I’ve been taking to him on my personal account. He got me to the gym in a polo and khaki shorts like a good preppy muscle boy 💪 for sure would recommend giving him a follow.
Kye was you average university athlete, mainly there to get a degree a generic sports degree to get a job as a personal trainer in the high end gyms, he rarely went to his lecture but always got outstanding grades. It wasn't that he wasn't passionate about sports or health, in fact he had taught himself pretty much everything the university had to offer before he had even gotten there. He was only there for a piece of paper. He spent most of his time in the gym, lifting weights whilst also training some guys on the side for some cash in hand work but he always made sure to put his own workouts first. His body was almost perfect and he loved every inch of it.
Although he wished he could be bigger. He saw some of the guys in the gym, how their tank tops looked like they could burst at any moment. One time he even saw a guys tank split because of an insane chest pump. He loved huge guys, wanted to be fucking huge like them. He would picture his gym crush and how his entire car would bounce and wobble when he squeezed his massive frame inside, he wanted a guy like that in his bed, he wanted to be bigger than that but a body like that would probably take him another 15 years to build and he wanted to enjoy and flaunt that size before he left uni.
Kye was in the gym when he saw a huge lumbering giant walk in. The man looked like a superhero right out of a comic and something possessed Kye out of no where. He followed the huge meathead to the locker room.
Kye stood there seeing the giant block almost all the lockers on a wall his back was so wide and Kye got nervous, a lump formed in his throat and he spat out what he had to say.
"so...how do I get as big as you bro"
the massive dude turned around looking around the locker room checking to see if he was talking to someone else, he let out a thunderous chuckle.
"you talkin to me pretty boy?"
Kye grew red in the face "y-yeah man, look I been lifting for a few years and I really wanna get fucking huge like you man"
"aaa just keep at it guy, youll be massive like mean real soon"
"how old are you?"
"Im 22 bro"
"22!" Kye yelled "bro im almost 23 how the fuck you get so big man, you gotta tell me your secret"
"hmmm, look, you're kinda cute bro so, I'll let you in on a little secret, for a trade of course"
"Anything man, anything, Ive tried everything I know with diet and routine and I'm just not swelling up like other guys are"
"I'll give you my secret if you tell me why you wanna be so big, annnnd, for a date" the large man raise his eyebrow and walked closer to Kye.
Kye's heart started pounded as he imagined what it'd be like to have his skull crushed by the giant bodybuilder's monstrous thighs
"o-okay, ummm, phew, is it hot in here?" kye tripped and stumbled over his words like it was his first time ever talking to a guy.
"so, why you wanna be big pretty boy?"
Suddenly the man had is arms leaning on the doorframe behind Kye forming an arch over him looking down at him.
"eer, well, I-I like size and, I like guys with size and I wanna be big y-ya know" Kye tried to avoid eye contact as the massive brute leaned in
"So you like big guys hey? why don't you keep your lil jock bod, let a mountain like myself have fun with you"
"Because I ain't no bodies bottom bitch, believe me man, if I was as big as you, I'd of already throw you against the wall and you'd be beggin for it"
The massive meat head in front of him bit his lip
"so you promise, once you're as big as me you'll be tossing me around?"
Kye smirked trying to keep up the confident façade
"yeah bro, but gotta warn you, I'm already a catch, once guys see me with arms tearing out of my shirt and my huge muscled fat ass squeezed into tight gym shorts you'll probably have some competition"
"oh I like a cocky meathead"
the man turned around walking back to his gym bag pulling out a small vial of orange fluid, he handed it to kye
"I'm Jason by the way"
"What is this?"
"My secret mixture, drink it man, it'll make you real big...and give you that fat juicy ass you want"
Kye instantly downed the drink and gave Jason a wink.
"Alright, Im gonna go workout man"
"See you tomorrow pretty boy" Jason laughed as Kye walked out.
Kye was stepping into his car, having to stop to catch his breath, he worked harder than he ever had. He knew the vitamin shot he was given wasn't going to do anything but it was at least energising. Kye felt a strange tingling, as the veins on his pelvis swelled with blood pumping downwards. Kye gritted his teeth feeling like he was about to get hard and suddenly he watched as his package swelled and doubled in size in his pants.
Kye jumped in his car feeling his thighs and arms swell. Like his pump was subsiding but his muscles weren't shrinking down to normal size.
He drove home, gritting his teeth and occasionally grunting the entire way.
Kye stepping of of his car feeling his shirt tight around his chest and arms. He let out a tired sigh feeling strange and walked inside. Kye saw himself in the mirror, his shirt tightly pulled across body. He pulled off his shirt seeing his abs slightly stretched out, rubbing his stomach watches his package swell again.
UUUUUGGGGhhhhhh He groaned.
"W-what the fuck is going on"
Kye watches as his bulge swelled outwards in his pants straining against the fabric, as his stomach swelled outwards with it.
"W-WHAT THE FUCK MY, MY ABS"
Kye grabbed his stomach feeling it strain
UUUUUUUGGGGHHHH-UUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRPPPPP
Kye let out a painful groan that turned into a belch as tears started to form in his eyes, his perfect 6 pack was gone swelled out like he had been bulking all year round.
Kye couldn't hold back the belches escaping his mouth and with each on his body changed. His arms swelled bigger, his thighs swells bigger.
He watched helplessly in the mirror unable to stop the changes, no matter how hard he pushed his stomach trying to get it to shrink the only thing he managed to do was push out another belch. Kye mercilessly began scratching at his jaw and neck feeling an annoying itch take over. He was too busy watching as his body swelled up to notice the changes in his face. Kye finally looked up from his bloated stomach to see himself, hairy, big and bulky.
"WHAT THE FUCK, I" Kye pinched the side of his waist in disbelief
BUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPPP
Kye's massive meaty hand felt is muscled gut vibrate as he belched. Feeling a surge of change again, but he didn't see himself get any bigger in the mirror, he heard a slight ripping noise and looked around. Turning to the side he saw the fabric of his gym shorts tight, torn and ripped over his massive muscular ass. His face turned bright red.
"Oh god..I'm...uuggh I'm like a fat bear"
Kye's stomach grumbled and he made his way to the kitchen poking and patting his gut hoping by some mirecal it would shrink and turn back into a six pack.
Kye sat in the gym locker room trying to hide his new burly body under bagging clothing. Embarrassed and hoping Jason would walk in at any moment. After about an hour Jason walked in.
"H-Hey Jason"
"Oh hey Pretty Boy, hows it feel bein big"
"I" Kye couldn't even finish his sentence before letting out a monstrous belch
"I didn't ask for this"
"yeah you did bro, you wanted to be big"
"AND NOW LOOK AT THIS, WHERE ARE MY ABS IM TUBBY" Kye lifted his shirt and poked at the muscled slab
"Man you aint tubby, you bulky, thick muscle"
"But I wanted my abs bro, I wanted to look like some pro bodybuilder not like some kinda burping werewolf"
Kye rubbed his gut cocking his mouth open belching causing Jason to laugh. Kye's face turned bright red
"Dude stop laughing and fucking do something, uuuggghhh"
"alright bro, quit the complaining I might have something for you"
"Anything is better than this man"
Jason handed Kye a vial filled with bright pink liquid
UUUURpp "so, this'll fix me?"
"Oh man, it'll give you the perfect body"
Kye looked at it suspiciously feeling the concrete wall he had for a stomach. He closed his eyes and downed, a few moments passed and Kye didn't feel much different, when suddenly the familiar sensation rose up from his gut to his throat.
UUUUUHHGG-UUUUUURRRRRPPPP
Kye's eyes widen and his face turned white
"WHA-UUUUUURRRPPPP DID-UUUUURRRRRRPP YOU GIV- UUUURRRPP ME?!"
Kye tried to speak more but he struggled to form a full sentence from his constant belching
"Looking good man" Jason laughed
Kye, felt is rock hard bloated gut and heard the sound of tearing fabric as his muscles bulged out of his shit, soon he was left standing there in the gym locker room in nothing but his underwear.
Kye looked at himself in the mirror disappointed by his huge muscle gut, he cocked his mouth open and belched.
Jason let out a booming laugh "bro you look like you take roids and smash 6 protein shakes hourly"
"bro why'd you do this" Kye sheepishly asked
"because you wanted to me big"
"then why not make me like you, why give me this huge gu-UUUUURRP"
"Coz you were cocky, and I find it hot when cocky guys get taken down a peg"
"oh" kye smiled "so now you've gotten you kick I can go back right?"
"nah, you were a pretty boy jock, now you can enjoy being a bulky cunt"
Kye went to walk away from the mirror, hearing his underwear start to rip around is massive muscled ass. That'll teach him to take stuff from strangers in the locker room.
It was supposed to just be a small tattoo. The first one he would get.
Ethan had never been the intimidating type. He was thin, nervous, the kind of person people accidentally interrupted in conversations and ignored because of his weak appearance. At twenty-three years old, he never had a girlfriend and was the guy everyone talked over, the guy who apologized even when he hadn't done anything wrong. So when he finally decided to get a tattoo, he wanted something simple, something that would make him look a little tougher.
He finally gathered the courage to get one and went to a tattoo shop.
The tattoo artist stood tall behind the counter, broad-shouldered and heavily built. Tattoos covered both arms, crawling up his neck and disappearing beneath the sleeves of his black shirt.
The guy noticed he was nervous and immediately asked: "First time?".
And Ethan nodded, embarrassed by how obvious his fear was, as the artist opened a book of designs.
"Looking for something small?" the artist asked. Ethan nervously nodded. The artist smiled and said: "I think I have just the thing".
And there it was: A dragon. An oriental style dragon. Powerful. Fierce. Exactly the meaning he wanted to be associated with. Ethan stared at the design for a few seconds. It was bigger than what he had originally planned but he was tired of seeming weak and something about it felt right.
"Yeah", he finally said. "Let’s do that one".
The artist’s smile widened. "Excellent choice".
A few minutes later, Ethan was sitting in the chair, trying not to tense up as the machine buzzed to life.
The moment the needle touched his skin, he felt a strange jolt in his arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was noticeable enough that he flinched.
"Is that normal?" he asked.
"Depends on the ink", the tattoo artist said with a small smile. "You never know how the body will react".
Ethan frowned, immediately feeling ridiculous for worrying.
Once finished, the tattoo looked incredible. It had a lot of detail and looked imposing. A black dragon in his right bicep.
As Ethan was about to leave, the tattoo artist called out to him.
"Hey. Don't forget to take care of it"
Ethan stopped and turned around. "Uh... what?"
The artist pointed toward the counter. "You forgot the aftercare kit".
"Oh. Right". Feeling slightly embarrassed, Ethan grabbed the small bag containing the cleaning supplies and left the store, returning to his apartment. As he walked down the street, he glanced at the dragon on his arm. For a moment, he could have sworn the ink seemed darker than before.
The next morning, he woke up with a strange heaviness in his arm. Something about it felt different. He tried to shake off the feeling and stepped in front of the mirror.
The tattoo looked bigger.
At first he thought he was imagining it. The tail seemed longer. The scales seemed to cover more skin than before. Then he noticed something else. His arm looked bigger, his bicep was straining against the sleeve, harder and thicker than ever. And not only that. He could feel a strength in his arm he had never felt before. Ethan spent several minutes flexing in front of the mirror. He knew he should be worried, but every time he looked at the size of his bicep, he worried less and less.
By the end of the first week the tattoo now covered a larger part of his arm. His arm looked defined like those of a professional bodybuilder, even though he hadn’t lifted a single weight in his life. It looked absurd compared to the rest of his body.
Days later one afternoon he felt the same tingling sensation as always traveling across his shoulder. He looked at the tattoo and noticed new black scales were appearing near his chest. Minutes later, his shirt began to tighten.
He looked down watching how the fabric of his shirt was slowly stretching as his pectorals pushed against the tight shirt. His pecs were swelling relentlessly, massive slabs of muscle ballooning outward. The pressure built until –pop– the buttons flew like gunfire, leaving his enormous pectorals completely exposed. Two thick rock hard mountains rising and falling with every breath, glistening with a light sheen of sweat.
And so, over time, each new blot of black ink brought with it a new wave of energy, a strange jolt under his skin that stimulated that area, making it progressively more pleasurable. His shoulders already widened, his chest thick, his other arm also massive. His shirts became too tight, so he decided to start wearing more tank tops in order to show off his muscles. Ethan loved his more rugged gym bro appearance.
Next came Ethan's once soft, unremarkable midsection. It has transformed into a rock-hard, deeply etched six-pack that now commanded worship of its own. V-lines appearing that framed his lower abs and pointed toward his thick, throbbing cock.
He remembered what the tattoo artist had said about taking care of the tattoo. The strange thing was that every time he looked at it, he felt an urge to do something. Massage it. A few push-ups. A quick workout. Anything. As if the tattoo disliked staying idle.
He spent long periods looking at it in the mirror, massaging it and running his fingers over the scales, admiring how they spread across his body. Over time, his life revolved around the gym, working out constantly and eating more protein. He knew the dragon would reward him for it, every workout becoming easier than the last, each new muscle giving the scales more space to claim. And the pleasure of watching his muscles grow became better and better.
Then, nearly a month after getting the tattoo, one night while lying alone in his bed, he was rewarded. Ethan felt a sudden surge of raw energy flood his groin. His once inferior, small cock began to throb and pulsate, forcing him to thrust his hips forward instinctively as a prominent, obscene bulge strained against the front of his boxers. Blood rushed hot and heavy into the shaft, stretching and expanding its length inch by inch with every powerful heartbeat, thickening it into a heavy, veined monster that curved upward aggressively. At the same time, his balls swelled dramatically, growing fuller and heavier as they dropped low between his spread thighs, forcing his legs apart to accommodate their new weight. The thin fabric of his boxers quickly grew soaked and sticky with thick streams of precum that leaked endlessly from the swollen head. Pleasure surged through him in waves, yet no matter how desperately his newly enhanced cock twitched and throbbed, he couldn’t release, not yet. The dragon wasn’t finished with him.
Over the following weeks the dragon kept expanding across the rest of his chest, back and legs. Reaching his spine, the change became impossible to ignore. A powerful stretch ran through his body. His back cracked. His posture straightened. He could feel himself growing as the dragon crossed his vertebra. The world seemed to shrink around him. His legs thickened with dense muscle. His calves expanded. His feet grew so much they could break a pair of sneakers. And it was no longer just confidence, he felt a strength that made him feel superior.
There was a new confidence dominating his body, and people noticed. People looked at him differently and treated him differently. Strangers seemed to respect him more. Some even stepped out of his way without thinking. Ethan found himself enjoying that feeling much more than he wanted to admit.
It was inevitable that his shy personality would begin to fade. His only focus became pushing his body further, seeing how far it could be transformed. He started admiring himself whenever he passed a reflective surface. He stopped caring as much about things like hygiene, often leaving the gym drenched in sweat and carrying the scent of his workouts with him. He found himself cutting people off in conversations, taking up more space, speaking louder. Before long, he was acting like an inconsiderate brute who believed everything belonged to him.
New desires surfaced as well. Once, the thought of being with a man would have seemed strange to him. Now it barely registered as worth questioning. More and more, he found himself drawn to showing other men where they stood beneath him.
The tattoo on his back now reached his neck. And with it he could feel his voice deepening, becoming more masculine. Grunts. Beastly sounds. The changes reached his face. His facial features became more symmetrical and masculine. His jaw grew broader, his features sharper and more rugged. He looked older as though several years had passed in only a few seconds.
The last change could feel penetrating his brain. Fogging his mind and his once intelligence. Memories disappearing. Thoughts that once came effortlessly now drifted away like smoke. His head felt heavy. Slow. A dull primitive warmth spread through his thoughts, smoothing away worries, questions, and doubts until there was almost nothing left. He couldn't recall his own name. His old life felt worthless. Why would a beast like him concern itself with the worries of a timid man?.
And just like that, the mental transformation reached its climax. His entire body seized as his newly massive cock surged, thick veins pulsing along its enormous length. A guttural, broken moan tore from his throat as he erupted violently, rope after heavy rope of thick, potent cum blasting out of him in powerful jets that splattered across his own carved abs and chest, painting the roaring dragon tattoo. With every devastating spurt, the last fragile memories of his old, weak self were violently wiped away, erased completely by the dragon’s overwhelming power. His eyes rolled back, mouth hanging slack and open as a thin strand of drool slipped down his chin, dripping onto his glistening pecs. His heavy balls continued to throb and tighten, pumping out the final surges of his old life. When it finally subsided, his body relaxed, now utterly transformed, completely owned.
Only the dragon remains.
Weeks passed. At first, it was enough to admire itself. Hours spent in front of mirrors, tracing the scales that covered its body and flexing the massive muscles beneath them. The Dragon had not transformed itself into such a magnificent creature merely to be ignored but just one man wasn't enough. The dragon demanded more attention.
He was satisfied posting pics online, watching the flood of comments and admiration pour in from strangers. But the dragon's hunger continue to grow. Before long, it found itself browsing apps like Grindr, inviting admirers into its place.
He stood at the center of the dimly lit room, his massive muscular frame gleaming beneath a coat of oil. Admirers gathered around him, hungry eyes fixed on the fierce black ink dragon tattoo that coiled across his powerful chest and shoulder. One man already eager on his knees. Various men, stripped, hard and trembling with lust, stepped forward carrying more bottles of warm, slick oil.
He raised his arms, flexing slowly, letting his enormous pecs bounce. The tattoo stretched and shifted with the movement, scales gleaming as the thick streams of oil poured over his shoulders, his bulging biceps, and heavy slabs of pecs. Hands being everywhere, lips and tongues traced every cut and curve of his muscle. One of them let out a desperate moan and buried his face hungrily between the massive, sweat-slicked mountains of his pecs, pressing deep into the warm sweat.
They all moaned against him, entranced and lost in the heat of his scent.
He grabbed one man by the hair and forced him down to his knees, then the next. They had fed his hunger. Now it was his turn to feed theirs.
One admirer was bent over the wide bench, oiled ass up, while he drove him into him in long, punishing strokes, his massive chest pressed against the man’s back, the dragon tattoo rubbed against sweating skin. Another was pulled up into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, impaled as he bounced him like he weighed nothing. The remaining ones made to kneel and lick every drop of sweat and oil from his flexing muscles while he fucked their friends senseless, tongues dragging desperately over his pecs, sucking on his nipples, kissing the dragon’s roaring maw. Every thrust, every moan, every slap of flesh pleasing the beast, then rewarding them with his own seed while they begged for more.
Finally, standing in front of the mirror, the Dragon ran his now thicker, more sculpted hand over the black scales that wrapped around his body. A faint, meaningless echo of the weak creature he once was passed through him and faded almost instantly. He took a progress pic, knowing that the tattoo would grow even more, spreading beneath his skin and slowly claiming more of him with every passing day. Soon the Dragon would cover everything, and he could hardly wait to see what he would become.
The dragon rests, satisfied… for now.
——————
My longest TF story yet! I've been inactive for a while, but thanks to everyone who follows, likes, and supports my stories
Jake wiped the sweat from his forehead and dropped the heavy dumbbells with a loud clang. At 26, he was already in incredible shape — broad shoulders, thick arms, and a solid six-pack that showed even through his tank top. Next to him, his boyfriend Ryan, 27, was doing the same. Ryan’s long dark hair was tied back, his body equally shredded after months of brutal training.
They were known around the gym as the “gym monsters” — a hot, dedicated gay couple who pushed each other harder than anyone else. But lately, it wasn’t enough.
“Fuck, man… we’ve been killing it for months and I still feel like we’re plateauing,” Jake muttered, breathing heavily.
Ryan nodded, flexing his arms in the mirror. “Same. I want to look monstrous. Like those freaks on stage. We need something more.”
That’s when they heard the rumors.
There was a guy — a heavily tattooed extreme bodybuilder who rarely showed his face in normal gyms. People said he had “special supplements.” Pills that could turn good physiques into absolute freaks in weeks. Some called him a legend. Others called him dangerous.
Jake looked at Ryan.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Ryan smirked. “Let’s find him.”
Two days later, they stood in the back corner of an underground gym most people didn’t even know existed.
The man waiting for them was everything the rumors promised.
He was massive — easily 280 pounds of pure, veiny muscle. His arms, chest, and neck were covered in dense, intricate tattoos. A short buzz cut and a thick beard completed the intimidating look. He held a small brown bottle in one huge hand.
“You two the couple looking for fast results?” he asked, his voice deep and rough.
Jake nodded, trying not to stare too obviously.
“Yeah. We’ve been training hard, but we want more. We want to look like… you.”
The tattooed bodybuilder smiled slowly and opened the bottle. He poured a few small white pills into his palm and held them out.
“These will make you look like me,” he said simply. “Maybe even bigger. But once you start… there’s no going back.”
Jake and Ryan looked at each other, eyes gleaming with excitement.
They reached out their hands.
Back in their apartment that same night, Jake and Ryan didn’t waste any time.
They sat on the edge of their bed, the small brown bottle between them. The heavily tattooed bodybuilder’s words still echoed in their heads.
“Once you start… there’s no going back.”
Jake looked at Ryan, his boyfriend’s long dark hair falling over his shoulders.
“You sure about this?” Jake asked.
Ryan nodded, eyes burning with ambition.
“We’ve worked our asses off for months. I want to be huge. I want to be monsters.”
They poured the pills into their palms — six each, just like the man had told them.
Then, without another word, they swallowed them all at once.
At first, nothing happened.
Then the heat hit.
It started in their stomachs and exploded outward like fire in their veins. Both men gasped, doubling over as their bodies began to change at an alarming speed.
Jake’s shoulders widened rapidly, his traps rising high. His arms swelled, veins popping as biceps and triceps ballooned outward. His chest pushed forward, growing thicker and heavier. At the same time, his face changed — jaw becoming squarer, brow heavier. His long blond hair started thinning dramatically, receding fast from his forehead.
Ryan was changing even faster. His long dark hair fell out in clumps as he ran his hands through it in panic. His scalp smoothed out into a tight buzz cut. His neck thickened, his chest exploded with new muscle, and his abs became deeper, more blocky. A thick, dark beard began sprouting across his face.
Both of them stumbled to the mirror, eyes wide with shock.
“What the fuck…” Jake whispered, touching his rapidly receding hairline. His once pretty-boy face now looked older, harder, more masculine.
Ryan stared at his own reflection, running a hand over his freshly buzzed head and thick new beard.
“I… I look like him,” he said, voice deeper than before. “We both do…”
The changes were still happening.
Their bodies were growing bigger, heavier, more extreme with every second.
And they couldn’t stop it.
The heat inside their bodies didn’t stop.
Jake and Ryan stood in front of the large gym mirror, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and disbelief as the changes continued at a frightening pace.
Jake’s long blond hair had already fallen out completely. His scalp was now smooth and shiny, but that wasn’t all. Intricate black tribal tattoos began to appear across his head, spreading like living ink — bold lines, patterns, and symbols covering his entire scalp and down the back of his neck. At the same time, large black gauges stretched his earlobes wider and wider.
Ryan’s transformation was just as extreme. His dark hair vanished, leaving a perfectly bald, heavily tattooed head. The same tribal patterns crawled across his skull, down his neck, and even onto his face. His ears stretched painfully as thick gauges appeared in them.
Both men were breathing hard, their bodies growing even more massive. Their shoulders broadened further, their chests thickened into heavy slabs of muscle, and their arms ballooned with new size and vascularity. Their faces aged and hardened — deeper lines, stronger jaws, more intense expressions.
Jake touched his bald, tattooed head with trembling fingers.
“I… I’m bald,” he whispered, voice much deeper than before. “And these tattoos… they just appeared…”
Ryan stared at his own reflection, running his hands over the fresh ink covering his skull. His new gauges felt heavy in his stretched earlobes.
“Fuck… we look like him,” he said, eyes wide. “We look exactly like him.”
They turned to face each other.
Two massively muscled, bald, heavily tattooed men with thick beards and stretched ear gauges stared back at one another. They looked dangerous. Extreme. Almost inhuman.
Jake’s hand moved down to his own chest, feeling the new density of his muscle.
“I… I should be freaking out,” he said quietly.
Ryan swallowed, his eyes dark with a mix of shock and sudden, undeniable arousal.
“Yeah… but you’re not, are you?”
Neither of them was.
The transformation was still going on.
And deep down, they were starting to love it.
Jake and Ryan stood side by side in front of the large gym mirror, breathing heavily.
The changes had slowed down, but the result was undeniable.
They looked exactly like the heavily tattooed bodybuilder who had given them the pills.
Their heads were now completely bald and covered in dense, intricate tribal tattoos that ran down their necks and across their faces. Large black gauges stretched their earlobes. Their faces had aged and hardened, with deeper lines, stronger jaws, and thick beards. Their bodies were monstrous — huge, veiny, and covered in even more tattoos that had appeared out of nowhere.
Jake slowly raised a hand and touched his smooth, tattooed scalp.
“Fuck…” he whispered. “We look just like him.”
Ryan turned his head, staring at his own reflection, then at Jake. His eyes were wide, but there was something else in them now — a dark, hungry spark.
“Yeah… we do,” he said, voice low and rough. “Bald. Tattooed. Fucking huge.”
They looked at each other.
Two identical, extreme muscle freaks stared back.
Jake’s hand moved down to his massive, tattooed chest, then lower across his ridged abs.
“I should be losing my mind right now,” he said quietly.
Ryan stepped closer, their tattooed faces inches apart.
“But you’re not,” he replied, a slow grin forming. “Neither am I.”
Jake let out a shaky laugh.
“Oops.”
They both looked back at the mirror, flexing their massive arms, turning slightly to admire their new, monstrous bodies.
The pills had done exactly what the man promised.
And neither of them wanted to go back.
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Your only desirez should be getting as big as possible, dont worry how bad you reek, dont worry about the protein bar wrapper stuck to your ass, or the stains on your shirt.
Guys find it hot when you lazily belch mid sentence
The flashing text burns into your retinas: Ruin Yourself.
You try to look away from the screen, but a sudden, heavy heat pools in your gut, melting your frantic resistance into pure, helpless arousal. The seams of your grey sweatpants groan loudly as thick, dense slabs of muscle rapidly pack onto your thighs. A pungent wave of raw, unwashed jock musk hits the back of your throat; a thick, intoxicating cloud of stale sweat, heavy pheromones, and sour testosterone blooming directly from your expanding pores.
You gasp, horrified by how deeply your own sudden stench turns you on. Your fingers grow too meaty and clumsy to hold your phone, knocking a half-eaten protein bar onto the couch. As your massive, heavy glutes spread across the cushions, you feel the sticky foil wrapper plaster itself firmly against your sweaty, expanding ass.
Don't worry how bad you reek, the hypnotic programming drones in your emptying head.
You look down, watching your swelling pecs stretch a dark, greasy stain across your straining shirt. The panic fully evaporates, replaced by a mindless, throbbing need to just get bigger. Your traps rise to swallow your neck, and your jaw goes slack as a deep, rumbling belch erupts from your throat, leaving the sour taste of cheap whey and laziness on your tongue.
You don't even bother to cover your mouth. You just sit there, marinating in your own rank heat, stroking your swelling pecs, a perfectly ruined, brainless muscle slob.
A bunch of the neighborhood dads are hosting a barbequeue, and they've invited me to come, but I feel like I don't really fit in among them with all their thick beards and beer guts. Any way you can help me out here?
Being freshly out of college and being invited to the neighbourhood barbeque pool party can be scary, especially when the one inviting you was the hot DILF from the office you worked at. A good 6'6" of pure, furry muscle, emanating strength and warmth, but with a kindness in his eyes — and a jiggle in his ass — that made you swoon every time your gaze fell upon him. The dads of the neighbourhood often hold barbecues and other parties on weekends, it was only polite to introduce you to your future friends!
As you stressed about the upcoming barbecue, your doorbell rang. Weird, you didn't expect anyone to come over, or anything of the sort. But it brought you out of your stupor, so you got up and went to open the door. Weirdly enough, there wasn't anyone at the door; maybe some kids were playing a prank on you.
But right as you were about to leave, you noticed a package waiting for you on your doorstep. That was just as weird, as you hadn't ordered anything online. So, of course, you brought it inside without checking what it could be.
You could feel some tension building in your stomach. Indeed, opening an unlabeled package from an unknown sender right before meeting new people was quite courageous, no? But as you opened the package, all tension you had suddenly dropped as you were met with... A beer pack? Sure enough, six beer bottles were in the package, and nothing more, not even any shipping protections. This must have been delivered by hand, then.
As you grabbed one of the bottles, curiosity started creeping up in your head. Nevermind the unknown sender, this strange bottle was much more interesting. Behind the label, blurred out as if it had spent some time in water so that it was impossible to decipher the brand, the beer had a rich color, akin to that of amber. And with a shrug, you opened it, and its buttery aroma floated over the room, bubbles faintly popping inside the glass. You had rarely seen a beer so appetising, and you found yourself unable to resist the urge to just gulp it down.
As you somehow expected, that was absolutely delicious. Light as the wind, fresh as the purest of waters, yet sparkling like a million tiny fireworks on your tongue, you had never tasted anything of the sort. It was so good, in fact, that you reached out to grab a second can; but before you could even touch it, you were immediately distracted by a deep rumbling coming from inside your stomach. After a groan escaped your lips, you brought a hand to your stomach to see what was happening, and got surprised with what your hand was met with: your shirt had somehow ridden up, exposing a little bit of flesh that was softer than you remembered.
It should have been scary, or at the very least a bit surprising, but no, it just... Felt good. Comfortable. Even a bit exciting. As you started feeling hot, you got rid of you short altogether to have a direct view at your torso; and the sight did not disappoint! Your stomach looked plumpier than mere moments ago, and, grabbing it again, you noticed that it was indeed softer. As for your chest? Long gone was the flat skin, now two mounds of flesh had risen like bread in an oven.
Moving your arms around to feel your new torso did not feel like it usually did. Intrigued, you gave them a look: them too had grown quite a bit. They looked round and soft, but a quick flex was more than enough to confirm the amount of muscle hidden underneath.
And then, everything began itching. But it wasn't as uncomfortable as one could expect, more taking the shape of a warmth spreading all throughout your body. It began deep inside your belly, before spreading to your torso, legs, and arms. As you rubbed your soft and plump skin, you could begin to feel hair sprouting right underneath your thick fingers; and soon after, your entire stomach was covered in body hair. Your chest didn't leave anything to be desired, as a forest of dark curls soon covered it. Similarly, your tree trunks thighs, your boulder shoulders and thick arms became just as covered.
Your jaw was last to itch, and it filled you with great pride. You had always been unable to grow more than a patchy stubble, but a dense shadow now covered your entire lower jaw.
You felt strong. Powerful, even. And after a quick "wow" of admiration, you realised that your voice had joined on the change. Gone was the slightly highly pitched voice, now only a deep bass could come of your throat.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt... Complete. Like you were finally the one you were meant to be.
A quick look at the clock on the wall let you know that it was time to get going. You didn't want to be late to meet new friends!
Oh, and, you had only drunk one of the mysterious bottles. Maybe your future friends could like them...
Sorry for the delay! Struggled with inspiration with this one, the first version didn't go in the right direction. But here it is, finally! Got back into writing, I'll try to not take as much time for the future stories ;) (keyword: try)
AE-786 presents itself as a plain 24-karat golden ring, 22 mm in diameter, with no visible engravings, markings or anomalous radiation under standard testing. When placed on the finger of a living human being the ring fuses to skin and bone, becoming a permanent part of the wearer's body. From that moment the wearer becomes the king and gains the ability to propagate the effect through any skin-to-skin contact. Each new instance becomes an exact physical and mental replica of the king but without a ring. Replicas retain the same propagation ability until the ring is removed from its host. The effect includes rapid physical overwriting, cognitive simplification and compulsive drive to obey the king.
The exact origin of AE-786 remains unknown. Moreover, proximity to AE-786 has been observed to cause unexplained malfunctions in nearby electronic devices. The effect is selective and not replicable under a controlled environment.
[CLASSIFIED INFORMATION]
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Incident Report: AE-786-001
Pierre ████, 22, slim and pale with brown hair and brown eyes, was on a two-week backpacking trip through ██████ when he joined a half-day guided tour of █████ ███. It was quiet that afternoon, most tourists having left after the morning, and Pierre was one of only a handful of visitors still there when the tour ended.
Being a typical gen-Z tourist, Pierre was more interested in taking selfies than the history of the place. At that moment, he was so focused on getting a good angle that he didn't notice where he was walking. He tripped over a loose stone and stumbled forward, crashing on the floor. Angry at the stupid piece of rock that had ruined his perfect photo, he kicked it in frustration. His kick was a bit too hard, and the stone went flying, hitting a nearby wall and cracking the surface of the rock.
A faint light caught his eye from the crack. Curious, he knelt down and looked at the piece of garbage rock he had just kicked. Rocks usually didn't glow, he thought. He kicked it again, trying to break it open. The cracks grew wider, and the light grew brighter. Some more kicks later, the stone finally split in half, revealing the source of the light: a plain golden ring completely encased in the rock, as if someone had melted the stone around it. The ring was perfectly smooth, with no markings or engravings, and it glowed with a warm golden light that seemed to pulse gently. It was almost hypnotic, drawing Pierre's gaze and making him forget about everything else for a moment.
He reached in and scrabbled around the jagged edges of the broken rock, trying to get a better grip on the ring. When he finally pulled it out, he turned it over in his hands, admiring its beauty. It was heavier than it looked: solid gold, perfectly smooth, and strangely warm to the touch. He slipped it into his pocket, hoping no one would notice. Stealing something from a historical place was definitely not on his bucket list, but who would pass up the chance to make some good money with a find like this? He planned to sell it online once he got back home, maybe even get it appraised by a jeweller. Little did he know, this ring was worth far more than any jeweller could ever estimate.
That night he checked into a cheap hostel in ███ with some other guys he'd met in this trip. Alone in his room, he pulled the ring out of his pocket and examined it under the dim light. The light reflected off the smooth surface, casting a warm golden glow on his face. He turned it over again, feeling the weight of it in his hand. On a whim, he slipped it on. The moment it touched his skin, a warm tingle shot through him, starting at the fingertip and spreading up his arm.
Oh putain, what the f-
He tried to pull it off. It wouldn't budge.
He cursed in French, tugged harder, then gave up and stared at his hand in disbelief. The ring was fused to his finger, the surrounding skin already starting to change colour.
The tingle intensified, spreading rapidly up his arm. It rolled outward from his finger in slow waves. His breath hitched. His legs were shaking. He had to sit on the bed to keep from falling over, all while the ring glowed brighter and brighter.
His pale skin began to change at the knuckles first. The soft pink colour deepened in waves, spreading up his hand and forearm.
First, it shifted to a warm golden beige, like he'd gotten a short tan at the beach. Then, the skin thickened and tightened as the colour deepened to a rich gleaming bronze.
The veins on his hand and forearm became more pronounced, pushing up under the new skin. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that made his head spin. The colours moved up his arms, across his chest, down his stomach, every new centimetre of bronze skin sending a pulse of bliss straight to his groin.
His shoulders rounded and broadened with a deep, satisfying stretch. The sensation of his muscles swelling under his skin was intoxicating, making him moan softly. His biceps ballooned, the veins pushing up under the fresh thick skin. Pierre flexed without thinking, groaning loud as the growth made his cock throb and lengthen. His previously flat chest was replaced as 2 fat slabs pushed outwards into perfectly round pecs, nipples darkening and fattening into sensitive nubs. He pinched one on instinct and gasped - the spark shot straight down his spine and made his balls draw up tight.
Then, his abs started popping. Eight perfect blocks carved themselves into his stomach, framed by sharp obliques that would have made a fitness model jealous. His quads exploded outward, each leg thicker than his old waist. His ass rounded into two powerful, bouncy globes that clenched immediately as the friction of the damp hairs down there made him groan even louder.
Pierre stared at his hands, now huge and bronze. The gold ring had literally fused to his finger, zero hopes of getting it out now. His face shifted next. Those lips of his plumped fuller. Across his face, thick black stubble sharpened into a neat modern beard. His hair thickened, darkening to a jet black shade, and fell straight on his head. He didn't look that much French anymore.
Finally, between his legs, the last change hit him hard. His dick thickened and lengthened into a heavy piece. The foreskin retracted bit by bit as his cock grew longer and longer until there was no more foreskin to turn into length. His balls grew heavier, dropping lower and full, already heavy with seed. Pre-cum beaded at the slit of his new monster cock as he gave the shaft one slow, lazy stroke. The thick scent of him filled the room now, rolling off his pits and groin. He lifted one massive arm without thinking and inhaled deep. Fuck, that smelled right.
The thick, heady musk rolling off his body hit him like a drug. Pierre’s mind tried to cling to the last scraps of who he had been, but every fresh pulse of bronze burned those thoughts away like they'd never existed. A slow, predatory grin spread across his newly bearded face. The final flicker of his old self vanished. In its place, a new persona had emerged: King Karim - yes that's who he was.
He glanced around the small room like he was seeing it for the first time. His thick brows furrowed for half a second. Why the fuck was he in this shithole? This wasn't his place. His palace, that's where a man like him belonged, not this little box that stank of cheap bleach under his own heavy musk.
Kings do not ask. Kings take. Kings are worshipped.
The thought passed on his mind. He shrugged it off, the motion making his heavy pecs bounce. Whatever mistake had landed him here, he'd correct it. Starting now.
He gave his circumcised cock another casual tug, pre-cum smearing over his thumb, then wrestled into the ridiculous small clothes he saw on top of the bed.
He first grabbed a tank top and put it on. The white cotton stretched thin over his dark nipples, practically see-through now, clinging wet where sweat had already started forming. The jeans were worse - he had to force them up his thighs. The waist wouldn't close, not even close, so he left the button undone and the zip halfway, letting his heavy cock and balls push out against the front like they were trying to escape. Pre-cum had already darkened a small spot on his stretched underwear. Whatever. He'd sort proper clothes later. Satisfied enough for now, he stepped out of the room into the dimly lit hallway.
The corridor was quiet. A few doors down, Lucas - another backpacker he had spent the whole evening chatting and laughing with in the common room - stepped out, backpack slung over his shoulder, clearly trying to go out quietly. Lucas froze when he saw the massive bronze Arab stallion filling the hallway, his muscles gleaming under the cheap lights.
"Oh, hey. Do you know Pierre?" Lucas blurted while staring at the monster bulge the man was carrying around. "That is his room - where is he? I wanted to ask him something."
Karim tilted his head, looking at the smaller man up and down. His voice came out deep, in an ancient tongue.
أقبل إليّ، يا عبد. اسجد لملكك
(Come to me, my servant. Kneel before your king.)
Lucas blinked hard, backing up a step. "What? I don't understand you man. You speak French or English? Where’s Pie-"
صمت. حلقك للخدمة، لا للكلام. اسجد، أو أعلمك طاعة الملوك
(Silence. Your throat is for service, not for speech. Prostrate, or I will teach you the obedience of kings.)
Lucas's hands flew up. "I already told you, I don't understand you. I don't know what you're sayi-"
Karim lunged at him. His massive hand clamped around Lucas's throat, suffocating him. He slammed the backpacker against the wall with a heavy thud. "Let... go..." Lucas wheezed, clawing at the forearm. "What the fuck are you-"
His speech was interrupted as the bronze started spreading where their skin met. Heat spread from Karim's fingers, flooding up Lucas's neck in quick, warm waves. It hit his jaw first, then poured down over his chest like oil slicking over pale skin. Lucas's eyes went wide, his pupils blowing out as the colour washed over him.
"No… no, let me g-" Lucas begged, voice cracking as his shoulders rounded and broadened with audible pops. The heat rushed into his arms next: his biceps swelled dramatically, veins pushing up under skin that was no longer pale but gleaming bronze. His chest pushed forward into heavy slabs while his abs popped out one by one, each new ridge sending a throb straight to his cock.
A black beard erupted across his face in seconds, thick and perfectly groomed, framing a squared jaw that suddenly felt like it had always belonged to him. His voice deepened mid-sentence, dropping into the same rich timbre as the man pinning him.
Please... I don't want-fuck... this... too good...
The last scraps of Lucas flickered out like dying embers. In their place rose pure aching devotion. His hands stopped clawing and gripped Karim's forearm like a lifeline. A low, reverent moan rolled out of his new throat.
"My king..."
King Karim held him pinned, all while smirking coldly. "You are mine now." - he said again in that foreign tongue. Lucas' black t-shirt tore down the front as his pecs ballooned further, nipples darkening at the same time. His legs grew, and his spine elongated, making him touch the floor now. His cock settled into the exact same heavy cut length as the man grabbing him. Between his legs, the balls dropped lower and heavier, going into mass production. His hairier pits started oozing the same strong masculine odour as the man in front of him.
The king then loosened the grip just enough for a shuddering breath, and dropped him. Lucas crashed to his knees, face level with the king's bulging crotch.
Karim laughed, grabbing Lucas' hair and yanking his head back. "Yeah, that's it. Worship your fucking king like the pathetic little servant you are." He pulled the zip the rest of the way down and fed his heavy cock straight into the eager mouth. Lucas Karim sucked greedily, moaning around the fat flared head while the king face-fucked him slow and deep against the wall, slapping his cheek every few thrusts. Thick ropes of cum flooded the new Karim's throat while both men groaned filthily.
All the noise from that interaction drew attention however. A door opened behind them, and a guy poked his head out. "What the hell is going on out here?"
King Karim pulled out, still hard, and clapped the man on the bare shoulder in a friendly grip. Ninety seconds later he was gone. In his place stood another bronze giant, with the same heavy pecs, face, and cock as the other two. He flexed once, admiring the manly scent rolling off him, and fell in line.
...
The night receptionist - a 25-year-old local guy with an average build - looked up from behind the desk as three muscular men approached. "Everything alright, guys?"
King Karim leaned over the counter with a cocky smile and offered his big hand.
The moment the receptionist shook it the change slammed into him. Karim and the two replicas leaned on the counter, watching intently as the man gasped. His skin bronzed rapidly, shoulders popping and biceps growing. His chest pushed out into heavy pecs that stretched his blue shirt to its limit. The exact same black beard sprouted across his face in seconds. His trousers tented obscenely as his cock grew into the exact same impressive size as the other 3 men. His eyes went white for a bit, as he calmed down and recognised the man in front of him.
"My king..." he'd said just like the other 2 had before him.
The three of them quickly dragged the newest Karim into the small back office behind the desk, locked the door, and went wild. King Karim bent the newest replica over the desk and bred him deep from behind while the others took turns feeding their thick cocks down his moaning throat in a filthy chain. Cum spilled everywhere while the room filled with the thick scent of four identical Arab gods.
When they finally stepped back out into the corridor they followed the King's instructions and slipped through the front exit. The streets were still and quiet under a low grey mist that morning. King Karim and his servants moved through it in search of more. This place was not fit for a king like him, but he could change that. He just needed more subjects to serve him, to worship him, to spread his influence. This place would be his kingdom, and everyone in it would be his loyal subject. He just had to find them. Then, he could start building his palace again.
Many people were unfortunate enough to encounter Karim that morning. As it was foggy and quiet, the first few victims were simply people who happened to be outside at the wrong time.
A lone delivery cyclist pedalling past at the traffic lights was touched on the shoulder as he slowed for a red light. He didn't even make a sound - just froze mid-pedal, bike coming to a stop as the colour spread across his skin and his body thickened. He dismounted without a word, following the others into the mist.
...
Two early-morning joggers in the small park across the road also fell victim to the curse as they were touched during their cool-down stretches - one while bending to tie her shoe, the other mid-lunge. The first one only had time for one horrified "No-" before a cock surged between her legs. After turning into identical chiselled gods, they stood there for a moment, taking in the new sensations of their powerful bodies and the intoxicating scent rolling off their skin. They understood what they had to do next, spreading out into the city to find more subjects for their king.
Even the night-shift workers at a nearby warehouse were not safe. A few of them had stepped outside for a smoke break, when a random Karim strolled by and casually touched one of them on the shoulder. This triggered a chain reaction as the new Karim then touched another worker, who touched another, and so on. In less than an hour, the entire night shift of 14 workers had been transformed into identical Arab stallions, all following the same instinctual drive to serve their king and spread the kingdom further. The warehouse was left completely empty and silent, with only the sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the halls as the new Karims went out into the city.
On the other side of the block, an unfortunate old taxi driver was waiting for a fare when a Karim leaned through his driver's window asking for "directions". The driver was a grimy old man with a hunched back and a scruffy beard, but as soon as Karim's hand touched his skin, that was no longer the case. Inside the small cab his body reshaped fast: belly tightening, and arms swelling thick. A groomed beard framed his squared jaw and his trousers tented hard as something thick like a beer can surged between his legs. No longer a decrepit old man, his eyes went wide with the new sensations flooding his body, but he knew what he had to do.
By 06:30 the streets were unnaturally empty. People who had stepped outside for a smoke or to walk their dog simply... vanished. The few who were outside were either already transformed or in the process of transforming, standing frozen in place as their bodies reshaped to accommodate the King's vision of perfection. We suspect that at least 25 people had already been converted by that time, and the number was growing exponentially as the new replicas spread out to find more subjects.
Our containment team arrived at 07:18 after DNA alerts spiked across ███.
Mobile units reported the streets had gone unnaturally quiet. Overhead drone thermal imaging picked up a single massive heat cluster on a disused gym two blocks from the hostel - dozens of identical high-temperature signatures packed together. The team moved in with full hazmat suits and reinforced gloves, expecting resistance.
The raid on the gym where the prime had taken refuge turned eerie almost immediately. Body-cam footage shows the prime seated like a king on a living throne made of two replicas lying side by side on the floor, their broad backs and shoulders forming the seat while he rested his weight on them. Two more knelt at his feet, tongues slowly licking and massaging his toes. The rest circled them in an orgy, sucking and grinding together without a single word besides the grunts and moans from their actions. The air inside reeked of sex and the king's thick masculine smell. No one looked up when our team breached the door. The king merely tilted his head, framing a bored smirk, and gave a short command that made the foot-worshippers pause.
The first agents advanced. Agent ████ reached to cuff the nearest replica. The replica turned, grabbed his wrist in a casual bro-hug grip, and yanked hard. The reinforced cuff of the hazmat suit ripped at the seam from the force, exposing the agent's body. The replica's bare fingers went down there immediately. Bronze spread up agent ████'s arm quickly. His skin darkened like the other men before them. He tried to scream, but the scream was cut off the instant his vocal cords thickened. His entire torso just inflated in one violent surge, pecs splitting the suit open. His eyes rolled back before the beard even sprouted. When they focused again they were empty of everything except worship. He dropped the cuffs and groaned "Hm-my... k-king..." in a voice already identical to the others. Two more agents were touched in the sudden scramble before the line could fall back.
The remaining team fell back, deploying sedative gas canisters from a distance. The newly converted agents were sedated before they could do anything. In the confusion the prime was pinned under other replicas that fell on top of him. He thrashed violently, still barking commands even as the tranquillisers took hold.
After sedation, our team secured the perimeter and began a systematic search for the source of this anomalous contagion.
Our initial scans showed no obvious vector - no aerosol, no fluid exchange in progress, no visible pathogen markers. All of them had the exact same physical and genetic profile, down to the smallest detail: same facial features, same heavy musculature, same reproductive organs, same odour. Yet, cross-analysis of all the unconscious instances in that gym revealed something interesting: only one of them was wearing a ring, which glowed with a faint golden light barely visible to the naked eye.
Our field team tried to remove the ring from the prime's finger, but it was of no use. A quick X-ray analysis revealed that the anomalous gold object was fused to the finger. There was no separation line from bone or tissue. This was a good lead - the ring was likely the source of the contagion, and removing it would be the key to containing the anomaly. Attempts to cut the ring free with remote laser tools were unsuccessful however, as the ring's material properties seemed to adapt and resist any cutting method.
With sedation holding the prime instance in place, the team had a moment to assess the situation. The sedatives wouldn't last long enough for another team to arrive with more specialised equipment, so field command authorised digit amputation as an emergency containment measure. Utilising a bone saw, the team carefully amputated the finger with the ring still attached, taking care to avoid any skin contact with the prime instance. The digit came off in under thirty seconds. The moment it did, every replica in the room instantly stopped moving, going limp as if a switch had been flipped.
Anomaly Entity Status: [CONTAINED FOR STUDY]
The severed finger and ring were recovered intact and sealed for analysis. 42 identical males, including the three converted agents, were taken into custody that morning. Those were all the instances that we could find around ███ at the time.
All known instances of AE-786 are secured at ███████. AE-786-001 had to be given special medical care after the amputation, but is now stable and under heavy sedation. The other 41 replicas are currently in standard containment, as the anomaly seems to have lost its active properties after the AE-786-001 was separated from the ring. They are being monitored for any changes in behaviour or physical condition, but so far they have remained docile and compliant with no king to rule over them.
After some organic deterioration, we have managed to separate the ring from the severed finger. We are currently running a battery of tests on it to better understand its properties. It emits a faint electromagnetic field that seems to interact with living tissue in a way that triggers the transformation process. The exact mechanism of how it does this is still unclear, but we are hopeful that further analysis will shed light on this.
The public is currently unaware of the incident, and we are working to keep it that way. Most of the affected area has been cordoned off, and a cover story about a chemical spill is being circulated to explain the evacuation and the presence of hazmat teams. We are also in contact with local authorities to ensure that any information leaks are contained.
Matt pulled into the rest area needing two things–a cigarette and a piss. Unfortunately, he’d smoked his last one fifty miles back, and he was desperate for another one. Still, he could at least take a piss before worrying about that.
The only other guy in the restroom was a huge, imposing redneck at a urinal. He had to be close to seven feet tall, and thickly muscled. Matt felt rather inadequate standing next to him, especially when he caught a peek of his huge cock. He stared for a few seconds before the man asked, “Like what ya see?”
Matt blushed and shook his head no, the redneck chuckling as though he were used to that reaction, before leaving the bathroom. Completely embarrassed, Matt finished up and left as well, but soon found that the parking lot was completely empty, aside from the redneck’s truck. He couldn’t really ask him, not after that, but god he needed a cigarette.
“Hey, do…do you have a cigarette?”
“So ya are interested then. Ya can suck me off in the woods if ya want.”
“No…No, really. I’m sorry, I just need a cigarette.”
“Oh…suit yerself then. All I got is chaw.” He pulled a metal tin from his back pocket, opened it up and presented it to Matt, “Go on, it ain’t gonna bite ya, bro. You’ll like it.”
Mike gave the man a glance of suspicion, but took a wad of the tobacco. He felt a near immediate rush of nicotene when he stuffed it in his lip…but also something else. Looking down, he could see his small gut start to shrink back into his stomach, as hair grew in all over his body. Unsteady on his feet, he felt almost as if he were being stretched, and was overcome with vertigo as he passed six and a half feet and kept climbing. He tried to get away and spit out the tobacco, but it tasted so good he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
His clothes shifted into a western style denim vest and jeans, size eighteen cowboy boots, and his crotch began to bulge out obscenely. As the onrush of horniness overwhelmed his mind, he dropped to near idiot IQ. His last thought was a realization that he now looked identical to the redneck next to him. “Fuck man, that’s hell of a rush,” he said with a drawl thick enough to match his new friend’s voice.
“Nah bro, that’s nothin’ compared tah this,” the redneck said, leaned in and started kissing his twin, swapping tobacco spit as sexy memories flooded Matt’s head about his twin brother Jack.
“Damn Jake, ya sure know how tah get me goin’. How’s about we finish this in the woods?” Matt said, groping his ten inch cock.
“Sound’s good tah me bro, soun'ds damn good tah me. But yer suckin’, I’m horny as fuck.”
You close your computer and get ready to head home after a long day of handing out parking tickets and doing paperwork. The police chief has been dealing you the worst jobs in the precinct, but you're new so you understand.
"Yo Peterson, get over here." One of your coworkers yells at you from across the precinct. You look over, squinting for a moment before recognizing him. He looks... different than he did last time you saw him. His uniform is a lot tighter around his muscles than it usually is, and he's started growing out a beard, something he's never done before.
You walk over to see a crowd of officers crowded around a tv that's attached to the wall. Like moths to a flame, they're glued to the screen.
"You seeing this? This is the craziest wrestling match I've seen in a long time." Your coworker continues, getting giddy as he talks about wrestling.
"Oh, yeah. Definitely..." You dismiss him.
No one around here had ever been interested in wrestling until about a week ago. Then, one by one, everyone at the precinct got hooked on it. That and the fact that they all seemed to become muscle gods overnight, its suspicious. You haven't been able to stop thinking about it, and investigating it has been able to scratch an itch that your job hasn't been able to.
It all seemed to start with the chief. He was the first one who got hooked on wrestling before it spread to the rest of the precinct like a plague.
"Have a good night boys, I'll see you tomorrow." The chief says as he leaves his office.
The group of men wave goodbye before bringing their attention right back to the wrestling match.
"I gotta head out too." You say before following the chief, but it's not like any of them were paying attention.
You follow the chief out into the parking lot and watch him get into his car. You quickly follow, using your police training to not get noticed, but you struggle to hide your nerves. Sweat is staining your uniform, all you can think about is whether you're wrong about this. You're risking your job on a hunch. But your gut tells you to continue, so you do. You follow him until he pulls into the parking lot of what looks like an abandoned gym. You park across the street and follow him inside.
The further you go into the building, the louder it gets. It sounds almost like cheering. You open a door that brings you into a large open room, there's a small wrestling ring into the middle with a crowd of people surrounding it. You push through the crowd, finally catching up with the chief. He's in the ring.
"Stop right there, Chief." You yell as you jump into the ring, holding out your taser towards your boss.
"Peterson?" He chuckles. "You followed me here?"
"I want to know what you're up to." You try to control the situation, but the sweat dripping down your face makes it obvious how scared you are.
"Aw, you felt left out, didn't ya buddy?" The chief taunts you as he slowly approaches. "The desk jockey just had to prove himself, huh?" He sports a cocky grin as he gets up close, knowing you won't do shit to stop him. "Since you're feeling so left out, how 'bout I let you in on all of the fun."
He lunges at you, grabbing the taser out of your hand and knocking you off balance. He grabs the back of your head and pushes your face into his armpit. His stench invades your nostrils and his sweat smears across your face. You try to pull away, but he's much stronger than you.
"Breathe boy, it'll help you grow big and strong." He whispers in your ear.
You try to hold your breath for as long as possible, but eventually you have no choice. You grasp for air, coughing as the fumes enter your body.
"Atta boy." He says.
Something feels off. Your skin starts to burn as your clothes feel tighter and tighter. You can hear the buttons on your uniform pop off one by one as your body grows. Soon enough, every button on your uniform has ripped off, leaving your shirt wide open and revealing your toned body. Your stomach ripples as a defined six pack forms on your abs, and your chest rises into two meaty pecs. Your sleeves rip open as your biceps swell to the size of a football and your shirt finally rips in half as your shoulders broaden.
"You like that, don't ya boy." The chief says as you stop struggling. You've started to relax, besides, you're starting to like the smell of his armpit. It's even starting to make you hard. "Oh, you do like that." The chief laughs as he sees the bulge forming in your pants.
Your belt rips in half as your ass starts to expand, filling out the space in your pants. Though it doesn't take long for them to tear right down the seam, letting the crowd see the growing bulge in your underwear. The rest of your pants rip to shreds as your legs thicken to the size of tree trunks.
By this point, you're taking deep breaths and even licking the chiefs sweaty pit just to get more of his musk. He's got you hooked.
"Atta boy, you're comin along." He growls.
You suddenly feel an intense itch erupt all across your body as dark hairs sprout from your sweaty skin. First your pecs are covered in a pelt of hair which spreads down to your six pack and around to your back. Then a forest of hair grows on your arms and legs. Finally growing along your jawline, giving you a five o'clock shadow that's quickly growing into a full beard.
"That's it, boy. Look at how far you've come." He says proudly as he loosens his grip.
He pulls you out of his pit and you hear the crowd roar.
"They're cheering for ya boy, get up!" The chief says.
You get to your feet, now towering over your boss. Looking around, you recognize many of your coworkers in the crowd, cheering for you. It lights a fire in you. You walk to the center of the ring and prepare to fight.
--- Epilogue ---
You drag a thief into the precinct and toss him into a cell after a long day of chasing down criminals. The police chief has been giving you the most important jobs lately, but with how strong you are, you understand.
"Yo Peterson, get over here." Your best bud yells at you from across the precinct.
You run over to see a replay of your wrestling match with the chief last night. All the guys are basically drooling over you after you wiped the floor with the chief. Your basking in the glory when someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn to see... no one. But after a moment, you look down to see a younger looking guy in an oversized police uniform.
The guy clears his throat before talking. "Ugh hey, so I've struggled to put on muscle even when training for the police academy, what's your secret."
You look at your massive biceps and smile. "Want me to show you, buddy?"
"Yeah!" The guy seems to light up.
You grab the back of his head and stuff it into your armpit.
"Breathe buddy, it'll help you grow big and strong."
Hey there dude, being seeing your transformations around and loving what I'm seeing. And honestly could use a little help myself.
I'm a 23 year old guy and have always been on the skinny + nerdy side. Would love to be a himbo honestly, the muscles, the sweat, the farts. Just kind of a dumb, sexy, smelly guy who is lovable, playful, but in a cocky himbo way.
Would love to see what you can do!
You’re sitting down for a nice long evening playing Crusader Kings when a message notification pops up on the corner of your screen. You click it out of curiosity.
Himbo_mkr: Hey bro, ready for your stream tonight?
You remember an instant later. Right! Your Twitch stream! How could you forget! Sure, it’s pretty much just three of your friends who watch you build an empire in the background of their homework, but it’s nice to know this random guy values the silent, contemplative streams.
Himbo_mkr: I can’t wait, huhuhu. It’s so hot to watch those big jock muscles flex while you play.
You grin as you read the message. Yeah, the “stretching” breaks in your stream where you maximise your webcam and pose for your viewers are your favourite part, too. You keep curling your weights, getting your pump on for the show.
Himbo_mkr: Bruh, watching you sweat and fart all night while you try and do basic puzzles is the best. You’re such a cocky himbo.
You scratch your sweaty ass as you read the last message and give yourself a sniff. You had a protein shake for every meal today, so your farts are especially rank right now. Your room is basically a hotbox for your man musk and farts, so much so that all your hookups get all dumb and slutty off the stench when they come in.
Your fans swear that they can smell your sweaty musk right through the stream, and that your goofy dumbness as you play Angry Birds blisses them out and has them dumbing down, too. It’s pretty fucking hot, you think to yourself, grinning and stroking your cheesy jock cock in your sweats. You’re nothing but a goofy, airheaded himbo with infectious musk.
Want to chat with the Himbo Maker? He loves to twist your words, so be careful what you're asking for.
This fat redneck wearing overalls just walked up to me insisting I'm his son. Can you get him to stop bothering me?
*sigh* "why do I always get the crazies...." I mutter under my breath. "Yeah, I'll go talk to him."
I walk into the other room and close the door behind me, obscuring your view.
"Sir, I can't have you disturbing our customers."
You hear the faint conversation through the door.
"Wait, what are you doing. Sto-"
*Thud*
"Please don't!"
My voice suddenly becomes muffled.
"Oh god, what is happening to me?"
You hear the sound of me stumbling around the room.
"Why does this feel.... So good."
My voice is barely recognizable as it starts to become deep and gruff.
"Ohhh... Fuck yeah, I feel so fucking strong."
All you hear is grunting and growling from the other side of the door. Then, all of a sudden, the door busts open.
I squeeze through the door, struggling to fit my broad shoulders through the door frame. I tower over you, my hairy chest is at your eye level, giving you prime view of my hulking body. As your head tilts up to meet me eye to eye, you see my magnificent beard, it radiates more masculinity than you can comprehend.
"Just had a word with pops back there," I say in a thick southern accent, "since talkin' clearly ain't workin' for ya, he says I get to deal with ya myself."
I grab the back of your head and pull you in. You try to pull away, but I don't budge. I lift my other arm and stuff your face into my armpit. You hold your breath as you desperately try to push yourself away from me, but it's no use, it only delays the inevitable.
"You're gonna have to breathe in eventually boy." I chuckle as I rub your face deeper into my pit.
After a few more seconds, you take a deep breath through your nose. You recoil at the musky smell, but I hold you in for a bit longer and make sure you get a few more whiffs.
"That should teach ya a lesson." I say as I let you go.
You quickly spring backward, stumbling to the other side of the room.
"What did you do to me!?" You yell at me as you struggle to catch your balance.
"You'll see..."
You start to feel a tingle in your face when suddenly, thick hairs begin to sprout above your lip, forming a small mustache. You slowly bring your hand up to your face and brush your finger along the wiry hairs.
"Ah! What the fuck?"
The sensation is quickly followed by an intense itchiness that engulfs the lower half of your face as short hairs emerge along your skin, creating a patchy five o'clock shadow. Then your sharp jawline starts to melt into a soft double chin, making your face look even more unkempt than it was before.
And if that wasn't bad enough, you watch as hair starts to fall from your head in clumps, making your hairline recede a couple inches and thinning the rest.
"There's the family resemblance."
I put a baseball cap on your head to hide the hairline.
"Get used to wearin' these, you'll need em." I let out a hearty laugh.
"This... This... Is..." You stutter.
"It's feels great, don't it. Just let it happen boy!"
You start to groan and grunt as your voice begins to deepen. You grab your stomach in pain, then, your stomach suddenly shoots out into a sizable beer belly.
*Uuurrrrppppp!* You let out a nasty burp while your shirt slowly rides up your gut.
A satisfied look takes over your face as you slowly rub your new belly. You're so distracted that you barely notice when your pecs inflate into round man tits that are barely contained by your tiny shirt.
"Bro... Urrrp... I'm getting so ripped."
You chuckle as you flex your arms, barely showing the muscle underneath a layer of fat. Meanwhile, curly hairs begin to sprout all over your body. You're still a far way away from being as hairy as your older bro, but most men dream to be as hairy as you. Hair starts poking out above your shirt collar and over your shoulders while they spread across your exposed belly. That's not even mentioning the forest of hair covering your back.
"Do ya think these pants make me look fat?" You say with a deep southern twang.
"Quite yer' whinin', they look fine."
I give you a slap on the shoulder, sending you off balance. Meanwhile, your pants are on the verge of ripping. The button is holding on for dear life as your fat ass strains the fabric. It only gets worse when the bulge in your pants starts to grow. You try to adjust it, but it only gets worse as your dick starts to snake down your pants leg.
"Oouuugghhh fuck!" You moan as your transformation slows.
"Now that's a man that'll make this family proud!"
"Y'think so?"
"You're built like a real breeder, like me an' pops." I slap you on the gut. "Now why don't you come have a word with me an' pops, we got somethin' to tell ya."
Focusing half his attention on the road and the other half on his phone, Jerry ignored the beeps and honks of fellow drivers while haphazardly weaving his giant truck through the traffic as he attempted to type up a text.
"u still waitingat teh entrancse?" Jerry managed to make a somewhat coherent message. Within seconds the phone in his hand vibrated as he received a reply.
"Yeah. Let's meet by security. I'm on my way there."
"ok omw" Jerry wrote back, tossing his phone to the empty passenger seat as he focused his gaze back to the road.
Jerry was on his way to a music festival where he was to meet up with his buddies. They'd all been looking forward to the event for months. The only problem was that Jerry had promised to score them tickets and as he was right now, he was about to arrive empty handed. Each wave of tickets to the event had sold out within minutes so Jerry was forced to attempt to haggle with scalpers he found online, but every single one he reached out to asked for ridiculous prices, definitely more than what he could afford.
Jerry had nearly given up hope in attending, until the day before he stumbled across a post on Craigslist from a guy named Charlie. Charlie had supposedly planned on attending the festival with his own group of friends but a series of last minute cancellations meant having to quickly get rid of several tickets without having money go to waste. That resulted in having to sell them at a somewhat reasonable price, and luckily Jerry was quick enough to reach out to where Charlie had agreed to hold the tickets for him.
Jerry eventually reached the parking lot of the venue. He combed through the lot until he found some empty spaces, but as he got closer he’d find that some guys had set up chairs and were holding those coveted parking spaces. Jerry was about to blow a gasket as that was the only free space he’d been able to find. Pulling up to the guys, Jerry’s rage turned to relief as he identified the men as his buddies.
Jerry rolled down his window. “Fuckers." He greeted the guys. "I was about to come beat your asses." He teased. "Let me park here."
The guys moved their things, allowing Jerry to park his truck.
"So did you get them?" One of the men asked.
"Don't tell us you made us come all the way here for nothing." Another one joined in.
"Chill the fuck out. I'm supposed to meet the guy here." Jerry tried to reassure the group. "He said he'd hold 'em for me."
"Just make sure they're legit."
"Yeah, I don't wanna be caught with fakes."
"If they end up being bogus, you're gonna pay me back what I gave you."
The guys chimed in, expressing their concerns about the possibility of being scammed out of their money.
"I won't let the dude out of my sight until I know they're good." Jerry checked his pockets, making sure he had the cash with him. "Wait here, I'll be back in a bit."
Jerry headed out and walked towards the entrance to the venue, looking for the spot where he was supposed to meet with Charlie. Passing by crowds of festival goers, he'd notice that several of them had fluorescent green wristbands on, possibly something he figured came with the tickets allowing people to enter and leave the festival grounds. Eventually, Jerry arrived at a tent near the entrance with a sign that read "SECURITY." He pulled out his phone, texting Charlie to let him know that he was at their meet up spot.
Almost ten minutes had passed and Jerry still had not received a response. He had begun to think that Charlie had sold the tickets to someone else. That he had been screwed over by this guy. Pulling out his phone to text Charlie again, Jerry felt a slight tapping on his shoulder.
"Would you be Jerry by any chance?"
Jerry turned around to face the person, immediately noticing a man standing besides him. He looked the guy up and down, blonde, no taller than 5'10'' but moderately built with a slender figure. Jerry realized who it was, taking note that if there was any shady business, he'd be more than capable of dealing with the guy himself.
"Yeah that's me. You're Charlie?"
"Yup! Sorry for taking so long." Charlie held his phone up. "I was rushing to get here, just saw your text as I was running over."
"No worries." Jerry paused for a moment as an awkward silence filled the air between them. "So, uh, you got the tickets?"
"Oh.. yes, yes!" Charlie pulled out a manilla folder from the backpack he had been carrying, opening it up and checking its contents, making sure everything was there. "There's four day-passes in here."
Charlie handed the folder over to Jerry who quickly glanced inside the folder to make sure he was getting what he was paying for. "Ok, looks like everything's here." Jerry grinned, passing the envelope of cash to Charlie. "Pleasure doin' business."
Charlie counted the money as he smiled back. "Likewise. Hope you have fun." Once he made sure he had the payment in full, he placed the envelope in his bag. "I'm assuming you're attending with some friends?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah. Some guys I've known for some years. They've been houndin' me non-stop about getting tickets, so thanks again." Jerry reached inside the folder and pulled out a ticket, noticing that each one had come with a colored wristband. What peaked his interest however was the color of the wristbands.
"Hey, is there a reason these are yellow?" Jerry held out the fluorescent neon yellow-colored wristband in front of Charlie. "Every other one I've seen people wear are green."
"Oh? These are VIP passes." Charlie smiled. "They let you get closer to the stages, discounts on food and merch, among other things. I thought I had told you that, I'm sorry."
"Oh shit, really?!" Jerry said excitedly.
"Yeah, I really needed to sell them ASAP though. That's why you got them at the price we agreed on. So consider yourself lucky." He laughed. "Here, let me put it on you. Those things are tricky to put on by yourself." Charlie volunteered to put the wristband on Jerry while Jerry was still too stoked to really say anything about it.
"There we go. They're a little tight, sorry, but your arms are kinda huge." He laughed again.
Jerry held out the wristband in front of him. There was a hint of a sheen to it when hit by the lights but he thought nothing of it.
"So I guess I'll see you around. Thanks again for taking these off of me. I really appreciate it." Charlie waved goodbye as he headed off, eventually getting lost in the crowd. Now alone, Jerry took out his phone and texted his boys that he was coming back with a surprise.
As Jerry left the security tent and began walking in the direction of where his friends were waiting, he immediately felt a strong rumbling in his stomach. "Jesus Christ." Noticing a row of porta-potties off to the side, he beelined it straight to the first available one.
Entering the cramped space, the aching feeling in Jerry's stomach quickly subsided. Instead, what caught his attention was the wristband he had just put on. There was a shine emanating from it which he thought was strange considering he was now indoors and there were no lights to reflect off of it.
Suddenly, the space around him began to spin, and Jerry felt a strange sensation coursing through his body, originating from the wristband. At first, he thought it was just his imagination, but then he realized that something was indeed happening to him.
Jerry looked down at his hands and saw them start to shrink and change shape. His thick, muscular arms grew thinner and leaner, and his broad chest began to narrow, causing the tank top he had been wearing to become much more loose fitting, eventually just coming off completely. The slight beer gut he sported suddenly disappeared, as his midsection flattened, revealing rows of abdominals. His monstrous legs followed suit, with his thighs losing most of their mass, becoming slender but leaving him with a tight and rotund bubble butt. He would lose a few inches of height as well, his domineering 6'3'' stature replaced with a more average 5'9''. While still remaining muscular and retaining an athletic build, Jerry found himself with a much more slender and toned physique.
Jerry's body hair soon receded into his skin. The hairy beast found his shoulders, arms, and back smooth and hairless. A tasteful amount of chest chair remained as well as a happy trail leading down towards his groin.
One of the biggest changes to follow would be the loss of what Jerry probably considered his pride and joy. His disheveled beard receded back into his face, leaving him with short, black stubble but keeping a thick mustache while revealing a much more defined jawline. His face in general was now narrow and much more refined.
The transformation seemed to go on forever, but eventually, it slowed down and stopped. The big, brutish guy was now a completely different person, unrecognizable from his former self. Jerry felt himself up, his hands running up and down his new body, becoming slightly aroused as he became familiar with every single change that occurred.
Despite the initial shock of the transformation, he found himself feeling surprisingly comfortable in his new body. Unbeknownst to him, memories of his past life were in the process of being rewritten. Gone were the days where he played college football with the boys, drank himself under the table, and hit on any women with an impressive set of knockers. Instead, a life of gymnastics and dance, Sunday brunches, and nights out at gay clubs came rushing in.
Jerry stepped out of the porta-pottie, still in somewhat of a daze. He had an inkling that he was supposed to meet someone, but wasn't quite sure who.
"Hey! Over here!" A voice yelled out from the distance, catching the newly transformed man's attention. Jerry turned around, catching a glimpse of the person calling for him. As soon as he saw their face, something immediately clicked in his head.
"Charlie!" Speaking in a much higher-pitched voice, Jerry recognized the man as the very same one from earlier. This time however, they weren't meeting as strangers. Jerry recalled a whole life's worth of memories with Charlie.
"Babe, I turn around for one second and you go disappearing on me." Charlie approached Jerry, giving him a quick peck on the lips.
"Had to go freshen up. Sorry, wasn't aware my boyfriend needed to know my location at all times." Jerry pouted as he put his arm on Charlie, getting ready to lean in for another kiss.
"Oh, you know I go crazy without you." Charlie leaned in as well, with the two men sharing a long, sensual kiss.
"So you ready?" Jerry pulled away. "Got some douchebags on stand by for these tickets. Let's not keep them waiting."
Fastidious neatfreak Trent can't believe people are actually into Pits. After being badgered by a coworker and dipping his toe in the water, the accountant sees the light on the way towards being a musky dom whose pits no one can deny.
Musky, hairy, bottom to dom TF! Hope you enjoy Trent stuffing his head in his own pit before becoming a man who can't live without forcing twinks to do the same! -Occam
Trent guesses he missed the boat. Pits are just kinda gross, surely he’s not alone in thinking so. For the longest time he just thought it was some kind of an in-joke. OF models and other thirst-trappers would post some clearly comedic pit-forward pic, the comments would go crazy, the models would get more views and more traction. Obviously people aren’t actually into musk- eugh.
It wasn’t until he started chatting about what he’s into with a coworker that his bubble finally burst and he realized just how truly real pit fiends are. Backed into a corner and more than a little icked by the idea of playing with some dude’s pit hair, Trent is doing his best to leave the conversation.
“Shut up! Trent. You’re telling me you’ve never even been a little turned on by your boyfriend’s b.o.”
Squirming at the idea, the fussy accountant tries to shrug but can’t hold back a full body shiver, “Ugh- no? I mean, it’s just like basic hygiene right? I- It’s normal to want a man to not stink when you’re in bed with him?” Trent’s coworker stares at him like he just spoke in tongues.
“Girl! But you’re a bottom! Don’t you want your men to like~ actually be men!?” Trent’s dating history flashes before his eyes, seeing a parade of milquetoast, almost hairless men he does wonder if his coworker has a point. Flickering back to a memory of the one time he dated above his station with a twunky jock, Trent recalls in great detail how their situationship quickly blew up after he complained about how he always smelled like ass coming back from the gym.
It never even occurred to Trent that he must have thought Trent would be into his musk. The idea still fills the neat freak with disdain. Interrupting Trent as he’s clearly lost in thought, his coworker issues a challenge, “Look babe, I’m not sayin’ you need to develop a pit fetish but maybe reflect on your, I mean it’s a phobia right?”
Rolling his eyes, Trent turns to his keyboard to get any amount of work done as his coworker gasps and starts interrogating him about how often he shaves his own pits. Even as he types and jokes at the man, he can feel his hairless pits trickle with stress sweat. Heading to the bathroom, he reapplies deodorant and the rest of the day is thankfully free from such scent-centric conversation.
Being left to his own devices does little however, to distract Trent from the conversation repeating in his head. Every time it does he swears there’s a whiff of someone’s b.o. in the air, every time he worries it's him but after each barely sneaky sniff he smells only his overpowering deodorant even as his coworker’s words continue to echo in his head.
When the day is done and he retires at home safely onto the couch, Trent begrudgingly tries to convince himself that perhaps his coworker is right. If this is apparently a cornerstone of the modern gay man he should really give them the benefit of the doubt- ugh. Trent’s fingers race as they scroll to find some respectable thirst trap that may convince him to not cringe at the idea of musky filth.
Aiming to start slow, the nonbeliever scouts where he usually does. Pulling up one of his favorite gaybaiters, Trent refuses to yield to his prudish instincts to instead stare into the man’s post-gym pits.
Expecting a pit to form in his stomach, as he inspects the gif closely- almost academically, Trent instead feels a tug. Drawn to the mouthwatering bicep and thick pecs, his eyes eventually land on the garden of dripping hair that rests in between them and is unable to look away.
The man’s gym-recap turns to static in Trent’s ears as every impulse firing in his mind is consumed by desire still ramping. He can hardly believe it, which is perhaps of little surprise given how far any conscious thought is from his mind as everything within him fixates on that musky pit he always loathed.
What could stir him from the reverie Trent’s lost in, almost drooling at a GIF, other than a distraction rising in his own armpits. He flinches hard enough to shake his small couch as he swears there’s a prickle in his smooth pits. Worried it’s a bug he flails onto the floor to remove his shirt.
Phone flying in the chaos, it lands face up still looping. Trent immediately kicks the discarded shirt away before closely inspecting the prickle as it evolves into an itch. In his periphery Trent sees the giggling brute still flexing in his direction as he stares at his hitherto hairless pit.
With a gulp, his fingers twitch as they reach to scratch it, nails pushing into malleable skin scrape away at whatever deodorant still hangs alongside the salty residue of his stress sweats. The skin burns red as he scratches, staring at his phone, there’s a tightness in his chest as he realizes he’s feeling envy.
Grunting as he feels his pants start to strain from the irrevocable proof that pits are an erogenous zone, Trent bites his lip to try and distract from the increasingly overwhelming pleasure. And then he hears it- the scritch of his fingernails digging against stubble.
Stunned, his wide eyes look down to find clear stubble prickling against his fingers at a rapid pace. The idea of waxing them hasn’t a chance to occur as his mouth falls open and his eyes cross. With every drag through his growing forests of pit hair the few strands thicken and spread even further.
Curls rapidly lengthen, at times catching his fingers in a tangle despite the slick sweat coating them both. Far too distracted by the increasing jungle, Trent is too preoccupied with seeking-pleasure to notice his thickening biceps and chest, still nowhere near the hunk that showed him what he could be, the one still flexing on loop nearby. Nor would he care even.
Memories of time in the gym start to distract from the ecstasy as he feels his body tightening and tanned. Sweaty curls lengthen on his head, dripping onto wider shoulders as the musk spewing from his pits continues to thicken. Smirking the thought pushes his mind that the hot body is just a byproduct, the real goal in the gym is to show off his stink.
And with that, his hips flex as he can’t hold back any longer. Falling onto the couch he ruts into his tighter shorts until he’s absolutely spent. Everything within him begins to fade as he lies down, apathetic to the sweat stain he’s sure to leave on the couch. Arms behind his head, Trent cradles his head against his thicker bicep, nose firmly tucked into the acrid bushes under his arms.
Night drags on and in unconsciousness Trent’s changes do not slow. Lungs filling with his own musk with each and every breath, he dreams of jacked men in the locker room stuffing his face in their pits. His slightly more muscular body still manipulated like a ragdoll in their arms as he bathes in their oppressive odors.
Eventually, something switches, after another encounter with some burly man’s b.o. Trent realizes he should be the one dominating these other men. Sniffing his pits in the waking world as his thick curls spread even further down his arms growing with each twitching flex, Trent knows he smells better than any other beta that stumbles into the locker room.
His subconscious promptly summons forth twinks for him to assert himself over. Flexing as whatever clothes he imagined drip from his body, dream-Trent launches into a double bicep pose that immediately causes the giggling pit-fiends to cum themselves. Laughing at how dominant, how oppressive he has become, Trent’s deepening voice resounds off the locker room as his heavier chest forces his grunts deeper in the waking world.
Underneath his bulking body, Trent’s couch creaks and his briefs strain to contain the package growing unwieldy. Dripping with pre and real cum, the musk from his crotch and stained underwear is barely perceptible underneath the orchestra of odors pouring from every inch of exposed skin.
Stubble on his face scratches against his shoulder as sweat from his pits seems to force a beard on the usually hairless man’s face. Of course, every other square sweaty inch of the man is in short-order covered with its own thick coat of fur. Pubes bulge against the straining underwear as his bush grows thick enough to show through any pants before launching a treasure trail upward to meet with the new few strands rising on his chest.
Swirling around his nipples and poking from in between pecs pulsing larger, a garden of chest hair erupts and spreads to enswathe every inch of still expanding real-estate on his on and near his pecs. Legs, always unhappily shaved, suddenly bloom with a thick current of curls stretching from the tops of his bony, wider feet to the bush of pubes so thick his crotch will never see the light of day again.
All of this is supplemental of course, the most notable of his body parts only continues to demand his attention. His tongue darts out of his snoring mouth and drags through the matted jungle in his pits. With each taste, his hard cock strains his briefs even further before at last the twitching beast can no longer be contained.
Imagining a twink riding his crotch, his pathetic hairless face jammed into Trent’s pits as he thrusts into his grabbable ass, the musky brute shoots load after load into his sweaty pelt. Splattering his chest, face and pits with the first splatter of his new life Trent’s fantasies slow to a crawl as peaceful sleep finally comes.
One hand lies in his crotch, scratching in his forest of pubes and grasping at the rod should its everpresent need return. The other remains posted behind his deeply snoring head, a difficult pose to maintain, but one required to always allow his pits the freedom to spread his scent, to continue to fill the place with the musk already burned into the walls and every piece of fabric that happens into the apartment.
When he awakens at last, head in pit he simply goes about his business as, to his mind, he always has. Getting a morning pump in before throwing on clothes far too tight to reasonably wear work. Not like he could care less though, phone constantly pinging with needy twinks begins to grovel at his feet and clean him with their tongues, Trent takes a deep breath and smirks, so tempted to invite any number of them over.
Not today, not now. No, now he’s got work to do. Hopping on the bus just to force as many people as he can to quake under his presence, Trent eyes the few morning commuters with an arrogant sneer. Sitting at crotch level, some marketing assistant feels his own package twitch as he suddenly feels a need to be as close to this man as he can be.
Blushing he thankfully hops off the bus at the next stop, checking his phone though he finds a few pictures of the man’s sweaty upper body, purposefully exposed pits, and heavy bulge. Swearing he didn’t take them, the assistant certainly doesn’t delete them as he pockets the phone and walks into the office with a gait that can only mean one thing.
Elsewhere on the bus, some grad student is working on a report before being distracted by the man’s musk. Turning to complain to the man or demand he put on deodorant, when he looks up to see Trent he’s stunned silent. Shaking his head at the idea of confronting the beast, the academic can’t quiet the urge to assert himself.
Trying to focus on his work, he feels hot and gasps in shock as he begins to realize a new musk is rising from his own skin. Surreptitiously sniffing his pits, the student grunts as he smells a musk uncomfortably similar to the man filling the bus with his stink. Watching as the barbarian turns in his direction and burps, the student shouts at the bus driver to stop and storms up to Trent.
Squaring up with a man twice his size, the student prepares to fight an unwinnable fight before he takes a deep breath and feels woozy. Suddenly struck with a burning itch in his pits, he scratches at them before clicking his tongue and leaving Trent be. For his part the musky man just watches as the academic struggles to get his clothes to fit right as he puffs his chest leaving the bus.
Meanmugging Trent from outside, the academic strains his clothes with each passing moment, resisting the urge to get back on the bus to spar with Trent only accelerating his changes. His upper lip twitches as a thick moustache pushes itself into existence and the rest of his face prickles with stubble as Trent just smirks and imagines the man’s final form, the alpha makes sure he has a good view of his pits as the bus begins moving once more.
But a few minutes later, Trent arrives at his stop and wanders into his office. He would feel out of place, striding on the corporate level wearing gym clothes, but that’s not who he is anymore. Wherever he goes is where he belongs, and if that isn’t the case he will make it so, trail of musk both in his wake and rushing ahead to announce his presence. To announce his dominance.
Sitting in the office chair now barely able to support his weight, Trent leans back and throws his arms behind his head and waits. His coworker doesn’t even make it to his cubicle. Following Trent’s musky trail like a dog, the man who convinced Trent to give pits a go feels his mind consumed by just how thoroughly he took the advice to heart.
This fat redneck wearing overalls just walked up to me insisting I'm his son. Can you get him to stop bothering me?
*sigh* "why do I always get the crazies...." I mutter under my breath. "Yeah, I'll go talk to him."
I walk into the other room and close the door behind me, obscuring your view.
"Sir, I can't have you disturbing our customers."
You hear the faint conversation through the door.
"Wait, what are you doing. Sto-"
*Thud*
"Please don't!"
My voice suddenly becomes muffled.
"Oh god, what is happening to me?"
You hear the sound of me stumbling around the room.
"Why does this feel.... So good."
My voice is barely recognizable as it starts to become deep and gruff.
"Ohhh... Fuck yeah, I feel so fucking strong."
All you hear is grunting and growling from the other side of the door. Then, all of a sudden, the door busts open.
I squeeze through the door, struggling to fit my broad shoulders through the door frame. I tower over you, my hairy chest is at your eye level, giving you prime view of my hulking body. As your head tilts up to meet me eye to eye, you see my magnificent beard, it radiates more masculinity than you can comprehend.
"Just had a word with pops back there," I say in a thick southern accent, "since talkin' clearly ain't workin' for ya, he says I get to deal with ya myself."
I grab the back of your head and pull you in. You try to pull away, but I don't budge. I lift my other arm and stuff your face into my armpit. You hold your breath as you desperately try to push yourself away from me, but it's no use, it only delays the inevitable.
"You're gonna have to breathe in eventually boy." I chuckle as I rub your face deeper into my pit.
After a few more seconds, you take a deep breath through your nose. You recoil at the musky smell, but I hold you in for a bit longer and make sure you get a few more whiffs.
"That should teach ya a lesson." I say as I let you go.
You quickly spring backward, stumbling to the other side of the room.
"What did you do to me!?" You yell at me as you struggle to catch your balance.
"You'll see..."
You start to feel a tingle in your face when suddenly, thick hairs begin to sprout above your lip, forming a small mustache. You slowly bring your hand up to your face and brush your finger along the wiry hairs.
"Ah! What the fuck?"
The sensation is quickly followed by an intense itchiness that engulfs the lower half of your face as short hairs emerge along your skin, creating a patchy five o'clock shadow. Then your sharp jawline starts to melt into a soft double chin, making your face look even more unkempt than it was before.
And if that wasn't bad enough, you watch as hair starts to fall from your head in clumps, making your hairline recede a couple inches and thinning the rest.
"There's the family resemblance."
I put a baseball cap on your head to hide the hairline.
"Get used to wearin' these, you'll need em." I let out a hearty laugh.
"This... This... Is..." You stutter.
"It's feels great, don't it. Just let it happen boy!"
You start to groan and grunt as your voice begins to deepen. You grab your stomach in pain, then, your stomach suddenly shoots out into a sizable beer belly.
*Uuurrrrppppp!* You let out a nasty burp while your shirt slowly rides up your gut.
A satisfied look takes over your face as you slowly rub your new belly. You're so distracted that you barely notice when your pecs inflate into round man tits that are barely contained by your tiny shirt.
"Bro... Urrrp... I'm getting so ripped."
You chuckle as you flex your arms, barely showing the muscle underneath a layer of fat. Meanwhile, curly hairs begin to sprout all over your body. You're still a far way away from being as hairy as your older bro, but most men dream to be as hairy as you. Hair starts poking out above your shirt collar and over your shoulders while they spread across your exposed belly. That's not even mentioning the forest of hair covering your back.
"Do ya think these pants make me look fat?" You say with a deep southern twang.
"Quite yer' whinin', they look fine."
I give you a slap on the shoulder, sending you off balance. Meanwhile, your pants are on the verge of ripping. The button is holding on for dear life as your fat ass strains the fabric. It only gets worse when the bulge in your pants starts to grow. You try to adjust it, but it only gets worse as your dick starts to snake down your pants leg.
"Oouuugghhh fuck!" You moan as your transformation slows.
"Now that's a man that'll make this family proud!"
"Y'think so?"
"You're built like a real breeder, like me an' pops." I slap you on the gut. "Now why don't you come have a word with me an' pops, we got somethin' to tell ya."
Sam and some friends were tossing around the old pigskin in the park when he needed to take a leak. In typical bro fashion, he grabbed the ball and took it with him while telling his friends he’d be back in a minute after he “drained his snake”.
As he entered the bathroom, he took a deep breath expecting the park bathroom would already stink. However, he didn’t expect to see and smell smoke coming from a closed stall. As he walked up to the urinal hanging on the wall, he took another breath. It was cigar smoke. Some mother was smoking a cigar in the bathroom stall! What was this, middle school?
As he stood there focusing on his urination, he did not notice the stall open as a large man with several large rings on his hand walk up behind him. He took a huge haul on his cigar and blew it directly toward Sam. Sam took a deep breath of the intense smoke and suddenly relaxed. He dropped the football on the urine covered floor and his arms went limp to his side.
The man took another haul and exhaled the smoke, demanding that Sam turn around. As he did, Sam’s 7 inch cock was standing straight at attention as he stared at the man with fear in his eyes.
The man said, “Everything will be fine, boy." He took one of the rings from his hand and placed it on Sam’s index finger. "I am setting you free,” the man continued, “No more worries. No more inhibitions. Improving you to be your best." As Sam listened to the man, the words became his truth. He started to believe them, deep in the darkest recesses of his mind, body, and soul.
An electric charge seemed to come from the ring. As it flowed through his body, the man asked him a question. "What is it you most desire, boy?" Sam said, "I want to be whatever you want me to be, Sir." The man responded, "Damn right, boy. I am going to mold you into a perfect companion and you will help me find others to join us." Sam smiled a coy smile as the man pulled out a new cigar and handed it to Sam. "Real men smoke thick cigars to show how much they don’t give a fuck,” the man said, “They are necessary to show others that you are in charge. Screw anyone who doesn’t get it or who gets offended. You will never be without one from now on.”
Sam took the cigar and followed the instructions of the man. He took to it immediately, puffing his first in a lifetime of cigars to life. As he and the man continued to talk, Sam began to take on other attributes. He kept his mass, but tattoos began to creep up all over his body, as his beard grew uncontrollably.
The man explained that he is a biker, looking for new men to bring into his gang. He only chose the ones with the most potential. He was driving through the park and saw Sam and his friends. He knew that at least a few of them would be his. His goal was to use the rings that were infused with the spirits of some of his fallen comrades to enhance them with years of knowledge and the “spirit of the road warrior”. By the end of the conversation, Sam was ready to jump on a hog and follow the man off into the sunset.
However, there was a catch. For the spell to be permanent, he had to accept the changes. A brother, such as the man, would have to seed him with biker cum and he would have to willingly allow his former life and memories to flow out through his churning balls and cock. The man explained that Sam would no longer be straight, but would seek the company of his brothers over all else.
In his euphoric state, Sam could not contain himself. He turned around, pulled down his workout shorts and jockstrap, and presented his round and plump ass. “Seed me, brother!”, Sam exclaimed…no, demanded. With that, the man went to work. A while later, Sam exploded ropes and ropes of cum as the man filled his hole. With each ejaculation, Sam’s average cock grew topping out at 9.5 thick inches. After taking a moment to enjoy the afterglow and swapping smoke, the man handed Sam another ring. “You know what you must do.”
Fortunately, it didn’t take long. Almost immediately after his transformation was sealed, Sam heard a call of a familiar voice. “Yo, Sammy!”, the voice said, “If you’re going to take forever to jerk off, at least throw us the ball so we can keep playing." It was Sam’s friend Phil. Sam immediately smiled a cocky smile around the stogie planted in his jaw.
Like Sam was before, Phil was also large and muscled. Most of the guys were former College football players who just liked to hang out at sports bars, work out, and talk about the chicks they were dating or trying to bang. They got into this routine of meeting up on the weekend at the park to throw around the ball and relive some of their memories from the "College days” and prove they still had “it” by throwing long bombs or making a catch behind their back (and secretly having to ice their shoulders and knees for days after).
Sam called out to Phil. “Hey, bro! Come get the ball,” he said, “having a case of the shits. It’s on the sink." As Phil came in, the man blasted him with a lungful of smoke right in his face and pushed him toward the middle stall. That is when he saw Sam sitting on the toilet, fully naked and smoking a huge cigar.
The tatted and fully bearded Sam took a huge draw on his thick cigar. He removed the ring the man gave him and placed it on Phil’s index finger. With fear in his eyes, Phil stared at Sam, then back at the man. "Sam, what happened to you?”, he asked. “Only the best thing ever,” Sam said, “I have been freed. I want you to join me.”
With that, the cycle began again. After Sam unloaded in his ass, Phil shot his old life out of his cock and packed his now 10 inch anaconda into his shorts. Phil was about to put his cigar back in his maw when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Before replacing it, he asked, “So, what do y'all say we find some hogs and blow this place? I’m itching to get out on the road." Without skipping a beat, Sam and the man answered in unison with a raging, "Fuck yeah!” as they took pulls on the cigars planted in their jaws. With that, the three bikers headed out of the bathroom and on toward their new lives as road brothers on the lookout to expand their gang.
theartofmadeline
blakekathryn
areudirty
