My boyfriend has been really insecure in the bedroom recently, even though he's doing a good job. I also know he likes big, hairy, mature men, so any chance you could make me into a gentle daddy dom so I can tell him what a good job he's doing?
Hmhm, that sounds like something I could do alright! Always here to help people feel their love for daddies.
You knew your boyfriend would be having a long day at work, so it was the perfect time to prepare him a nice little lovey-dovey evening, a candle lit dinner with some nice music in the background. Although you didn't really know how to cook beyond the basics, you knew you wanted to go further for him.
Going to the window to get some fresh air, dreaming about how much you loved your boyfriend, you looked up at the night sky. The stars were shining especially bright tonight. And suddenly, a shooting star passed. You didn't know if it was really there or if you imagined it, but a second passing soon after confirmed it. And hey, not believing in magic doesn't prevent one from wishing, eh?
After throwing together a hasardous wish, you decided it was finally time to start preparing dinner. You didn't really know what to cook yet, but maybe you could just figure something out on the spot.
As you opened the fridge, looking for inspiration, your eyes drifted to one of the beers you had in store. You never really liked it — they were mostly here for your boyfriend or for whenever you two invited people over — but tonight, the idea of drinking one felt particularly refreshing. Maybe it finally grew on you, you thought without asking too many questions. You grabbed one and cracked it open, sipping it before getting to work, feeling energised as ever.
However, that newly developed taste for beer would not remain the only new thing for long — not that you would ever realise it, of course. Something else occur as your opened a cabinet and noticed a jar on the top shelf. Now, you weren't exactly short, but you weren't the tallest person around either. But as you tried to reach it, you found yourself struggling less and less to reach it. At some point, you even wondered how you, a 6'5" something giant, ever struggled with such a reach.
But of course, jars were a pain in the butt to open sometimes, and this one was no exception. So what did your now tall body do? Grow muscles, of course! Even for a task as mundane as opening a jar, your entire body went into overdrive. You could feel your muscles getting pumped, just like after a workout. Because you work out regularly, right? Right. Your chest rose with every breath, without falling back as down as it started. Heck, you even bounced them a bit, proud of the results of such dedication. But such flexing didn't go without consequences: with loud rips and tears, you quickly found yourself standing amidst shreds of your former outfit. Well, those clothes were too small for you anyway, it was hopeless to try them on.
Even though you were busy cooking with your stove on, being naked like that might get you cold, as confirmed by the quick breeze brushing past. But don't worry; quickly enough, a wave of warmth rushed over you, every single square centimetre of your skin itching in an oddly pleasurable way. It started small, only a few timid hairs between your massive pecs, but soon enough your entire torso, front and back, ended up covered in soft, silky hair. You could even feel it creep up higher and higher, up to your neck, until it reached your chin. Rubbing it dreamily, you felt your chin soon sprout a short trimmed beard.
Despite your reveries and admiration of your own body, you found yourself done with the cooking already. Good job! Now that you were done with it, your eyes drifted around, and you noticed the beer that you had first started but never even finished. With a smirk, though, that was a job quickly done: the bottle looked small in your large, manly hand, and downing it only took a gulp.
It wasn't much, but you felt a burp start to accumulate within your stomach and throat. And as you let it out, a wave of pleasure so intense that it made you moan a little washed over you. With it, you couldn't notice it, but your coat of body hair lightened in colour, going from your former deep brown to a salt and pepper, your beard quickly following. Even your hairline went along, receding ever so slightly, leaving some room for fresh new wrinkles.
Gosh, you were so hard right now. You couldn't wait for your man to finally get home, you'd be sure to give him more than just a good dinner.
A bunch of the neighborhood dads are hosting a barbequeue, and they've invited me to come, but I feel like I don't really fit in among them with all their thick beards and beer guts. Any way you can help me out here?
Being freshly out of college and being invited to the neighbourhood barbeque pool party can be scary, especially when the one inviting you was the hot DILF from the office you worked at. A good 6'6" of pure, furry muscle, emanating strength and warmth, but with a kindness in his eyes — and a jiggle in his ass — that made you swoon every time your gaze fell upon him. The dads of the neighbourhood often hold barbecues and other parties on weekends, it was only polite to introduce you to your future friends!
As you stressed about the upcoming barbecue, your doorbell rang. Weird, you didn't expect anyone to come over, or anything of the sort. But it brought you out of your stupor, so you got up and went to open the door. Weirdly enough, there wasn't anyone at the door; maybe some kids were playing a prank on you.
But right as you were about to leave, you noticed a package waiting for you on your doorstep. That was just as weird, as you hadn't ordered anything online. So, of course, you brought it inside without checking what it could be.
You could feel some tension building in your stomach. Indeed, opening an unlabeled package from an unknown sender right before meeting new people was quite courageous, no? But as you opened the package, all tension you had suddenly dropped as you were met with... A beer pack? Sure enough, six beer bottles were in the package, and nothing more, not even any shipping protections. This must have been delivered by hand, then.
As you grabbed one of the bottles, curiosity started creeping up in your head. Nevermind the unknown sender, this strange bottle was much more interesting. Behind the label, blurred out as if it had spent some time in water so that it was impossible to decipher the brand, the beer had a rich color, akin to that of amber. And with a shrug, you opened it, and its buttery aroma floated over the room, bubbles faintly popping inside the glass. You had rarely seen a beer so appetising, and you found yourself unable to resist the urge to just gulp it down.
As you somehow expected, that was absolutely delicious. Light as the wind, fresh as the purest of waters, yet sparkling like a million tiny fireworks on your tongue, you had never tasted anything of the sort. It was so good, in fact, that you reached out to grab a second can; but before you could even touch it, you were immediately distracted by a deep rumbling coming from inside your stomach. After a groan escaped your lips, you brought a hand to your stomach to see what was happening, and got surprised with what your hand was met with: your shirt had somehow ridden up, exposing a little bit of flesh that was softer than you remembered.
It should have been scary, or at the very least a bit surprising, but no, it just... Felt good. Comfortable. Even a bit exciting. As you started feeling hot, you got rid of you short altogether to have a direct view at your torso; and the sight did not disappoint! Your stomach looked plumpier than mere moments ago, and, grabbing it again, you noticed that it was indeed softer. As for your chest? Long gone was the flat skin, now two mounds of flesh had risen like bread in an oven.
Moving your arms around to feel your new torso did not feel like it usually did. Intrigued, you gave them a look: them too had grown quite a bit. They looked round and soft, but a quick flex was more than enough to confirm the amount of muscle hidden underneath.
And then, everything began itching. But it wasn't as uncomfortable as one could expect, more taking the shape of a warmth spreading all throughout your body. It began deep inside your belly, before spreading to your torso, legs, and arms. As you rubbed your soft and plump skin, you could begin to feel hair sprouting right underneath your thick fingers; and soon after, your entire stomach was covered in body hair. Your chest didn't leave anything to be desired, as a forest of dark curls soon covered it. Similarly, your tree trunks thighs, your boulder shoulders and thick arms became just as covered.
Your jaw was last to itch, and it filled you with great pride. You had always been unable to grow more than a patchy stubble, but a dense shadow now covered your entire lower jaw.
You felt strong. Powerful, even. And after a quick "wow" of admiration, you realised that your voice had joined on the change. Gone was the slightly highly pitched voice, now only a deep bass could come of your throat.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt... Complete. Like you were finally the one you were meant to be.
A quick look at the clock on the wall let you know that it was time to get going. You didn't want to be late to meet new friends!
Oh, and, you had only drunk one of the mysterious bottles. Maybe your future friends could like them...
Sorry for the delay! Struggled with inspiration with this one, the first version didn't go in the right direction. But here it is, finally! Got back into writing, I'll try to not take as much time for the future stories ;) (keyword: try)
Hey, how's it going? Hope everything's alright since we haven't seen you in a while
Hiiii!!
Little life update, life has been *real* busy as of late, and I have hit a massive writing slump.... Not helped by the fact that I've had to basically redo my current WIP due to being very unsatisfied with it...
But!!! I've found the right direction for it, so I edit it from time to time! Alas I can't write very often at all, but I'll try to get back to it, writing a few sentences every now and then.
I have one request started, another one waiting, and even a very early WIP I had started long ago. It'll come...... Eventually! No promises nor release date, but soon! I hope, at least
OOC note for the ask i just sent in - I absolutely loved the pit musk and burps from the yard sale story (which has very quickly become an all-time favorite of mine 🥵🥵🥵) so I'd love to see a good amount of that incorporated if possible, but absolutely no worries if that's not your usual thing. Love your works 💕
Oh I'm so glad!!!! It was my first ever story, so I felt very unsure about how it was gonna be enjoyed by others. So glad to hear that, thank you so much!
Don't worry, it's true that I haven't incorporated that in my other stories, but I believe it's only a matter of time :3 (I have at least one story idea that will absolutely include that). I'll try to include some of it in other stories as well, cuz I do love it a lot, but I'm still not really sure how to write it. But hey, practice makes perfect! Maybe I'll be including it in another idea I have in my inbox...... ;)
Just curious for the sake of requests - are there any particular things you do/don't like?
Oof, sorry for the delay
From the top of my head, I can't really come up with anything I don't like. I for sure don't like anything to do with feet, or with, er, let's say bodily fluids that aren't cum or sweat. And non consensual sex scenes, of course, that always makes me lose interest on whatever. Other than that, can't really think of anything that's a turn off for me, I've found myself enjoying many things if written well.
As for things I love, well, some of it is in my username: I'm a big enjoyer of beards. Eh, hairy TFs overall are suuuch a turn on to me. Becoming older and going from a normal guy to an absolute daddy is so good. And also, very important: I like my men big. I don't care if they're bodybuilders or just fat (or a combination of both, even better), the less they fit doorframes the better. Oh, and, although I'm more interested in the body overall, a huge cock is always a nice thing to grow.
So.... Yeah! Turning guys into bearded hairy horny daddy bears is my thing!
Don't hesitate to request anything ;) I have a few pictures and themes in store, but if a requested prompt gets my gears turning, I'll do something with it!
Marcus Walker was very conflicted about Tuesdays. After having moved out from his local community college to this new, bigger college, he still hadn't got the opportunity to make many great friends, so all he had was his classes. And Tuesday classes were boring as hell. His longest day with his worst classes.
He had never liked all those scientific subjects. Sure, he was good at it so he kept going, but it all was so boring to him. He wanted something different, something more driven by his passions.
So the thing that made him conflicted? The art club he had managed to join, ending the day on a bright note with its sessions holding on Tuesday nights. He still hadn't made many friends, but at least he could recognise some faces now; and most importantly, it was an amazing way to let some steam off after a long day. It was where he could finally express himself, let go of all the fatigue and boredom accumulated throughout the day.
And this Tuesday was particularly exciting. Rumour had been going around that their usual teacher — a retired artist who only did it to keep practicing a bit, not interested in the slightest in sharing his knowledge with a new generation — would not be teaching that day, but instead another artist would replace him. But nobody knew who it was.
According to the rumours, it was an underground artist who had made incredible sculptures and paintings, but never signing anything, so people couldn't be sure if it were them or not. But what was similar between all these unsigned pieces were their life-like aspects, as if the stones and pigments had been touched by angels and given life to. The only thing that people had started interpreting as a signature was the fact that every piece hid, somewhere, a letter K inside the various patterns.
Just out of his last boring class, Marcus was heading towards the art room, excited to see who was the mysterious figure supposed to teach them tonight.
When he entered the room, he wasn't too surprised to see it devoid of any teacher figure, only the other students were here. They were seemingly all waiting in anticipation to see if the rumours held true; because if they did, they'd have the opportunity to not only discover who that person is, but also learn from them, an opportunity all the amateur artists of the region would be overjoyed to have.
Minutes went by. Some people regretted arriving early, as it only made them wait even more. But eventually, the class start time rolled around, and the door finally opened. And the man that came in made Marcus' jaw drop.
To say this man was beautiful would be an understatement: he was the most handsome person Marcus had ever seen. From his stubbled jaw sharp enough to cut through paper to his thick colliding thighs, from his sleeve fighting biceps to his shadow casting pecs, not forgetting his bubble butt almost bouncing with every step, Marcus could not believe his eyes. His medium height gave him a sense of averageness and familiarity while accentuating his muscular build by giving him quite a stocky look. This was the underground artist everyone was talking about in town? No way he could keep his profile low with such a memorable form.
And on top of that, the deep, honey like voice that came out of his mouth was more than enough to make Marcus harder than he had ever been, his eyes fixated on the artist's sparkly hazel eyes.
"Hello everyone," he started with in his voice a slight accent that Marcus couldn't quite pinpoint, "I will be your teacher, just for today. You can call me Mr Krause."
Marcus couldn't look away. He was entranced by this man like a pirate to a siren. His charming looks and his — allegedly — remarkable talents made him a one of a kind. Even being in the same room as him felt like an honour Marcus did not feel worthy of.
"For today, I had planned to make you all work on drawing a model," Krause continued. "However, let's just say the model was not ready yet. And so..."
Krause looked around the room. And for a brief moment, Marcus met his gaze in pure silence. In it, there was an emotion; the young man couldn't say what exactly it was, but there was definitely something. An emotion, raw and primal, that seemed to travel between the two men's gaze, arriving into Marcus and permeate into each and every nook of his naked soul.
"... You there," Krause said, still staring intently into Marcus' eyes, "would you do me the honor to be our model tonight?"
He could distantly hear the whole class gasp. Surprise? Jealousy? Marcus could not focus on it. He was too surprised. Him? Working with this walking wet dream? He gulped, his throat particularly dry, and nodded. This made Krause smile with genuine warmth.
"Fantastic! Well then, come forth, and face the rest of the class. How are they going to draw you if they don't see you?"
Marcus had began blushing intensely. His classmates had various expressions, from intrigue to envy. He felt Krause get behind him and putting a strong hand on his shoulder. The heat he could feel exuding from the artist somehow made Marcus calmer. He tugged a bit at his oversized t-shirt to distract himself for the tension he felt.
"Well then everyone, your classmate here will be your model for tonight. But I don't want you to just draw him, draw what your eyes tell you; I want you all to draw what you feel. Go into the depths of his being and interpret him for what you see inside."
To Marcus, this instruction made no sense. But though he struggled to wrap his head around those words, the class seemed to have understood the exercise, as they took out pencils and papers and began sketching.
The amateur model's legs felt heavier than ever, as if he couldn't step down from his new found role even if he wanted to. But he didn't want to. He felt great. Proud, even. Proud to be the subject of Krause's artistic interest.
Meanwhile, Krause had begun walking in between the students, taking in their art, and from time to time looking back up at Marcus as if to confirm if the sketches were accurate.
"Tell me, why did you represent him as such?" Krause asked one of the students.
"Well, erm, I assumed that to see in the depths of him, I'd have to see him for what he was... So, erm... I thought that drawing his body without clothes would help a bit."
Marcus shivered as he felt a breeze. He rubbed his bare arms a bit, then noticed his clothes were neatly folded on his chair, while he stood in just his boxers. Wait, wasn't he just wearing his casual clothes before...? No, that was silly. Surely he had undressed. After all, as a model, he needed to show off as much anatomy as possible. Sure, his undefined arms and flat stomach were unimpressive, but it was better than hidden under his oversized T-shirt.
"Tell me," Krause continued, walking to another student, "are you going to have enough room with that? Do you need more paper?"
"Ah, sorry. I chose to represent him tall, because I feel like there's a lot to see. Just to have enough room, you know."
Marcus felt dizzy for a moment. As he looked around, he noticed he was eye level with the entrance door. This felt weird to him, for some reason. But as he thought about it some more, he felt flooding in the memory of having to duck to fit through the door. Weird, he thought. He slowly remembered having had to duck under doorframes to fit for a while now. No idea why he was being so confused about it so suddenly. He was quick to brush it off, blaming it on the stress of working with Krause.
"Tell me," said the impromptu teacher to yet another student, but this time while staring at Marcus, "what prompted you to represent him as such?"
"I had to make choices to represent him. To have some contrast to make the study interesting. Accentuating every curve allows me to explore."
Marcus couldn't hold back a sudden moan as he felt his muscles burst out in size, in what felt like both an instant and eternity. As he looked down, he couldn't see his stomach. Instead, his gaze was met by two, firm slabs of meat resting heavily on his chest. He grabbed one, feeling the soft resting muscle in his now massive palm, and his gaze slowly climbed up his arm to notice how his impressive bicep bulged as he flexed.
But a feeling of tightness took him out of his revery. It felt like his briefs — wasn't he just wearing boxers? He couldn't quite remember — dug into his skin. And as he pawed at his bulge, he noticed the tent he was making. But he wasn't hard anymore; no, his briefs were just bulging with meat, so massive that the waistband was slightly brought down, revealing the base of his massive cock. Blushing, he quickly readjusted himself, and felt how his now massive bubbly glutes filled the other side of his underwear.
"Well then Marcus, is everything alright? Hold still for a moment, the class is not over."
Krause's soothing voice immediately calmed the model down, as Marcus stood straighter, slightly taller than a minute before, but most importantly: he felt calm. However, as he met Krause's gaze, he expected to find a softness that went along with the tone of his voice; but instead, he was met with something else. Hunger. Desire. Lust. And... Admiration. Marcus could feel his body be admired by the renowned artist, as if he were an art piece himself.
It made Marcus proud. As if to thank or please him, he took a pose and flexed. Every muscle was pumped even bigger, sending shockwaves in the class, making every jaw drop. Including Krause's. He was not immune to Marcus' new form.
But the teacher still had one last student to check on. Regaining his composure, the teacher went ahead, to see what liberties that one student took.
"Tell me," he asked, his voice not as confident as before, as if he were waiting for something, "what were your choices?"
"Hearing you talk about contrasts made me think about it... So I decided to work on lights and shadows. And I believe making parts darker help bring everything together."
An itch began spreading through Marcus' body. And just like everything else, it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. Marcus rubbed his furry chest absentmindedly, enjoying having so many gazes drawn to his overly masculine form. He had always been told how the dense beard on his chin contrasted with his warm skin, how the wrinkles on his head contrasted with the fullness of his soft, thick muscles. Everything about him was a piece of art in itself, dancing with each other in a neverending ballet, making him the perfect model.
That's what drew Krause to him in the first place. How an artist exacerbating humanity's perfections and the pinnacle of manliness couldn't possibly not meet each other.
Krause walked to Marcus, his face looking up to meet Marcus' Impossible stature. Being so close, the model could feel the artist's warm breath on his skin.
"Class dismissed," Krause quickly stated, "thank you for your work. Just leave it there, I'll gather it and evaluate it later."
The students quickly gathered their drawing gear, watching the two handsome men one last time before leaving the room.
Krause was silent, impressed at the work of art he just created. And deep in his mind, even though Marcus felt like he had always been like this, he knew it wasn't the case, but he loved both reality. He cupped the shorter man's cheek into his palm, and noticed the ring adorning his finger.
"Oh well," Marcus said, his voice now a deep, suave bass that sent shivers through the artist's body, as well as possibly the biggest hard-on he had ever had — yet, "did the students draw this ring?"
The artist was speechless for a few seconds. But as soon as he got his composure back, he smiled warmly, and slid a hand on the model's incredibly full package.
"I don't think they did, but I didn't either. I feel like fate has brought us together. And I couldn't be happier about it, my dear Markus Krause."
It had been a rough week for Ben. His car broke down, his boyfriend had dumped him for some popular jock and, just fresh out of college, he got turned down from multiple applications for boring but well earning office jobs. Clearly, he didn't have much going for him, and the reflection he saw in the bus' window seemed to agree on that. Sure, his friendly boy next door looks were nice, but in this bus alone, Ben could see many other guys looking similar enough, and most of them had something unique to them. He did understand a bit how his boyfriend — well, now ex-boyfriend — decided to go with some jock with a big dick.
He sighed. The lovers trip he had planned was already a failure, but having paid for two tickets, he sure wasn't going to just not go. A stay at a nice hotel with everything you could ask for was supposed to be their first year anniversary of their relationship, and Ben had worked hard for that, being forced to help ungrateful grandmas find the vegetable aisle at the local supermarket.
Looking at the scenery go by through the window, he tried his best to see the good parts of that. Sure he was going alone, but he was still going to a luxury hotel. He could stay all day by the surely overcrowded pool and just relax. Well, relax as much as he could, seeing how self conscious he was about his lean body. He tried to exercise, but he just looked like a beanpole; he tried to let his stubble grow, but only managed to get uneven patches; he even tried makeup to give himself a look, but didn't try again after a catastrophic asymmetrical failure.
The bus suddenly halt to a stop. Before he knew it, Ben was already at his destination. He shook his head to clear his mind, grabbed his bag, and got off of the bus. There was a short walk to go to the hotel, but that was fine with him. And soon enough, he was at the front desk.
"Hey," he started, "I have a reservation for, uh, for two. Ben Morrison's the name."
"Ah, I see. Here's your room key. Is the second person coming in later?"
"Well, not really. I'm on my own."
"Oh," the receptionist replied, "No problem."
After some more clicks on the receptionist's computer filling in this awkward silence, their face beamed with a smile.
"Oh, would you look at that! I hadn't noticed, but you're our 1000th guest this season!"
"I... I didn't even know this was a thing," Ben added.
"Well, it's a new policy, said to boost our sales. The ads are not plastered everywhere on our websites, I keep telling upper management we should!"
"Erm, what does being the 1000th guest bring?"
"Well you see," the receptionist started, "it gives you free access to the deluxe bonuses. Room upgrade, spa, secondary pool, and a free cocktail every day. Neat, isn't it?"
Ben was at a loss for words. After how shitty his week had been, this surely was great news. Staying mouth agape like this, the receptionist seemed glad to see the effect of such news.
"Time to enjoy your stay, don't you think?"
Still not knowing what to say besides a timid ‘thank you’ he nodded and swiftly grabbed the key before heading straight to his room to drop his bag. And sure enough, the room did look deluxe to him. King sized beds, extra pillows on the side, and more things that he couldn't tell if they were upgrades or not compared to the base room. But once his emotions had settled down, he finally noticed how thirsty the trip had made him. Well, maybe it was time to enjoy that free cocktail first.
The bar was pretty much what Ben had expected from a hotel bar. He looked around at the bottles on the shelves, most of which he didn't even recognise. But a rich voice took him out of his reveries.
"So you're the special guest, huh? Name's Paul. What can I get ya?"
When Ben turned towards who he guessed was the bartender talking to him, he froze. He didn't expect him to look so good. The man was a total hunk of a bear easily a head taller than Ben, bouldering shoulders that seemed to stretch his work shirt, a dusty blond 5 o' clock framing his sharp square jaw, bright blue eyes that seemed to pierce through the younger man's soul, and luscious golden locks that framed his face to make it look even more perfect.
"So, what will it be?" Paul tried again with a grin, noticing the effect he had on his guest.
"I'm... Not sure. I don't know. What do you have?"
"Well, I can pretty much make you anything. Let me put it another way... What do you want?"
Mesmerized by the bartender's clear eyes, Ben paused and thought about an answer. He felt as if that question was not just about a drink, but something deeper, more grounded in his desires.
"I want... Something strong. Something warm that will help me relax. I'm not sure..."
"Don't worry, boy, I have pretty much what you need."
Before Ben could react, the bartender had already turned his wide back at him, moving with a surprising swiftness to prepare a drink from bottles and sources Ben did not recognise. And once the drink was done, Ben was faced with a large, honey-golden drink. The glass was warm to the touch, and the cyan sugar rim seemed to fizzle in the air.
"The private pool access is that way," the bartender said. "How about you enjoy by the pool?"
"The- Thank you."
Ben was speechless. This felt like a perfect dream, after the nightmare that week had been.
Once he arrived at the pool, he was surprised. Of course, he would have never dared expect a premium pool, so he did expect kids screaming and families occupying all the chairs on the side; but this? This was perfect. The pool was large, and not many people were there, mostly childless couples and elderly people.
Not having grabbed his pool stuff, Ben was glad to see the swimsuits and towels were freely available. And after a quick change, he was ready to enjoy the sun. He lay down on a free chair, the nearby sunshade protecting his eyes from the bright sun but letting his body enjoy its rays.
He still had his cocktail. And somehow, it was still warm. And as he began sipping it, he realised how good it was. Sweet as honey, but with spices to not make the sugar numbily sickening, and bubbles to make it even more tickling on the tongue. And thus, before he knew it, he had already finished it. Well, he could always get another free one tomorrow, he thought.
With the sun warming up his body and the cocktail maybe stronger than he thought, Ben began feeling a bit sleepy. After all, the bus ride had been exhausting, and he hadn't even enjoyed his king sized bed yet, so a nap was long overdue.
And while he was asleep, unbeknownst to him, the cocktail started working its magic through him.
His stomach was the first thing to be transformed by the deluxe magic at work. The faint abs he had spent so long working for began fading away, but their strength were only being increased, as his torso was now a strong pillar encased in a soft layer of fat.
His chest followed a similar trend. The flat pecs that barely existed before slowly inflated with each breath until two massive slabs of soft meat sat there. And to match his newly grown chest, his back started wide ing as well, his lats slowly spreading until he was wider than the groaning chair he was resting on.
Him being asleep didn't stop Ben from enjoying what his resting body was going through, far from it, as his nap was filled with what had to be the rawest form of warmth and bliss he has ever felt. This whole process felt so good that eventually, he woke up, and welcomed his changing body with a devious smirk. As he cupped his newly grown pecs, his meaty hands, undoubtedly bigger than they were before, still were dwarfed out by his meaty slabs of muscle.
Ben's arms quickly followed suite, as his shoulders rounded out like two cannonballs stretching out his frame even further, and his arms were now as thick as his legs were before. By then, his upper body looked like the epitome of strength, like a powerlifter in his bulk phase.
But Ben's legs were not ready to let the upper body gather all the glory, as they quickly started inflating as well, with both muscle and fat pouring in with each heartbeat. His glutes, started off as a timid bubble butt, had given way to two massive globes of jiggly meat, such that the napping man had to readjust his position.
Slowly but surely, Ben came back to his senses. He did see how his body had changed, but he did not mind in the slightest; the bliss brought by the transformation alongside the honey aftertaste of the cocktail put him in a relaxed state like he had ever felt. No longer was he upset about his ex or anything. He felt born anew, better alone than he had ever been with that douche.
Groping his soft but sensitive chest, the wave of acceptance brought with it a final change, as if to close off all this strange phenomenon that he was glad was happening to him.
Under his finger, small dark curls started sprouting from his previously smooth skin. With a satisfied grin, the man kept groping his own chest as he watched the hair make its way down and down, tickling Ben its path, as if hundreds of tiny acupuncture needles were used alongside the massage he was giving himself. The hair kept going down, firstly making his bush fuller and poking through the hem of his shorts, until reaching his legs, leaving the tree trunks covered in soft fuzzy hair that anyone would love to stroke.
But focused on his body, Ben didn't even notice the changed that had happened on his face. And as he brought his hands up to his chin, he was gladly surprised to be met with a trimmed but dense beard, denser than he could have ever imagined before that day.
And as he stroked his newly found beard, he noticed a familiar figure getting closer, wearing nothing but swimwear that did close to nothing to hide his sizeable hard-on.
"Well," the bartender started with lust visible in his gaze, "I assume you liked the cocktail?"
"How about you come find that answer yourself, pretty boy?"
Ethan had enough. He had been stuck with that new roommate only for a few months, in the same old cheap rent just to finish college, but every week had its issues. And right now? His freshman of a roommate Logan got back home at 3am, completely drunk, making an absolute ruckus without any care in the world. It was the fifth time this year, and October hadn't even started.
Slamming the entrance door, dumping his bag next to Ethan's door, throwing his shoes against the wall, and crashing into the couch before immediately beginning snoring, Ethan had woken up and he knew he was not falling back asleep anytime soon.
He knew something needed to be done; it couldn't keep happening! He was tired already.
"If only I had a better roommate," he muttered to himself, "someone more mature who'd let me sleep... Someone who knew how to take care of himself, ugh! Why am I stuck with such a kid who can't party responsibly! I wish he just grew up already."
As Ethan expressed his unassuming feelings to the air, unbeknownst to him, the air was listening. The young man still couldn't sleep, but somehow, he finally felt awake. His mouth suddenly felt very dry, so he slowly got up of his bed and began walking towards the kitchen.
The problem was, such a path meant having to go through the living room, where Logan was sleeping. Great, Ethan thought, the guy had thrown his clothes randomly on the floor and was now sleeping in his underwear, and snoring like a speeding truck. After a defeated sigh, Ethan moved on, and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, hoping it would be enough to get him to sleep.
However, as he passed Logan again, Ethan couldn't help but wonder: had his roommate always had abs? He could have sworn those weren't there a minute ago. Sure, Logan was a bit of a jock and hung out with the sports guys, but Ethan had never expected him to have such abs.
Now intrigued, the young man couldn't help but walk closer, inspecting his snoring roommate. And as if sensing his presence, Logan began... Changing. There was no other way to put it. Ethan couldn't believe his eyes.
Everything seemed to begin in the sleeping beauty's stomach, as if something was brewing deep inside his core. The abs that had just appeared soon began vanishing as a thin layer of fat made itself known, although one look at that belly was enough to understand the strength hidden underneath. A similar phenomenon was simultaneously occuring all through Logan's body, as hard toned muscle began pouring throughout every single patch of his body, arms becoming bigger than Ethan's legs, a chest now composed of two impressive slabs of meet, thighs rivaling tree trunks, and an ass that made the silent observer blush. And once that bodybuilder too wide for the couch he was sleeping on had stopped growing, it was time for a layer of fat to round up every muscle available. He still maintained all his bulges and curves, but now had a softness that made Ethan want to come closer and touch.
But that wasn't enough to make Logan into the mature roommate Ethan had wished for.
It began between the two meat jugs that were now Logan's pec. A hair or two were making themselves visible in his otherwise entirely smooth cleavage, but soon enough, they seemingly multiplied, flooding his chest and torso with body hair. Soon enough, his entire torso was covered in a deep, rich forest of long dark curls, that eventually spread onto his arms and legs, as well as creeping up his chin before linking to the short stubble that had begun making an appearance. But that stubble didn't remain unchanged for long, as it too soon grew into a dense but well trimmed beard, at the cost of the sleeping man's hair that visibly shortened and receded. His skin then began changing as well, as hints of wrinkles began appearing here and there.
After all, it was no surprise. Professor Logan Barrett had been teaching at this university for a while, he couldn't remain young forever—
Ethan froze. Professor? Where did that come from? Wasn't he roommate with an irritating freshman?
But the more Ethan looked at his professor, the more that thought slipped away, until he couldn't recall why he had held onto it in the first place. After all, being roommate with a professor had its perks, such as the low rent and tranquil evenings.
However, a loud ripping noise quickly took the student out of his reveries, as Logan's underwear gave way to the manhood that had been growing underneath. The overgrown glutes that made all the guys and girls of Professor Barrett's class — and even those who didn't even attend his class, like Ethan — drool had been terrorising his underwear since the beginning of his sleep, and his hardening rod had left it no hope of ever winning that stretching battle.
And that's when it hit him.
That cock had to be the biggest Ethan had ever seen — not that he had ever seen many outside of the sports locker rooms and showers, as he considered himself straight. But seeing that meat he was sure he couldn't hold without both hands standing straight alongside his egg sized balls underneath made Ethan's mouth water.
Logan's warmth, as his bulking hairy body was brushing against the younger man's legs. His musk, permeating through the air, and making Ethan's brain go numb.
"What are you waiting for, boy?" A deep, baritone voice called. "I know you want to suck it; go for it, you know we'll both enjoy it."
Ethan didn't even register that the professor had woken up. Instead, he just knelt in front of him, one hand grabbing his impossibly thick rod, the other groping his log of a thigh for stability.
Yeah. Being roommates with a professor had its perks.
Samir loved yard sales. Every year, his town had one, and he couldn't help but spend hours wander throughout, his eyes in the pocket of his oversized sweater vest, enjoying every single knick-knack his eyes could lay on. Kitchenware, tabletop games, furnitures, secondhand clothes, he didn't need any of those. He was mostly here for the kind hearted neighbors and the stories they had to share.
The young man has lived there for as long as he could remember, and the yard sales were all the same. Once in a while, something would catch his eyes, but this was quite uncommon. But not impossible.
There was one neighbor he didn't recognise, an old lady covered in jewellery of all sorts. Might have moved in recently to enjoy the countryside air, Samir thought optimistically.
Curiosity took over, and he approached, looking over the table full of various bracelets, earrings, and other. He had never seen anything like those. They were not your usual jewellery you could find in stores and such, those looked... Ancient. Traditional. Part of something he didn't know about.
"Why hello there, young man," the old lady said with a high-pitched but buttery voice, "anything caught your eye?"
"Oh, uh, not really. I was just looking. I don't think I've ever seen you around, so I've come to see what you had to sell."
"Well, you know how it is, life comes and goes. I go where the wind brings me."
Samir listened with a distracted ear, more interested in whatever was in front of him.
"Anything you want, young man?" The lady inquired.
"I'm good, thank you. I don't believe I really need any of this. It's just quite pretty."
"Why, thank you, thank you. But this is not necessarily about what you need; it's about what you want."
As the mysterious old lady said that, Samir looked up at her. Her eyes seemed to shimmer with an energetic spark, something he would not have expected in someone who looked this old. He absentmindedly scratched his slightly stubbly chin, wondering whatever she could mean by that.
"I'm sorry, I... I don't think I understand."
The merchant smiled, and then began rummaging through her goods, the sound of metal resonating, lingering in the air a bit longer than usual metal does. And out of all her table, she took out what looked like a bear shaped metal pendant, the surface shining brightly under the sun.
"Here — take this. This will make your dreams come true.
"My dreams? What do you mean?"
"Heh, just a hunch. Take it, as a token of my appreciation for spending time with poor old me."
Samir reached out, his palms facing towards the warm autumn sky, as the lady gently dropped the medallion into his hand. Inspecting closer, he noticed how detailed the bear face was, the fur clear on it, the metal sharing its warmth with the young man.
"Alright — believe me," the lady started, "this will bring your dreams to life. Go home, little one, and dream big."
Filled with confusion and curiosity, Samir headed back home, his fist tight around the warm metal. Dropping his bags on the floor, walking towards his bathroom, he took a better look at it. Its eyes seemed to be glowing in a faint blue hue. Impossible, Samir thought, it had to be the light.
Staring back at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, he slowly passed the medallion thin leather strap around his neck, the iron resting in the middle of his flat chest.
"Go home and dream big..." He muttered to himself. What could this mean?
However, he was unable to ponder on it much longer; the iron medallion, having remained warm throughout, began getting even warmer. Worried he was having some sort of allergic reaction, Samir tried to remove the collar — to no avail, as if it were stuck to his skin. As he began to worry, the heat kept intensifying, and started spreading throughout his body.
His breath short, he opened his vest fast as he could, but what he noticed stopped him right after. His plain t-shirt was looking... Tighter. His chest rose with each panicked breath, but didn't seem to fall back right as much. His belly had also swollen quite a bit, raising his shirt to expose a bit of plump flesh, slowly hanging above his pants.
Everything was getting plumper. His arms filled his sleeves, his tree trunk thighs started pressing against each other, his neck widened the collar. Plumper and plumper still. His t-shirt getting tighter and tighter, uncomfortably so.
He felt so damn bloated. His belly grew and grew, the t-shirt struggling to contain all of that mass, and something began brewing inside him. Something he couldn't contain anymore. Suddenly, Samir let out the longest, loudest burp of his lifes his shirt exploded. His plump flesh, suddenly free, jiggled wildly before settling, his belly resting lazily on the bulge that he finally noticed was growing.
He wasn't just growing harder. Sure, the whole thing was turning him much more than he would have ever thought, but it wasn't the only thing. It was simply growing... Bigger. Before his fly met the same fate as his shirt, he tore it open — quite literally, as he was much stronger than he expected. His pants now having more room, his ass jumped in size, instantly filling up the new space and some more, everything becoming way too tight. With one hand fondling his jiggly ass and the other his overstuffed bulge, Samir couldn't help but moan. His now foot-long hard rod was now straining his underwear to their limits, a dark spot becoming wider and wider.
Then something hit him. A scent in the air, permeating everything in the air and flooding his nostril. A scent. His scent. Carrying his fat moons, loving their weight in his larger, stronger hands, he noticed how sweaty he had become, beads of sweat rolling down his enormous stomach. Raising an arm and sniffing his pit, his cock suddenly erupted in his tired underwear, more than he ever had. Even through the fabric of his tight vest, it was enough to bring him above the edge.
His massive package, now marinating in his thick, pungent juices, began getting yet warmer. Looking at his reflection and carrying his belly — not without fondling it while moaning — he noticed how his bush was getting denser and denser. With his other hand, he slowly stroked it, and felt the curls getting longer and softer.
Samir's eyes went wide: his whole body was starting to get hairier. At first it was only his treasure trail becoming visible, but it began expanding at a rapid rate. Lazily fondling his package with a hand, his other hand started roaming across his soft flesh, first his stomach, then his moobs, slowly creeping up too his chin. He was in awe. His day-old stubble was now becoming something real. He couldn't stop caressing it. It curled up around his fingers, new hair sprouting everywhere it could until it was only a dense forest.
"I'm getting so-"
He couldn't even finish his sentence. He was getting so bad. And his voice had changed so much. Instead of the juvenile voice he had always enjoyed, he was now with a deep, velvety bass that would have made any guy go absolutely crazy.
As his beard got denser and longer, creeping his collarbones, it started to slow down. He could not believe his eyes.
He was unrecognisable. Apart from his bright sparkling eyes, nothing was Samir. He was a new man.
And he loved every inch of it.
"I'm... So big."
He panted a bit, his rod harder than ever, his hand going wild at it.
"I'm so big!"
And with a roar, his mirror was soon covered in rope after rope of thick white milk. It lasted for an eternity and a fraction of a second at the same time, and he was loving every single of it.
But he was still so horny.
He took a moob in his free hand, caressing it, squeezing it, playing with it.
Wiping his mirror clean with a towel nearby, he snapped a quick picture. His slumbering dating profile was soon going to get back on the scene.
"She wasn't lying. It does feel amazing to dream big."
