggling mountaineer, grab his ass and help him shove him further up allowing him to climb the rock. Then you reach out and pull yourself up in one fluent motion, earning awestruck gazes from your companion. “Man, it must be nice being this tall.”, he squeaked looking up at your chiseled bearded face.

“Fuck I can’ take it anymore.”, you exclaim in a powerful baritone and pull the man upwards, planting a sensual kiss on his lips, as you rip his pants away, as well as yours. About 10 minutes later you find yourself behind a corner, rapidly jackhammering your new godly cock deep into your companion’s big ass. Another 30 minutes and more than a few loads later you descend down the mountain again.

Though you didn’t reach the peak fully, you still gotta show the mortals on the beach what a true Olympian looks like.

“Watch where you’re going!” snapped the businessman, Sam Milton, the newly made CEO of his father’s business. Hot coffee spilled over his suit as he quickly wiped away, glaring at the speedo wearing shirtless and skimpy man in front of him that had bumped into him. They held a rainbow flag in hand as Sam instantly knew he was from the pride parade that was nearby.

“Sorry mate,” came the relaxed and British sounding voice of the shirtless man, Sam felt he saw him somewhere as a model, but he wasn’t sure why he would ever remember that as he glared at him, as a barista came rushing over.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Milton, sir, could I get you a new order?” questioned the barista quickly, Sam shrugged.

“It’s fine, not like he put anything in the coffee,” Sam joked as he took a sip, not ever noticing the slightly tangy taste that came from the hot substance inside as he finished wiping himself off before leaving.

On the way to work, he found himself finishing the coffee before finally entering his office, sitting down with the skyline behind him, his assistant had already left a stack of files and things to do. Sam started to get to work, reviewing reports, as he started to find himself sweat. It was small at first, droplets on the back of his hand before beads started to run down his forehead. “Why isn’t the AC on?” Sam muttered, coughing as he noticed the odd gruffness off his voice, he started to unbutton himself, taking off his tie.

And then his dick started to become erect. Sam shuffled and stifled in his seat as thoughts of the parade came across his mind, not realising that he had been straight before, he just had a date yesterday! His hand slowly started to find itself on his thigh, wanting to inch closer and closer to his needy cock, he shouldn’t be doing this at work of all places, but his mind could barely respond, and his fingers grew closer and closer, coiled towards the very edge of his length and then-

“Sir,” A knock came at the open door, as his assistant stood firm in the doorway, giving them a warm smile. Sam instantly picked his hand away, focusing on them as best he could, only thinking about his body, those fuckable lips…Why was he thinking about that? Damn it, he needed to focus!

“Yes?” Sam’s voice sounded odd and distorted, he coughed to try and cover it up, wondering what was happening as sweat continued to sheen off skin.

“The investor, Mr. Clarke is on the line, the one to call about our next quarter,” informed the assistant, Sam nodded as they gave him one last smile before walking away back to their desk and closing the door behind them. Sam instantly picked up the phone.

“Hello, this is Mr. Milton,” Sam’s voice only grew rougher and rougher, as he felt his hand clutched around his cock through his suit pants, unable to stop himself as he started to see his hand, slowly growing paler and paler, the fingers felt longer as they started to grow and expertly maneuvered around his head.

“Mr. Milton, is it? I’m Julius Clarke of Clarke Foundations, I just wanted to speak to you briefly…” The voice paused as Milton couldn’t help but emit a low groan as he could feel his other hand starting to grow larger, wrapping around the phone in his hand as his other teased the head of his lengthening cock, starting to slither down towards his thighs as the first tears at the seams of his pants could be heard. “Mr. Milton, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just getting a-head-” Sam yelped as his fingers stroked over the tip of his cock, the more they played with him, the more he felt himself growing as more rips were spreading in his pants, revealing more of the muscular mass of his legs underneath that started to grow, “of myself. Carry on.” Sam quickly stuffed a fist into his mouth as he started to see his cock poke through the top of his boxers and pants, throbbing as the suit pants were shedding away.

“As some of you know, some of our recent investors have been a pain in the ass-” Sam almost fell from his chair, now his knuckle stone white as it grabbed at the edge of his desk, feeling his chair pushed away slightly from under him as Sam felt his cheeks spread apart, hairs growing on the back as they began to grow and tear away the Calvin Klein boxers and seat of his pants. “And not to mention the fact that they’ve been clearly ripping us off.” The rest of the pants ripped away as Sam felt his thighs thickening, growing in muscularity as they became lean and long, stretching out beyond the desk and causing Sam to fall on his knees, only his office shirt on as he resisted the urge to moan at the feeling of his calves growing.

“Yeah, we- we should come-” Sam felt his cock twitch, still growing in girth and elongating as it flopped down between his legs, looking paler and larger as pre-cum dripped. “I mean, get over there and sort…sort it out.” Sam couldn’t breathe if he kept talking, trying to stop himself from panting and groaning as he felt his feet start to crawl forward, looking over his shoulder as his dress shoes began to split, the black shiny soles as his large pale feet started to poke through.

“Exactly, now I think you could be a strong competitor,” started the investor, the moment he said strong, Sam felt his arms flex themselves, needlessly watching the rest of the buttons from his tight shirt spray into the air as they were flexed off. Sam had always been fit, but this was something else as he started to cup his new pecs that became extremely large, swelling to the point where he could barely believe they were real. The muscular power flowed through his stomach, his once lean abs now became stronger and sturdier, growing and thickening as they were now deep crevices in his stomach. “I’m hosting a gala soon, where we could discuss this with some other members who are interested in a coalition of sorts, would you be interested?”

“Sorry,” Sam couldn’t tell if he was apologising to the investor for the noises or the meeting as he felt himself near writhing on the ground, the phone still barely in hand as he continued sweating, his cock throbbing.

“Ah, that’s a shame, I was having some people coming all the way from Britain,” It was then Sam started to find his mind rearranging, new accents and words fading in and out as he couldn’t even remember what it was like to start speaking with an American accent, his own groans and muffled moans started to sound different in his deep voice that lingered on with a new London accent. “Well, I will speak to you soon then, here’s hoping you can still come.” With that, everything went blank, business, statistics, stock prices, and so much more as Sam saw nothing but white as his dick throbbed and delivered the best orgasm of his life, spraying and coating his entire body and desk with his own cum, every single orgasm erasing Sam Milton as the American businessman, now replaced with the London model as he began to moan out loud, writhing in his own pleasure as he came again…and again…and again.

“Oh fucking hell mate, where the fuck am I?” Sam muttered to himself as he started to look around, standing up behind his desk now as a naked muscular hunk dripping with cum and sweat.

Some time had passed after the incident, Sam couldn’t remember what he was doing that day but now found himself too busy to care. The business was taken over by his father until his son was “feeling better”. His dad now started going to the same coffee shop as he did with the same guys who came from the same parade every year. It was only a matter of time before he followed his son’s footsteps.

As for Sam Milton, well he now found himself posing on the billboard across from his old office, modelling for the makeup company; Clarke Foundations. 

What the Athletic Department Needs

Bringing back Coach Sorenson as requested

Tony Reardon anxiously paced back and forth inside of the coach’s office. It was strangely large and well-decorated, looking similar to something he expected from a therapist. One large loveseat, a coffee table, and a chair with an extra wide cushion were the only items in the room. There were also multiple pictures of championship victories, a few caps and balls hanging as mementos, an array of cabinets, and large windows overlooking the university. He wished literally anyone was here with him. His girlfriend, his advisor, even his mother! But he was completely alone, unprepared to face what he assumed was going to be the coach’s wrath.

As a lead writer for the university’s newspaper, Tony should’ve known better than to expose the article. He’d been in the business for almost four years now through high school and into college, so he could admit it was rather idiotic of him to let his segment leak. He had written an editorial about the recent declines in the university’s academic departments and its odd correlations with the climbing numbers in athletic enrollment. Somehow, while the average grades had been plummeting, the football, soccer, basketball, baseball, and hockey records had been exploding, with a new star player added to each team every week. Not only that, but the swimming team had expanded for the first time in 20 years, and there were now four golf teams instead of two. Somehow, all these events had to be connected with the academic slump, and that’s what Tony’s article was going to explore.

For the next month’s publication, he began researching the link between the fall of academia and the rise of physical activities. The chase had led him through a plethora of unexplained student disappearances, skyrocketing mid-semester registrations, and a barely-quantifiable amount of seemingly illegal activity. The most prominent example had been the creation of some cologne called “Heir,” a seemingly simple concoction invented by the new Assistant Football Coach Mark Richardson. Ever since the beginning of the rises and declines, there had been a huge amount of the chemical shipped to the university almost every day. Tony knew that this cologne had to be the answer he was looking for, but before he had a chance to investigate further, his article had been exposed to the faculty, including the head of the Athletic Department: Coach Sorenson.

And this was why Tony was cowering slightly as he waited for the coach to enter. What would he do to Tony, or with Tony? He had definitely gotten himself in way too deep, but there was no way he could escape now. Tony took a long breath and tried desperately to cool himself down. There was no way the coach would be able to harm him in any way. Tony was only a sophomore, not even 20. He was going to be fine, and he just had to keep telling himself that. He just had to get through this and then he’d be on his way.

Suddenly, the door from behind him opened. Tony quickly stood at full attention, almost as rigid as a soldier.

“Stand down,” Coach Sorenson chuckled. “Please, take a seat.”

Tony followed his instructions, nervously twitching as sat down on the white couch across from the coach’s massive chair. His eyes quivered as the giant of a man strolled past him. Tony assumed the coach had to be almost 6’5 (at least a foot taller than him) and even though he looked to be in his forties, he had to be in better shape than any other man above 25. Bulging biceps and triceps, juicy quads, and thick calves were all exposed as they strained the light blue compression shirt and tight, white mesh shorts. Not only that, but the two massive white Nike sneakers did nothing to hide the giant feet as they stomped their way around the other side of the table. Tony also unhappily noticed a massive cock swinging back and forth between the coach’s legs like a pendulum trying to break out.

As the coach sat down, Tony looked over his own body in dread. He’d dressed a little more professional for the situation as he was talking with the head of the Athletic Department. His plaid button-up was fairly flat, showcasing his lack of anything in his torso region. His khakis gave a similar performance as they loosely held onto his legs. His briefs hid any existence of his dick, which was currently sitting at about 3 inches soft. Barely tapping his small shoes quickly against the tile floor, Tony sunk a little further into the loveseat. His butt barely covered half a cushion as he brought his legs together, hoping to stop the shaking.

“To get right to business,” Coach Sorenson’s deep, melodic voice began. “We both know why you’re here in my office.”

“I’m so sorry!” Tony exclaimed, his tenor voice sounding wimpy and childish. “I had no intention of harming the Athletic Department’s reputation in any way at all. I swear, the article is just an editorial–opinions, not fact.”

“I understand.” Coach Sorenson leaned back into his chair and crossed his meaty arms. He pushed his legs out until they were far apart, the man-spreading showcasing who was in charge in the room. He seemed to be dwelling over a thought in his head.

“I promise, it will never be published if that is what you’d like.” Tony gulped at his own proposal, upset at what he was sacrificing.

“No, no,” Coach Sorenson started. “The article can still be salvaged.”

“Salvaged?” Tony questioned hesitantly.

“Well of course,” Coach Sorenson chuckled again, only this time it was a little more menacing. “But if you want to get this thing published, you’ll want both sides of the story.”

Tony pondered the idea for a moment. “What does that entail?”

“I know you’re a smart boy, Tony.” The emphasis on “boy” made it seem more like an insult. “I’ve seen your transcripts. Quite impressive really.”

“Thank you?” Tony was lost, not finding the point.

“You should know that the greatest editorials present sources from both sides. If you want to publish this article, you’re going to have someone in the Athletic Department. I would be willing to fill that responsibility.”

The two sat there in silence for a moment; Coach Sorenson waiting for Tony to take the bait.

“Alright,” Tony agreed. “Are there certain questions you’d like me to ask?”

“Well, first, I have a strange request for you.” The coach’s tone suddenly shifted from authoritative to friendly. “My son made a comment the other day about my body odor, and I’ve been quite self-conscious about it since.”

“I can’t smell anything,” Tony replied honestly, hoping to move forward quickly.

“I just want to make sure.” Coach Sorenson pushed his muscular body out of the chair, the giant frame once again showcasing its massive form as it ascended upwards. The coach then made his way over to the loveseat, taking a seat right next to the very uncomfortable Tony. Compared to the coach, the sophomore now looked even smaller than before.

“Can you smell me when I’m sitting right next to you?”

Tony, now even more intimidated then he had been the entire time, took a theatrical sniff before sputtering out a meek, “N-n-no.”

“Alright,” Coach Sorenson shifted over, getting close enough that his gigantic arms and legs were rubbing up against the beanstalks Tony called limbs. “How about now?”

“S-s-still n-nothing!” Tony squeaked. The coach smirked and casually raised his arms behind his head, stretching out his compression shirt and allowing tufts of wet armpit hair to spill out. Now Tony began to smell something pungent, repulsive, and… addicting. His eyes began to water from the stench as he gradually lost focus.

“Really?” Coach Sorenson insisted, slowly leaning one of his pits into Tony’s face. “Are you sure I don’t smell?”

With logic disappearing quickly, Tony decided this had to be a test. All he had to do was show his obedience to the coach and he would get to publish the article. Without a doubt in his idea, he confidently moved his nose right into a damp forest, the stench almost hitting him immediately. Although he now knew his answer, Tony didn’t stop sniffing. For some reason, he kept going. He had had three words to describe the flavor of the coach’s body odor before, but now the only one that came to mind was-

“Addicting, isn’t it?” The coach cooed, wrapping an arm around Tony and pushing his head in further. “Mark really made sure to make his cologne captivating, that way you’d have no chance of escaping.”

Tony should’ve been panicking; he should’ve been screaming and trying to escape. But he couldn’t, and not because he was being physically held down. He could slip out in seconds if he wanted too, but that was the problem: he didn’t want too.

“After I discovered your little essay, I had to assure your disappearance would be quick and much more hidden than the other students.”

Tony was too captivated in the tangles of pit hair to hear or understand what was going on.

“Although Heir probably would’ve worked, I decided it would be best to be extra cautious. Mark had informed me a few weeks ago that he had made a new detergent for his uncle, the CEO of TenHaken Industries. Apparently it was a success, as its main purpose was to give the employees a few extra decades.”

Tony, who was still feverishly sniffing, began to feel pulsing tingles race across his limbs. He twitched violently but continued to dedicate his attention to the pits at hand.

“So, in hopes that Tony Reardon would vanish from the university while also becoming an advocate for the Athletic Department,” Coach Sorenson smirked proudly. “I decided to mix Heir with Maturitatem, the aging scent that Mark made for his uncle.”

The coach pulled a small, empty cologne bottle out of his pocket. It had two labels on it: one that had been originally attached and one that had been taped on. Tony wasn’t able to see either, but he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was smell the coach’s greasy jungles of pit hair.

Lost in bliss, Tony didn’t notice how the tingling from before had now spread to every part of his body. With every passing second, it seemed to be expanding, pushing outwards as if it was begging for release. In its attempts to escape, the energy pulled at Tony’s mass like taffy, stretching out his limbs and torso as they were pulled further apart. Satisfied with how the process had begun, Coach Sorenson had to readjust his arm to make sure the larger Tony could fit under it. Once the stretching had stopped, the lanky boy now stood at 6’4, just under the coach. He now had to crouch a little with his feet planted firmly on the floor so he could keep inhaling the intoxicating scent.

Now that he was of proper height, the tingling began to focus on certain areas of improvement. The first were the arms, which immediately bloated outwards as mass began to develop. Thick, juicy muscles pushed outwards to create firm biceps, triceps, and forearms. Veins snaked their way downwards to process more flow of testosterone and other hormones. Tony’s hands, which were previously delicate enough to make a typewriter silent, ballooned out as extra flesh made each of his fingers into calloused sausages. They were now only meant to throw, grip, and squeeze.

The tingling then moved across the shoulders and into Tony’s torso. Straight, strong shoulder blades popped out as his chest began to inflate with each huff. Two sturdy pecs pushed against his shirt fiercely, causing the buttons to eventually fly off in random directions. After the pectorals had arrived, they were followed by a magnificent eight-pack that was sure to impress crowds. A hard, defined core helped Tony’s stature become more masculine, giving him a stronger alpha presence to compare to the coach’s.

With the torso improved, the tingling split into two. The first colony swam south, spreading across Tony’s extended legs. The twitching began much more as the Coach eagerly watched the khakis strain at the seams before ripping. As they slipped away–along with his briefs–two sets of gloriously crafted trunks were revealed. Beefy quads were taking in their first light just like the sculpted calves below. A pair of succulent buttocks had also appeared below, hoisting Tony up a little further into Coach Sorenson’s armpit. The sheer size of Tony’s legs forced him to subconsciously push them apart to allow room for his below-average pouch. Although Tony wasn’t a true man yet, his newly-permanent manspread said otherwise.

The tingling also made sure to target Tony’s feet, giving off a similar feeling as if they had fallen asleep. The two soles began to slowly pulse outwards, gaining mass and girth with each increasing centimeter. It wasn’t long before Tony’s shoes were simply destroyed, losing their shape as they were torn into multiple pieces. Coach Sorenson watched on proudly as he swiftly pushed the remains of all the destroyed clothing underneath the coffee table. With surprise, he noticed that Tony was still wearing socks. They had once been knee-high, but now rested right at the ankle, just barely managing to cover the Size 16 feet.

The second group of tingles had now moved upwards, quickly bringing along a flurry of changes as it zipped by. Tony’s neck grew outwards to support larger, broadening vocal chords, which now provided a grumbling bass voice similar in timbre to the coach’s. Tony’s head lengthened out to give him a wider, more prominent chin, allowing for a sharper jaw in return. His ears perked out a little more, along with giving him a bigger nose, wider lips, and piercing brown eyes to replace his shimmering blue ones. His hair also tidied itself up, pulling back up and flopping over as it now had a modern, but natural lift to it.

“Yeah, you’re looking real good,” Coach Sorenson murmured, shoving Tony a little deeper into his pit. “Now, let’s see the namesake of Heir…”

The tingling returned to its roaring presence across Tony’s body once more, except this time it felt more like itching. Sprouts of hair follicles began to explode forth from Tony’s skin, blooming all across his legs, chest, and pubes. Hefty tufts swirled around each other on Tony’s forearms and thighs, while dense forests now covered his calves, chest, and the tops of his feet. Tony’s upper arms were pushed out just slightly to make room for the emerging jungles of pit hair, which now filled in a space Tony had no idea existed before. His face also gained a rather gracious smattering of hair, as he now adorned an extended goatee that could grow back in less than 24 hours. A strong odor began to erupt out of Tony’s body too, a masculine funk coming from his pits and feet that demanded authority.

“…and of Maturitatem.”

Coach Sorenson hadn’t exactly known how much of the detergent to add, but he had assumed a few drops was enough when he had mixed it into the cologne. By the looks of it, he had put in the perfect amount, as the effects were rather minor but definitely noticeable. Tightening of muscles all across Tony’s body came first, followed by the tiniest of wrinkles and weathered skin. Tony’s hairline fell noticeably back, and his once full head of hair lost its youthful thickness. His marvelous eight pack thrusted forward into a powerful muscle gut, almost identical to the coach’s. Finally, Tony’s body hair became a little denser and coarser, adding a few more playful curls across his limbs.

“You’re looking much better,” Coach Sorenson commented as he slowly brought Tony out of his armpit. Tony was startled and bewildered, the smell of the coach’s pits still potent in his nose.

“Now, let’s get you changed into, well, something.” The coach quickly maneuvered his lumbering body across the room to a cabinet, opening it to pull out a set of clothes.

“I always have a few spare shirts and shorts,” Coach Sorenson began as he plodded back over to Tony. “And looking at you, I’d say we’re pretty close to the same size now.”

As Tony was still in a daze, the coach had to help him put on the clothes. First, he carefully placed a tight, gray compression shirt over Tony’s chest, struggling a little at the pecs but eventually making it over. Then, he proceeded to shimmy a pair of blue compression shorts up Tony’s bare lower body, not bothering to grab him any sort of underwear. The coach knew he would rather be commando in the end anyway. Coach Sorenson also grabbed a black baseball hat that had been hanging on the wall and placed it on Tony’s head, making sure to twist it. Although Tony now looked to be around 30, he could still rock a backwards cap.

“Alright,” Coach grunted as he collapsed back into the loveseat beside Tony, the two barely fitting now. “There’s just one more thing we have to do.”

“One… more thing?” Tony’s sonorous voice seemed lifeless. His head had just begun to clear up, but at such a tedious rate that even the simplest of thoughts were difficult to comprehend.

“Yes, I’m surprised you didn’t know that this process had two steps.” Coach Sorenson grinned, glistening in the warmth of his own arrogance.

“First, there’s the cologne, which you’ve already experienced.” The coach brought up one of his feet onto the coffee table. Tony nodded in response, still unable to think straight.

“And then,” Coach Sorenson yanked off one of his sneakers. “there’s the sole of the shoe. It’s specially designed to help you mentally process the transformation.”

“Wait… what?”

“Yeah,” the coach replied, nonchalantly shoving the sneaker into Tony’s face. “When I read your article, which wasn’t half bad might I add, I was surprised to find that you had missed a whole component of our project.”

Tony, who had finally started to make it out of the haze, was sucked right back in as he passionately inhaled the coach’s foot funk.

“But, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Coach Sorenson demeaningly patted Tony’s back. “In a few minutes, you’ll barely be able to read an article, let alone write one. You’ll be just what the Athletic Department needs.”

To the coach’s delight, Tony had now grabbed the gargantuan shoe and was holding it to his own nose. His frantic sniffing was quickly replacing his personalities, values, and morals; shifting them out with thoughts crafted for a team player. Years of academic clubs, races, and scholarships fell away into the abyss, only to be replaced with numerous sport outings of various kinds. His saxophone lessons had changed to baseball practices, his writing seminars had switched into working out in the gym, and his tutoring sessions had flipped from him being the tutor into him being the tutored.

An extra ten years were also added onto his mental plate, giving Tony a whole new history. For years after (somehow) graduating from the university with a Sports Education degree, he had worked as a personal trainer at a local gym, climbing the ranks until he had become the assistant manager. That’s when Coach had dropped by to check on him, with his true intent to offer him an assistant coaching position back at the university. Tony had agreed to an interview not only because it would put his degree to good use, but he’d also get to work with Coach again, and under him. Tony suddenly recalled all the late nights he spent with Coach, lots of one-on-one brojobs, handjobs, and of course, offering his hole whenever Coach needed it. And if Tony got to train his own team, he’d have a group of young boys at his sexual disposal. Just thinking about it made his cock spring to life.

Speaking of his cock, all the information that was being replaced had to move somewhere else, with the only available option being Tony’s balls. With all of his former intellect and memories now stored there, the once previously grape-sized testicles had now bloated into two ample tennis balls. In response to the new volume, Tony’s sack began to ferment the material, slowly dissolving it down and reconstructing into pure jock seed. As the new production began, testosterone dispersed throughout Tony’s pouch, affecting his dick instantly. It was already hard at 5 inches, but it hastily expanded forward into his shorts, becoming as thick as a beer can as it now stood at 9.5 inches.

As everything that made up Tony was now accumulated in Tony’s balls, Coach Sorenson knew it was time for the final step. He gently grabbed the man’s giant cock, gave a good, long squeeze, and let go. Tony in turn took a deep, heavy inhale of the coach’s shoe before exhaling slowly, allowing for a giant wet spot to appear on the front of his shorts. The coach then leisurely made his way back to his own chair, taking a seat and getting into position. Now given more space, the new man hiked up both of his legs arrogantly on the coffee table, spreading them as far apart as possible to take up as much space on the loveseat as he could. Although he knew Coach Sorenson would always be superior, he wanted to make it clear that he could be an alpha too.

“Thank you for coming in today, Tony. I’m glad we could get you here on such short notice.”

“Of course, bro,” Tony responded. “I’d do anything for you, Coach.”

“Good to know,” Coach Sorenson winked before continuing. “Because I know you’re not that bright, we can skip past the logistics and get right to the basics.”

“That’s sick! Thanks, Coach.” Tony gave a dull guffaw.

“Now, Tony,” Coach accentuated the name, chewing on it intently. “Tony isn’t a name that demands respect, authority, and masculinity, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, Coach.”

“To be a coach, you know how important it is to give the right impression. You need to be an example to these boys, someone they can look up too.”

“Yeah, Coach.”

“I know you want my advice.  I am a good mentor.”

“Yes, Coach, you are a good mentor.”

“Professionally, I think you should introduce yourself as Anthony Renz.” The change inside Anthony’s head was instant

“Yes Coach,” he replied proudly.

“Try it on me.”

“Hello, my name is Anthony Renz.” Any existence of the name Tony Reardon ceased to exist as Anthony Renz came into place.

“Very good, Anthony.” Hearing Coach say it, as though it always had been, made Anthony cum just a little more inside his shorts.

“One other thing,” Coach Sorenson added.

“Yeah bro?”

“Are you missing anything?”

Anthony thought it was an odd question, but he decided to respond to it truthfully.

“I’m missing nothing when I’m with my Coach!”

“Perfect,” Coach Sorenson replied. “Welcome to the team. Before you head out, let’s talk pay.”

Coach Sorenson proudly looked over his new Assistant Baseball Coach, happy that he’d gotten rid of a nuisance and filled a seat on his board. No one would come looking for Tony Reardon, but if they did, Coach Sorenson would know just what to do with them. Maybe Assistant Coach Renz would have some coworkers in the near future.