It was a hot night, the kind of night I like, the kind of night when I know it’s going to get raunchy at The Pit. As I prepared to leave my apartment and walk the five blocks to the club, I examined my latest body in the hall mirror with a thrill of anticipation.
The receding hairline and close crop was a new look for me but I liked the way it set off the cute, bearded face I’d acquired from that hot barista yesterday morning. My furry chest was nicely muscled and generous but not oversized arms made me look like I looked after myself. As an afterthought, I reckoned a couple of tatts would complete the look. I only had to say it and they were there, two stars, one above each pec where they met my delts.
Satisfied with my body, I turned my attention to clothing and decided I’d hit the club dressed in black leather motorcycle breeches with white stripes and a pair of knee high Dehners. Once again, I spoke the words, a statement of fact describing what I was wearing and reality complied, bending to the inevitability of my powers of suggestion leaving me dressed in form fitting leather that hugged my legs and feet with a gentle warm pressure.
Dressed and ready to rock, I adjusted my package through the supple leather and as an afterthought added a white cotton jockstrap for a little extra support. I looked perfect, a hot young muscle cub dressed in form fitting black leather. I’d be the star attraction of the evening and I began to chub up at the thought of all the hot bottoms I’d find to dominate later on.
Stepping out into the night, the humid air hit me like a fuzzy wall and I set off confidently in the direction of The Pit, the pleasant nervous energy of anticipation building as I strutted confidently through the streets. Turning the corner at the end of my block, I was barrelled into by a preppy looking kid in his early twenties who nearly knocked me off my feet as he tried to run past me. Losing his balance, he fell heavily into the gutter and stumbling unsteadily to his feet, began ranting at me.
“Look what you did you fucking fruit!” He yelled as he unsuccessfully attempted to brush off a wide streak of dirt from the front of his polo shirt. "Fuck, look at me! This shirt’s ruined.“
The shirt certainly was beyond repair. A wide rip he clearly hadn’t noticed revealed the pale skin of his right shoulder where the sleeve had partly separated from the body and numerous grimy marks marred the light blue fabric. Irritated by his self-indulgent arrogance, I felt a well of anger building in me and the tingling crackle of my power shimmered on the surface of my consciousness urging me to vent my frustration.
“Shirt?” I said questioningly, folding my arms to emphasise their bulk as I approached him slowly. "You’re not wearing a shirt. You prefer to go topless.“
The instant I said it, the bedraggled polo evaporated into thin air revealing a lean, pale body with the beginnings of a paunch around his navel. He looked vaguely puzzled, as he stood in front of me peering down at the grimy streaks that now clung to his skin as if he’d never been wearing the shirt when he fell.
"Shirt?” He replied dazedly, absently rubbing at a small cut on his shoulder. "Listen fag, just cos I prefer to go topless on a warm night doesn’t give fruits like you an open invite to hit on me.“
"You sure about that? After all you’re a fag too otherwise why else would you be on your way to The Pit?”
“I, uh, I don’t know.” he replied rubbing his forehead. “Look, just leave me alone, I’m not looking for any trouble OK?”
His sudden submissiveness was intriguing and I suddenly had an idea where to take the scene. I struck an attitude in front of him flexing my new muscles ostentatiously and fixing him with a hard stare as I prepared the words in my mind.
“You’re very muscular though.” I taunted. "You must work out at least five times a week.“
He shuddered slightly. The ripple in reality quickly engulfed him, his thin, pallid physique swelling with hard wrought muscle and sinew as he stumbled, adjusting to the thick frame of a hard core iron junkie. His clothes changed instantaneously, the ratty cargo shorts transforming into shiny, loose basketball shorts over spandex compression gear while his beat up sneakers morphed into Converse All-stars.
In a moment, the scrawny youth was gone, replaced by an off season bodybuilder dressed in the clichéd gym rat uniform that makes them look like adults dressed as kids. He gazed dumbly around himself, clearly having forgotten what he was doing standing on the sidewalk talking to me.
"You eat well too though don’t you.” I stated firmly. "That’s how you stay so ripped.“
The change came quicker this time, the soft covering of fat at his hips, chest, arms and abdomen melting away to reveal striated muscle bisected by a network of veins that spoke of fastidious attention to macros and meal plans. His clothing changed again too, a backwards baseball cap now perched precariously on top of a mane of carefully styled hair while his compression shorts extended into shiny workout tights and his Converse morphed into expensive looking purple high-tops.
He preened himself, subtly flexing his arms and causing the veins to pop a little more. His abrasive arrogance had completely evaporated by now, replaced with the self-assured confidence of a man who knows he looks good and isn’t afraid to brag about it.
"You know it bro!” He said with a smirk, clearly keen to show a lesser mortal that you only get to be his size through a supreme effort of hard work and dedication. "They love to worship my guns down at The Pit, in fact, I gotta make tracks or I’ll be late.“ He continued.
"Well all that work certainly pays off.” I replied, indicating in the direction of the club with the implication we should walk together. "That’s why you got that sleeve tattoo isn’t it.“
"Uh yeah” he said vaguely, examining himself with a confused look as the intricate design burst forth across the taut, tanned skin of his swollen right arm. “Yeah… those little guys dig the tats. Has ‘em begging to worship the muscle too, know what I mean bro?” He said nudging me with an oversized tricep as we walked through the thinning evening crowds in the direction of The Pit.
I mumbled agreement but the jock bro frat boy thing was never really my style and it was already beginning to grate on me. That said, I was suprised how good the guy looked with a little meat on him and it gave me an idea.
With an outline of a plan for how I could make my evening more fun, I decided to change the dynamic.
“I love your leather jeans.” I said, matter of factly. "They’re custom made aren’t they.“
"Are they?” He said uncertainly, his stride adjusting subtly as the spandex workout tights and basketball shorts shifted seamlessly into smooth black leather pants. His high-tops crept up his legs, transforming rapidly into duplicates of my own polished black Dehners, the metal capped heels clicking smartly on the sidewalk as we continued to walk toward The Pit.
“Sure, that’s why they fit so snugly against your ass and make you horny when you wear them.”
“Yeah… Horny.” He echoed vaguely, more as a statement than a question. “Mmm, you know it man!” The overconfident look in his eyes had begun to change to one of lust and I laughed to myself as he ran his thick callused hands over the tight globes of his ass, clearly relishing the feel of the leather.
Looking over at him as we neared the club, I caught him stealing glances at me. A light sweat had broken out on his smooth, hairless chest and he directed my gaze down to his crotch where his thick cock was now clearly visible snaking down one pant leg. He grabbed it suggestively.
“Just wait till I get in there tonight man,” he continued, excitedly. “Those little twinks aren’t going to know what hit ‘em!”
I smiled back at him, impressed, despite myself with the incredible changes my powers of suggestion had wrought on this unsuspecting man. He was as hot as fuck now and the insistent tingle of excitement in my groin was getting the better of me as I made up my mind where to take the scene.
“Twinks?” I questioned with a laugh, preparing to seal his fate with a few final changes.
“You don’t fuck little guys. Let’s face it, you’re definitely no top I mean, just look at those cuffs and chains.”
He stumbled slightly in surprise as a pair leather cuffs bound his wrists and a short length of chain drew his hands behind his back. I was impressed, despite myself and I nearly creamed my jock as I took in the now slightly submissive posture my leather clad creation had adopted.
We’d arrived at the entrance of the club by now and the warm night air was filled with the dull thud of a heavy bassline pulsing deep within. My new leather man was about to reach out to knock on the door when I checked him and drew him towards me.
He put up no resistance as I took the chains that bound his wrists and pulled them gently nearer to me. His eyes were filled with lust as he leant towards me expectantly and I could almost feel his heartbeat in the heat of his ragged breaths.
“Yes… I know what you are.” I whispered, pausing to lean in and nibble the soft skin of his ears.
“The shaved head gives it away” I went on. “Yeah, you’re just a horny muscle slave looking for a master!”
He nodded feebly as the final change engulfed him, his ball cap and the hair it covered vanishing leaving nothing but short stubble.
A deep moan escaped his lips and he dropped his head submissively as he took his rightful place behind me.
Satisfied, I knocked firmly on the door, looking forward with a pleasurable sense of anticipation to what would now definitely be a night to remember.