Smutty, kinky, gay TF and fantasy stories. I love hearing from people, feel free to chat! email: [email protected] 🦋: bodybeyond.bsky.social Hope you enjoy! they/them NSFW | 18+
Here's some sort of guide that I promise to keep updated. I really enjoy getting people's feedback, questions, and ideas, so feel free to shoot me a message or email [email protected]
😘
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Short prompts
Casual writing practice. Feel free to submit!
A college gym goer tries a protein shake that's supposed to boost his glutes, but during his leg routine his intense pump rapidly becomes much more than he can handle. 2.22.2026
A caked up influencer's comical struggle with pants becomes all too real when his ass starts to expand to impossible proportions. 2.15.2026
A magic hot tub at a resort that promises you the 'body of your dreams.' 12.6.2025
A college wrestling coach causes his players' asses to grow every time he gives them a pat on the butt. 11.30.2025
Two men are stranded on an island and begin to suspect that the local fruit (coconuts, bananas, etc) may be causing changes in their bodies. 11.27.2025
It's allergy season, and Ryan's dick seems to grow with every sneeze. Shrinking in height is only making things worse. 4.7.2025
A love of protein brownies results in far more mass than expected. 3.12.2025
A l'il coffee shop dick growth poem. 3.6.2025
There's an ass expanding medical mystery hitting men across the city. Most cases are supposed to be mild. This one isn't. 1.24.2025
Witchy gays at the beach have a little too much fun with body mod magic and end up wreaking havoc. 12.9.2024
Someone hexes their ex to cause literal "Ego" based dick growth. 12.1.2024
A new brand of jockstrap starts producing bubble butts of ridiculous proportions. 11.28.2024
A tailor enchants a pair of pants for a friend and causes out of control ass expansion. 11.27.2024
Until recently, Myron was oblivious to the fact that dicks would get mysteriously bigger the longer someone hung out with him. He begins putting the pieces together as his boss, Miguel, and roommate, Ty, start going through all too familiar changes below the belt.
A magic boombox in a dance studio causes random changes to unsuspecting victims.
Ass Expansion | Dick Growth | Self Suck
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Rapid Expansion Mechanism
1 | 2 (updated 12/30/24)
Amir signs up for an experimental sleep study to make some extra cash, then starts having strange dreams about people around him growing wildly out of control. He's not all that concerned, but he should be.
Ass Expansion | Dick Growth | Huge Cock
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Just Ignore It
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 (updated 4/22/24)
David is teaching a course on identifying and managing magical anomalies, and begins to suspect there may be a reality-warper in class. Largely because everyone's butt looks too good to believe. One thing leads to another and it's a full blown horny supernatural mystery.
Ass Expansion | Dick Growth | Height | Huge Cock | Hyper Cock | Macro | Muscle Growth
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Gifted
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 (updated 4/14/24)
Matt, who has a mysterious power to change the male physique, starts dealing with a cascade of voluntary and involuntary changes to those around him.
Ass Expansion | Dick Growth | Growth | Height | Hyper Cock
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Growth Notes
Omar | Trevor | Sky (updated 1/9/24)
A growth/macro series of short one-offs and vignettes told through the perspective of a therapist. Don't really need to be read in order.
Ass Expansion | Dick Growth | Growth | Height | Hyper Cock | Macro
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Star Player
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 (updated 6/11/23)
Marc, a former college soccer star and now casual local league player, gets a booty building workout supplement from his best friend to train for an upcoming exhibition match. The side effects are more than either of them expect.
Ass Expansion | Dick Growth | Muscle Growth
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nice ass, bro
1 | 2 (updated 7/9/22)
Dylan finds an ironic text baseball cap in the mail one morning which seems to fulfill the booty dreams of whoever's (un)fortunate enough to look at it...
A special jacuzzi with a warning at an all male resort that gives some guys the body but most importantly the bubble butt of their dreams! One young college naive new gym rat goes in with some swim shorts and comes out butt naked with the cake hes always wanted, getting lots of attention from the other men at the pool
I was really keyed into the mental image of someone emerging from the water with a suddenly gargantuan ass like a leviathan rising from the depths. And quick PSA, you need to let the attendants know if you have a hyper kink before entering the magic body mod hot tub. You never know what can happen.
[ ass expansion // dick growth ]
Also on Metabods
1506 words
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Phil had a problem.
As he sat in the froth of bubbles and jets, he read and re-read the sign for the umpteenth time.
"All transformations final," he read aloud to himself. "The resort is not responsible for impacts to daily life, health, wardrobe, or employment following exposure to the hot tub. Any club members with known or potential transformation or hyper kinks PLEASE see resort staff before entering for your own safety and that of fellow guests..."
Of course he had read the warning in bold lettering. And skimmed the liability release form. And half-listened to the resort attendant. He just hadn't taken it seriously. He'd wanted to see what all the fuss was about but had sort of assumed that the gimmick was in the fantasy itself. Like a sexy role playing situation. He didn't think "Body of Your Dreams" would be so literal.
"Phil, let's go!" his friend Omar called. "I wanna hit up the poolside bar on the roof before happy hour ends. Not that we'll be buying any of our own drinks," he laughed.
"Just a sec!" Phil called, displacing a much larger amount of water as he got to his feet than he had when he'd gingerly stepped in. Shit, he thought. He watched his tattered swim shorts float in the opposite corner of the hot tub, briefly wondering if they could still be used in a pinch to at least cover his junk as he made a mad dash back to their room. Not that anything he packed would make it more than five seconds against the bulbous butt cheeks that hovered behind him.
"You need me to get you a new pair of speedos?" Omar asked, peeking through the gate of the bamboo and palm tree privacy fencing that designated the Body of Your Dreams rejuvenation suite. "They have some at the kiosk around the corner, I went up like three sizes..." His eyes went wide as he took in his best friend's body.
"Don't laugh," Phil warned, his voice trembling. He couldn't tell if the flush of tingling sensation across his form was from embarrassment or residual effects of the magic hot tub. He hoped it was the former, since the rejuvenation had already done more than enough. "Just give me a second to...um...figure this out."
Omar stepped fully into view as he gawked at his friend, more specifically at the curvature of gravity defying cakes that could now be seen clearly from the front. He awkwardly adjusted the overstuffed pouch of the resort's loaner swim briefs, wincing slightly as his sizeable bulge slapped against his well defined thighs. It had been his idea to reserve the rejuvenation suite on the first night of their weekend stay. Phil had been so excited for them both to show off their hard earned gains while blowing off steam at this niche gay resort, but Omar pulled some strings to get them that extra boost. Just 30 minutes in the reality shifting hot tub and they'd be the center of attention for the rest of the weekend.
They had found it odd that the magical body transformation rejuvenation suite was buried at the bottom of the list of amenities, and that they'd had to bug three different staff members just to find where it was. But as they settled into the steamy water and turned on the jets, all that evaporated. It felt magical. The bewitched waters tingled across every surface, nook, and crevice of their bodies as they decompressed, gossiped, and made plans for what they'd be doing and who they'd be doing for the rest of their weekend. Their eyes played over each other's torsos as the changes gradually became apparent. Phil's already well padded pecs and shoulders slowly inflating far past what could've been written off as a juicy pump; the top rows of Omar's cobblestone abs becoming visible as he stretched his corded forearms skyward, his feet brushing playfully against Phil's burgeoning tree trunk legs as he took up more space. They both laughed as one swim suit then the other lost its struggle to contain their inflating mass and floated to the top of the hot tub, neither of them having sufficiently planned ahead for, or even fully believed, what would happen.
Omar was the first to get out. He tried to cover his manhood with his dinner plate hands, but they still proved insufficient for the top few inches of shaft that glistened in the soft rainbow mood lighting, let alone the orange sized balls that comically tumbled through his fingers. As he turned to exit the tub and grab a towel, Phil's eyes locked onto to the perfect muscle butt that protruded from his backside, giving a perky jiggle with even the most minute movements as he dried himself off.
Phil moved to follow suit then paused, his lips scrunching in concern. As Omar loved to point out, he was a leg day enthusiast, proud of having already built up a bubble butt that rivaled the one Omar was rocking now. He had always been self conscious about his disproportionate assets, but still enjoyed the attention they brought. When Omar had told him about adding the magic hot tub to their itinerary, he jokingly fantasized with himself about turning into one of the many stories and morphs that he would consume online of hyper assed men with butts that were far beyond the realm of human possibility. For a long time, he had secretly wondered what it must be like to lug around two yoga balls behind him that had to be shimmied and squeezed through normal doorways. Or to have a built-in bean bag chair wherever he went. His blood ran cold as he began to realize that as the suite promised, that dream was becoming a reality.
As they hung out in the hot tub, he had been delighted to feel his quads and hamstrings bulking up with size. He was looking forward to the attention he would soon receive from the other resort goers, but maybe moreso to the dumbfounded stares as he shut down the gym on leg day. But a pang of worry crept into his excitement as he felt his glutes jiggling and inflating in the warm water, the sides of his ass coming to press up against the edges of his corner of the tub. His heart hammered in his chest as his ass completely filled his corner seat and continued to expand. By the time the growth finally stopped, the top shelf of his cheeks had surfaced above the water like his own personal flotation device. Even as he stood facing his friend, they were so massive that they were still partially submerged, sloshing water out of the tub with every movement.
"I am...certainly...not laughing," said Omar as he circled the tub. "But I have so many questions."
Phil's hands shook as he felt the expanse of his unbelievable buns. He lifted one cheek, then the other, mortified by the heft of the globes ballooning from his lower back, yet indulging in the shivers of pleasure from each caress. He moaned just loud enough to catch Omar's attention, taking note of how even Omar's oversized new swim suit couldn't hide his ruler breaking semi. He was acutely aware of the inadequacy of just his two hands in properly servicing the lusciously large surface area of his new booty. Just as he was sure Omar was aware of the inadequacy of his own mitts for properly servicing the pipe that extended from his groin.
How were either of them going to wear regular clothes again? Phil wondered. How was he supposed to explain to everyone that he not only had an ass expansion fetish but became one? How was he even going to fit into his seat on the flight home? How was Omar going to wrestle that kielbasa when it inevitably tore through his pants with the slightest titillation?
Problems for another time, he figured. His ass quaked with each tenuous step from the tub. Just as Omar was having to re-learn how to stand properly with his suddenly pendulous cock, Phil was getting used to a whole new center of gravity dictating his every move. He waddled over to his friend, marveling at how far he had to look up to meet Omar's deep brown eyes. He let a hand caress his strained pouch as Omar, in turn, explored the hemispheres of his ass, rendered speechless by Phil's globular cheeks.
"Do you," Omar began, gasping as his dick lurched in Phil's hand, "still want me to get you some--" he winced as his new swim suit snapped, drifting forgotten to the ground as his cock sprang to life and slapped against his muscle tits.
"I think maybe we should take advantage of the clothing optional policy this weekend," said Phil, his eyes flicking upward to the music bumping from the rooftop pool. "We can figure the rest out on Monday."
This input is about allergy, shrinking, dick growth .
A couple is walking in the park in the middle of the afternoon, when one of them starts to sneeze, every time he sneezes he gets shorter in height and his dick starts to grow.
I'm not usually a fan of anything getting smaller, or of bodily functions, but it's good to try new things! This was a fun thought experiment, I fell into it more than I thought I would. Dick growth I'll jump at any day, but I have almost no frame of reference for what makes a good shrinking fic (or a good sneezing fic if that's a thing, idk). But I made an attempt lol
Also on Metabods
1161 words
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"No, ok, like touch your tongue to the roof of your mouth," Juan mumbled, tilting his head back to demo the technique to the taller man. "It's supposed to trick some nerve pathway that goes to your brain and cancels the sneeze."
Ryan squinted in concentration as his tongue prodded incessantly along the ridges of his mouth. "Wait, tilt your head back down," he said to his partner. "I need to--choo!" His face whipped into his elbow on cue as he sneezed twice.
He felt his entire body clench. A shiver spread through his nervous system, centered around his crotch, his balls contracting with each convulsion. Through a haze of disorientation, his underwear felt as oddly stuffed as his sinuses.
"Your allergies aren't usually this bad," Juan muttered, cradling his boyfriend's head in concern. Pollen season was in full swing, but they had been cooped up all winter, and, like half the city, had been itching to spend some time in the expansive nature preserve in the middle of town as soon as it got above 65 degrees.
"I think there's more pollen now, or it's coming earlier in the season, or it's evolving or something. I think I read something about it. You know, some effect from climate change I--I--CHOO!" Ryan sneezed hard enough to send him slightly off balance. He reached for where Juan's hand was supposed to be, instead bumping awkwardly into his elbow.
Juan got the message and steadied his partner. "Maybe let's head home until the plants end whatever this vendetta is against you. Looks like spring is in full attack mode, you're all hunched over."
"What do you mean?" asked Ryan, sniffling. He was standing straight but did seem to be slouching into his shoulders, his hands on his waistline, self consciously readjusting his shorts. They felt weirdly loose in the waist and weirdly tight in the crotch. "I don't know, maybe I lost some weight over the winter. But why you're almost eye level...are those new sh--choo!"
Ryan held his arm up to sneeze into his elbow, letting go of his shorts, which slipped low enough on his hips to reveal the top of his jockstrap. Should've worn a belt, he thought, as he came out of the full body shiver and back to his senses. He tried to surreptitiously adjust the pouch, which had progressed from stuffy to constricting. His eyes widening in surprise as he brushed against a sizeable--and unexpected--bulge. His dick felt totally soft, yet strangely heavy, twitching with unusual sensitivity.
"What's wrong?" asked Juan, holding the back of his hand up to Ryan's forehead. "You look emaciated, you need some rest."
They turned to head back home, Ryan's face a contortion of congestion and confusion. He was having to adjust his gait to keep up with Juan's speedy tempo, which usually wasn't a problem for Ryan thanks to his long legs. As he picked up the pace, he become acutely aware of the engorged member overfilling the pouch of his jock, bouncing back and forth between his legs enough to catch the attention of more than a few passers by. Even through the fabric of his baggy clothes.
"Hold on," Ryan said, squeezing his boyfriend's hand. His voice had taken on a heavier quality, and he frowned through the pressure in his sinuses. "Can we slow down a bit? I'm a little..."
His eyes rolled back with a full body convulsion, then he whipped forward and bent over, sneezing three times in quick succession.
"Ugh, sorry," he muttered, resting a hand on his Juan's shoulder. "I'm a little woozy..." He trailed off, staring dumbfounded at his boyfriend's face, whose eye level was now above his own. "What are you..." he looked down to see Juan's feet flat on the ground in the same old kicks he always wore. "Did you get...taller?"
"Uh, no," Juan whispered. He returned his partner's dumbfounded stare, yet focused mainly on the sausage that Ryan had apparently been smuggling in his underwear, revealed in broad daylight by the shorts that had fallen to the ground. It was more than impressive on its own, but looked massive on his small frame.
Juan was very familiar with his boyfriend's dick and very familiar with his boyfriend's underwear choices. And he was certain that this morning Ryan had not had a donkey dick heavy enough to reveal the top few inches of shaft. "Babe, what is happening?" he stammered, bending down and yanking Ryan's shorts back up before too much of the general public got a show.
"Well I can't be..." Ryan's voice dropped to a whisper of perplexion, "...shrinking..."
"Well that certainly isn't," Juan quipped, eyes wide at the ridiculous bulge in Ryan's shorts. "Are you on something? A new medication?"
"No, nothing," said Ryan. "I just can't stop...sneezing."
They kept walking back toward home, Juan racking his brain for some sort of explanation as Ryan stuffed his hands in his pockets to distract from the comical bulge swinging wildly with each step. He widened his gait, trying to not make it too obvious he was accommodating some disproportionately large balls.
"Maybe it's something you ate recently?" asked Juan. "This sort of thing doesn't just happen."
"I don't know!" Ryan said with exasperation, grimacing at the pull of his sudden monster cock from his crotch. "I mean, I feel fine...mostly."
"Let's go to Urgent Care later."
"What are they gonna do about...this situation?" Ryan asked with nervous laughter.
"I don't know, at least bring the swelling down," Juan offered, gesturing at the prodigious bulge tucked against Ryan's leg.
"I don't think this thing is swollen. It feels...feels...ahh...CHOO!"
He stop in his tracks. Felt the fabric of his jock as his cock strained against the pouch with even more length, pushed forward by his steadily expanding balls. He looked up at his partner to confirm his fears, noticing Juan's eyes slightly farther away then they had been thirty seconds ago. His gaze shifted to the treeline around them, the pollen meandering in the breeze.
"I know this sounds crazy," said Ryan, "but do you think it's ah...ah..."
"Roof of your mouth," Juan reminded.
Ryan was able to catch most of the sneeze, except for a small hic that repeated several more times. His blood ran cold as he heard fabric popping. Then the rip of seams tearing away from his jockstrap. Then the brief relief of his cock set free in the fabric of his shorts, falling down until it dangled out of his right pant leg, bobbing just below his knee.
"...do you think it's...allergies?" he muttered, staring at the unrecognizable python whose mushroom head was being tickled by the rivulets of spring breeze, sending shivers of pleasure up his spine, followed by the telltale irritation in his nasal mucosa. "Oh fuck," he whispered, looking up at his boyfriend in panic.
what happened to Juan and Ryan after the events of "Nothing to sneeze at"?
[Read about Juan and Ryan here. I actually had a fun DM convo with someone who suggested allergy meds that reverse the shrinking!]
Fortunately there was a drugstore on the way home with KN95 masks, which did a decent enough job of blocking any irritants from reaching Ryan's sinuses. By the time they got there, however, Ryan was swimming in his shorts, the tatters of his jockstrap stuffed into one pocket. His hands had a white knuckled grip to hold up his useless waistband, one of them wrapped tenderly around the tube of flesh running along his hip. It didn't help that his sensitivity had skyrocketed with his sudden size, exacerbated by the constant jiggle against the fabric of his pants as he practically jogged to keep up with Juan's worried gait. As he got more and more aroused, he wryly hoped that no one would think the freakish bulge snaking around to his backside could be any sort of human appendage, which led to an awkward encounter with the convenience store owner who assumed he must be shoplifting (he gave them the masks for free, eyes wide with concern over whatever seasonal pathogen had apparently caused our short king to grow such an inhumanly monstrous cock).
Ryan refused to leave the house, opting to seal all windows and cracks while he deep cleaned, moping over his predicament between mind blowing jack off sessions that became a necessity every few hours in a futile attempt to keep his hormones down. He gave up on wearing pants, instead trying his best to ignore the hose extending from his crotch, carefully navigating their cozy space so his mushroom head didn't keep knocking into furniture and knocking things off of low shelves. Inevitably, it would slap tauntingly against his lips and Juan would jump in to help quell the beast, warmly spooning his boyfriend's smaller form and reveling in his shivers of frustrated pleasure.
After a week of this, Ryan finally relents that the situation won't resolve itself, the over the counter allergy meds aren't working, and Juan was getting tired of slipping in the snail trail of precum that seemed to perpetually be streaming from Ryan's ankle-length cock. He reluctantly sees a medical professional who, surprisingly unfazed, prescribes some allergy meds that might hopefully reverse the changes, or at least stop them for now. Thankfully, they tamp down his allergies and he's relieved to start regaining his height over the next couple weeks, even pleasantly surprised when he's a little taller than he was before.
He eagerly re-emerges into the outside world but finds that it's all fun and games until he's hitting doorframes and busting out of clothes. Though he hoped his dick was shrinking to a more manageable size, he found that it just looked more slightly proportionate against his larger frame. It was Juan who carefully broached the idea that it might still be growing, notably by the fact that he kept narrowly avoiding getting knocked out by Ryan's slick baseball bat whenever he turned too quickly. The weird sinus pressure persists, feeling more and more like a threat of something explosive coming. They can only wait until he finishes the treatment and fully metabolizes the meds but don't really have a plan for when his head is brushing against the ceiling and his shoulders are cracking the plaster around the doorways. Juan figures he might as well take advantage of the python hanging conveniently at eye level from his boyfriend's crotch. He thinks allergy season can take its time.
Story prompt: a guy asks his ex to meet him to talk about the end of their relationship (the person who asked the date was cheated on by him and wants revenge), before asking for the meeting he cast a curse on him, every time he says the word "ego" his dick and balls will swell, the goal is to make him become a human parade balloon. ;)
If I were a better writer, I would've worked in a runaway growth scene triggered by someone blasting a mashup of Ego (Beyoncé) and Alter Ego (Doechii). Alas!
And PSA: Please try and talk things through with your significant other before resorting to chaos magic. You will be held responsible by municipal services.
Also on Metabods
Some additional thoughts on their dynamic
1010 words
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"Look, I know endless apologizing and groveling won't make things right, but I'm here to listen and put aside my ego-ooof..."
"Hm? Your what?"
"Sorry, I'm just really...um...uncomfortable, in these--"
"I'd be uncomfortable too, trying to set aside an ego that big."
"I--aughhh--meant these pants. They're really--don't give me that look."
"Oh don't worry, everyone in the park has seen how great your legs are. You got your daily ego massage."
"That's not fair. What's that supposed to...to...mean...sorry is it hotter out here? It's hotter, right? I feel very..."
"Stuffy?"
"Stuffed. Look, I'm really trying to be present, but I have a little bit of a...situation developing."
"Yet another 'situation,' of course. My mistake to take up a whole five minutes of your time. I thought you were putting down the ego--"
"Ego, ego ego! Yes, I am, I just mean--AUGHHH!"
"Shit, are you okay?! What's...what's that sound."
"I think it's my zipper."
"Your...oh wow, that's a lot to stuff."
"It won't...stop...growing. I don't know what's going on."
"A lot more..."
"I feel like my pants are about to bur--wait, what?"
"...A lot more than I expected..."
"You've got to be kidding me. You did this didn't you?"
"It--it was just supposed to be a small hex."
"This doesn't look very small."
"I mean it was just supposed to manifest by a certain percentage when activated by the trigger word. So whenever someone says--"
"Don't."
"--ego."
"Fuck! There goes the zipper. Was the goal to get me in trouble for public indecency? My briefs don't have much longer, and they're already soaked through. Was that also part of the curse?"
"Not even a full curse! Just a hex. A small hex. I wanted to teach you a lesson and make your most prized possession reflect your ego."
"Fuck, that was a big one. These pants are done for, they're in tatters."
"You know I'm still learning spell craft. I just maybe got the order of operations wrong."
"Yeah, maybe. Jesus, this thing's huge. It's not even fully hard and it's pulling my underwear apart. Can you please pause whatever this is? I can't even wear normal clothes at this point."
"Ok, um, maybe I can fix this. I just updated my spellbook app, there should be a straightforward reversal incantation. What's the opposite of ego? Oh shit."
"Ughhhh. It's...it's so big...it's not stopping."
"Are you actually getting hard?"
"I can't help it. It feels so good. It reaches up to my lips, that's so hot. I wonder what I taste like."
"You actually found a way to flip this in your favor."
"I'm already a freak, thanks to you. Just let me enjoy this."
"It's...just...massive..."
"Maybe the biggest cock ever. And it's all mine."
"A little egotistical, don't you think?"
"Wait, please, stop!"
"Whoa, it's past your head now."
"I noticed. It's not...it's not stopping. Why is it not stopping?"
"I don't know! I didn't say ego--"
"Fuck, that was the biggest spurt yet. My dick is about to rival my entire body, we have to hide somewhere until I can get this down."
"I don't think we're going anywhere. Look at your balls."
"Why? I can't even see them. Help me up--oof!"
"Careful, careful, they're weighing you down. They're already the size of beanbag chairs."
"Please, babe, you have to reverse this. I don't think it's stopping!"
"Okay, okay, I'm checking the app and...well there may be not be an easy fix."
"Are you fucking kidding me?! You're always doing reckless shit like this. Always half assing, not thinking anything through."
"Oh so now it's about me?"
"Yes, per usual, you have successfully managed to make it about you. Congratulations, yet again."
"God, you were always so insufferable, what was I ever thinking falling in love with a massive, throbbing--"
"Do not say it--"
"Ego!"
"Oof, I'm pinned to the ground. This thing's taller than me. This is messy even by your standards. I can feel it pulsing, it feels so good, so full."
"Messy?! I think it was pretty messy to hook up with your boyfriend's coworker at the holiday party!"
"Look, please, it was just the one time, there was the mistletoe over the doorway and we were being cute--"
"You should see how cute he is now. I don't think he'll be able to fit those cheeks through a typical doorway ever again. Oh, did that turn you on? You'll drown in your own precum, it's like a broken faucet up there. Maybe your boy toy around the corner can help clean up?"
"Please, that was just a fling, I made a mistake, I thought we already worked through that."
"Or the hunk from the moving company can help ferry you around with those balls."
"C'mon, were we even exclusive at that point?"
"Actually, they might soon be bigger than his truck. Looks like you're really enjoying this, huh? I can almost hear the eruption building."
"I, I, I can't help it. It's...too much...my dick is a monstrosity, just like my actions, I think you've made your point. C'mon, it's the size of a flagpole."
"Not quite, but almost! Maybe we can rush things a bit since you keep trying to rush closure. Maybe the whole world should see the manifestation of your egocentric--"
'Wait, no!"
"Egotistical,"
"Can we please just talk about this--"
"Ego--um--ist behavior!"
"Ooo I can feel it stretching, my balls are churning they're so full. It's...it's too much, I can't think, I'm...I'm losing control."
"Now you know how it feels. Your cockhead can probably be seen across half the city, and these balls are the size of SUVs. You want to be community dick, go ahead and flood the neighborhood with jizz."
"Can't, can't move. Gonna...cum..."
"I can already hear sirens a few blocks away. And looks like some news trucks beat them to it. We're gonna put on a show. So everyone can see how big that ego really is."
i’ve always been fascinated with that short “ego” story because of how it only consists of dialogue yet paints such a visual picture! did you have any more details on who the two guys are or the lore of their relationship? or what happened after the story?
The 'Ego boost' short prompt was fun to play around with. I don't remember why I went with that format (I have mixed feelings about all-dialogue writing) but it was a fun challenge trying to paint a rapidly evolving setting through two people's incessant bickering and live reactions. Glad it landed well for you!
The thing I enjoy about their relationship dynamic is that it probably was always a lost cause and they're definitely toxic for each other, but neither of them really know how to get to any workable solution so they pursue their own ways of getting to what they think is closure and end up comically wrong as things spiral out of control. I like to think they fell for the idea of each other through an illusion of attachment and never learned how to do the actual work of building a solid emotional foundation or even thinking critically about what they actually wanted. I think there's a really deep insecurity at the heart of their dynamic, and actually working through it would be too vulnerable so of course the spell caster targets the tangible physical attributes that he feels are responsible: his ex's 'prized possession' growing so absurdly huge as to become an embarrassing nuisance then a crushing weight; the guy he cheated with ending up with a bubble butt that steadily balloons to a size that literally makes it impossible to leave the house (I wonder what his trigger word was...). I like to think their respective friends always clocked that they were terrible for each other and knew that even this post-breakup meeting would be catastrophic.
The spell caster is using poorly practiced cheap chaos magic so hopefully the fix is just a matter of someone coming in with the right expertise before Cockzilla rampages through the financial district. I imagine our friends from 'Damage Control' will be thrilled to deal with the public park full of jizz and the magically enhanced gigacock taking out power lines and utility poles as it slowly deflates back to a half-chub the size of a city bus. Will they figure out how to get it back to anything resembling normal? Possibly. Will they figure out how to come to a mutual understanding or at least move on with emotional maturity? Probably not.
Seeing as half the city likely witnessed that dick erupting jets of cum that narrowly missed taking out a news chopper, they'll have to deal with more than just the fallout from infrastructural damage. Hopefully they'll figure out how to at least take some space from each other and maintain healthy boundaries, but I wouldn't be surprised if a few weeks later a 12am 'you up?' text is followed by a dick pic of gargantuan, though not property damaging dimensions. The magical clean up crew will do their best but ego is a powerful force.
Ty hatches a plan to make some extra spicy content using Myron's ability. Myron begrudges after some self-reflection, and things tumble further than either of them expect.
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Also on Metabods
male TF // growth // dick growth // ass expansion // nsfw
4478 words
(This is now the longest running series and I have two more DKGAM chapters that I started developing as I was writing this one. Might be settling back into a writing mood, so that's cool. Also I've just really been enjoying sitting with these characters)
---
[Me: It’s not that I’m opposed to it]
[Ty: But you’re not *not* opposed to it]
[Me: I’m ruminating on the situation]
[Ty: Ok! We love to ruminate!]
[Me: It’s just risky…]
[Ty: What could possibly go wrong?]
I briefly considered the laundry list of mishaps and mayhem that had consistently been falling into my life, baffled by the thought that Ty’s superdick ripping through their pants and coating their car in jizz had somehow not scared them away from me in perpetuity. They could barely keep the baseball bat swinging between their legs under wraps and were by whatever tiny miracle cool with that.
[Ty: ok actually don’t answer that. We’ll be careful this time!]
[Me: Is careful in the room with us now?]
[Ty: Just once. We recreate my l'il episode in the locker room, but with some rippage. Just enough to wow the viewers. That's it!]
[Me: You mean when you got all up in my underwear and almost ruined your own 🤨]
[Ty: Exactly 😙! But this will be more of a controlled scenario. ‘Dicks keep growing around me,’ in your words. They'll eat this up.]
I never should’ve uttered that phrase. I sat curled on the couch and levied an exasperated sigh at my phone. It's always some sort of antic with this one. I thought that inadvertently turning us into medical mysteries verging on freaks of nature would temper my former roommate’s exhibitionist imagination, but they were doing a great job of rolling with the punches–much better than poor Miguel and his window washing beau. But Ty seemed to thrive with the mammoth appendage springing from their groin, and it was their body to do what they felt like. And I do like to help my friends, even if in my own unique way.
I rested a hand on my hip, contemplating how far we would take these shenanigans before whatever this mysterious power was tapped out or we ended up in some government facility or pharmaceutical lab. I'd like to spend time around the people I care about without them growing uncontrollable donkey dicks. Even if they didn't seem to care all that much. I caressed the curvature of my backside, cheeks stretched taut over a layer of fat padding powerful muscle. These days, I felt like I could lift anything with only moderate effort. It was actually making my workouts more difficult, I was having to get creative just to maintain progressive overload. Some of the more serious guys at the gym have been trying to get me into powerlifting, even amateur competitions, but I’m mildly afraid of where that might lead. And I don’t need even more attention.
I felt a tremble in my glutes as the muscles seemingly flexed in disagreement. I'd been feeling these small twitches more often lately, deep in the muscle. I was worried I'd been overtraining. Maybe I should slow down on leg day, I thought, then immediately banished the idea. I guess, like Ty, I had started to grow accustomed to the spotlight on my dump truck whenever I was in public. I even got a kick out of the furtive glances and comical double takes. My hands were always resting on my round cheeks, letting me steal small squeezes here and there, especially when I was trying to think through something, and cared less and less who saw me feeling myself up. With this ass, who could blame me?
I glanced back at the mound of my oversized posterior making a permanent taking up space on the couch. I couldn’t help but wonder how far all this would go, reflecting on a recurring anxious daydream of a future in which the plush couch was gone entirely and I simply had beanbag size butt cheeks to relax into. I had convinced myself that we’d figure all this out long before things got that far. And if Ty was right about one thing, it’s that these changes were kind of fun. And it’s not like anything all that bad had happened. So far.
—
7…8…9…
I gritted my teeth as I tried for a tenth hip thrust. The plates clanged heavy against the ground as I failed, my butt falling back to the floor in resignation. I breathed a sigh of relief at being done with my last set, my glutes burning in satisfaction. Again that annoying twitch, stronger this time.
At least these shorts held up, I thought, leaning my head back. It was a quiet morning at the gym, meaning I could unapologetically load up the bar with several plates on each side, enough to really get a pump going. I needed to work up a sweat for Ty's little experiment later, which I had begrudged when they finally wore me down by promising to get a few pairs of super supportive, ultra stretchy gym shorts from the athletic line of the brand sponsoring them. All I had to do was go through my normal routine, hand them off in the locker room, and film the short scene with Ty before any unsuspecting person wandered through.
“Myron, right?” came a question from somewhere above and behind.
I swiveled my head around towards that voice, looking up to see someone silhouetted against the overhead lights. I couldn't quite make out their face, but I'd recognize that figure from a mile away.
“Winston?”
“Yeah, you remember,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Um, sorry if this is awkward, but I saw you from across the floor and I just had to know where you got those…”
“Shorts?” I interjected, a beaming smile appearing on my face.
“Yeah! I've ripped through just about every pair I have, it's kind of becoming a problem. You know how it is.” We nodded in commiseration. “I could send you the link for these, if you want?” I said as I extracted myself from under the loaded bar and regained my footing, trying to casually pull the thin fabric to cover more of my thighs (to no avail). This current pair looked painted on and kept riding up my legs, making my ass look somehow even more bubbled, but they were solid. At least for the time being. “I’m pretty satisfied so far, and I think we’re probably the same size.”
“No, I think you might have me beat,” said Winston, eyeing me up with an appreciative smile. “Are you a trainer? I need to know your routine.”
I was taken aback. Winston looked like he had just stepped out of a fitness magazine. His stringer tank top hung from the peaks of his traps and flowed delectably over his torso, leaving his juicy pecs, biceps, and boulder shoulders exposed to the air, nipples peeking out playfully whenever he moved, the light catching the glisten of sweat in just the right way along his deep brown skin. His thin joggers ended at calf height, doing nothing to hide his tree trunk quads and of course, the wildly disproportionate globes of his glutes, stretching the otherwise loose sweats tight across the mathematically elegant curvature of muscle that made up his backside. His body was a work of art. And he wanted fitness advice from me?
I turned to the mirror. Maybe it was the way my shorts were riding up or maybe a trick of the light, but it did look like my perky bubble butt had surpassed his, evolving into an amazonian ass since we’d last met.
“Um, sure,” I stammered. “Yeah, let me give you my number, we could train together sometime. Miguel will get a kick out of this,” I added with a nervous chuckle, handing him my phone.
“Well he definitely has a type.” He winked as he put his info in and shot himself a text.
—
I left Winston with the comically overloaded barbell to get his leg workout going and headed to the locker room. Ty was standing in one of the aisles, leaning against a wall of lockers with arms crossed, looking unusually impatient.
“Time is of the essence,” they snapped. “We're about to hit the midday rush.”
“Oh am I holding up your little workday excursion?” I quipped, working my fingers under the waistband of my shorts. It was struggle enough to get them on, but with a serious glute pump, it was a lost cause. I meticulously peeled them down the top half of my ass cheeks until they simply wouldn't budge against the hemispheres of my posterior. Ty, seeing my frustration, intervened, locking their thumbs in and pushing down as the elastic approached catastrophic failure, eventually resorting to palming each cheek with one of their dinner plate sized hands.
“You sure you don't want to make some content of your own?” they asked, grunting with the effort. “You would do numbers.”
With my gym shorts finally off (with no shortage of curses, prayers, and geometric strategizing), I whipped my underwear towards Ty's face. They caught them in their nimble fingers, appearing to hold the reinforced bikini briefs with reverence. They closed their eyes and let their nose dance delicately above them like a sommelier of magic musk.
“Is it that serious?” I asked.
“You have no idea,” they answered. “But let's save all that for when the camera's rolling.” They whipped off their work shirt and track pants and positioned themself on the bench facing the camera in nothing but their underwear, their long legs splayed to either side. Their massive fabric encased member rested on the bench, thrust forward slightly as they leaned back, indulging in another strong whiff of my underwear.
I had long known Ty made fetish content, but I had never actually seen them in action. They had crafted a compelling character. Laid back stoner with gravelly, sultry undertones. They reel you in with a dopey demeanor and cute asides, their eyes dancing casually around the mise en scene as if there was something vaguely interesting just off screen, before cutting directly to the camera with startling intensity. I watched my recently used underwear tangle between their fingers as they brought them up to their face and inhaled deeply, their eyes fluttering with a full body shudder. This looked genuine. They bit their lip as they dug into the sweat soaked fabric, their face a contortion of pleasure and pain. With their shirt off you could see their core flexing in involuntary waves, becoming stronger and stronger as beads of sweat formed on their brow. Eventually they began to shudder across their entire form, lean muscles brought into stark relief as they curled forward and stood up to their full height, staring down at the camera as they blocked one of the overhead lights to create an accidental dramatic effect. This was getting serious. They rested their hands on the tops of the lockers for support as they became slightly off balance, a brief look of confusion as their dick lurched further, small tears appearing in the fabric of their overstressed pouch, shudders becoming rolling muscle contractions across their slim, lanky physique.
They struck an imposing figure with their full wingspan splayed across the tops of the lockers on either side. How had I forgotten how tall they’d grown? Their fingers curled against the metal, head drooping down more and more frequently to the commotion coming from their groin. Their breathing became heavier and more urgent as their dick pushed against its confines, already testing the limits of its pouch as it began to visibly engorge.
It was obvious that the pouch was comically, woefully huge, literally unbelievable if you hadn't already seen the beast visibly pulsing against the fabric as if in sync with their heartbeat, eyes and lips creased with discomfort.
“I think it's…happening…again,” they muttered, looking down at their overpacked crotch with a mask of worry. I couldn't tell how much of this was an act for the video and how much was real. I don't think I cared. The pouch was inflating with the pressure of Ty’s growth, stretching the fabric to the limit as it grew larger and larger, slowly revealing their pubes as the waistband was pulled downward.
I was captivated, my heart pounding with the knowledge of what was happening in that pouch, turned on by the prospect of our all too real fantasy content production suddenly being discovered by some unsuspecting civilian. I thought of Miguel. Saw his self-conscious worry in the set of my friend's face, wondered if his own expanding member would reach a similar point that could only conservatively be described as colossal. My hole twitched at the thought.
“Augghh!” exclaimed Ty, bending over in pain and snapping me back to reality.
“You okay?” I asked. I knew this was risky.
“Wait. It's…almost,” they muttered through clenched teeth and panicked breaths.
Small tears began to appear as the pouch finally started to give way, growing and widening as their monster cock did the same. A slow tearing sound filled the space as the fabric separated bit by bit from the elastic waistband and the seams of their pouch split open just as the growth started to slow down and rest to a stop. With a final grunt, the now useless panties gave way and fell to tatters as Ty's semi hard cock ripped through, hanging down between their knees under its own weight, a few bits of fabric still hanging on.
“Was,” they breathed heavily, hands holding on to the lockers on either side. “Was that good?”
I was speechless. It was incredible. “I, uh–”
“I think so!” came a voice of encouragement out of the ether that Ty seemed to immediately recognize.
Their eyes widened in shock as they whipped around, revealing an unassuming gym goer previously hidden behind the expanse of their double wide back. Their newly enlarged schlong swung heavily through the air, bobbing back and forth until they stopped it firmly with one hand and tried to cover it up with the other, a gesture that was so comically futile that it just served to emphasize how undeniably massive their dick had become. Their long, lithe form was crouched in embarrassment, their naked body displaying a vulnerability that I don't know I'd ever seen from them before.
“Kai!” they exclaimed, their voice an entire octave higher with what sounded like uncharacteristic nerves. “We've, um, got to stop meeting like this.”
—
“So who's this twink they have a crush on?”
Miguel was cuddled up against me later that evening, his hand caressing my ass cheek in lazy circles. I felt my glutes spasm again. Strong enough to resonate deep in my hole and cause my back to arch ever so slightly.
“That whole story and that's what you're focusing on?” I asked. “And I don't know if it's a crush so much as a series of awkward encounters.”
“Or a pattern of meet-cutes, as they say,” countered Miguel. “They're having a romcom moment, they should lean into it.” He smirked and gave my butt a playful swat.
“Okay but not even the underwear thing?” I asked, rolling on top of him to grab two handfuls of his juicy pecs. He's really been going hard lately, I thought.
“I can’t blame them. You've got an enticing aroma.” Miguel pointedly squeezed the underside of my ass, sliding a finger towards the entrance of my waiting hole.
Another spasm. Strong enough for Miguel to feel the tremor through my glutes and pause briefly. He bit his lip in anticipation as I arched my back and began to rock against his groin, feeling the heat of his python stirring to life. He gasped as I rolled his nipples under my thumbs, his dick jumping in excitement. Has he always been this sensitive? I thought, but didn’t have time to reflect as he slid one finger, then two into my sensitive hole. I clamped down, biting my lip as my butt cheeks flexed with the sudden spike of pleasure.
“You always feel so good,” he said, sliding a third and fourth digit, beginning to prep me for what was to come.
I could discern what was to come extending between my legs, pushing them apart with its girth. I could practically feel his heartbeat through the pulses of the veins along his shaft. His face narrowed in concentration, his breath deepening as he got harder and harder, his baseball bat elongating inexorably behind me. I was overcome with lust as my lips fell hard onto his.
“I really can’t blame them,” Miguel repeated, swinging around to reposition me on all fours, ass up, back arched. His dick flailed widely under its own momentum, slapping the insides of my thighs with blunt force. It wasn’t yet fully hard, but was that still hard enough to bruise? Note to self, I mused. He smacked the globes of my ass with enough force to definitely leave a mark, setting them into uncontrollable jiggling motion.
“Fuck,” he whispered, grabbing handfuls of each cheek.
A steady ooze of precum wound its way down my back. These days, he had no shortage of homemade lube. He nestled his face between my shoulder blades, rubbing his beard against my sweaty back as he left urgent kisses on my skin. My hole twitched in anticipation. His breath became ragged as he slid his massive head between my cheeks. The sheer weight of it was more astounding every time.
But he continued. He left a gooey trail of precum as he caressed my shuddering hole and his cock thumped heavy onto the bed before springing back up to kiss my taint. I sighed in wanting, missing the weight of his monster cock even though I still felt the heat radiating from it. But then that beard was tickling my sensitive hole, and those urgent kisses turned into guttural moans as he began furiously eating me out. It was enough to cum right then and there.
“God you taste so good,” he moaned between my cheeks.
Miguel’s rimming prowess was such that it nearly eclipsed the power of his record breaking dick. My mind was swimming in ecstasy, unable to hold on to a coherent thought beyond whatever symphony he was writing through expert ministrations around my butthole. I was dimly aware of the muscle tremors running across my glues getting stronger and more frequent, a dance of minute twitches interspersed with full spasms, crescendoing into a full body shudder as my ab muscles contracted together and a prickly heat spread across my backside and down my legs. It felt familiar. I had the phantom sensation of deja vu but nowhere near the mental capacity to investigate.
“Does this feel good?” Miguel asked, coming up briefly for air.
“I, uh, yeah,” I eked out, clenching my teeth through the orgasmic heat radiating from my lower body. I felt another shiver, my ass and leg muscles contracting in tandem on a regular basis now. What’s happening? I thought. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this kind of full body horniness, a pulsar firing off gamma rays with every heartbeat.
“You look so fucking good.” Miguel caressed each ass cheek, then let his fingers trace along my hamstrings. “You’ve really been hittin’ legs, huh? Feels even better than I remember.” An inside joke that gave him no end of amusement. “You’re sure they’re not sneaking that GluteMax stuff in the gym's water supply?” I felt my right cheek jiggle as he gave it a firm slap.
“Had a great leg day,” I chuckled. “And I know a guy.”
Miguel repositioned, backing up awkwardly to extricate his dick from underneath my belly and position his massive head at the top of my ass crack. I looked back to see him entranced, one hand resting on my ass for stability and the other holding the base of his dick. The space needed between us just to situate his cockhead at my backdoor was comical, he may as well have been on the other side of the room.
“Can I?” he asked.
“Be my guest.” I steeled myself for what was to come.
I was well aware that I was quite possibly the only person on earth that could take his gargantuan prick and those first few inches of his mushroom head always felt unreal. My hole expanded past what I thought was humanly possible as he slowly rocked back and forth, easing himself in. Before long, my walls were stretched to the limit. When he was inside me, all I could even fathom was the pressure of his monster cock filling me up to the brim, sending me to ethereal heights. He began to work up a rhythm, but then I worked up my own. My glutes and legs weren’t the only parts of my lower body that had gained outsized strength. As I became lost in orgasmic bliss, I was pushing and pulling him in and out by sheer force of will, using him as little more than a human dildo.
“Fuck you’re strong,” he breathed, moaning into me as he relinquished control. Bottoming out was a pipe dream, but he had made it far enough in to grab my hips and leave little bite marks on the small of my back as he held on for dear life.
As I built toward orgasm, the spasms got stronger and longer. My legs were on fire, I felt like I could burst if I didn’t cum soon. I was bearing down on Miguel’s cock with enough force to destroy a normal human penis, eliciting a grunt of concern.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I…I just…” I lost the ability to formulate sentences as a mind melting orgasm crashed over me, a supernova centered around my hole, which still refused to relinquish its iron grip on Miguel’s cock. I shot rope after rope of cum against my chin, my chest, my stomach, before my hand finally steadied my dick. But the feeling of orgasmic release continued, my back arching deeper, knees sliding across the bed and feet losing purchase as suddenly they dangled in the air. My legs settled into a delicious stretch to relieve tension, contractions finally releasing with the last spurts of jizz.
“That was…that was amazing,” breathed Miguel. I could hear his feet stumble onto the floor as his prodigious cock slid slowly out of me, ending with a thud against the edge of the bed as he stood up to full height, hands still gripping my cheeks for support. “Wow,” he muttered, fingers splayed out against my butt. “You’re really good at that,” he said.
“Good at what?” I asked, shifting around to slide off the bed and find purchase on the hardwood.
“Whatever muscle you’ve been training to, um…” he trailed off, looking dumbfounded.
“To what?” I continued, standing up to full height and looking down into Miguel’s big cocoa eyes.
Looking down? I glanced at Miguel’s feet to verify that they were solid on the ground and worked my way up the rest of him. Not kneeling, not slouching. So how was I looking down? I was a tad bit taller than Miguel but we still basically saw eye to eye. But now I was gazing from inches above, down into his flabbergasted expression.
A wave of disorientation hit as I looked past him into the mirror, my head closer to the upper edge than I remember it ever being. I rested my hands on his shoulders. I was now visibly, undeniably taller than him. Miguel stepped aside, shocked into silence as he turned my body ninety degrees, my side profile coming into view in the reflection.
My upper body was the same. Soft paunch of my belly below pecs that were starting to take shape along with some definition coming in along my triceps and forearms. The look of someone who was still relatively new to working out but consistent with a rigorous program and appeared to be decently in shape. As my eyes wandered down the expanse of my lower half my heart fluttered in disbelief.
I was inexplicably higher from the ground because my legs were…bigger. It wasn’t an optical illusion or some sort of sex induced vertigo. I was literally taller. My quads, hamstrings, and calves had the same shape and muscularity, the same healthy layer of fat, but had become bigger and beefier versions of the legs I had had just a few minutes ago. They looked wildly disproportionate to everything above the waist. Yet that was the least of my concerns.
With some strategizing, I could’ve probably maneuvered my most forgiving pants onto my legs. I was certain I had some shorts on hand that were stretchy enough to at least cover my quads until I could figure out how to update this wardrobe. But there was nothing I owned that was going to last more than three minutes against the planetoids that had inflated behind me.
I thought back to my encounter with Winston at the gym. It was hard to imagine how I could’ve ever compared myself to Miguel’s dapper, bubble butted fling. Winston’s ass was a showstopper, but this? This was something else entirely. My ass had grown into two beach balls perched on top of my hamstrings, ballooning from my lower back around the small dimples on each side. It was a comically unrealistic, anatomically impossible morph that was very very real. I squeezed one cheek and felt a pulse of pleasure permeate the background noise of post-coital satisfaction, causing me to briefly lose my balance.
I stumbled backwards, still disoriented from my sudden growth spurt (Is this how Ty felt?), my monster booty smashing Miguel back onto the bed hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He sat up on his elbows, awestruck, his semi-hard python bobbing in the air in front of him.
“Oh shit,” I said, my face flushing with embarrassment. “I think I need to sit down.”
“Don’t sweat it, babe,” said Miguel. “I always got a seat for you.”
He leaned forward and placed his hands on the underside of each cheek, taking a second to watch them shake, then buried his head deep between them, fully smothered by the time he reached my hole.
The flood of pleasure tuned out any concern I had had about this latest development. I sighed, leaned back, and fell on top of him, his head and shoulders disappearing beneath my mammoth ass as his dick sprung to full attention dangerously close to my lips. I grabbed hold with both hands, each of which could barely wrap around half of his pole, and began lapping up the steady stream of pre from his mushroom head.
One more thing to deal with later, I reasoned as I began to fall back into a second wave of orgasmic bliss. This really was fun. So far.
Something to celebrate both Kai June and Macro March.
When Nate started to prepare for a visit to local Pride fest, he never expected to be in the parade... nor did he expect to be the main attraction!
[Here are other places to find me]
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Nate sat back and sipped his smoothie while his friends butted heads as usual. It wouldn’t be a meeting of The Crew without an inordinate amount of friction. They were all friends, for the most part, but Bevin made everything his business and had a pathological need to be correct even if he factually wasn’t. Meanwhile, Silvio had zero patience for Bevin’s nonsense.
“We’ll make it. No problem. It’s only a ten-mile drive,” Bevin explained.
“Yeah, but the main roads are closed for the parade, and parking is going to be a bear. We’ll be lucky to get a parking spot within five miles of the venue,” Silvio countered.
“So, drive us there, drop us off, and then go find parking,” Bevin replied.
“No. Fuck you. If anyone is going to be late because they had to find parking, it’s you. I hate driving in downtown even on a good day,” Silvio countered.
“How droll,” Bevin said with a sarcastic eyeroll.
“You’re the super scientist. Why not make a teleporter or some kinda flight deck and get us there instantly,” Silvio said equally sarcastically.
“I thought you outgrew Saturday morning cartoons,” Bevin grumbled.
It was by this point that Nate had fully clocked out from the conversation. They’d been at it for the better part of a half hour. Had they just put their egos aside and left when they had planned, this would be a nonissue, but instead they both had something to prove. Nate was normally the voice of reason, but he did not have the interest nor the energy to argue. His disinterest was in part because this was supposed to be a happy day of good vibes and positivity and in part because he had been trying to bulk up lately, and the added wear and tear on his body was leaving him exhausted and hungry 24/7.
Nate took his smoothie and wandered downstairs to Bevin’s ‘lab’ in the basement. The room hardly looked the part of a super scientist’s workstation. There were a few rickety looking machines, some test tubes, and some other paraphernalia tucked away beside the washer and dryer and a fridge. All in all, the basement looked just like A Basement with a few bits and bobs of a hobbyist physicist.
Nate didn’t even spare a glance at Bevin’s various ‘experiments’. Instead, he walked right over to the fridge and rummaged through the bottles and food stashed within. One bottle labeled ‘growth supplement’ caught his eye.
‘Growth supplement’? Was Bevin also trying to bulk up? Whatever the case, Nate wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“No whey,” Nate murmured and chuckled to himself at his own private joke before pulling out the growth supplement and pouring it into his smoothie. He stirred the stuff into his drink and then casually wandered back upstairs to see if the bitching had died down.
When Nate arrived, the two were still at each other’s throats. The argument had devolved from snide point and counterpoints to outright name calling. Nate sighed, shook his head, took another sip of his drink, and then loudly cleared his throat.
“What!?” Bevin and Silvio shouted in unison.
“Let’s just get in the car. We can look up traffic on the app while we drive. We’ll figure it out on the road,” Nate explained.
Nate’s friends both narrowed their eyes at him, but neither of them wanted to argue. Their beef wasn’t with him. Not to mention, any disagreement was sure to whip the other guy into a rage which would quickly turn the one-on-one squabble into a two vs one brawl. In the end, they both tentatively declared a truce.
As they stepped into the sunlight, Silvio playfully gave Nate a slap on the ass and said, “I know we’re going to the pride parade, but I never thought you’d be one to slut it up.”
“Right? You should wear less more. It’s a good look on you,” Bevin replied.
Nate sighed and shook his head. Figures. The only time they were able to team up was when it was at Nate’s expense. Their lovers’ spat was over and so they were both back to teasing their timid sidekick.
“It’s the same outfit I was wearing this morning,” Nate grumbled.
“Are you sure?” Silvio asked
“Yeah. I didn’t think you the type to rock a crop top,” Bevin added.
Nate was about to make a comment, but before he did, he felt something strange. His clothes audibly creaked as the fibers tightened around his body.
Nate glanced down and was shocked to see that his midriff was fully exposed. His t-shirt was stretched taut across his body and the lower hem of his shirt only reached about halfway down his torso, and his shorts were similarly small. His once loose and airy gym shorts now strained tightly across his thighs. The lower hem of his pant legs only reached the upper part of his thighs. They looked less like gym shorts and more like thotty joggers, but the most shocking part was the thick bulge between Nate’s legs. His package was huge!
Nate was too shocked at what he was seeing to do anything other than mindlessly suck at his straw while trying to make sense of his own body. Why were his clothes so small? Why was his cock so huge?
While the three friends stood there and marveled at Nate’s bod, the only sound that broke the silence was the slurping sound of Nate sucking up the last bits of his smoothie. Eventually, even that sound faded to silence. That silence was not broken again until Silvio worked up the nerve to speak.
“Hey… Nate? How tall are you?” Silvio asked.
“Uh… 5’6,” Nate replied.
“Bullshit,” Bevins grumbled.
“Hey! You’ve known me for ages! I’ve always been 5’6!” Nate countered.
“We’re not asking how tall you were. We’re asking how tall you are,” Silvio explained.
“Still 5’6. It’s not like it could have changed… since… yesterday…?” Nate said, but his confidence and his words began to trail off at the end of his sentence as he stared down at his friends and realized that he now towered over both of them.
“What the…?” Nate murmured in awe. He could literally see his pals getting smaller, but that wasn’t right. They were the same size. Nate could tell based on their surroundings. It wasn’t his friends that were getting smaller. It was him that was getting taller!
One of my favorite growth fantasies is an up and coming pop star pre-concert receiving a ‘lucky pre-show gift’ from a fan that winds up making him grow while performing until he’s too big for the stage. The clip goes viral and is the big break he needs, though he hopes he sees that fan again someday for more ‘gifts’…
Nice!! Imagine seeing a video of the growth pop up in your feed and simply brushing it off as fake but then seeing clip after clip from hundreds of different vantage points across the audience. And if the growth occurs gradually over the course of the show, there are all these different clips floating around of him at variable sizes performing different songs, his clothes looking uncomfortably tight, then his steps and cues looking off as he's starting to lumber around the stage, backup dancers looking increasingly worried as they try to dodge out of the way of his giant arms or risk getting knocked off stage by the growing glutes jiggling at head level. As he's belting out one of his hits, the microphone is crushed between his fingers but his voice is already loud to boom across the surrounding neighborhood. Sections of the stage are starting to buckle under his massive feet and what looks like pyrotechnics are actually just him causing sparks to fly as he keeps accidentally breaking the stage infrastructure with his boulder shoulders. The crew is scrambling in the background to figure out what's going on but he's in the zone, towering over the crowd as his clothes are torn to shreds, and they only want more.
a coach with midas touch, every good game swat on the ass makes his player’s butts grow three sizes
I'm trying to avoid doing actual work this holiday weekend so enjoy this prompt from six months ago!!
[ ass expansion // muscle growth ]
1180 words
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"Bro, you have to let us know what supplements you're on, quit gatekeeping!"
"I already gave you my leg routine the first five thousand times you asked," I said, rolling my eyes at my friend Kev's constant questioning. I pulled back as he leaned in closer amid the din of the house party, one hand on my shoulder and the other on the railing of the back porch. "It's bulking season, coach has us training...really hard."
"That much is readily apparent," he said, stumbling closer towards me and letting a hand rest on the small of my back. His fingers brushed against the elastic waistband of the loose joggers that I had quickly thrown on, opting for modesty and comfort only to realize that like every other pair of pants I owned, they were way too tight in the seat and did nothing to hide the impressive curve of my posterior. "You're captain of the wrestling team, so you have to have the fattest ass on campus, but you could at least give the rest of us some tips for getting a monster dumpy."
He wasn't totally wrong. Our small liberal arts college wasn't widely known for its athletic prowess, but the wrestling team was an anomaly. The team had been famously whipped into shape when a recent alum, Coach Barnes, came back to run things, promising results through some experimental strength training program. It seemed to me like the normal routine of squat, hip thrust, and deadlift variations espoused by any leg day enthusiast personal trainer, nothing special really, but the results did speak for themselves. We had been ranked top 10 nationally for a decade running, known off campus for holding multiple championship trophies and taking no prisoners on the mat. But on campus, we were better known for...I guess...the signature 'monster dumpy.'
Every spring, you could tell who were the new breakout stars of the wrestling team not by stats but by the overdeveloped glutes that became impossible to hide and the tree trunk legs to match. We told everyone that Coach had a gift for getting us into shape and let them believe that it was the workout routine or the heavy bulking diet, but among the team, we knew that Coach's 'gift' referred to something else. Something mysterious that we had yet to fully figure out.
Coach towered over us with a pair of massive paws for hands coated in a light dusting of fur that ran up his veiny forearms to a pair of oversized upper arms that looked like footballs threatening to rip his shirt sleeves. If we wasn't standing with his arms crossed and hands gripping his bulbous biceps, he kept them tucked into his back pockets, miraculously able to fit his meaty fingers against the hemispheres of a bubble butt that put all of ours to shame.
It was unspoken tradition not to warn the new guys, but they would notice it almost instantly during their first match. They were nervous enough heading out to the mat, but after an encouraging pat on the ass from Coach, there would be a pep in their step, a swish in their hips, and a powerful confidence that would jolt through their quads as the ref blew the whistle. If they won, which they usually did, they'd be welcomed back to the sidelines with a smattering of friendly slaps, notably from Coach himself.
When their pants didn't fit quite right afterwards, we would chalk it up to adrenaline and a healthy pump. When they were still tight at the next practice, that was just the bulk finally kicking in. When they were hitting crazy PRs during every single workout, that was just Coach's proven training method. But when they stuck it out with the team long enough to blow through the seams off every pair of shorts, slacks, joggers, and jeans they owned, they were officially one of us.
I remember ducking into practice in embarrassment after walking across campus in a borrowed pair of plaid tights that did nothing to downplay the wild jiggle of my cheeks and awkwardly explaining to Coach that all of my training gear was either too tight or in tatters. He laughed, said he would take care of it, and sent me out with some new digs, the official super stretchy slim fit practice sweats accented in our school colors. He gave me a pat on the bum and said to get changed and meet us on the floor. My ass looked huge as I checked myself out in the mirror but they were the comfiest pants I'd worn in a while. I immediately understood why the wrestling team seemed to wear these every day.
After practice, the guys let me know that that jolt of energy from Coach's firm pats on my glutes weren't just a phantom sensation that ran through my posterior chain, but something more substantial. I was part of the team and in on the secret, a shared experience that we all bonded over, even if we didn't fully understand what was going on.
Though we had our questions and suspicions, it was hard to quit the team once you were on it. Sure, we were concerned when the captain before me, Earl, had to step down for 'health reasons' and went back home to finish the semester virtually. I last saw him right after he moved out and he was struggling to fit into the drivers seat of his car. We slammed the door closed against his beach ball sized buns and hoped for the best.
When I brought it up with Coach, he said Earl 'needed a break' and that he had been 'too enthusiastic' with the training regimen, then slammed his mitts firmly against my shoulders and offered me the role. I could feel the energy crackling through them into my delts, already excited for my next workout as official team captain, already planning which of my t-shirts would soon have the sleeves cut off.
Those of us who kept with it all four years were gifted with a pair of metallic gold gym shorts with the school's logo on the back. Though they had a 5" inseam, on us they were little more than booty shorts painted across the globes of our powerful backsides. They weren't just a status symbol, but a reminder of hard work and dedication, even if I had thrown some ill fitting joggers over them before heading to this party. I could feel them straining against the heft of my disproportionate muscle butt, but at this point, I was used to it.
"...a monster dumpy?" I purred at Kev, chuckling in his face. I could feel his hand slip lower onto the upper shelf of my amazonian booty. Even through loose joggers, it was more than obvious I was on the team. I let him give one of my globular cheeks an indulgent squeeze, leaned my head against his shoulder.
"Trust me," I whispered. "You wouldn't know what to do with all this."
I don't know what to do with all this, I thought to myself, frowning as I caught my silhouette in the mirror. Not long ago I was captain of a nationally ranked wrestling team, practically a celebrity on our sleepy campus. Now I was just Earl back in my dad's basement, trying to smuggle two beach balls into some oversized work pants before I was late for the part-time contracting gig that he hooked me up with.
I was already in great shape when I started college. I had been recruited there for the wrestling team, they even gave me a scholarship. A lot of people thought I was already on it based on how nice my glutes were, but back then I was just an athletic gym rat who could easily put on lean muscle.
When you go to college and suddenly gain 30 pounds, it's not unheard of. When most of it goes straight to your ass, it's not really a concern as long as you keep bringing in awards, trophies, and the right kinds of attention. But when the growth continues and your posterior chain takes on a form that shouldn't be physically possible, the powers that be in collegiate sports end up taking an interest, and sometimes it's easier to let your star player be disqualified than try to explain that you have an ass expanding magic touch.
At least that's what we thought it was. Coach took our success seriously. We knew he cared about us and wanted to be a source of enthusiastic support, but I should've said something before it was too late. I was a break out star early on, I lived for Coach's praise, relishing his pats on the ass after every successful match and even some very productive practice bouts. We knew it was happening, even if we couldn't explain it. We knew why the wrestling team put the MAX in gluteus maximus, and honestly we loved it. It didn't matter that all we could wear were the loose practice sweats with the unusual cut that seemed to flatter our unique proportions. Or that wearing any other pants off the rack was simply out of the question. Or that we learned to always carry a backup pair of tights in case of emergency or just wear our golden gym shorts under everything. Or that some of us, myself especially, found it difficult squeezing our cakes into most desks and chairs. Some classrooms on campus kept a row of reinforced stools in the back just for us and we loved it. We were hooked.
When I made captain, Coach and I were practically joined at the hip. I felt like his protégé, basking in his attention and his grateful swats on the ass that came with every good idea or a useful critique that I offered in his office. Maybe it was the extra attention or maybe I was just predisposed to react strongly to Coach's gift, but my perky, muscular bubble butt steadily inflated into a pair of globes that defied the laws of physics, or at least that's what my teammates joked. We were all pretty stacked, but some more stacked than others, and it turned out I was especially gifted in that department. I didn't care about the longer term ramifications of the ballooning predicament behind me, I just liked being on the team.
He had given me a big bear hug as I was packing my things and getting ready to leave. I breathed in his musk one last time, could feel my lats pumping under his huge hands, then my glutes spasming as he gave me one last lazy pat. I could tell I had the best pump of my life. Now off the team and without the scholarship, I was back in my hometown finishing my last semester remotely, no longer the nationally known star player but just some contracting guy with a set of comically large bouncing buns.
I threw a shirt on and headed upstairs to the kitchen, careful to shimmy sideways through the narrow doorframe that led to the basement so I didn't have to awkwardly squeeze through. As I chowed down on a quick breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, I couldn't help but notice my new work shirt was already getting tight. Without Coach's strict program in the gym, I was losing my (mostly) lean muscle look and enjoying a healthy layer of padding across my belly, chest, and arms. I was growing to like the new look, and hoped that being chubbier all around might downplay my gains in the back, but no luck. My ass was an even rounder, jigglier monstrosity than it had been the last time I'd seen Coach.
Oh well. I greeted my dad, who sat waiting in the truck, and swung around the back. I jumped into the truck bed and closed the gate behind me, settling on the cushion of my oversized cheeks. I'd been riding back there more often, it was just more comfortable. He promised to retrofit the seat up front so it was less awkward for me to squeeze into, but I wasn't in a hurry. Maybe I'd hit the gym after this with some work buds, send Coach of a pic of me squatting in the golden gym shorts that the guys had screen printed OVERSIZE LOAD onto the back of. Hopefully they still fit.
Story Prompt: men land on a deserted island and soon find (or don't realize that) the only food on the island causes them to grow in various ways. Coconuts grow that make their chests grow, bananas that make dick grow, etc.
This was cute and fun, and it's also giving me ideas for a growth scenario based on "Coconuts" by Kim Petras 😉
[ pec growth // dick growth // growth ]
Also on Metabods
1622 words
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"You have to find the softest eye on top, line up the screwdriver, and..." Kal punched through the tough exterior of the tropical fruit with one swift motion, removed the tool, and tilted the coconut upside down, letting the juice pour into his waiting mouth. "Want some?" he asked, holding it out to me as an offering. "It's so fresh."
"I'm sure it is," I sighed. "But I still think we should stick to the rations until help arrives."
He rolled his eyes. "The food here is fine. Locally grown, organic, highly nutritious, you're always going on about that stuff."
"You don't think it's a little...too nutritious?" I asked. My eyes flitted down to the sizeable bulge stuffed into his mesh trunks that definitely hadn't been there when we set sail last week.
"What does that even mean?" he chuckled, causing his sun-kissed pecs to bounce with tantalizing heft.
"I don't know, it's just...something's up with this island, right? It wasn't on any of our maps, then we crashed on some random shoal, and all the plants seem...weird..."
"You're just not used to an impromptu camping in paradise situation," he said, spreading his legs as he squatted over a large rock and cracked the coconut in half, his powerful shoulders glistening in the sun. "Or fresh produce that hasn't been stored in a warehouse." His package distended the fabric of his shorts, threatening to fall out of one leg as he began scooping out the coconut flesh. "I know you're stressed, but you can't survive on those rations forever."
Ever since we found ourselves stranded on this island, I had taken it upon myself to carefully mete out what food and supplies we could salvage from the boat until help arrived. Kal, on the other hand, jumped enthusiastically into the local flavor, foraging for whatever fruits and nuts he recognized, and even experimenting with some he didn't. While I would occasionally partake in his ad hoc tropical spreads, something just seemed off about this whole situation. I tried to stick to my rations.
"We just need to survive until someone picks up our distress call," I said, reluctantly taking the handful of coconut meat that he presented to me on a large leaf. There was a strange aftertaste, some subtle note of sweetness that I couldn't quite place, but I had to admit it was delicious, just like everything here. "And besides," I continued with some trepidation, "you haven't noticed anything...weird?"
"What do you mean?" He caressed his pec absentmindedly. He hadn't worn a shirt in days, but I had to imagine that any of the muscle tees he loved so much would be straining at the seams when we got back to the mainland. Kal had been a dedicated gym rat for years, with some impressive results, but I had never seen the slabs of muscle that had suddenly appeared on his torso over the past few days.
"I mean...look at you!" I exclaimed.
That nonchalant chuckle again. "Yeah, dude, we're stuck in paradise," he said, peeling a freshly picked banana--his fourth one that afternoon--and eagerly biting into it. "We both look great!"
I glanced down at my own chest, which had also plumped up noticeably, but not to the extent of the rack that Kal was suddenly hauling around. My eyes continued to the unfamiliar bulge in my shorts, my lips twisting in worry. I had begun to notice a little more heft in my own junk, impressed by how my dick filled my hand as I furtively jerked off in some secluded spot away from camp, often thinking of Kal's increasingly disproportionate body. I had generally assumed he was decently endowed, but the wood he was sporting just that morning looked like it had to be over a foot of cock bobbing from his groin. Assuming I was still asleep, he had braced one hand against one of the coconut trees as he stroked himself with the other, grunts of pleasure mixing with grunts of frustration as his fingers struggled to meet around the girth of his soda can shaft.
"You don't think there's something up with..." I trailed off, my eyes resting on his crotch as he adjusted his bulge, guiding the length of his pipe along his waistband and out past his hip. His eyes locked onto mine as he stroked himself, biting his lip with vulnerable need. "Never mind," I muttered, as I got up and closed the space between us, my own package bouncing in my shorts as blood began to rush down south.
Though we had playfully and platonically made out plenty of times before, we had never really fooled around. But as we spent more time on this island, my lazy jack off sessions had become a necessity morning, noon, and night. The constant buzz of sexual need became another part of the ambient sound of the island, fitting in with the bird calls in the distance and waves lapping at the shore. I could only imagine what it was like for Kal, wandering off several times a day to clear the pipes, and seeming to lug around a baseline semi that never went fully soft.
So of course I wanted to help my friend out, I reminded myself as I began grinding against his crotch, a shiver of pleasure matching the heat of his monster meat. My lips met his as our ragged breath intermingled, his angry mushroom head springing up between us as we freed it from its textile prison, the combination of both of our hands and mouths necessary to tame the beast.
As the days went on, we settled into our surreal routine. Me sticking to my steadily depleting rations and occasionally partaking in the feasts of foraged foods that Kal was constantly coming up with as he explored the island. Through our new arrangement, we lost any pretense around modesty, opting to remain nude for comfort and access. And besides, it had become virtually impossible for Kal to fit his oversized bait and tackle in any of his shorts. The length of his thick pipe bounced back and forth between his knees, thrust forward by the oranges that filled his ball sack.
Though he still maintained an air of casual obliviousness, I think it was starting to get through to him that something was up. I tried to keep track of what he was harvesting and where, attempting to match it to the ongoing changes in his body. He had taken to coconuts and bananas early on, probably out of familiarity, which explained not only his new party trick of simply bending his head to suck himself off, but also why that strategy was soon negated by the ballooning muscle tits that prevented his cock from reaching his mouth with ease.
As our rations began to run out, I became increasingly dependent on the natural bounty of the island, and as our bodies continued to change, we became increasingly dependent on each other to release the unending pressure of constant, overwhelming, orgasmic need. I became intimately familiar with every contour of his comically massive baseball bat of a meat stick, wondering by what miracle I was able to take it every time, swallowing inch after inch after inch into my constantly hungry hole.
Sometimes he would complain of back spasms, leaning over with the weight of his massive balloon tits, but as we diversified our diet, he began to pack on enough muscle to compensate. We lost track of the days or even whatever baseline of normality we had had before this accidental adventure, yet as Kal began simply reaching up to pick coconuts from the shorter trees with ease and I began cracking them between my hands with moderate effort, it was starting to become apparent that even if we got rescued soon, we wouldn't be able to function in normal society ever again.
Kal seemed far less concerned about this than I did, opting to enjoy our time together while we had it. It became normal for us to playfully lap up the never ending streams of precum that drooled out of our dicks from some extradimensional endless reservoir. One lazy afternoon, on day whatever, I found myself sucking idly on his monster manhood as I rested my head on the king size pillows of his pecs. One of his huge hands tenderly caressed my ass. Lately, he couldn't keep his hands off my cheeks, and by the gush of precum that suddenly entered my mouth, he was ready for round 4 that day. I followed it up with a bite from the pile of coconut meat laying on the expanse of his chest.
"See?" he teased, "I knew you would like it."
"Well we're just about of rations from the boat," I muttered. "Except for the peaches."
"There are peaches from the boat?"
"Not anymore," I said. "I'm glad you thought to pack them before we left, they're my favorite."
"No, those are from a peach tree at the top of that overlook," he gestured to a cliff in the distance. "I didn't even know those could grow out here."
"Oh shit," I groaned, suddenly realizing why the imprints I left in the sand were starting to look like yoga balls. "This is so ridiculous. At this rate, I can't even get back into my apartment."
"We can install a garage door," he laughed, giving me an enthusiastic slap on the ass. "And if rescue never comes, I think we've got sufficient flotation devices to get back home."
"Just...shut up," I said, sighing into his juicy chest. Begrudgingly, I decided I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.
This input is about allergy, shrinking, dick growth .
A couple is walking in the park in the middle of the afternoon, when one of them starts to sneeze, every time he sneezes he gets shorter in height and his dick starts to grow.
I'm not usually a fan of anything getting smaller, or of bodily functions, but it's good to try new things! This was a fun thought experiment, I fell into it more than I thought I would. Dick growth I'll jump at any day, but I have almost no frame of reference for what makes a good shrinking fic (or a good sneezing fic if that's a thing, idk). But I made an attempt lol
Also on Metabods
1161 words
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"No, ok, like touch your tongue to the roof of your mouth," Juan mumbled, tilting his head back to demo the technique to the taller man. "It's supposed to trick some nerve pathway that goes to your brain and cancels the sneeze."
Ryan squinted in concentration as his tongue prodded incessantly along the ridges of his mouth. "Wait, tilt your head back down," he said to his partner. "I need to--choo!" His face whipped into his elbow on cue as he sneezed twice.
He felt his entire body clench. A shiver spread through his nervous system, centered around his crotch, his balls contracting with each convulsion. Through a haze of disorientation, his underwear felt as oddly stuffed as his sinuses.
"Your allergies aren't usually this bad," Juan muttered, cradling his boyfriend's head in concern. Pollen season was in full swing, but they had been cooped up all winter, and, like half the city, had been itching to spend some time in the expansive nature preserve in the middle of town as soon as it got above 65 degrees.
"I think there's more pollen now, or it's coming earlier in the season, or it's evolving or something. I think I read something about it. You know, some effect from climate change I--I--CHOO!" Ryan sneezed hard enough to send him slightly off balance. He reached for where Juan's hand was supposed to be, instead bumping awkwardly into his elbow.
Juan got the message and steadied his partner. "Maybe let's head home until the plants end whatever this vendetta is against you. Looks like spring is in full attack mode, you're all hunched over."
"What do you mean?" asked Ryan, sniffling. He was standing straight but did seem to be slouching into his shoulders, his hands on his waistline, self consciously readjusting his shorts. They felt weirdly loose in the waist and weirdly tight in the crotch. "I don't know, maybe I lost some weight over the winter. But why you're almost eye level...are those new sh--choo!"
Ryan held his arm up to sneeze into his elbow, letting go of his shorts, which slipped low enough on his hips to reveal the top of his jockstrap. Should've worn a belt, he thought, as he came out of the full body shiver and back to his senses. He tried to surreptitiously adjust the pouch, which had progressed from stuffy to constricting. His eyes widening in surprise as he brushed against a sizeable--and unexpected--bulge. His dick felt totally soft, yet strangely heavy, twitching with unusual sensitivity.
"What's wrong?" asked Juan, holding the back of his hand up to Ryan's forehead. "You look emaciated, you need some rest."
They turned to head back home, Ryan's face a contortion of congestion and confusion. He was having to adjust his gait to keep up with Juan's speedy tempo, which usually wasn't a problem for Ryan thanks to his long legs. As he picked up the pace, he become acutely aware of the engorged member overfilling the pouch of his jock, bouncing back and forth between his legs enough to catch the attention of more than a few passers by. Even through the fabric of his baggy clothes.
"Hold on," Ryan said, squeezing his boyfriend's hand. His voice had taken on a heavier quality, and he frowned through the pressure in his sinuses. "Can we slow down a bit? I'm a little..."
His eyes rolled back with a full body convulsion, then he whipped forward and bent over, sneezing three times in quick succession.
"Ugh, sorry," he muttered, resting a hand on his Juan's shoulder. "I'm a little woozy..." He trailed off, staring dumbfounded at his boyfriend's face, whose eye level was now above his own. "What are you..." he looked down to see Juan's feet flat on the ground in the same old kicks he always wore. "Did you get...taller?"
"Uh, no," Juan whispered. He returned his partner's dumbfounded stare, yet focused mainly on the sausage that Ryan had apparently been smuggling in his underwear, revealed in broad daylight by the shorts that had fallen to the ground. It was more than impressive on its own, but looked massive on his small frame.
Juan was very familiar with his boyfriend's dick and very familiar with his boyfriend's underwear choices. And he was certain that this morning Ryan had not had a donkey dick heavy enough to reveal the top few inches of shaft. "Babe, what is happening?" he stammered, bending down and yanking Ryan's shorts back up before too much of the general public got a show.
"Well I can't be..." Ryan's voice dropped to a whisper of perplexion, "...shrinking..."
"Well that certainly isn't," Juan quipped, eyes wide at the ridiculous bulge in Ryan's shorts. "Are you on something? A new medication?"
"No, nothing," said Ryan. "I just can't stop...sneezing."
They kept walking back toward home, Juan racking his brain for some sort of explanation as Ryan stuffed his hands in his pockets to distract from the comical bulge swinging wildly with each step. He widened his gait, trying to not make it too obvious he was accommodating some disproportionately large balls.
"Maybe it's something you ate recently?" asked Juan. "This sort of thing doesn't just happen."
"I don't know!" Ryan said with exasperation, grimacing at the pull of his sudden monster cock from his crotch. "I mean, I feel fine...mostly."
"Let's go to Urgent Care later."
"What are they gonna do about...this situation?" Ryan asked with nervous laughter.
"I don't know, at least bring the swelling down," Juan offered, gesturing at the prodigious bulge tucked against Ryan's leg.
"I don't think this thing is swollen. It feels...feels...ahh...CHOO!"
He stop in his tracks. Felt the fabric of his jock as his cock strained against the pouch with even more length, pushed forward by his steadily expanding balls. He looked up at his partner to confirm his fears, noticing Juan's eyes slightly farther away then they had been thirty seconds ago. His gaze shifted to the treeline around them, the pollen meandering in the breeze.
"I know this sounds crazy," said Ryan, "but do you think it's ah...ah..."
"Roof of your mouth," Juan reminded.
Ryan was able to catch most of the sneeze, except for a small hic that repeated several more times. His blood ran cold as he heard fabric popping. Then the rip of seams tearing away from his jockstrap. Then the brief relief of his cock set free in the fabric of his shorts, falling down until it dangled out of his right pant leg, bobbing just below his knee.
"...do you think it's...allergies?" he muttered, staring at the unrecognizable python whose mushroom head was being tickled by the rivulets of spring breeze, sending shivers of pleasure up his spine, followed by the telltale irritation in his nasal mucosa. "Oh fuck," he whispered, looking up at his boyfriend in panic.
Staying fit and giving up sweets isn't always easy, but thanks to the internet you can find a valid alternative, like a site that sells a preparation for making protein brownies with the promise that it will increase muscle mass.
Here's the thing, I love to bake and I've recently been easing back into a brownie mode. I actually planned to make brownies this evening but was inspired to write this instead. Incredible timing!
[ growth // muscle growth // ass expansion // weight gain ]
Also on Metabods
1501 words
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"Itcsh duh mash brownie chrend."
"...chew your food, sis," said my roommate, Duron.
"It's the mass brownie trend!" I exclaimed, cutting up the rest of the pan of chocolate goodness, still warm out of the oven. The grid of fudgy squares (minus one) steamed through a perfectly crackled, shiny crust that caught the morning sun. "You haven't seen them? They've been all over my feed."
"You mean the gym bros drop shipping the experimental protein powder or whatever? Wasn't it banned?" His eyes narrowed at the pan of sweets in front of me, hovering with suspicion over his coffee.
"Not banned," I corrected, easing out a second brownie with my fingers. "I don't know, they had some legal or FDA hold ups after initial rollout. They had to shut down distribution but you can still order directly from the company. I don't think it's like, illegal or dangerous or whatever. It's just a meme."
"A meme?"
"Yeah, ya know. Whatever the mix of protein, vitamins, and macronutrients are, they're supposedly supercharged when you bake it, and it's supposed to give you like, slightly better gains, but it's kind of overblown. So fitness content creators keep making these like, joke warning videos with some ai muscle morph filter thrown on that makes them look huge. Like unreal, cartoon huge."
I whipped my phone on the counter and scrolled through my liked videos until I found the latest from a fitness model that I'd been following for a while. His enthusiasm for leg day and peachy physique had drawn me in a while ago, but lately most of his content was just getting views with this silly mass brownie meme. His boulder shoulders bounced atop massive biceps as he paused for a second, held up a brownie to his mouth, tossed the whole thing in, then continued on about proper form on split squats. He looked gigantic, like he'd been blown up to comical proportions, his ass and thighs smothering the bench as he kept readjusting his stance.
"And you're...sure that's a filter? It's not saying there is one."
"Yeah, something like that. He looks unbelievable, he was half that size like six months ago. It's like some running joke they're all doing."
"Okay but does it even work?"
"I-uh-no," I muttered though another mouthful, "but they taste good. I feel like it's getting kind of played out already, but thought I might as well try the recipe. You know I'm trying to cut down on sweets, and these are supposed to be more filling? Healthier? I don't really know." I brushed my hand along the soft cobblestones of my abs. "I'm still perfecting the recipe, but my secret is a tablespoon of espresso powder," I added with a wink.
"Well," said Duron, abandoning his mug to loop an arm through his shoulder bag. "Seems like it's already working." He gave my ass a playful swat before snatching a brownie out of the pan and heading out the door.
What's that supposed to mean, I thought, feeling my cheeks jiggle just a little longer than expected.
Duron wasn't the only one to point out my gains. I was already a mainstay at the gym, but started throwing myself into my workouts. The brownies gave me just the extra kick I needed. After a few weeks, I was putting on mass like crazy. After a couple months, I was sizing up my workout gear after a few too many embarrassing incidents with pant seams that couldn't take it anymore.
The wild part is, I basically gave up all supplements other than the brownies. They were my pre-workout, post-workout, and increasingly, a quick snack between sets. They were verging on becoming a meal replacement as my frequent baking solidified its place in the rhythm of my life. When my core lost definition and settled into a healthy paunch, or my ass and hamstrings bubbled out of proportion, or my pecs ballooned into heavy muscle tits, I wasn't all that concerned. I looked juicy and felt great.
I could sense the gravitational pull of attention whenever I was out and about. It was an odd thing to get used to, especially when I had a good pump going.
"You look...big," said one of my gym buds in the locker room, his eyes flitting between the shirt I was struggling to button over my pecs and tree trunk thighs that threatened to tear through a brand new pair of work slacks.
"Ah, thanks," I said. "I guess I've really been going at it."
"No, but like...bigger," he added, brows furrowing. "I don't think I usually have to look up that far."
"Maybe you're just slouching, bud." I clapped him on the shoulder and turned to leave, his confusion replaced by a fixation on the globes of my glutes switching back and forth.
I didn't think I was that big.
I settled into that rhythm for a while. Bake, gym, work, sleep, repeat, letting the bulk take its course. The brownies settled into the background noise of my life. I found myself munching on them not just around my workouts but as morning breakfast and a late night snack. I was steadily putting on size, not just stretching out my gym clothes but also outgrowing anything made to fit a body with normal proportions. At least I could share in my frustration with Duron, who rarely enters a gym yet beefed up from twink to twunk with a booty bigger than mine. We split a couple brownies over coffee every morning.
So I felt more than a little self-conscious getting dressed to meet up with someone I had matched with on a dating app. I tried a pair of athletic fit pants with added room in the legs and seat and they still looked painted on. Not to mention the sweater that strained uncomfortably across my chest and shoulders, bulging along my arms.
"Thanks for coming out with me, by the way. I haven't been on an actual date in I don't know how long." I smiled at the man sitting across from me in the middle of some new restaurant that was kind of millennial cringe but had decent cocktails. "And you look even cuter than your pics!"
"Thanks," he laughed. "Same to you. You look, um, bigger than yours."
"Yeah, I guess I've really been working out lately." I rolled my eyes through nervous laughter.
"Not that I'm complaining," he added quickly. "I just mean your profile said you were 6'0", I was not expecting you to be ducking through the doorway." His eyes widened with his own nervous chuckle.
"Well...I am, I think, last time I checked," I said. "I think this is just an old building, and these boots have a little bit of a heel." Come to think of it, I had been encountering a lot of short doorways lately. And not just ducking through, but having to turn my shoulders with an awkward shimmy. I felt a pang of embarrassment at a memory from earlier that day of my ass getting briefly stuck in a doorway that I was sure had to be under regulation width. My nervous discomfort was echoed by the feeling of my cheeks spilling out the sides and back of my seat. "I wish they would get decent chairs at these places. These are a little small, no?"
"Oh, um, mine's fine," he said, shifting empathetically in his seat. "We could see if there's a booth, if you want."
"No, it's fine," I demurred, trying to stay nonchalant as my thighs fought for room against the arms of my seat. "At least they're better than those cheap industrial metal stools--"
I was cut off my a series of sharp cracks, followed by a loud thud against the floor that managed to catch the entire establishment's attention. My chair collapsed, my landing cushioned by the padding around my overdeveloped glutes.
I stood up quickly, reassuring onlookers that I was fine as our server practically sprinted over. I bent down to help clear up the debris, stopping abruptly as the seams along the sides of my pants split down my thighs, terrified that the one in the back would soon follow.
"Ugh, that's the third pair this week," I groaned, spinning back around to my date. "Let me just--oh, sorry!" I apologized profusely as our server was knocked to the floor, winded after running headlong into my bubble butt. "That's...not the first time that's happened," I muttered, my anxiety spiking as I realized all eyes were still pointed in my direction.
"The chair or the server?" he asked, his lips twitching in amusement.
"Both," I sighed.
"Happens to the best of us," he said, offering an apologetic smile. "Maybe we can finish our drinks and go somewhere less...crowded?"
"Yeah," I agreed, stunned by the idea that I somehow hadn't just torpedoed this date. "I just made a batch of brownies, you've gotta try them!"
(Straight to Gay | Spicy | Big Butt | Short Story)
There bro was, caked up like you wouldn’t believe, in this tight little underwear-thong-thing, water bouncing off his cheeks like he was a goddamn model or something.
“Bro, quit staring and just come over.”
“Woah, no way bro, and in my defence those things were staring at me first. Since when have you had an ass like that?!”
“For as long as you’ve been gay, bro. Isn’t that why we are ‘friends’? Just so you can stare at these cheeks all day. Stop playing.”
Gay?! No way am I gay. Unless… no that can’t be right. I’m not gay… but bro’s ass is so fat, and tight, and fuckable…
“Bro, that foot long monster you’ve got in your pants is staring at me! Just get over here already!”
Shit, I’m hard. Rock hard. Wait a second, it’s 13 inches. This isn’t a foot long, it’s longer! I’ll teach bro a lesson for humiliating me like this, and if he doesn’t put those cheeks away it’ll be 14 inches real soon…
“Yeah that’s it, my walking, talking, dildo. Come over and stretch out your best friend’s perfect, tight hole.”
“Bro, shut up! The only thing I want to hear is the sound of those cheeks clapping as I shove my cock so far up your ass it pokes your guts.”
Story prompt: a guy asks his ex to meet him to talk about the end of their relationship (the person who asked the date was cheated on by him and wants revenge), before asking for the meeting he cast a curse on him, every time he says the word "ego" his dick and balls will swell, the goal is to make him become a human parade balloon. ;)
If I were a better writer, I would've worked in a runaway growth scene triggered by someone blasting a mashup of Ego (Beyoncé) and Alter Ego (Doechii). Alas!
And PSA: Please try and talk things through with your significant other before resorting to chaos magic. You will be held responsible by municipal services.
Also on Metabods
1010 words
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"Look, I know endless apologizing and groveling won't make things right, but I'm here to listen and put aside my ego-ooof..."
"Hm? Your what?"
"Sorry, I'm just really...um...uncomfortable, in these--"
"I'd be uncomfortable too, trying to set aside an ego that big."
"I--aughhh--meant these pants. They're really--don't give me that look."
"Oh don't worry, everyone in the park has seen how great your legs are. You got your daily ego massage."
"That's not fair. What's that supposed to...to...mean...sorry is it hotter out here? It's hotter, right? I feel very..."
"Stuffy?"
"Stuffed. Look, I'm really trying to be present, but I have a little bit of a...situation developing."
"Yet another 'situation,' of course. My mistake to take up a whole five minutes of your time. I thought you were putting down the ego--"
"Ego, ego ego! Yes, I am, I just mean--AUGHHH!"
"Shit, are you okay?! What's...what's that sound."
"I think it's my zipper."
"Your...oh wow, that's a lot to stuff."
"It won't...stop...growing. I don't know what's going on."
"A lot more..."
"I feel like my pants are about to bur--wait, what?"
"...A lot more than I expected..."
"You've got to be kidding me. You did this didn't you?"
"It--it was just supposed to be a small hex."
"This doesn't look very small."
"I mean it was just supposed to manifest by a certain percentage when activated by the trigger word. So whenever someone says--"
"Don't."
"--ego."
"Fuck! There goes the zipper. Was the goal to get me in trouble for public indecency? My briefs don't have much longer, and they're already soaked through. Was that also part of the curse?"
"Not even a full curse! Just a hex. A small hex. I wanted to teach you a lesson and make your most prized possession reflect your ego."
"Fuck, that was a big one. These pants are done for, they're in tatters."
"You know I'm still learning spell craft. I just maybe got the order of operations wrong."
"Yeah, maybe. Jesus, this thing's huge. It's not even fully hard and it's pulling my underwear apart. Can you please pause whatever this is? I can't even wear normal clothes at this point."
"Ok, um, maybe I can fix this. I just updated my spellbook app, there should be a straightforward reversal incantation. What's the opposite of ego? Oh shit."
"Ughhhh. It's...it's so big...it's not stopping."
"Are you actually getting hard?"
"I can't help it. It feels so good. It reaches up to my lips, that's so hot. I wonder what I taste like."
"You actually found a way to flip this in your favor."
"I'm already a freak, thanks to you. Just let me enjoy this."
"It's...just...massive..."
"Maybe the biggest cock ever. And it's all mine."
"A little egotistical, don't you think?"
"Wait, please, stop!"
"Whoa, it's past your head now."
"I noticed. It's not...it's not stopping. Why is it not stopping?"
"I don't know! I didn't say ego--"
"Fuck, that was the biggest spurt yet. My dick is about to rival my entire body, we have to hide somewhere until I can get this down."
"I don't think we're going anywhere. Look at your balls."
"Why? I can't even see them. Help me up--oof!"
"Careful, careful, they're weighing you down. They're already the size of beanbag chairs."
"Please, babe, you have to reverse this. I don't think it's stopping!"
"Okay, okay, I'm checking the app and...well there may be not be an easy fix."
"Are you fucking kidding me?! You're always doing reckless shit like this. Always half assing, not thinking anything through."
"Oh so now it's about me?"
"Yes, per usual, you have successfully managed to make it about you. Congratulations, yet again."
"God, you were always so insufferable, what was I ever thinking falling in love with a massive, throbbing--"
"Do not say it--"
"Ego!"
"Oof, I'm pinned to the ground. This thing's taller than me. This is messy even by your standards. I can feel it pulsing, it feels so good, so full."
"Messy?! I think it was pretty messy to hook up with your boyfriend's coworker at the holiday party!"
"Look, please, it was just the one time, there was the mistletoe over the doorway and we were being cute--"
"You should see how cute he is now. I don't think he'll be able to fit those cheeks through a typical doorway ever again. Oh, did that turn you on? You'll drown in your own precum, it's like a broken faucet up there. Maybe your boy toy around the corner can help clean up?"
"Please, that was just a fling, I made a mistake, I thought we already worked through that."
"Or the hunk from the moving company can help ferry you around with those balls."
"C'mon, were we even exclusive at that point?"
"Actually, they might soon be bigger than his truck. Looks like you're really enjoying this, huh? I can almost hear the eruption building."
"I, I, I can't help it. It's...too much...my dick is a monstrosity, just like my actions, I think you've made your point. C'mon, it's the size of a flagpole."
"Not quite, but almost! Maybe we can rush things a bit since you keep trying to rush closure. Maybe the whole world should see the manifestation of your egocentric--"
'Wait, no!"
"Egotistical,"
"Can we please just talk about this--"
"Ego--um--ist behavior!"
"Ooo I can feel it stretching, my balls are churning they're so full. It's...it's too much, I can't think, I'm...I'm losing control."
"Now you know how it feels. Your cockhead can probably be seen across half the city, and these balls are the size of SUVs. You want to be community dick, go ahead and flood the neighborhood with jizz."
"Can't, can't move. Gonna...cum..."
"I can already hear sirens a few blocks away. And looks like some news trucks beat them to it. We're gonna put on a show. So everyone can see how big that ego really is."
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