Caveman - Tumblr Posts

I want to make caveman parodies a regular thing

me, trying to grow. Trying to devolve

Hey I have a request can you do a biology nerd into a dumb horny ape dude?

Brody should have been more careful in the biology lab. He was working late that night, with no assistant, and must’ve cut his finger while handling the gene therapy serum.

By the time he got home at 2am, he was feeling woozy and dazed. “You okay?” asked his boyfriend Mark. 

“Hard to concentrate,” Brody grunted, turning on the kitchen light. 

Mark gasped – Brody was hunched over and looked unwell, and his face was covered in a thick beard. His lab coat slipped to the ground, and Mark could see his arms had grown thick with fur and muscle.

“Brody – what happened? Did you get… infected or something in the lab?”

“Impossible,” Brody said, struggling to move. He collapsed to the floor. “There’s no way – this shouldn’t be happening.”

Mark knelt beside him. “What shouldn’t be happening?”

Brody looked up at him and Mark could see his face starting to push out into a muzzle, his ears rounding out and getting large.

“Shouldn’t, uh, shouldn’t work. Shouldn’t infect. Happen so fast. So, uh, weird,” Brody grunted. This didn’t sound like the internationally-recognized scientist Mark had fallen in love with, and he was terrified.

“Brody, what do we do?” Mark said, and was surprised to see his boyfriend grin.

Brody reached out with both arms, stronger than he’d ever been, and grabbed Mark. “We fuck,” he snarled, standing on swelling hairy feet and tucking the struggling Mark under one arm. He lumbered into the bedroom as Mark tried to break free, with only one thing on his simple mind.

Read more tales of sexy gay transformation by Douglas Benjamin: https://amzn.to/2Rhaw5G

Rick was exactly the worst type of model you could find, cocky, sexy, and always wanting to show off his body whenever he could. It got to the point where his own agents could barely stand him as they watched him pose for the photographer, making sure to accentuate his lean body the best he could.

“Alright are we done here?” whined Rick. “I got some girls who liked my pictures from last month and they really want to meet.” The photographer rolled his eyes.

“Just a few more shots, keep posing,” declared the photographer as he ignored Rick’s scowl and got back to snapping pictures. By the time they were finished it was only because Rick refused to pose any longer, instead deciding to almost tell the photographer to go fuck himself underneath his breath as he started putting on his clothes. “Well thank you very much, Mr. Wellick. It’s been such a…pleasure working with you. I wanted you to have this.” The photographer mumbled, trying to make sure any vitriol in his voice as he took out an odd book that he had kept in his bag for later, but he felt that now it was needed.

Rick took the book, looking at the title.

“Very funny, but I don’t need this caveman shi- sh-” Rick stopped as he saw the photographer beginning to leave the building, looking down as he wondered why it was suddenly so hard to speak as an odd thumping like a heartbeat began in his own two hands.

“Enjoy, Mr. Wellick,” said the photographer as Rick looked down at his own hands, watching as they started to grow larger, the knuckles cracking and the fingers almost becoming too big for his own palm, to the point where it almost weighed him down. Even still, he couldn’t let go of the book as something else began thumping with the same throbbing and hot sensation, only being cooled down by an odd feeling of something wet and leaking as he looked between his legs.

His own skinny jeans were being stretched to their limit as hair began to grow on the back of his hand, so much it almost felt like it was fur. But no, Rick saw that it was clearly brown human hair and he couldn’t help but mumble and moan at the mounting pleasure of his throbbing cock but the fear of his changing hands.

“W-What the fuck is happening to me?” Rick cried as he quickly tried to go over towards the door, trying to pull it, but it didn’t budge. Was it locked? Rick tried to again and again only to feel as if he was growing too dumb, lacking intelligence that was being sapped away by the throbbing length as he started to feel dumber and dumber, so much so he couldn’t even open the door. “G-Gotta do something, this fucking book might help.” 

Rick moaned and fell back as the first tears began to show, his own ass started to swell to the point where it was sagging him down with his great round cheeks that just begged to be filled.

But I’m not gay…don’t…don’t need a…need a…cock…fuck

Rick grasped his head with one hand and the book with another as he fell back and spread his legs apart to allow his thick shaft enough room to leak a puddle of pre-cum between his growing thighs. 

The skinny jeans ripped and teared easily after his own ass swelled out of his underwear and pants. Hair continued to sprout along his fine legs, giving him a more animalistic and unkempt look as his own thicker thighs swelled with muscle and a bit of fat.

“Oh no! No! Not my abs!” Rick grunted in his newly deep voice as he felt his own torso beginning to change slightly, as hair began growing on his own clean shaven chest, he watched that he lost his lean muscle in favour of just a skinny body. “Fuck no! This can’t be happening…must…stop!” His cock continued to sway back and forth almost hypnotically as Rick began trying to read the words, to his shock and horror the book was composed of “spells” and on the page his thick fingers managed to comb through he found a page for “caveman” and another word he couldn’t understand.

“Found it!” Rick moaned as he started to read the reverse spell, even as his once rich brown hair grew darker and shaggier, as his face changed to be more prominent and hairy and his cock continued to bounce and distract him. “Iter-Itermum e-ev-e-OH GOD!”

Rick moaned as cum blasted out of his cock and sprayed all over the book making it unreadable both literally and mentally as the last of Rick’s intelligence sapped away as he clung onto the wet and dribbling book. He looked confusedly at everything around him and his more hairy body, deciding to grunt.

Rick may have been a sexy guy, but he was far too dumb to remember any of that as he sat there and played with his long thick cock.

Filling the Roster

Aidan was just starting his second year at university. The summer home with family had been exhausting and he was pumped to be back on campus with everyone and to get back to his routine. Ever since going off to college he’d been trying to work on himself, including going to the gym for the first time in his life. He’d gotten into a good routine his freshman year but hadn’t managed to gain much muscle yet, to his dismay. He was hoping to change that this year. The first day of classes had been a snoozefest, just reading syllabi and some uncomfortable ice breakers, so he was ready to get out of the classroom and into the gym again.

He walked into the campus gym and glanced around to see what was open. He noticed what looked like the wrestling team in the back, hogging all the squat racks and making their presence known with obnoxious grunting. Making a mental note to avoid that area today, Aidan went over to the treadmill to warm up. He’d always been on the nerdier side growing up, and while he did have a year of exercise under his belt now, he still didn’t fit in with that kind of crowd. Aidan put in his earbuds and got to it, the next hour flying by as he did a mild total body workout to ease himself back in.

Satisfied with himself for the day, he grabbed his water bottle and headed to the locker room. Normally he hated changing here and would just walk home first, but he had a club meeting that evening and he didn’t have time to go all the way back. He walked in and was immediately assaulted by the stench, the room absolutely stunk of BO and sweat. Yeah it was a locker room but this was a bit much, he thought as he breathed through his mouth. The wrestling guys had evidently finished their workouts too, as the room was noisy from all their chatter and yelling. They’d left their gear scattered all over the benches and floor, leaving hardly any room for anyone else. Aidan rolled his eyes and squeezed his way through the chaos to an empty corner. Despite working out for an hour he hadn’t sweat much, he never did, so he skipped the shower. Midway through changing he realized the room had gone silent. He turned around to check if the wrestlers had all left but instead was greeted with a sight that made him freeze.

The entire team had gathered behind him and now stared at him. The biggest guy, who Aidan recognized as their captain, Beau, broke the silence.

“Hey pipsqueak,” he said with a shockingly deep voice for a college student, “We found out today we’re down a man this season. We gotta solve that ASAP, y’know?”

Aidan was confused and intimidated. “Uh… Sorry to hear that man,” he said with a crack in his voice. He took a step back only to hit the wall of lockers behind him.

“Yea it’s a real shame ain’t it,” the wrestler took a step towards Aidan. “It’s a good thing I’m a great recruiter,” he laughed to himself. There was an almost sinister grin plastered on his face. 

Aidan felt cornered, realizing that he was standing there in just his boxers. “What do you want with me dude?” He asked frantically as the wrestlers slowly closed in on him. The putrid stench in the room was only getting worse as the jocks came nearer. 

“Like I said, we need a replacement wrestler,” Beau replied, pulling a yellowed jockstrap out of his bag that was on the bench. “I think you’ll enjoy getting to know the team.”

Aidan’s heart was pounding through his chest, he didn’t know what they wanted with him but he knew he needed to get out NOW. His fight or flight (mostly flight) instincts were kicking in. He looked past the wall of jocks to the door of the locker room, about 20 feet away. Before he had a chance to act, two of the wrestlers pounced. They grabbed Aidan’s arms and held him in place as Beau walked up to him.

“What the fuck, let me go!” Aidan cried in distress, struggling against his captors. They were bigger and evidently much stronger than him, not letting him budge at all.

“Hush now, I think you have some real potential here, I’m just going to let that all out,” Beau told Aidan before grabbing his boxers and ripping them off. Aidan’s flaccid cock was on full display, as were the paltry few hairs he called his bush. 

“Well, I’ve seen worse,” Beau chuckled to himself. He took the dirty jockstrap in his hand and pulled it up Aidan’s legs letting it snap into place around his small member. 

“Let me go!” Aidan yelled, continuing to try and break free from the jock’s hold. 

“Just give it a moment,” Beau said, kneeling down to look closer at Aidan’s groin. Aidan’s struggling lessened as he noticed a strange sensation coming from his crotch that was seemingly getting more intense every second. It felt… good almost. No, it did feel good, it was almost like he was jerking off without even touching himself. He felt his dick start to harden as the sensation of pleasure grew.

Beau laughed, “There you go man! I knew you’d come around.” Those words barely registered in Aidan’s ears as he stared at his dick, watching it grow erect and push against the jockstrap as his body was flooded with pleasure hormones. It felt incredible, like his dick was growing harder than ever before. It in fact was, growing steadily past his previous five inches, reaching seven, eight, as it really started to tent the jockstrap. A tingling feeling arose within Aidan’s crotch at the same time as Beau leaned in to take a closer look.

“Aww yea, look at those pubes start to come in. Fuck that’s hot.” He watched as dark hairs sprouted out of Aidan’s mostly bare crotch, like thick weeds shooting out of his skin. Aidan groaned as the sensation of hair growing added to his already euphoric state. Hairs continued popping up across his groin, filling in denser and denser as they spread out. “Looks like our man’s goin’ through puberty right in front of us,” Beau said as he rubbed his hand through the sprouting bush. Aidan’s body shivered in pleasure, Beau’s touch seemingly encouraging more hairs to push out of him. The pubic hairs grew longer and curled together, climbing up the shaft of his now massive cock. Beau grinned as he noticed Aidan’s balls swelling, growing to the size of eggs, then tangerines as they stretched his sack and hung lower. That was just the beginning, as the same thick dark pubes wormed their way out giving him a thick coating. At this point the jockstrap was barely covering anything. Aidan’s now nine inch cock stood completely erect, tenting the fabric and letting his new bush explode outward. Those thick pubes were starting to produce their own musk, not too dissimilar from the general stench of the locker room. The hairs spread out even farther, beginning to climb up above his waistband and onto his stomach, as well as spreading to his inner thighs with a thick rug. Aidan hung in the jocks’ arms nearly limp, his cock dribbling precum like a faucet.

“Well I think this has served its purpose,” Beau said to himself as he pulled the jockstrap off Aidan, letting his thick cock snap up against his stomach. The flow of precum soaked the area around his navel, and where the precum had wetted his skin, more thick hairs began to crop up. Beau went back to his bag and exchanged the dripping jockstrap for a wrestling singlet. It was damp from sweat and being stuffed in Beau’s dank gym bag, and stank to high heaven. With the help of the other wrestlers, Beau got the tight singlet onto Aidan’s lanky body. It didn’t really fit, but there was an enormous bulge from Aidan’s recent developments. He pulled the shoulder straps and let them snap down onto Aidan’s bony clavicle. That immediately pulled Aidan out of his subdued hormone-fueled slumber. 

“Oh, god, oh, oh what the fuck,” he said, processing the past few minutes. Part of his brain was still in adrenaline mode, telling him he needed to BOLT, while another part was content with this situation, elated even. The longer he breathed in the musky air of the locker room the louder that voice became, and the more he wanted Beau’s hands back on him. He looked up away from his own body and made eye contact with Beau, a grin crossing his stubbled face.

“You already look good in that singlet man, it won’t take much now,” Beau told him. Aidan’s mind was running at light speed but his mouth was not on the same wavelength. 

“What are you-, why are-, how the-,” Aidan was trying to get his thoughts out when the pulsing, pleasurable sensation began to return. His words trailed off as he looked down at his own flat chest, watching with wide eyes as two muscular pecs began to push out. He felt his whole body begin to tighten as muscle started popping out all over. Pronounced bone disappeared under layers of thick muscle that began to fill out his form, and the singlet. What had previously been impressively slack for a spandex suit was now taught against his body, expanding as he did. His pecs grew sore as they continued to grow, blocking Aidan’s view of his lower half as they packed on size. On the new horizon of his chest he noticed something, tiny hairs were poking out of his mountainous pecs. They started small and slow but quickly began shooting up all across the vast expanse of his chest. The hairs itched as they grew in, Aidan wasn’t bothered, he was in awe at the forest that was engulfing his new muscles. He ran his hands through the growing hairs, pulling gently on the hairs as they continued their advance across his chest, working up towards his neck and down across his stomach. As the hairs matured they grew darker and curlier, tangling into a thick rug across his pecs. Beau watched Aidan become enraptured by his own jockification. He noticed a growing wet spot in his groin where the precum continued to leak out constantly.

Beau stepped back up to Aidan and planted his hand on his chest, feeling the growing fields of hair. That alone was enough to get a soft moan out of Aidan, putting a devilish grin on Beau’s face. He pinned Aidan’s growing frame against the locker before raising one of his arms up. What he found was underwhelming; a handful of light wispy hairs scattered across the armpit. That would have to change. He stuck his hand into his own sweaty, hairy pit and rubbed it around, coating his fingers in thick jock sweat and musk. He sniffed them just to make sure it was potent enough, and his body was never slacking in the sweat department. Taking his moistened hand he went back to Aidan’s nearly hairless pit and massaged the sweat in. Within moments he felt little prickles of stubble against his fingers. Beau saw dark pinpricks appearing across Aidan’s pit, spots that quickly erupted into thick, wiry hairs. The original wispy hairs grew dark and curly as the sweat did its work, and soon Aidan had a respectable amount of hair under his arm. But that wasn’t enough for Beau, he dug out some more musky sweat from his own pits to finish the job. Soon enough Aidan’s pit hairs completely coated the area, even reaching out to connect with the pelt on his chest. Beau’s fingers were combing through the thick hairs, gently tugging on them and pulling out more growth. Aidan moaned again; the feeling of Beau’s hands stroking his growing pit hairs was euphoric. He was slipping more and more from his old self as his body grew to love this new reality, the jock voice in his own head growing louder.

Beau was satisfied with the pit situation after he was able to smell Aidan’s newly produced stench from a distance. He stepped back and watched as Aidan’s body continued to adjust to the singlet. In the same way his pecs had ballooned, his arms began exploding with size. His delts, triceps, biceps, and forearms grew intensely sore as they put on years worth of bulk in moments. Aidan was finally starting to look like a wrestler who could hold his own on the mat. The definition on his new muscles was quickly hidden as hair began to sprout across his boulder shoulders and down his arms. What started as a few hairs popping up across his shoulders grew into a flood of dark hair that surged down his arms, and the singlet left it all visible for the crowd. The hairs continued growing denser, curling around each other as the hair began to resemble fur on his bulky arms; he would look like a total beast of a man in action. Aidan’s hands got the same treatment, his palms grew bulkier as his hands stretched out in size. He could hear the popping sounds of his growth but was too flush with hormones to care, barely registering the thick hairs growing on the backs of his hands. Beau could already tell Aidan was going to become one of their best wrestlers, with his immense size and build. All he needed was to let the inner jock blooming inside of him take control.

After the growth in Aidan’s arms slowed down, his legs picked up the slack. His quads beefed up, thighs nearly shredding the singlet with their girth. Beau watched as Aidan’s bulge twitched and leaked as his legs grew longer and thicker than they’d ever been. His feet began to stretch and grow, expanding to a size 15 before becoming covered by hairs. Those hairs raced up his calves and onto his thighs, leaving him with a thick fur coating for his tree trunks. Aidan had grown to the point where he could take most of the jocks on the team, almost rivaling Beau’s height and mass. Beau knew he’d made a good call with Aidan, he’d been so similar before he joined the team. He couldn’t help but rub his hands over Aidan’s furry legs, feeling the coarse hairs run through his fingers. He could feel Aidan’s heart rate increase. He almost felt envious of him, experiencing immense growth like this was a once in a lifetime event, and he knew Aidan was almost complete.

Aidan groaned as his body fully filled out the singlet, stretching it to its limit with his massive muscles. The fur that had coated his body felt incredible rubbing against the fabric, keeping his cock at full mast, pressed against the singlet so everyone knew. Beau looked him up and down; Aidan had the body of a tank, a heavyweight champion, but a severe case of babyface. Beau had an idea, he went back to his grab and grabbed his mouthguard. It was grimy and had a couple hairs stuck to it, but it’d do the trick. He grabbed Aidan’s pudgy face and opened his mouth, shoving the guard in. Aidan sputtered as he gagged on old spit and wiry hairs.

“Aw, the hell bro what was that,” he complained weakly. Beau smiled, he was already speaking more like a jock, and that voice was getting deeper. He watched as an Adam's apple pushed out of Aidan’s neck, cementing his new rugged voice. Aidan’s face started to darken a shade as the shadow of thick stubble spread across his jaw. It quickly pushed out, brown hairs coating his face. They grew longer and thicker, with more popping up between old ones, giving him an incredibly dense short beard. Aidan moaned as the hairs spread across his jaw and up his sideburns to his hair, which gained some lighter highlights and shortened into a more athletic style. His upper lip erupted with the same thick hairs, giving him a full short beard. His jaw squared up and his eyebrows grew bushier, before his ears grew and stuck out from his head more. He finally looked fully like a champion wrestler. Aidan stroked his hands through the dense growth, finally pushing him over the edge. His breaths quickened and grew louder as he climaxed, grunting as cum erupted out of his thick cock. It pushed through the fabric of the singlet, pouring down the front of it. The euphoric trance he’d been in began to fade, but the old Aidan was gone. He was Aidan the wrestler, a jock ready to conquer his path on the mat. Instinctually he flexed, showing off his beefy arms and hairy pits. The scent emanating from his pits matched the rest of the locker room now, and he took a big whiff of it out of habit, that manly odor really turned him on. Beau laughed and grabbed Aidan’s hand, pulling him upright. His cum was still dripping down his singlet onto the floor, adding to the pungent scent of the locker room.

“Welcome to the team bro,” Beau said, looking forward to their best season yet.

And I’m the one over here that physically can’t live without socks on💀 I just one day randomly hated the feeling of my barefoot on the wood floor in my house. Grass and sand are both fine though, am I going caveman mode??????

wish i could kill sweat. with my bare hands.

The Hazening

(This is a tf story I wrote as a commission on FA. Figured I’d post it here for you guys to enjoy, too.)

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“Look, man, I seriously stuck my neck out to even get you this chance at joining the frat in the first place. You’ve seen what other frats do for hazing. You should thank me!”

Chris looked dubiously at the jockstrap and tube socks. His rich black hair was cut back into a fade on the sides to expose the glasses that sat firmly on his nose. “Look, Jack, I know you want to be able to hang out more, but this—”

“Is easy compared to what I had to deal with,” Jack said seriously. His blond stubble and blocky face had only become more prominent and masculine over the last year since he joined the frat. “Nu Phi Lambda’s seriously cool, man. They accept anyone, so long as they pass the test. You wear it to the party, hang with some of the guys for a while, meet the pres, and there you go!”

“And the reason they’re being so easy on me is because…?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Because I asked them to. That, and I may have said this was the most embarrassing thing you’ll ever have to endure.”

“So, you lied for me?”

“You’re saying you won’t be uncomfortable wearing just that underneath your clothes?”

“… Point.”

Jack smirked. “See? I’ve still got those mad debate skills.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Sure, you do.”

“Oh, and one more thing. They’re gonna be checking to make sure you’re actually wearing it, so be ready for some bros to give you a wedgie.” He chuckled. “Well, to try, anyway.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s hazing, man. What’d you expect?”

“Something that isn’t so immature?”

Jack chuckled. “I’ll see you at the party, ‘little bro.’ Don’t be late,” he sang as he left the room.

Chris groaned as he looked at the two articles of clothing. “The things I do for friendship,” he muttered under his breath.

 -----------------------------------------------------------

Well, Jack hadn’t been wrong. The discomfort was definitely there. Every step Chris took brushed the fabric of his jeans against parts of his body that weren’t used to such exposure, and the straps of the strap would rub occasionally against his skin. He was confident he’d likely develop a rash by the end of the night. Or at the very least, chafe marks. He would have worn boxers over the gear to mitigate the situation, were it not for the warning Jack gave.

Chris had only experienced a wedgie once before, when he was swimming in an old childhood friend’s pool. The yelp he’d given when he was lifted bodily in the water had echoed through the neighborhood, and he still winced whenever he thought back on the old memory. The tube socks he wore now encompassed his feet in a thick cocoon that pressed slightly against the walls of his shoes and sent a strange tingling sensation up the soles of his feet with every step. It wasn’t like he was being tickled, but it was certainly distracting.

“Chris!” Jack grinned as he shouldered through the crowd of upperclassmen to reach his friend. “Glad you made it, bro!” The man had become the embodiment of the frat bro stereotype from the backwards snapback to the tight tank and shorts marked with the frat’s logo. Tanned and swollen arms nearly consumed the would-be-pledge in a bear hug that would break a lesser man. This was soon followed by a loud snap.

Chris stiffened like a board as his eyes widened and he gaped disbelievingly at his friend.

“Just checking.” Jack grinned. “Good on you for not bringing boxers.”

“Jack….”

“Oh, calm down, man. One night of immature revelry won’t kill you.” Jack rolled his eyes. “Come on. Pres is waiting.”

The party had yet to get fully underway, so it was easy to weave or shoulder through people without consequence. Tall thick border hedges provided all the privacy the event would need, if not noise protection. As for what antics might come that night as a result of said privacy…. Chris didn’t want to think about it. The inside of the frat house was more like a mansion than a house, with rich dark wood floors and a brighter reddish paneling for the walls. Jack guided him to the left, where a pair of doors opened into a broad study lined with ornate bookshelves, complete with the moveable ladder. It was the picture of a Victorian manor study. And there, behind the desk, stood the tallest, broadest, and most imposing man Chris had ever laid eyes on.

“Yo, Kyle! I brought him,” Jack announced. His face split into a broad grin. “Told you I’d get him here.”

Kyle was a burly man with naturally wavy brown hair and thick eyebrows. His arms were nearly twice the size of Jack’s, and his green eyes were highlighted with a golden outline. Darker hairs stood out on the backs of his hands and along his arms before slipping under the tight sleeves of his polo. When the behemoth leaned onto the desk, Chris had the impression of staring down a gorilla, rather than a man.

“So, this is the one you told me about, huh?” His voice was deep and gruff with just a hint of a growl that carried in the undertow.

A heavy smack to the back sent Chris catapulting onto the desk. He braced for all he was worth to avoid accidentally knocking heads with the man that presumably would be the one to decide whether he was worthy of joining the organization in the first place.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Kyle continued bluntly.

Jack folded his arms. “Neither did I when I pledged. Look at me now.”

Kyle didn’t bother looking at Jack. His focus was on the man who couldn’t hold a gaze for a few seconds before looking away. “You wearing your gear?”

“If you mean the jockstrap and socks, yes.” Chris’ cheeks felt like they were on fire as his voice hushed. “Are you guys seriously going to give me wedgies?”

Kyle rose to his full height and folded his vascular arms. “Part of the deal. You could say that strap is more for protection than it is a test. Do right by it and you’ll fit in, no problem.” He strode around the table and extended a hand. “It’s tradition for the leader to welcome guests, even if they don’t pass snuff.”

Chris’ whole hand was swallowed in the fist as Kyle shook with gentle controlled movements. The man probably could have broken his arm, if he’d been so inclined. A few second later, the familiar snap of spandex rang through the room. Chris yelped and jumped briefly. Kyle smiled. “Watch yourself tonight, pledge. Part of the fun is facing a challenge.”

Chris glared at the man. “And here I thought I was actually going to like you.”

Kyle huffed a chuckle. “You still might by the end of the night. Go on. Have fun. This party’s meant for more than just pranking. I want to see just how well you rush. Good luck.”

When the door clicked shut behind them, Jack was positively ecstatic. He thumped Chris excitedly on the back. “Dude! He totally likes you!”

When Chris was certain his eyes weren’t about to be knocked out of his skull from the sheer force of the blows, he spoke acerbically. “That’s not the impression I got.”

Jack was completely undaunted and pulled his friend against his side. “Trust me, bro. I know these things. You’re in. You’re totally in.” He whooped in delight. “I can’t wait for tonight!”

“Yes. I can hardly contain myself. Woohoo….”

Jack chuckled. “You’ll see soon enough, little bro. You’ll see.”

“Is this going to be your thing now?”

Jack smirked. “Maybe.”

Chris groaned. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive this.”

“Courage, my friend. Courage. The night is still young, and there are many vain and foolish delights to tempt and tantalize.” He grinned. “I’ll make a bro out of you yet.”

Chris barked a laugh. “You can try.”

Jack smirked. “Wait and see, bro. Wait and see.”

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The party went into full swing as soon as the sun began to set. Torches were lit, burgers were served, and the beer flowed like mead in a Viking feast hall. Drunken revelry filled the air with hoots, growls, and howls as various antics were performed and thrust on would-be-pledges. Keg stands, beer pong, the works.

And all the while, Chris was on guard, ever alert for groping hands and would-be-attackers. But these “bros” were more cunning than Chris had given credit for. When Jack had ceased to serve as a proper distraction, they found other means to “test” him. The card tables were notorious, especially when they got into a round of strip poker.

Somehow, he always found himself getting stripped. And then would come the familiar smack of the waistband. By the time he left those tables, his waist felt like it was burning. The straps had been pulled and snapped so much by now, he was shocked they hadn’t lost their stretch.

He stumbled toward the drink table. The tingling had intensified in his feet, and he was tired of all the antics. But he had promised Jack he’d stay, and he wasn’t about to break his word, even if the guys were being lunkheaded jerks.

“Rough night?” the keep asked as he filled another cup.

“You could say that.” Chris groaned and leaned against the makeshift counter where the drinks were mixed, then served in the punch bowl to the side or in individual orders for the older frat members.

“Sounds like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Chris sighed. “I just don’t really feel like I belong here, you know?”

“Do you want to belong?”

“I want to be with my friend. Does that count?”

The keep shrugged again. “It’s a start.” He passed a cup Chris’ way. “In my experience, if you want to feel like fitting in, and you’re having trouble, it might not hurt to get a little help in loosening up. And no, I’m not talking drugs. We don’t do those here. Ever. Anyone caught with those gets immediate disbarment.”

“And what do you recommend?” Chris sipped his drink and sighed. The flavor was surprisingly sweet, with a warmth that seemed to spread through his chest, then back into his throat again as the drink went down.

“A little liquid courage never hurt anyone.” He shrugged. “Or you could work off some of that aggression in the other places. There’s wrestling and arm wrestling, you know. Even a sumo mat and one of those stick pit things. You know, the game where you knock someone off while you straddle a beam? Try some of them out. Let loose. Live a little. And if you’re really that upset over something people are doing to you, why not pay them back? Fair’s fair, in my opinion.”

“I still don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know to do. Take a risk. Live a little. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I get in a fight.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

Chris drained his cup and took the second that was proffered. “Have you seen their size?”

“I have. Have you seen yours?” He shook his head. “You think too little of yourself. Think little and you’ll be little. So stop thinking and just be for a while.”

“Just be? That simple?”

“Simple’s usually the best.” The keep offered a third cup. “A few basic ingredients, and you’ve got a kickass drink. Why not let it be the same for a man? Isn’t that one of the sayings people use, the clothes make the man?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So, let your clothes do the talking for a while. It’s not like it’ll kill you to try something different for a night.”

The warmth had spread through Chris’ whole body by this point, and a hint of a smile pulled at his face, despite his attempts to quash it. “Just for a night, huh?”

“Just for a night. Just to try,” the keep offered again. “Who knows? You might actually like it.”

Chris chuckled. “Fat chance.”

“Fat is easily trimmed with exertion.” The keep smiled as he took the cup back. “Why don’t you go burn some of it off, until that chance comes along, hmm?”

Chris sighed. “I suppose I should try.” He rolled his eyes and adjusted his crotch as he rose back to his feet. “Thanks for the drinks.”

“Any time, stranger. Feel free to come back if you need. I’ve got plenty to choose from, and good advice to offer. It’ll put some hair on that chest of yours.”

Chris chuckled ruefully. “Can it put muscle on, too?”

The barkeep smiled knowingly. “That’s up to you and just how much you decide to follow those clothes of yours.”

“Sure, it is.” Chris’ cheeks flushed as he walked away from the bar. His legs tensed as he scratched his glutes. But he did feel a little better. “Maybe just … one game of sumo.”

 ------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris leaned heavily into his steps as he finally emerged from the cocoon of padding that had been his badge of honor for the last ten rounds and replaced his shoes. His belly burned. His blood surged. And as for his rear, well … he was getting used to all the “attention.” If they didn’t snap his waistband, they smacked him, instead.

“Bro, that was awesome!” one such frat member raved. “You toppled Titan! You toppled the %&$*ing Titan!”

Chris smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

“That’s my bro!” Jack hooted as he pointed from across the way and beat a meaty fist against his chest in salute.

“To the hero of the ring!”

A cup was shoved in Chris’ face, and he took it. “Uh, … thanks?”

“Go on, bro, drink up! You earned it!”

It … was hot in that costume. And he was feeling thirsty. He took a hesitant sip. It wasn’t the sweet flavor he’d had at the bar, but it wasn’t bad. There was a hint of orange in the brew that offset the bitter flavor from the hops. The flush deepened, and a goofy smile pulled at his lips. He hardly even felt the snap this time around.

He laughed, a curious hiccupping mixture between his usual higher register and a lower bass. A heavy thump on the back nearly sent him tottering. Then came the deathgrip on his waistband, followed by the largest snap to date.

And that wasn’t the only thing to snap.

Chris came to, thrashing in some much larger arms. The poor soul that had unleashed that rage was being raised to his feet. Instead of frustration, though, there were smiles.

“Calm down.”

Chris immediately went limp at the command. He knew that voice, and he knew those arms. Kyle had broken up the fight. Chris could already feel his sides throbbing.

“Get them some ice to dull the pain.”

The others scattered, and soon both men were nursing ice packs. Jack lumbered to the pair and frowned. “You all right, bro?”

“He’s fine. Just a little too eager, I think,” Kyle rumbled.

Chris’ head felt strangely muted as he looked over the frat president and his friend. It was like someone had worn out the spark plugs up there, and now he just … existed. He grunted as he nursed the ice pack. “M’fine, bro. Really.” Kyle said he was fine, so he was fine.

Jack grinned. “Did you just call me bro?”

One of the sparkplugs finally managed to fire properly. “Don’t get used to it.”

Kyle grunted. “If you want to fight next time, do it in the ring.” His thick brow furrowed like thunderclouds over his eyes. “And remember you’re rushing the frat. That means letting the rest of the guys have their fun.” He deliberately grabbed the waistband and snapped it. “Get used to it.” He snapped it again. “Let it happen.” Once more. “Embrace it.” He yanked especially hard, then leaned next to Chris’ ear after the last snap beat against the pledge’s skin. “You might just be rewarded.” He chortled, though it sounded more like a growl. “Hell, you might actually come to enjoy it.”

Each successive snap acted like a depth charge to Chris’ brain. His knuckles felt sore, probably from the blows that were exchanged in the fight. His hands ached, as did his feet. His head tingled as invisible fingers pricked and massaged at his scalp and deep in his conscious, scouring expertly for those few spark plugs that were still working. His mouth gaped as he stared into those eyes. The rough handling had forced him into a semi-stoop. “Uhh….”

“Got it?”

Another snap. The voice that answered sounded strangely distorted. “Got it….”

“Good.”

Chris blinked at Kyle. The president looked … bigger, somehow. His sleeves strained against his arms to the point of almost breaking, and the hair along his arms had thickened. “You look … funny.”

Kyle smirked. “So do you. Now get back out there. I want to see you make a real party animal of yourself.”

Chris couldn’t help but chuckle. “Think I already have.”

“Give it time, Chris. Give it time.”

A heavy thump on the back almost sent him sprawling. Chris nodded and grunted as he adjusted the pouch on the jock strap. The thing was starting to feel a little tight.

“Come on, bro.” Jack grinned as he laid a meaty arm around Chris’ shoulders. This time, the weight didn’t feel so overwhelming. It felt … comfortable. “Let me introduce you to the world of beer pong.”

 -------------------------------------------------------------------

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!”

The chant rang through the air as Chris guzzled a whole pint of beer in one go. He slammed the glass onto the table, followed by laying his elbow into the platform as he awaited his opponent. He smirked at his old friend. “The student has become the master.”

Jack finished guzzling his beer and smacked his own glass onto the table. “Don’t get ahead of yourself there, caveman.”

Chris grinned. “Me chug. Me drink good. Me fight good. Now, me wrestle good.” He shuddered as the tingling spread from feet and crotch through his body and into his head. A low rumble of pleasure surged as he hunched forward. His arm twitched in anticipation. His knuckles stood taut against the skin. His nose burned red from the alcohol that now raged through his bloodstream.

A rally of hoots roared in Chris’ ears as heat radiated pushed against them from within. It felt almost as though his own heartbeat were forcing the members to expand as the cool night air breezed over them. Seconds later, his hand clasped his friend’s in a grip of iron. Both furrowed their brows.

His arm burned. His chest strained. His lats and traps bunched and heaved as he engaged his core, pectorals, biceps, and triceps. A low growl escaped Chris’ lips as he bared his teeth and strained against the force of his friend’s arm. He wanted to win. He needed to win, to dominate. It just … felt right. The same lust burned in Jack’s eyes as the two locked in combat. He wanted to say something snappy, but … he just couldn’t think. It was like his brain was putting all the effort into the fight, too. He spread his legs wide on his stool.

Finally, two rips tore through the night as the table resounded with the defeat of a competitor.

“Oh, snap!” someone shouted.

Chris gaped disbelievingly at the table. His arm was throbbing, but it held Jack’s pinned to the table, like a wrestler waiting for the final count. Neither seemed to notice or care how the sleeves of their shirts had torn or how prominent their pectorals had become as the collars strained against their torsos. They heaved and finally grinned at one another.

“The winner is Chris!”

The crowd cheered, then broke out in a rousing shout. But Chris wasn’t greeted with the lauding of his name. Instead, the frat bros adopted the phrase that had defined their shock at the upset. “Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap!”

Jack leaned next to his friend as they rose to greet the crowd. He scratched a pec idly. “Congrats, bro. I think you just won your nickname.” He seized his friend’s wrist and pulled his arm into the air. The chanting increased in volume as Chris stared dazedly into the crowd.

“I … I don’t know what to—” SNAP! The strap smacked against him. He hardly felt it. It was as though the force transferred from his waist, through his torso, into his chest, and finally struck home at his Adam’s apple. It throbbed and surged forward as his voice dropped like a stone. “—Say.” The invisible hands were at work again, this time on his jaw and face. His nose didn’t feel so much stuffed as swollen. His forehead thickened into a more prominent slope as his brow was slowly massaged and his eyes sunken into the hollows that were rapidly forming over them.

Jack grunted as he released his friend’s arm and thumped his own chest with a thick, hairy hand. “Don’t say. Do.”

Chris saw the hand reaching out of the corner of his eye. He knew what was coming. But he couldn’t stop it. No, he didn’t want to stop it. The band snapped again. His chest swelled with the sudden intake of breath. His head spun. And before he knew it, his mouth was already open, his throat resonating with a deep primal roar as he beat his chest with his fists. A gnarled carpet of thick hair sprouted on the backs of his hands and surged up the back of his arms.

The hooting and cheers intensified. The will of the many pounded against the one. They wanted him. They needed him. And who was he to deny them? His legs thumped heavily over the podium as he approached the stairs. The socks clung more tightly as the walls of his shoes strained and finally detonated with twin POPs that were drowned out by the siren call of the frat. Broad swelling feet bulged in their cocoons as he plodded heedlessly down the stairs.

Rough hands seized him, brushed his swelling muscle, his growing hair. Snap after snap resounded in his ears as thick powerful legs burst from the sheath of their respective pant legs, or what remained of them. They’d become more akin to a pair of shorts. Now they draped like a loin cloth, leaving just the waist band and a clear view of a swollen pouch that continued to grow and strain with his body mass. And still the name echoed. Still the call rebounded.

Who was he to deny them?

And with the acceptance of that name, that brutish call, something unlocked. Chris let go of his worries and cares. He let go of thoughts for the future. He was almost naked. There was no shame. With every snap, he grew. With every hoot and cheer, the candle of conscious thought guttered. Thick hairs sprouted over a torso that was rapidly becoming more rigid and carved. Each snap of his waistband another blow of the chisel. Thick hairs formed a treasure trail from his navel while his shirt rode up his torso.

Even crouched, his head stood above the rest now. He felt good. He felt better than good. He raised both arms and flexed. The other sleeve tore open as the mounds pumped into rigid peaks. Wisps of hair sprouted from under the collar. Chris didn’t even have to think. He was beyond thinking. He roared as he tore his shirt apart like so much paper. The rip of the fabric filled his chest with a primal growl of satisfaction that was followed by the snap of the final strands giving out. He shucked himself of the garment and threw it into the crowd, exposing the carpet of hair that had grown over his pecs and chest and curved downward in a V, then spread over his abs.

The hoots grew louder. The cheers devolved into a motley mob as the men that were no longer men surged and crashed against the rising cliffside that was Chris. The candle flame could hardly survive under the onslaught, and finally was snuffed by the winds of the frat. The light died. The ember burnt out, and the smoke trailed out his lips in the last intelligent phrase of the night. “Snap like. Give Snap more. Give Snap ALL!”

The rest of the night passed with victory after victory for the new alpha. Chris had accepted the role his clothes had given him, and he reveled in it. He outchugged, outwrestled, and outmatched every opponent. He hooted and grunted. He shoved and he surged. And most importantly, he continued to grow and dominate as his broad shoulders and deformed head stood high above the rest of the tribe. Yet, despite his virility, despite his dominance, despite every surge of growth and victory he gained, the strap and socks clung to him.

Snap didn’t mind. Snap didn’t care. The night was theirs.

The fire that had replaced the candle was his.

And they would feed it or face his wrath.

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------

Chris groaned as he finally came to. The room was blurry. His mouth felt like something had died in it and dried into mummy powder. And his head. He groaned again as the daylight struck sledgehammer blows on a spike that drove directly through his skull and into his brain.

“It lives!” Jack’s voice was unmistakable. It also exacerbated the headache.

Chris moaned and turned over on the bed. “Just let me die already,” he croaked.

“No can do, bro.” Jack grinned as he walked into his friend’s line of sight. “Pres wants to see you stat.” He sat on the bed and proffered a frosty glass of water and a handful of ibuprofen. “You’re gonna need these. Drink it all and get dressed.” He motioned to a set of sweats and a shirt with the frat’s logo on the left pectoral hanging from a wardrobe door. A fresh pair of tube socks and a large jock strap were draped over the shirt.

Chris cursed and took the proffered medicine.

“Drink it all, bro. Trust me, the water helps.”

When Chris finally mustered enough will to move, he swung heavy legs out from under the covers. The filthy tube socks pooled at his feet, and he easily slid out of them. The jock strap had completely lost all sense of elasticity. He had to hold it in place.

“Bro, do you mind?” Chris asked.

“Dude, it’s just us. Not like I haven’t seen the rest of it.” Jack chuckled. “You were pretty wild last night.”

“What?” Chris swore as the strap dropped to join its companions on the floor.

“Dude, just get dressed.” Jack shook his head. “I won’t look,” he promised. “There. Happy now?”

Reasonably mollified, Chris strode to the doors and pulled on the gear. The jock strap fit snugly over his body, and the pouch held comfortably while still showing off his heft. He scratched it instinctively as he reached for the next article of clothing.

“Boxers and briefs are in the drawers, if you want them,” Jack informed.

Chris’ head whipped back, but his friend was staring at the door to the room, instead. The dirty socks and strap were clung in one of his meaty hands. “No peaking,” he insisted.

“Bro, chill. It’s not like you’ve got anything to be ashamed of, anyway.”

A smirk pulled at Chris’ lips as he smacked a hand against his bicep as his voice dropped into a husky pantomime of Jack’s bass. “People pay to look at this bod, bro.” The smirk passed and he swayed on his feet. Why … why had he said that? That wasn’t—he didn’t—

“Easy, bro.” Jack was there in an instant. Thick hands rubbed Chris’ shoulders. “Relax. Kyle will explain.”

“I … I feel—This is wrong.” Chris’ hands ran over well-defined abs. Hairs brushed gently, soothingly over them. His thick, broad hands. “What … what did you do to me, bro? I … I feel—” He swore again. “My head. Why … why can’t I think straight?”

“I told you, bro. It’s the hangover. Just get dressed, all right? Kyle’ll get you straightened out. I promise.”

“My voice!”

“Is fine,” Jack assured. He raised the coat hangar and shoved the clothes against Chris’ chest. “Come on, bro. Get dressed. Kyle’s waiting. And you don’t want to keep the pres. waiting.”

Chris’ eyes clouded briefly, and he grunted. “I … don’t….” The sweats and shirt clung in all the right places to show off his newly enhanced physique. When he turned to face Jack, the two were eye-to-eye. Jack was wearing sneakers. Chris wasn’t.

“Come on, little bro. We don’t have all day.”

The socks were like old friends, and the tug of the fabric over his feet made Chris shudder in pleasure. The two friends thumped down the halls in relative silence. Those who saw them nodded gravely or otherwise communicated their acknowledgement in body language, rather than the spoken word.

Instead of the trekking to the study, Jack led his friend down the halls toward the basement, where Kyle towered with his usual intimidating stature. His arms were folded, his broad face turned in a flat line as he stared at the pair.

“Here he is, Sir,” Jack said softly as he bowed his head.

Kyle extended a hand. Jack handed over the discarded strap and socks wordlessly.

Then kyle turned to a door his body had obscured. “Come with me, Chris.”

It wasn’t a request, and even if it was, Chris felt instinctively that he couldn’t disobey. A flash of memory passed. Those thick arms holding him, pulling him back. They could easily do so again.

Their steps were muted by the carpet as they strode into a room walled off by rope on either side. Placards were mounted to the wall, at first with torn underwear and the remnants of socks. Then, as they progressed, the tatters grew less, though the stretching increased. Briefs, boxers, jockstraps, tube socks. Larger and larger.

“Our frat is very old, Chris,” Kyle began. The silence of the room made his voice feel heavier than it ever had before. “And we have a sort of tradition that passes with it.”

Chris’ body tingled, and he adjusted the pouch on his jock as it tightened. His clothes felt snugger than they had a moment ago. “What sort of tradition?” he asked. “And for that matter, what the hell is going on? Why do I look like this? Why do I sound like this? What happened last night?”

“Listen.” The command was calm, but the order snapped like a gag over Chris’ mouth. “I’m heading into my senior year here at the university. That means I have two semesters to pick a replacement and train him up to take my place in the frat.” He motioned with his free hand. “Look around you. Tell me what you see.”

“A bunch of old clothes.” Chris cleared his throat. The tingle had spread there now, too. The deeper pitch didn’t feel so forced anymore.

“These belonged to every president of the frat from its founding to now. Each of us wore the gear. Each of us grew, just like the other pledges. You wanna know what makes these ones special?”

“Wait, you mean everyone who rushes the frat turns into … this?” Chris motioned to himself.

“More or less.” Kyle smirked. “Usually less.” He approached a placard that bore his name in neat bold typeface over a sheet of brass. “This one’s mine.” He grinned proudly as he looked on a pair of boxers that had burst at the crotch and rent down the legs. “Tore those suckers wide open. But you.” He turned and smacked Chris on the back. “You took the cake, Snap.”

Chris flushed as his pectorals perked and the drooping fabric of the sweats started to hug his thighs and calves. “Snap?”

“Your new nickname.” Kyle smiled as he presented the strap. “You stretched these things to their limit and nearly burst the pouch. It’s a miracle the strap didn’t break when the others tried to snap it. That’s a new record for this material.” He pushed his finger against the fabric for emphasis. The silhouette of the finger was clearly visible.

“I … wore that?”

“It’s not like it looked this way when you started.” Kyle rolled his eyes. “Point being, Snap, you’re our new MVP. And more importantly, you’re going to be the frat’s new alpha.” He strode to a blank placard that lay on a plinth, then took a hammer and nails that had been laid aside to properly display the garments. “You’re my successor, little bro.” He smirked and hung the placard on the wall next to his. A set of ropes already waited for him to cordon off the zone, and a quick flick of a switch beamed the spotlight over the wood and metal, where Chris’ name flashed. “The old you? That’s gone. And honestly, good riddance. Trust me, this is way better.”

“But … but my major, my life. What am I supposed to say to my friends?”

“What did Jack say?”

“He called it a second growth spurt….”

“So, go with that. There. That settles it.” Kyle thumped his hand heavily on Chris’ back. This time, Chris didn’t budge.

“But … but I liked being smart.”

“You still are, Chris. Just not in the same ways.” Kyle wrapped his arm around Chris’ shoulders as they broadened. “Your interests might be a little different now, but you still have the same focus and drive. And more importantly, you have want. Which means you push yourself to get your desires and lead others to follow. If you want order, you can impose it. If you want to just … let go and de-stress for a while, that works, too. You want to work out and bulk up? No problem.” He grinned. “You’re going to make a great president, Chris. But I have to teach you how to fit the part. Your body’s helping with some of the driving, but now it’s time to take the wheel.” He chuckled. “Think of me as your coach. And practice is in session.”

Chris panted as he hunched forward and his eyes glazed over. “Bro….”

“That’s right, Chris. That’s right. We’ll make a right frat bro of you in no time.” He chuckled as his brow protruded and his muscles strained. “You’ll love being Snap. Trust me.” He chuckled again as his knuckles became more prominent and the shelf over his eyes formed into a unibrow. “And you can call me Grog.”

Picnic

(Original Handmade Book Art Collage: 3 Elements)

Ten-Year pt. 2

I wrote this story about seven years ago. There's a part one but it's long and uneventful. Essentially, the main character heads back to his high-school reunion (to which many of his classmates didn't show) and runs into Craig, a big juice-monkey football player who's gotten even more massive since high-school. Using the power of a red marble he brought, he shrinks Craig down in the bathroom and makes plans to leave with his new little pet before anyone notices. -------- I got to work, quickly fishing the red marble out of the back pocket of Craig’s pants. I puffed some hot breath on it. The red light faded and I slipped it back in the bag with the others. I picked up his shirt, carefully folding it and setting it aside. Craig, now six inches tall and fumbling around his own underwear, looked up at me, squeaking at me with his new, tiny voice. It was always very unsettling for the little ones to see me handling their things as soon as they shrunk out of them. I liked it. It was symbolic that was they used to think was theirs was now mine. What they used to control, I now controlled, even if it was a shirt. I reached toward him, which always threw the little guys into a shock as they watched my giant hand approach. He struggled to get out of his red boxer briefs (which I wish I’d seen him wear, to be honest), but I laughed. Where was he going to go, down a pant-leg? Out the fly? I caught him easily, and the feeling of his huge round muscles in my hand almost incapacitated me. His body was so hard, but so warm, all of the hardness pulsing and flexing in my grip. I sat there, enjoying the sensation, altering the tightness of my grip as he struggled, before I realized I had a job to do. Craig was big--emphasis on was--but I was bigger. His thick ‘roided out body still looked unbelievable, but he only weighed an ounce or two now. I tightened up my grip quickly, so much that I shocked him, I think, leaving only his head exposed. I didn’t want to hurt him, only to remind him who wore the “Boss” hat. I picked up his boxer briefs and held them to my face, inhaling deeply. They were still warm, still a little moist from his casual perspiration, still emanating a thick pungent odor that I readily drank in. It smelled vaguely of cologne, and sweat, and something else, perhaps his own pheromones I guessed. I made sure he could see me huffing on his cock-holster, casually glancing over to him to see his reaction. It was always so funny to me to see a big alpha male like Craig here reduced to helplessness and forced to submit to thing he opposed down to his very core. Clearly taking his undies hostage was something that struck a nerve with him. But big beef heads like Craig always took a little while to adjust to their new size. Guys like Craig always regarded their power as something innate, something that was a part of them, but it was truly only their size and stature that gave them this power. Surely their muscles were strong, and their great bulk gave them the ability to throw people around if they got their way, but take away that size and strength and they were left with no way to deal with things they didn’t like. Craig was reacting typically, threatening me and throwing his weight around, but now he couldn’t throw a sandwich around unless he struggled for a little while. It always took time for that to hit home. I watched him spout off obscenities, using his bulging, freaky little meatstack arms to try to pry my fist open, but it all just made me laugh. His high-pitched voice made his “threatening tone” sound so comical, I didn’t know if I was going to laugh or blow my load right there. But I didn’t have time for that. A quick shake of my fist stopped his tirade, and kept him quiet. He just sat there, still angry but shocked that such a tiny gesture to me had inflicted so much force upon him. I hadn’t knocked all of the dissension out of him, but it was enough for the moment. “Listen up, Craig,” I said, “we’re leaving the reunion early. We’re going back to my hotel room and then everything will make sense. You can go quiet, and make life easy on yourself, and trust me, I’ll reward your cooperation. Or you can fight this kicking in screaming and trust me, if you do, you’ll regret it within the hour. Understand?” He just sat there, trying to absorb my words, which to him were loud and booming. Looking at his shiny bald head sticking out of my fist, I couldn’t help myself, just reached up with a finger and stroked his smooth head. It was so warm and soft! My cock jumped, but I realized that if Craig was going to have any room to ride out of here without being noticed, I was going to have to keep my big dog down. I slid into the stall, unzipping my pants. I was wearing two pairs of tight boxer briefs, a habit I’d gotten into. It seemed silly, and I couldn’t explain it to just anybody, but if you throw an angry little muscle head directly on your cock and he wants to pitch a fit, he’s got your most tender parts there at his disposal. Sure, when I’d first tried it, I’d never really worried about a six-inch man, even one as built as most of the guy who caught my interest. But teeth, tiny fingernails and even their fists could do some damage. Up to a point, it’s really arousing, but after that, it got painful and I didn’t like to let a little guy know that he could cause me pain before I’ve knocked the fight out of him. I pulled open the waistband on the outer pair and dropped Craig in. He screamed as he fell, his now chipmunkesque voice filling the air until he fell against the cushion of my balls behind the inner pair of boxer briefs. I watched him struggle to stand up, taking in what was around him before I let the waistband snap back against my belly. I quickly pulled my pants back up, tucked my shirt in and buckled my belt. I could feel Craig moving around, and the sensations made me giddy. I wanted to play with him right there! But I had to calm down. This entire scene was as sloppy as it gets. There were a lot of witnesses, I did no research, and I hadn’t yet planned how I was going to cover my tracks. This wasn’t the time to get sloppy because my tiny beefstack was tickling my dick. Leaving the stall, I folded up Craig’s pants and opened up the cupboard below the sink. It was full of cleaning supplies, and I just yanked them out, stuffed Craig’s stuff behind it, and put it all back. I could swing back later in the evening to ditch them properly, but I didn’ t want to throw them in the trash like an amateur. Thinking quickly I fished his wallet out and put it in my pocket. If somebody found these clothes, better that they didn’t know who they belonged to (although the size might give it away, I conjectured). I had to thank my good fortune that nobody’d needed the bathroom the entire time I’d taken Craig down. I looked around the reunion and it was packed. I saw Chris wave at my from across the room, probably needing a hand with something, probably some responsibility I shirked. I saw Mandy at the bar, arguing with the bartender. I saw my old posse sitting miserably around their table, arms folded. More than half of our class, which was four hundred people when we graduated, was here, and now I had to make it to the door without arousing suspicion. I just kept looking down, acting like I felt nauseous, and most people left me alone. When people spoke up, I pretended not to hear them. When I got to the door, Ella grabbed my arm and smiled. “Leaving so soon?” “Geez,” I said, putting a hand to my forehead, “I need to swing to my hotel room really quickly. I forgot my medication. I’ll be right back though, promise. Spread the word.” Ella smiled and I headed up the door. As soon as I got into the driver’s seat of my car, I relaxed. Craig was screaming, and I could feel the high vibrations. It felt so good! I could’ve sat there forever getting a mini-hummer, but I had to get out. My cell phone rang--it was Chris. I silenced it and put the car in gear. I’d be right back with a silly medical explanation. They could all wait. I had to deal with Craig first. * * * My hotel was quiet as I pulled in and headed to my room. Craig sure had some stamina, still fighting away in my pants, and I hoped I was maintaining a natural stride as I walked down the hall. I couldn’t get the key in the door fast enough, and when it was finally opened I ran in, locked it with the chain and the deadbolt, and pulled the shades. Then, off came my pants. I looked down, grinning at the bulge that was jiggling and rustling around. I reached down and gently touched it. The bulge froze, then started raging with twice as much energy. “Craig,” I said loudly, and he stopped. I pulled open the outer pair and reached in, pulling out my prize. I held him up to my face. He clumsily backed away to my fingertips, freezing as he looked behind him to the mile drop to the floor. I just studied him, his every detail. So many times I’d had to just imagine what this looked like, imagine his huge muscles, the deep cleft of his hairless armpit, the way his big pecs jiggled when he moved, the power and masculinity that just emanated from his cock… I couldn’t restrain myself, and just leaned forward and planted a kiss on his chest. The warmth of his hard muscle against my lips made me want to do it again, but he had an expression on his face like I’d just sneezed or puked on him. I shook my head. “So many times I thought about you, Craig,” I said, putting him gently on the hotel bed. “I wanted you so badly. You were frightening. The bigger you got, the angrier you were.” I unbuttoned my shirt and stripped it off, tossing it aside. I knelt before him in just my underclothes. I wondered if he was using the same adjectives to describe me at that moment as I’d used so many times to describe him. “I used to wonder if inside, you didn’t want to be so big and strong anymore. You didn’t want people to be intimidated and afraid. Deep down, you wanted someone to hold you, to be strong for you.” I lay down on the bed, the weight-shift causing Craig to tumble backward and start bouncing down the depression toward me. I gently stopped him with my hand and lifted him up to my face. “I wanted someone to be strong for me, Craig, and I used to fantasize that you were that person. I would care for you, you would be strong for me, and in turn, I would be strong for you, and you would care for me. No one ever had to know, Craig. It would’ve been perfect.” I was casually rubbing my fingertips against him as he struggled to get away. I held him fast with the other hand, dreamily remembering the things I used to think about Craig in high school. “Listen to me!” I said, smirking. “I sound like a lunatic.” I sat up, taking back my power. “Listen, Craig, I’m not crazy here. I know you’re not gay and that’s cool with me. Whatever. I need to make one thing really clear.” I leaned in close. I could tell that a lot was going through his mind, and when my tone sounded conversational, he wasn’t listening. He was just desperately trying to think of a way to escape. This next message needed to stick, though, so I got in so that my nose barely grazed his chest. “This isn’t revenge. This isn’t a score I needed to settle. I didn’t shrink you and kidnap you because you were mean to me in high school or because you lived a life I thought I deserved or whatever. I’m not going to dress it up like that. This is lust, pure and simple. I thought you were hot when my hormones were just starting to fire off. You got a lot hotter, lemme tell ya, you ‘roidhead freak--not that I’m judging you for using steroids. I’m happy you did, you little beast you.” I reached my tongue out and gently grazed it against his belly. He twitched like it’d been a lit match. I grinned. “I need to show you something. Well, things, really.” I left him on my bed and walked away, keeping my eyes on him. I couldn’t have him running away and getting lost under the bed or anything, and I know the moment I broke eye contact he was going to try something. On the other side of the room, draped in shadow, was a long green blanket hanging over something long and boxy. I smiled at him as I casually moved a section of the blanket aside, reached in, and pulled out a jar. I kept my hands around the jar, not wanting to ruin the surprise until I had it right next to my little beefhead. “Craig, do you remember Aaron Kelman?” I set the jar next to him. Inside the jar, which looked greasy and distorted because of what I’d coated the interior of the jar with, stood a little Aaron Kelman, furiously rubbing his cock, balls and nipples against the glass. Craig stared, dumbfounded, as he saw little Aaron grinding, rubbing and moaning, his voice sounding like it was played at high speed as he smut-talked himself, grinding and begging to be fucked over and over. “Fuck me…” he begged in his chipmunk voice. “Fuck me, so hard, please… Please fill me up, please please fuck me… fuck me so hard, oh please…” Craig stood in shock, watching his football buddy who looked like he was a dog in heat. Aaron played football in college, then dropped out. He did a few cycles of ‘roids, did some modeling, then joined the military. During his time in Iraq he hit the ‘roids hard, coming back huge and solid with his beautiful face as the cherry on top. He also came back as cocky and mean-spirited as ever. I ran into him, realized nothing had changed, and decided I should do something about it. His present state was the result of the pink marble. “I had to cover the glass in Vaseline,” I told Craig, who was frozen in disbelief, “because if not he’d rub his nipples and his cock so hard that they’d rip right off. He wouldn’t stop then, either. He never stops. He just gets hornier and hornier and hornier. He’s never satisfied. He can’t even think of anything anymore. I can only get him to swallow food if he’s getting fucked and someone’s sucking his dick.” Aaron, having opened his eyes for just a moment, saw Craig through the bleary glass. Immediately, his body shock and he started humping at the glass. “Please… please!” he begged me, “please let me fuck him! Let him fuck me please let me fuck him let him fuck me he can fuck me so hard I swear oh god oh god I wanna fuck so bad so so so bad!” I removed the top of the jar and reached in gingerly with my finger. Aaron immediately spun around, grinding his ass up in the air, struggling to meet with the descending appendage. Let me tell you, when a little ‘roidhead marine who looks like Aaron points his huge muscular ass at you, you really think about letting him have whatever he wants, but I’d seen that sight a bunch. Aaron was always doing that. “Now, now, Aaron!” I chided. “Last time you powerfucked my finger, you got hurt really badly.” I pulled my finger away and replaced the cover. Aaron shook with frustration, whimpering in his high-pitched squeaky whine, pressing himself against the glass near Craig once again. “What did…” began Craig, pausing to cover his mouth as his own puny pip-squeaky voice surprised him. “What did you do to him?” “Shrinking you isn’t the only thing I can do to you,” I said, picking up Aaron’s jar and Craig and then approaching the large rectangular object beneath the blanket. “I made Aaron horny forever,” I said to Craig, who I cradled in my right hand. He wasn’t fighting so much anymore. I think showing him Aaron blew his mind. I couldn’t wait to see how he’d react to what he was about to see. “His sense of touch is a thousand times more sensitive, and his balls and his dick send out impulses that override his brain. He can barely think, barely function. Even a gentle breeze feels like a hand job to him. Sweat running down his body is like a sensual massage. Ever piece of him just wants to fuck fuck fuck. Not too different from the old Aaron, hunh?” I grinned. “C’mon, Craig, you guys hung out. You know what I mean.” I set Aaron’s glass down, letting him writhe away, as I moved the blanket again and reached in. “Jared?” I called sternly, and then pulled my hand out. I presented a miniaturized Jared Steede. Like most athletes Jared had gone on to college and spent four years at the top level of athleticism. Then after graduation, the drop in activity level, even with frequent visits to the gym, caused a full-body bloat. Rarely did it ever look bad, from what I’d seen, and Jared was no different. His thick, wide wrestler body was just more full now. He had a round, smooth belly now, a chubby face, and a tiny layer of softness all over. It made his muscles look a lot bigger and fuller. It was a permanent “offseason” look now, and I liked it. So much, in fact, that I kept it forever when I decided to make him 6 inches tall. Jared was gently caressing my hand as I carefully held him up, stroking my fingers with his body. It wasn’t the feverish hungry hump that Aaron always did, but a loving embrace. If he were big enough, he would hug me and never let me go. “Hello little man,” I said proudly. He beamed as I addressed him, smiling back at me. “I’d missed you!” he yelled, his voice as high-pitched as Craig’s and Aaron’s. He rubbed his bulky butt up and down my palm and I thought about jerking off right there, but realized that Craig still needed to be broken in. “I brought you a new toy!” I said. Both Jared and I knew that this new toy was for me, though. The little wrestler looked down at the new arrival, nodding casually. “Craig!” Jared said. Craig didn’t respond, so he yelled it: “CRAIG!” The little juice monkey looked up with a start, shocked to hear his name in such a high voice. He couldn’t believe that there was more than one tiny man, let alone that one would be talking to him! I placed Jared down on the ground and he approached Craig cautiously. “I figured you’d end up here eventually,” Jared said. “I know what he likes!” This last part he said while pointing up at me, not turning in my direction though. “I know how you feel, it’s really shocking, but it’ll all get easier in a little bit.” Jared smiled and folded his arms. “Your old life is over, Craig. It’ll be hard if you refuse to let go, but you can really take advantage of this new life. It doesn’t have to be like this!” He banged his fist against Aaron’s jar, causing Aaron to break into another spasmodic fit. “He changes everyone again after he makes you small, and he lets you choose how you want to change. Just choose to be like me. It’s the easiest one, and I promise you, Craig, I love my life. I’ve never loved anything more. Honestly.” “Never loved anything more?” I asked, interrupting his conversation. He meekly looked up at me with sad eyes. “You know I didn’t mean it like that! Forgive me,” Jared said, his face breaking into a smile. “You’re my everything. You begin and end my day. I never lived until the day you took me.” “What the fuck did he do to you?” asked Craig, who I could tell was having a hard time holding things together. “I made him love me,” I said, my booming voice crashing down on them from above. “I just made it so that he loves me more than anything else.” I had just exposed Jared to the purple marble. “It’s wonderful!” Jared said. “I know that I wasn’t always like this, that he made me like this, but…” Jared started pacing, shaking his head. “I was never this happy in my life! That happiest moment I can remember wasn’t a tenth of what I feel every single day because of him! It’s unbelievable!” My heart used to swell whenever Jared broke into these speeches. I used to beam with pride, overwhelmed that something in this world actually loved me. It was all hollow speech now. I was glad he loved me, sure, but I didn’t feel it back. I never earned his love, and I knew that. It was nice to make him happy sometimes, but that was the end of the joy I took from Jared’s love. All my life I’d just wanted a man to love me, and unfortunately I had to shrink a man and force him to love me before I could hear those words. But I never forgot that he was forced to love me. It wasn’t a quality about me he’d grown attached to, and my presence hadn’t grown on him. He just loved me because I said so, and he’d love me no matter what kind of person I was, whether I deserved it or not. It was like getting first prize in a contest you didn’t enter. And still, Jared was the only man in the world who’d ever said those words to me. “He gives you a choice, Craig,” Jared said. He didn’t get too close to Craig, mostly because he had experience talking to newly shrunk little men before. The wrong move, invading Craig’s space, could send the little meatstack into a rage. Of course, I would never let harm come to Jared, but Jared new that my job was easier if Craig just stayed calm and listened. “Everyone gets used to the nakedness. Everyone gets used to the sex. It’s actually kind of nice after you get accustomed. But when he changes you, you can become like any one of us. But if you don’t choose, he chooses for you.” Craig shook his head. “Us? Like you and Aaron?” Craig squeaked. From my perspective, I was enjoying the light glinting off Craig’s smooth shaven head. I wanted to lick it again. In time, I reminded myself, I could lick it all I wanted. “There are more,” Jared said, gesturing to the blanket-shrouded box. “You know everyone already, but not how they are. You’ll see how they all are, and believe me, you want to choose to be like me. He’ll be the most important thing in your world, and he’ll take care of you. It’s unbelievable.” “Listen to you guys!” I interjected, getting impatient. “My own little chipmunk theater!” Craig sneered, but Jared turned around with a bashful grin, blushing. The poor little guy still wasn’t used to his tiny voice, and I’d embarrassed him. I did, however, like how his buttcheeks got all rosy when he blushed. “Okay,” I said, “next introduction. You ready Craig?” I moved the blanket aside. It was a giant empty aquarium I’d altered to fit my needs. On the left side was a bunch of exercise equipment--little weights I’d soldered together with a little weight bench, a screw set ranging from small to large to be used as dumbbells, and a big hamster wheel. On the right side were various rows of beds, some of different sizes, but most made for tiny six-inch men. In the middle were a number of men, and I was certain that Craig felt his knees growing weak as he started recognizing them. I introduced the first as quickly as I could. “Say hello, Zeb!” I said, reach to the center. Zeb was almost 8 inches tall, by far the tallest of the little men. He looked like in experiment in extreme musculature. Every one of his muscles had swelled and bloated until he was a nearly spherical man, his arms stuck straight out while his legs were splayed apart by his enormous quads. His head looked tiny atop this mountain of shiny bloated muscle, nestled between two giant traps and some massive shoulder muscles. I grinned at my work. Zeb was fun to play with. “Zeb here was so big and sexy I wanted to make him bigger and sexier,” I said, pulling him out of the aquarium. I tossed the blanket back over. I was a showman. I didn’t want Craig seeing the next acts until I was ready. “So I just inflated every single muscle on his body until it was so huge he couldn’t move.” Zeb never had much in the way of abs, usually a big soft belly, but when I inflated his muscles his abs had suddenly enlarged and pressed out into a huge roidgut. I loved it. All this because of the green marble. Zeb had become completely immobile, even unable to look down past his mammoth chest to see things that were right in front of him, like Craig. “Who…” groaned squeaky little Zeb, “who’s there? Who is it?” I reached forward and gently tilted Zeb’s body forward until I saw recognition. “Oh, man, Craig, he got you too?” “I get everyone I want,” I said to Zeb, working a pinky inside his inhumanly large ass. Zeb’s new body, like Aaron’s body was hyper-sensitive. Just by sprinkling water on him I could cause Zeb to orgasm, or by gently tickling his nipples with a q-tip. Since it took so little to overload his brain, I liked pushing his limits, seeing how much stimulation his giant over beefed body could handle. As my pinky dug away, his whole body started shaking. His cock and his balls had inflated with the rest of the body, just as I’d wanted, but they were now as useless as his other appendages. His balls just hung, overfull sacks, like grapefruits around his knees. I liked to gently blow between his legs, causing them to swing back and forth, as he moaned and begged for me to stop. Even that tiny bit of interaction was enough to cause mind-bending sexual stimulation. His big, full cock, which hung above his balls like a deflated spare tire, just twitched and shook while this was going on, burping up precum by the gallon. His cock was thicker than a beer can now, and almost three times as long as most of the other tiny guys’ cocks, but it never got hard, just bobbed and spat out thick white spunk. When he climaxed, his whole body was rocked, but since he could barely move, he just wiggled a bunch while buckets of cum spilled from his permanently flaccid cock as he creamed like a woman. I usually found tears streaming from his eyes afterward. I almost felt bad for him--almost. Picking him up, I placed him in the aquarium. “Jared, get Brian and Jesse to make Zeb cum,” I ordered, placing Jared back in the aquarium also. Jared nodded. I’d placed a mini-jungle gym and a number of rocks and sticks in the middle area, trying to fashion a play-room, but annoyingly it gave the littles many places to hide. Luckily, I had a way to deal with that. I watched Jared dart around, searching for Brian and Jesse, finally emerging from behind a large stone with the two of them. They knew they’d be paraded around at some point when I’d started removing my little men for display, so they were hiding. They’d learn their lesson soon enough. When I found them, Brian had become a cop and Jesse was working construction in the same town. Their close friendship was still strong. They’d each become even more massive than they’d been in high school, with the rigors of their jobs and regular lifting sessions packing on more muscle while a lack of a coach to make them run laps bloated them up with an extra layer of beef. But I made sure to take away that feeling of hugeness, of power, that each of them held. Jared dragged the two of them along easily. The standard base scale for my reduction worked where one foot turns to one inch. With Brian and Jesse, I’d made sure that one foot turned to half an inch with the yellow marble. In an aquarium full of tiny men around six inches, they felt even tinier, even more helpless. Most of the other men could easily overpower them, even if they worked together. As Jared pulled the teeny men along, their big bellies jiggling as they tried to pull free, Jared sternly said, “If you don’t do what I say he’s going to put you in the jar with Aaron for a whole day.” I grinned. I hadn’t said that, but it was a great idea and I was proud of Jared for having thought of it. Aaron could easily do whatever he wanted to the little men, and they’d just have to go along. Facing that thought, Brian and Jesse slowly approached Zeb’s ridiculously over inflated body and started rubbing him down. “Not like that, boys,” I yelled in at them. “Get into it! I want Zeb to be swimming in his own cum!” Zeb sat there, his head shaking furiously, begging me to stop. “No no no no please no no no please don’t let them no please no!” “Sorry, Zebby,” I said, reaching in and giving him a poke in the chest with my finger. He fell slowly, like a tree, slamming down hard. Brian and Jesse ran like scared rabbits when he fell, then slowly approached again. Zeb’s cock flopped straight up in the air, hooking over at the end. Brian and Jesse jumped right on top of his body, Brian massaging Zeb’s pecs while Jesse came in tickling his toes and massaging his feet. Zeb’s tiny voice squeaked over and over as he squealed in ecstasy and agony, his cock pumping out liquid as the two tinier men went to town on his body. Knowing that I was watching, the two of them were doing their best. It wasn’t really that bad for them, since all they had to do was get Zeb to cum a couple of times, drive him into a real frenzy, and then they got out scot free. They were still getting over the “ickiness” of touch another naked man in his most sensitive areas, but each time they did the deed they looked a little less revolted, approached it more as a task they needed to accomplish than something they were being forced to do. I looked down at Craig, enjoying his reaction. He was frozen, just staring at the scene before him, wincing occasionally. He kept glancing up at me. I guessed he was waiting for his chance to make a break for it, or trying to figure out how I could do this to so many people. It was easy, I wanted to tell him. After awhile, you forget that you’re kidnapping, brainwashing and in some cases borderline-raping innocent young men whose only crime was being big and athletic. They had jobs, girlfriends, and families that missed them. I made sure never to grab anyone who was married or had kids, but they still all had people who wondered where they were on birthdays and holidays. Maybe some had pets that never got fed again. Thoughts like that wouldn’t have allowed me to do what I’d done. It was best to just think of it like this: all of their old lives had ended, and when their new lives began, it was as new people altogether. I looked back in the aquarium and took a look at Zeb getting worked over. I suddenly noticed that I couldn’t find Jared. “Jared?” I called. He normally came right to me, but then I realized where he was: busy digging Shawn out from the shadows. I’d run into Shawn at a bar two states away. It was entirely random, and another sign that I was fated to own these men, just like the accident that put the marbles in my possession. His car had broken down and he was waiting for a tow-truck, having a beer while he waited. I remembered sitting next to him, realizing that the built stud in the next seat was the guy I’d gone starry-eyed over in high school a dozen times. He had a short crew-cut, beautiful blue eyes, and he wore a flannel shirt that he filled out very nicely. I kept glancing at the back of the stool, watching his jeans-covered ass popping out behind him, wondering if I could slip a marble in his back pocket. I started conversation, asking him where he went to high school. Then I asked him if he knew my brother. He said he didn‘t recall the name. I asked him if he wanted another beer. He said no, got up, and walked away without another word. He would’ve just walked out of my life forever if I hadn’t slipped the red marble into his jeans. And then, when I took him home, I hit him with the orange marble. He was about the same height as Brian, three inches, but he had retained every bit of his mass as when he was six inches tall. It was like I’d taken a single finger and pressed down on his head, packing his mass into half as much height. He couldn’t move much, not nearly as immobile as Zeb but still hindered by his mass. His arms bounced up and down as he waddled around, his pecs popping out in cartoonish mounds in front of him, his ass doing the same thing behind him. “Now get to work!” Jared said, and Shawn joined Brian and Jesse on Zeb’s body, which was starting to get seriously coated in Zeb’s seed. Zeb big bloated cock was pouring out precum like a garden hose as it bobbed up and down, and Zeb’s face kept alternating between moments of unbelievable pain and overwhelming ecstasy. Shawn awkwardly climbed up onto Zeb’s big bloated body. Shawn’s smooshed little stature prevented him from any intricate movements. Gone were the days of being a four-sport athlete. His body was just for show now. Brian and Jesse didn’t stop what they were doing, but took note of Shawn’s rounded bulk as he tried to maintain balance on Zeb’s solid roidgut. I’d noticed animosity between them before, and I figured it was jealousy. They were all about the same height, but all of the little men regarded Brian and Jesse as tiny, while Shawn’s mass usually put him higher up on the hierarchy. As a perfect example, Jared had dragged Brian and Jesse, paying their protests no mind, while he’d merely coerced Shawn. I wasn’t concerned at all. They were all tiny little toys to me, and they all did what I told when I told them or they’d be punished. It was interesting to watch the three half-heights regard each other Shawn just looked more massive, Brian and Jesse more puny. It must’ve been an overwhelming role reversal for all of them. Brian and Jesse had gone to tickling and licking Zeb’s armpits (which were not only easily accessible with his arms splayed out straight, but also so deep they were actually an enjoyable chore to properly penetrate). Brian noticed Shawn, motioned to Jesse, and then headed up Zeb’s chest. Big ol’ Zeb started sobbing, thankful for a break in the physical stimulation. Brian headed up behind Shawn, ready to knock him down King of the Mountain style, but Shawn suddenly turned, his (relatively) huge fist grabbed Brian by the neck and held him up in the air. Brian kicked and yelped. Jesse tried to scramble up from the other side, but Jared came around the corner. “He’s watching, you know, and I don’t think he’s happy,” Jared said. “He could put all three of you in Aaron’s jar if you wanted.” The three grew silent, and then Shawn gently placed Brian back on the unsteady ground of Zeb’s chest. “Back to work,” he said, and the three of them continued their rubdown of poor old Zeb. I casually reached my hand in and stroked Shawn’s bulbous chest, making his pec meat jiggle. He just stood there while I looked down at him, licking my lips. “Lookin’ good Shawn!” I said, rubbing his head gently. Shawn always suffered his indignities quietly. The important part, though, was that Brian and Jesse saw the display, and I could see them fuming about it. I liked to keep things interesting. “Getting any ideas yet?” I asked Craig, who had collapsed to his knees. “We’re not done yet, just so you know. I have a few more to show you, and then it’s your turn to pick. You can be any of these things, or you let me choose. Trust me, I have more up my sleeve than what you see here, too, so keep that in mind.” I noticed someone huddled in the back corner of the aquarium, so I decided to take him out to show him off. Reaching back quickly, I snatched Chris Legassie from the corner, holding him up for Craig to see. Chris looked terrified, more than the others did when I grabbed them, and with good reason. Awhile ago I’d been at a party thrown by a wealthy friend of mine. It was an uppity mixer, bottles of Grey Goose and cases of Red Bull everywhere and an air of self-importance surrounding everyone. I was drunk, smoking a cigarette on the deck, when I overheard a loud conversation about a guy slurring a story. I overheard the phrase “Spaulding High” and immediately spun around. “Did you go to Spaulding?” I asked, drunk and having a hard time making out who it was. “Yeah, he said, did you?” “Class of 1998!” I said. “Class of 1999,” he replied. “That’s weird, I don’t recognize you.” “Well, I’ve changed a lot,” I said, “and not that many people knew me while I was there.” He grinned, and looked around at the three women who’d been listening intently to his tale. At that moment I recognized him. It was Chris. We’d never spoken. I’d only seen him, knew of him through his status, and masturbated to thoughts of him and his huge lanky body numerous times. “Well, I don’t know, I guess not a lot of people knew me either,” he said to his female-entourage-of-three. “How would they? I was only All-State Basketball for three years, MVP for four years, and had pictures on 22 pages on the yearbook.” He laughed, as if his “ironic statement” was meant to be funny, and the idiot women around him laughed too. “Yeah, not many people knew me at all!” What a cocky dick, I thought, my ire rising. Who counts their yearbook pages and then throws that statistic into someone’s face? Had it been meant to make me feel bad or was it to make me impressed? I figured, through my drunken haze, that it was for the benefit of the three women who were basking in him. His cockiness was irritating, and, I’d established even through my dull wits, unwarranted. Who brags about high school, I thought? Who brags about the yearbook? I bet I’d just interrupted a long session of these woman fawning over Chris while he spouted off his accomplishments and spoke of his own excellence. I had no idea what he was up to in life, or even what he was doing at that party, but his attitude had burned me. I found Chris sleeping in his car early the next morning. At first, I wondered if he hadn’t in fact found a woman to bed with, but then I noticed the keys were in his hand. He was trying to get somewhere. The door was unlocked. The rest was easy. As I presented Chris to Craig, could feel my little basketball star trembling. Chris’ transformation was the most dramatic of all of them, and I couldn’t wait to show it off. I made sure Craig recognized Chris as I held him out. Even at this size, Chris’ body was long, almost seven inches. “Remember him? He was younger than we were,” I reminded. Craig just shook his head--not as a negative response, I guessed, but because he couldn’t take much more. I braced my forefinger against my thumb and thwacked Chris in the head. He cried out in surprise, but his head bounced right back. I did it again, and while Chris looked surprised and uncomfortable, he didn’t seem to be feeling any pain. I couldn’t wait to show off the rest. “Check it out, Craig,” I said, holding Chris around his legs and banged him against the hard floor a couple of times, holding him back up for Craig’s absorption. “He feels no pain. Sure, it doesn’t feel good getting slapped around like that, but he can’t be hurt. That’s why I don’t feel bad doing this.” I reached up and grabbed his right arm and yanked, and it stretched out until it was longer than his whole body was. Chris moaned, again, not in agony but in distress. His arm would stay like that for a little while before snapping back to normal. That‘s what I got from the brown marble. “He’s my own private clay-man. Isn’t he cool?” I said. Visually, Chris tended to be the most distressing of all my men, and I could see Craig’s bugeyes as he watched. Chris whimpered as his elongated arm weakly moved around, the fingers grabbing the air an inch above the floor, struggling to touch get a hand-hold. I grabbed his arm and guided it until the hand at the end of the cartoonish arm was grazing Craig’s face. Craig swiped the fingers away, backing up until his back hit the cold glass of the aquarium. He then turned around, shocked, and saw the scene of the three midgets crawling over big bloated Zeb, all covered in cum, and took a step back from that. He spun around and stared up at me, and I smiled. “Watch this,” I said, setting Chris on the floor and pulling a bag out from next to my bed. I pulled out a small rolling pin and Chris let out a high-pitched shriek. With a wicked grin I pressed down with the rolling pin, flattening out Chris’ feet until they looked like pennies on a railroad track. I kept rolling and rolling as Chris begged me to stop. It was almost a shame. His body was still long but strong, thick basketball muscles still as strong, if not stronger, than they’d been in high school. His dick arced up from his groin, and I smirked as I rolled over it. He squealed, and as I looked at the flattened out mess that used to be his pelvis, I saw that I couldn’t even make out what used to be his dick. I actually had a little remorse (for just a second) as I looked at his chiseled abs, and his muscular torso. It wasn’t as big or bulky as any of the other guys’, but it still looked really good… until I smooshed it into a formless, flat tan mass. I finally rolled over his face. His voice still came, although muffled. Looking at my flattened out man, who seemed to be all over the place compared to his size before, I started tidily rolling, starting with the smooshed areas that used to be called feet. Then I rolled up his “legs,” continuing up, tighter and tighter, until I had a tight tube, about four inches wide and about one inch thick. I tossed it into the aquarium, where it bounced a couple of times and then rolled away. “He’ll go back to normal,” I said to Craig with a wink. “In a few hours. Until then, he has to be a human roll-up. Can you imagine how that feels? Being rolled in on yourself? Being unable to move? What would your eyes and ears be picking up? What about your skin? What kind of sensations…” I nudged Craig with a finger. “Depending on how things go, you can either ask him… or you’ll find out first-hand.” Eager to get the introductions over with, I leaned into the aquarium and shouted, “Brock, Josh, present yourselves now!” The two little hotties came running out of opposite ends of the aquarium, each hiding under a large branch. For a moment, I wondered why they were alone, but then I realized that they probably figured they could hide below the radar if they separated. I couldn’t imagine it had been easy for either of them. I imagined being huddled in the darkness, praying none of the other tiny men would sell you out, purposely staying away from the one being in the world you wanted to be near more than any other. As they stood there, at attention, each of them looked heartbroken, not only having been rabbited out of hiding (quite easily, and they should’ve expected that, to be honest) but also to be near each other but not having permission yet to touch each other. “All right, boys, show me how much you missed each other,” I said, motioning for Craig to watch. Brock and Josh ran to each other, collapsing into each other’s arms. It was really hot, actually, watching those naked muscles collapse together. Brock was taller, but Josh was beefier, and the latter seemed to be lifting Brock off the ground as he embraced him. I watched as their mouths crazily lapped at each other, arms going wild, fingers pressing deeply into flesh, hips grinding together. I envied them, never having been touched like that by anyone, even to a lesser degree. Jared “loved” me, but he could never pick me up in his arms like I’d always needed. Brock and Josh hadn’t been in love when I’d run into them again. From what I could gather, they were each working sales jobs in different companies in the same city. Brock had just gotten out of a long-term relationship and Josh was a career bachelor. The two would meet after work, go to the gym, then go out for some beers and sometimes, some pussy. They had quite the life, and had a lot ahead of them. I envied their bachelor status. It was how I’d always envisioned my life would’ve been had I been born straight. It had almost been too difficult for me to watch. To prove a point, I leaned in and said, “Brock!” I had his attention, I knew, but he still had to carry out my prior order. “Brock, you are now in love with Shawn. You love him more than you’ve ever loved anyone in the whole world. Your body aches without him. You need him now, more than you even need to breathe.” Brock’s high-pitched squeak came out long and drawn out, like a moan. Both hands went up to Josh’s face, stopping him. He shook his head, looking away from Josh to the muscle packed midget on top of Mount Zeb. I watched both Brock and Josh’s faces contort in pain and confusion. Brock pushed Josh away, staggering toward Zeb, desperate to climb up to be with Shawn. “Brock, no!” cried Josh. “Please! I need you! Please don’t leave me!” Brock shook his head. “Shut up! You know you don’t mean that! Get away from me!” Tears came from both of their eyes. “Anything I say,” I said, tapping Craig to remind him that this wasn’t a dream, but very real, “becomes real to them. Every command that I utter becomes their reality. They follow whatever I say, believe whatever I command. You can, too, if you want.” It was all the effect of the blue marble. Brock had scaled Zeb and was trying to get his arms around Shawn, begging him to kiss him. Shawn had fought back, his little stocky arms pushing Brock away. Both of their squeaky voices were shouting, and I couldn’t clearly make out what they were saying. I didn’t care. Josh, on the ground, had fallen to his knees, hysterically sobbing. “BROCK! JOSH!” I yelled, and they both turned up to me. “Front and center! Stand at attention!” The both ran forward and stared up at me, their faces full of fear. I liked that. “As soon as I put you into his jar,” I said, a smirk across my face, “I want you two to do everything in your power to try to satisfy Aaron.” The two tiny faces went pale. “You won’t get tired until I tell you.” I could actually see them shivering from where I stood. I reached down and lifted them up, grabbing Aaron’s jar and plopping them in. Aaron was on them like a starved animal (which he was) and Brock and Josh got right into it. Immediately Aaron was plowing Josh’s ass, who got right into it, furiously fucking right back. Brock got behind Aaron without hesitation and just started pounding away, his fingers tweaking Aaron’s nipples. Aaron went back and forth from kissing Brock to kissing Josh. They three immediately become one big undulating mass. I set it next to Craig with a grin. He backed away, horrified. The sounds coming from the jar sounded like a gay bathhouse with a helium leak. “Now it’s time,” I said. I reached into the backpack and pulled an empty jar forth. Craig looked at the mass of gay sex in the greasy jar and then at the empty one coming down at him. He started to run but I easily snatched him up, holding him about an inch from my face. I grinned. He swung out with his meaty fists, and I just shook my head. It felt so great to hold him under his inhuman lats, appreciating the massiveness of his back, the strong tapers down to his thick waist. “Do you get it yet?” I said calmly. “I can do whatever I want to you. The more you fight, the worse it’ll be. Don’t hold onto your pride, because I’m just going to take that away from you anyway. You can make it easy, or you can make it hard. Look around, Craig, and choose your new life. What will it be? Choose which one of your old buddies you want to be like… or I’ll choose for you. And I have tricks up my sleeve you have seen yet.” Craig looked down at the scene around him. It probably looked to him like an obscene amusement park, his view from the top of the ferris wheel. Brian, Jesse and Shawn were still over-pumping poor Zeb, who sat there squealing for them to, “Stop!” and “Keep going!” and “Please! Please! Pleease!” In the jar, Brock and Josh were trying to match Aaron’s sexual intensity, but falling short. None of them would even begin to fatigue until I said the word. Chris didn’t even look human anymore, more like a rolled up piece of bologna, rolling around helplessly near Jared, who stared up at me longingly. “Time’s up, Craig,” I said, giving him a gentle shake. “Take your pick.” He turned to me, sat there silently for a moment, before his eyes finally lit up. He’d made a decision. His head reared back and then cocked forward. I could barely hear the sound of it, but only knew that he’d spit at me because of his facial expressions, and because I’d been spit at by a tiny man before. I rolled my eyes. “You idiot,” I said. “That bit of spit couldn’t have been more than a few molecules. Do you really think that was going to be worth it? That tiny act of disrespect versus what it just cost you?” I plunked him unceremoniously in the empty jar and stood up to get the marbles. I noticed Jared sitting quietly in the aquarium, watching me leave with a pained look on his face. I rolled my eyes--only after I knew he couldn’t see--and considered changing what I’d done to him. I knew he was sitting there, wanting so badly to be close to me but terrified to ask. I wondered what that was like, that desire for approval, the fear of being rejected, the overwhelming reward when the object of your affection gives you tenderness and attention. I’d never had that before, and probably never would. Jared would always love me, whenever I wanted, even when I didn’t want it. I couldn’t ever do anything wrong in his eyes, and it almost made his adoration feel disposable. I almost resented it at times. Jared was the first I shrank. I didn’t give him the choice, just made him love me. I thought it would be enough, but it wasn’t. I shrank others, telling them about the wonderful and horrible things I could do to them, and gave each the choice. Every single one of my tiny men chose nothing, telling me to fuck myself or spitting at me, cursing my name or attacking me in some way. I could never understand it. When faced with some really terrible looking scenarios, or the option of just being in love with me, they rejected me, forced me to choose on my own. To me, I thought that the purple marble was the easy way out, but none of the tiny men did. Apparently, being in love with me was just as bad as any of the other possibilities. I pulled out the velvet bag and fished around, pulling out the white marble. A quick breath and it lit up, glowing brightly. I dropped it into the jar. It bounced twice before resting several feet (to him) from Craig. He looked at it in horror. “Not sure if you’ve been paying attention,” I asked, “but the white marble doesn’t do any of the things that I already showed you, but it’s one I think fits you perfectly.” Back in the aquarium, Jared (the only little man unoccupied) had come over to the wall to watch the show. He pressed his face up against the cold glass. Feeling a little pity, and knowing it was what he wanted, I snatched him up and held him in my hand as it happened. He snuggled down into my fist as he watched. Craig tried to scramble up the smooth glass, but his bulky but just wasn’t agile enough to make any headway (and since he wasn’t Spiderman, he wasn’t going anywhere). The white marble sat there glowing and Craig shielded his eyes from it. What an idiot. “It doesn’t have to touch you, and you don’t have to look at it,” I said, watching my new little meat monkey struggle. “Look, you can’t get away with this. If I wanted, I could just make it touch you like this.” I tilted the jar and the white marble rolled to him. He tried to get away and I tipped it more. It rolled between his gigantic thighs. He couldn’t find any foothold to right himself, but he still struggled away. As the white marble glowed away, Craig’s struggle, the determination on his face, became spotty and intermittent. He kept having moments of confusion, where I’m sure he forgot what was going on, or where he was. I set the jar down and he stumbled around, disoriented, but the fight in him was dying. Finally, he just stopped moving. His face looked blank, emotionless, and his gigantic meaty shoulders just started rising and falling casually. He looked almost relaxed as he slowly eyeballed his body, from his feet up through his gigantic thighs, past his big masculine cock and up his overwhelmingly powerful torso. He started flexing his biceps casually, examining his own meaty forearms as if it were the first time he’d discovered them. His body seemed to droop and sag a bit, going forward, as his forearms and fists grew bigger and more solid. His spine seemed to reshape and his posture slid forward until he was almost resting on his knuckles. His whole body hadn’t changed much, but he had devolved slightly, having a distinct apelike quality to his body as much as being an overdeveloped meatstack of a man. I smiled, realizing the work was done. Craig seemed happy like that. His mind had been wiped totally clean, and his body made into a (relatively) gigantic bulky Neanderthal (which, to be honest, didn’t require much change). Craig’s brains were now located mostly in his huge muscles, but also in his big cock. He’d live to flex, fuck, and overpower the other little men. To be honest, I thought, Craig was getting out of this pretty easy. Chris was going to be horrified. I wondered if some of them would beg to feel the white marble. I reached down and went to grab Craig’s new body. He grabbed onto my fingers with his powerful hands. I was impressed with their strength, and as I lifted him out I started to get a boner just watching the arrogance of a six-inch tall caveman looking at me, sizing me up. With a smirk, I put him into the aquarium. I put Jared in next to him. Craig grunted, and Jared smiled, looking Craig up and down. Craig’s pecs bounced one at a time, over and over, and then he started flexing his biceps. Jared smiled, looked back up at me, and then Craig pounced, immediately mounting poor Jared. Luckily my little wrestler seemed to almost enjoy it after the initial surprise wore off. Jared wasn’t accustomed to being “taken down” like that, but Craig was WAY out of his weight class. I took a deep breath and pulled out my cell phone--eleven missed calls. I shook my head. I’d forgotten all about the reunion! I still had to go back and make sure my trail was covered, that nobody would connect Craig’s disappearance with me. On the other hand, how could I leave the scene in front of me? I started unbuckling my shirt, speeding up as my eager erection expanded. “Well, boys,” I said to the whole lot of them, “looks like we’re having our own little reunion.”

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 15: Caveman

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15

Derek wasn’t proud to admit it, but he had a little bit of a jealous side.

Nothing brought out the green-eyed monster more than watching some guy try to flirt with Stiles, or even hearing Stiles comment on how hot he thought a certain actor was. The other day, Stiles was talking to Lydia, and he’d mentioned how he’d thought that the new Superman actor was cute. Derek had to swallow down a growl, and he’d not-so-subtly changed into his Superman t-shirt afterwards.

Stiles didn’t seem to mind too much, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He’d usually just laugh it off and give his husband a big hug, trying to calm him down.

This all came to a culmination when the water heater when out. 

“Der, I had to call a plumber to come fix the water heater,” Stiles told the werewolf. “He said he should be here soon.”

Derek just grunted from his spot on the sofa. He mindlessly munched on beef jerky as he watched TV, clad in just his sweatpants. He was so caught up in watching Alexander Skarsgård swinging through the jungle as Tarzan, that he’d barely heard the doorbell ring. 

“I’ll get it!” Stiles called out as he hurried over to the front door, swinging it wide open. 

“Hello, Mr. Hale,” a deep voice bellowed out, making Derek perk up, “I’m Chase, I’m here to fix your water heater.”

“Oh yes!” Stiles breathed, sounding relieved. “Come in, please.”

Derek turned around to stare down the other man who entered his house, frowning at the muscular stud who followed behind Stiles. The alpha werewolf couldn’t help but narrow his eyes in the direction of the plumber who wore a blue uniform. The young man was so built and muscular that he left the top three buttons of his shirt undone, showing off his impressive hairy pecs. His sleeves were rolled up, allowing his bowling ball sized biceps to curl out of them. In front of his tight jeans was a large bulge that made it look like the young man was smuggling a grapefruit in his pants. And when the plumber walked, his firm butt pressed tantalizingly against his jeans which were so tight that they rode a little low, giving credence to the term “Plumber’s Crack”. His dirty blond hair was combed in that style that made it look slightly messy, but sill manageable, and his lantern jaw was covered in masculine stubble. The dude seriously looked like he’d been ripped straight out of a porno.

Immediately, jealousy surged though Derek and he felt himself leap off the couch and hurry over towards Stiles, wrapping a possessive arm around his waist. He puffed out his own sizable pecs and forced a smile on his face. “Yes,” Derek almost growled, his voice rougher than intended, “please come into our home.”

Stiles shot him a look.

Chase only smirked as he entered the home, his heavy footsteps thudding loudly as he followed behind the couple.

“The water heater’s in the basement,” Stiles babbled on. “It went out last night and the water’s been ice cold ever since. You’re a real lifesaver for coming on such short notice.”

“It’s all part of the job,” Chase said, giving Stiles a crooked grin.

Derek bit down on his lower lip to hold back his snarl. “I could’ve fixed it,” he added hurriedly, “but I have a lot on plate since I run my own auto shop. So you know, management is very time-consuming work that only tough guys can do.”

“Wh-what?” Stiles wondered aloud.

Chase shrugged it off. “Sure,” he coughed. “A lot of wives tend to call me when their husbands can’t fix a simple appliance. It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”

Derek saw red and his fists shook with rage. He had to take a few deep breaths to prevent himself from phasing on the spot and mauling the cocky plumber… when a devious plan entered his head.

“It’s, uh, kinda hot down here,” he stated, forcing a toothy grin onto his face, “why don’t I get us some drinks.”

“I can get them,” Stiles offered.

“No!” Derek hurried, as he practically sprinted back up the basement stairs towards the kitchen. The werewolf tore through the cabinets as he grabbed three cups, making sure to grab Stiles’s favorite Superman glass. He then snatched the jug of Crystal Light out of the fridge before grabbing the secret ingredient from under the sink.

Derek couldn’t help but smile maniacally at the translucent powder that possessed a pink shimmer to it. It was a magical powder that Peter had made, claiming that it would cause “Embarrassing Side Affects that varied from person to person”. Derek had no clue exactly what that entailed, but he figured that annoying, sexy Chase would be the perfect tester to try it out.

The jealous werewolf made sure to pour Stiles’s glass first, setting it far away on the counter so that it wouldn’t come into accidental contact with the powder. That left two unmarked cups, and in his haste, Derek filled them both to the brim with the red Crystal Light. He then dumped a large spoonful of the mysterious powder into one of the glasses, marveling as it immediately dissolved, leaving zero trace of its presence behind. The giddy werewolf was so caught up in imagining all of the humiliating scenarios that played in his head involving Chase, that he put the jug of Crystal Light back into the fridge without memorizing which glass he’d spiked with the powder.

Derek froze as he stared at the two unmarked glasses on the counter, both of hem equally filled up with red juice. 

“Damn it,” he snarled, making move to dump them both down the sink to try again, but then something caught his ears.

The werewolf bristled as he heard Stiles’s laughter echo out from the basement, the deep bellowing of Chase’s annoying voice trailing behind.

With a ferocious growl, Derek dumped a spoonful of the powder into each of the unmarked glasses. He grabbed all three of them and raced back down the stairs, eager to break up the laughing session between the stupid plumber and his husband.

“H-hey, what’s so funny?” Derek asked, forcing a cheerful smile onto his face as he walked down the basement stairs. Despite his grin, his eyes narrowed in Chase’s direction. He walked up to Stiles and handed him the Superman glass that wasn’t spiked with the embarrassing potion.

“Chase here went to Beacon Hills High, too!” Stiles exclaimed. “I knew he looked familiar. We were in the same Spanish class.” He looked over towards the plumber. “You’ve put on some serious muscle.”

Chase held his head up high as he flexed a large bicep. “Yeah, I’ve been getting into bodybuilding,” he grunted. “You should check out my Instagram. I post tons of progress photos there.”

Over my dead body, Derek wanted to say, but instead he held out a glass for Chase. “Here,” he forcefully smiled, “I hope you like Crystal Light.”

“Thanks,” Chase obliviously said, accepting the glass and bringing it up to his full lips. He paused for a second, eying the water heater in the corner of the basement. “Oh, I can see a leak from here.”

“A leak?!” Stiles repeated incredulously, rushing forward to inspect the large machine as best as he could. “Where?”

Chase lumbered towards him, positioning himself way too close for Derek’s liking. “There,” he said, pointing towards a small spray of water.

For the millionth time, Derek was seeing red, beyond irritated that the muscleman was getting close and personal to his husband. In his anger, he briefly forgot that he was supposed to wait for Chase to take the first sip of his drink, and brought the glass up to his own lips to take a large gulp of the sweet juice.

Instantaneously, Derek’s eyes widened when he’d realized his mistake, quickly placing the half-emptied glass onto a nearby fixture. His heart raced in his chest as he waited for something to happen, holding his breath as he prepared for the worst.

“Damn,” Stiles frowned as he examined the leak, “do you see this, Derek?”

“Derek see,” Derek bellowed, his voice sounding much deeper and guttural than normal, making the werewolf flinch in shock. He had no idea why he’d referred to himself in the third person, so he cleared his throat and tried a second time. “Ook!”

Stiles only chuckled, his back still turned to Derek, thinking that his husband was just trying to be cute.

Meanwhile, Derek’s panic grew when he felt himself beginning to itch. He looked down at his chest and gasped as he watched wisps of black hair sprout all over his toned pectorals. The naturally smooth werewolf was stunned silent as he watched his hair thicken, and not just over his chest. He held his shaky hands up in front of his face, paling as hair grew over his arms, traveling towards his wrists and even his knuckles.

Derek felt his center of gravity rapidly shift, and he stumbled on his feet, falling over. He managed to catch himself before hitting the hard ground. Yet, he noticed that he was perched using his knuckles for support, reminding him of those lumbering gorillas he’d seen on TV. He tried to stand up straight on his two legs, but he could make it about halfway before toppling back down on all fours like an ape.

As a final touch, Derek nearly went cross eyed as he watched the bulge in his sweatpants steadily grow larger. The bulge inflated as it grew, causing his enlarged cock to stiffen and snake down his pant leg, looking ridiculously big on his toned, hairy form.

His heart raced in his hairy chest as Derek realized that he’d turned into some sort of monkey man. “Derek feel funny,” he muttered in his deeper voice, bristling at the awkward way he spoke. His thoughts were still coherent, but he couldn’t get his mouth to cooperate with what he wanted to say.

“Huh?” Stiles asked, looking over his shoulder before gasping at his hunched over, hairy husband. “Derek?! What the hell happened?!”

“Ook! Ook!” Derek bellowed, jumping up and down in his crouched position. His blush deepened when Stiles walked up to him, standing tall above his hunched over body.

Chase only glanced over this broad shoulder before shrugging and continuing to examine the water heater.

At the sight of Chase’s glare, Derek felt his possessive side spark once more. However, instead of silently brooding, the werewolf felt himself puff out his hairy chest. His muscles tensed, he beat at his chest with both of his meaty fists, mimicking a large gorilla. Again, he internally winced at his uncontrollable actions, but he couldn’t help it. Derek could only bare his teeth as he beat his chest intimidatingly.

Stiles’s eyebrows lowered slowly as he put the pieces together gradually. “Ohhh,” he hummed, eying the glass of Crystal Light.

Derek stopped beating his chest and cheekily smiled up at his husband. “Ook!” he grunted, nuzzling against the other man’s leg in an attempt at an apology.

Stiles snickered a little bit. “You’re silly, Derek, you know that right?” he chuckled as he ran his fingers through Derek’s hair.

“Ook! Ook!” Derek happily cheered as he bounced in place, his hard cock bobbing up and down wildly in his sweats. It wasn’t his intention to turn himself into some feral caveman, but he couldn’t deny that he liked how Stiles was paying much more attention to him now than he was to Chase.

“Your husband’s weird,” Chase muttered, rolling his eyes at Derek, who only beat his chest in uncontrollable response. The muscled plumber finally brought the glass of red Crystal Light up to his lips, taking a loud gulp.

“Ook!” Derek grunted as he watched the changes happen automatically.

Chase must not have felt anything, but as he drank down the cursed drink, Derek and Stiles stared in awe as the large bulge in front of his pants shuddered before growing less prominent. The previous mound that had looked like a grapefruit grew smaller and smaller by the second until the front of Chase’s jeans were flat and unremarkable.

When the glass was empty, Chase lowered it and wiped his lips. “This tastes kinda funny,” he said, freezing up in fear at the sound of his voice. His usual deep baritone was gone, replaced with a cartoonish voice that was hilariously high-pitched and squeaky, sounding just like a chipmunk’s.

Stiles had to cover his mouth to keep from bursting into hysterics.

“Oook! Ook!” Derek bellowed, happily slamming his fists down onto the ground in victory. He couldn’t hide the dim smile that stretched out his face, and he puffed out his hairier chest with pride.

Chase blushed a little and cleared his throat. “Um, *ahem, what I meant to say, *ahem, what’s wrong with my voice?!” The muscle man clutched at his throat, his face burning red at the sound of his cartoonish voice.

Stiles, unable to contain himself, broke down and doubled over with laughter. “That’s not it!” he guffawed, tears welling up in his eyes at the sight of the squeaky-voice muscleman.

“What do you mean?” Chase squeaked, stomping his foot in irritation, his voice making it sound more like he was throwing a tantrum than trying to be threatening.

“Tiny!” Derek managed to say, bouncing up and down excitedly on his feet and fists, like a chimp at the zoo.

“‘Tiny’?” Chase repeated, still blushing over the sound of his new voice. His eyes followed the direction of Derek’s stare. He gasped when he saw the flat front of his jeans and immediately unbuttoned his pants, shoving them down. The pathetic two inch nub looked completely out of place on Chase’s muscled frame. It was so small and puny that it was barely noticeable in his trimmed bush.

Chase screamed, his voice sounding even higher than before. He yanked his pants up and ran up the stairs in a hurry, exiting the house in a panic.

Stiles continued to laugh for a few more minutes before he was able to slightly contain himself. “That, haha, wasn’t nice Derek,” he tried to frown, but his chuckling ruined the mood he was trying to portray.

Still, Derek hung his head in shame. “Derek sorry,” he muttered in his slow voice.

Stiles smiled down at his husband and ran an admiring hand through his thick hair. “It’s okay, I guess,” he hummed. “You don’t have to be so jealous, Sourwolf. I love you.”

At this, Derek felt himself perk up, his lengthened cock rocketing to attention. The caveman werewolf beat his hairy chest with pride, a wide smile on his dim face. He then reached over and tossed Stiles over his shoulder, carrying him upstairs towards their bedroom as he readied to show his husband just what a wild man he now was.

Is that girl Han Solo?

Artist: William Stout

A boy can dream.

GEICO caveman commercial (2004)

was in the bathroom and the one lock doesn't work right bc the art school lacks funding in nearly every aspect, so it sometimes falls back unlocked, and when i went to unlock and leave i accidentally locked myself in, and for a fleeting moment i felt only what i can assume was pure primal instinct in me go “trapped, must escape” in such a way i wont ever be able to recreate. 

horrifying experience, 10/10 would summon the caveman in me again

Was feeling primal.

Once your latent caveman genes turn on, there's no going back.

this is Finn and Jake if they were caveman at least the painting is ok

Marvel Comics Ka-Zar of the Savage Lands