The invitation had been sitting on his phone all week: HAIRY MEN’S POOL PARTY — SATURDAY, NOON, BRING A TOWEL, SUNSCREEN, AND CONFIDENCE. The photos attached to the invite were exactly what he expected—bearded men laughing in the pool, thick chests slick with water, shoulders and stomachs covered in dark natural hair.
Rob wanted to go, badly, but every time he looked down at himself, he felt like he’d been invited by mistake. His face was smooth. His chest was bare. His arms and stomach looked almost untouched. His look wouldn't fit the party.
Everyone knew hair tonic worked now; it wasn’t some weird underground thing anymore. Guys used the standard version before dates, beach trips, costume parties, even just a night out. Rub it in, wait a few minutes, and the first growth came through right there in the mirror. It was like make-up for men.
But Rob hadn’t bought the standard version. He’d paid extra for the overnight formula—the one marketed for men who wanted deeper, fuller, more permanent-looking results. The directions were simple: apply generously, massage into all target areas, sleep, and allow eight hours for maximum activation. So that night, with the pool party invitation still glowing on the bathroom counter beside him, Rob stripped down and went all in. He rubbed the tonic over his cheeks, jaw, upper lip, throat, chest, stomach, shoulders, arms, and legs. He didn’t want a little stubble or a polite dusting of hair. He wanted the kind of body that would walk into that party and belong there immediately.
At first, the change felt like a subtle heat under his skin. His jaw prickled. His chest tingled. The smooth skin over his stomach seemed almost too sensitive beneath his fingers. By the time he checked the mirror again, only minutes later, the overnight tonic was already giving him a preview. A dark shadow had formed along his jaw and upper lip, and faint curls were beginning to push across his chest. His body looked stronger somehow with the new hair sprouting, more solid and athletic, as if the tonic was improving the whole presentation while it prepared the real transformation underneath. He went to bed staring at the ceiling, feeling tiny sparks of growth across his body, wondering what he would look like by morning.
That night, while Rob slept, the changes continued apace. Hair sprouting on his chest, his beard growing in denser and longer, hair developing on his arms, and shoulders.
When he woke, he barely recognized himself.
His face had filled in with a dense beard and a heavy mustache, rugged and deliberate, the kind of facial hair that made his old smooth face seem like a forgotten draft. His chest was no longer bare; it was covered in a thick dark pelt, densest across the center and spreading over his pecs, down his stomach, and into a heavy trail. His arms and legs had grown coarse and masculine, and his shoulders—where he had applied extra tonic twice—now carried visible hair too, making the whole result look natural, powerful, and unmistakably intentional.
By the time he arrived at the pool party, towel over one shoulder and sunglasses on, he didn’t feel nervous anymore. He saw men glance at his beard first, then at the heavy hair across his chest and shoulders, and for the first time, he didn’t feel like he was trying to keep up. The invitation had promised confidence, but the tonic had given him the body to match it. He stepped into the sun, smiled under his new mustache, and knew he had used exactly the right amount.
By the time Owen opened the app again, he had stopped thinking of himself as the guy he used to be.
At forty-two, with the shorter receding hair, the salt-and-pepper beard, and the thick body hair he’d wanted badly enough to make for himself by spoiling Hair Tonic, he finally looked the way he’d always imagined a real daddy should look. His profile picture showed exactly that: shirtless on a hiking trail, backpack straps in both hands, chest hair visible, expression calm and solid.
David messaged him within the hour. A rendezvous was planned for the next day.
David was twenty-six, lean and smooth-skinned, with a compact athletic body and a face that still carried the softness of youth. When he arrived at Owen’s place, he couldn’t stop looking at the older man. It wasn’t just that Owen was handsome. It was that he looked settled. Rugged. Finished. Like a man who had grown fully into himself. David did not know what Owen had used the Hair Tonic to do to himself - he didn't know that inside Owen's masculine exterior was a man a few years younger than himself with the visage of a self-assured daddy.
The sex was dynamic. Owen leaned into his new role as daddy with a youthful enthusiasm - if not the experience. David enjoyed the feeling of being kissed, worshiped, and filled by the entirety of Owen - longing for attention from older more confident-seeming men.
Later, after their night together had faded into sweat, dim light, and tangled sheets, Owen fell asleep fast, heavy and satisfied.
David stayed awake. He padded into Owen’s bathroom in his boxers, still thinking about the body he’d just had his hands on - the dense chest hair, the roughness of Owen’s beard, the masculine weight of him. Then he noticed the brown bottle on the counter. HAIR TONIC. Old-fashioned label. Plain lettering. He picked it up and turned it in his hands. The name sounded harmless, almost quaint. He smiled to himself. He was familiar with the product, but had never gotten his hands on a bottle. He wasn't interested in becoming Owen, not exactly. He just wanted a little help looking more his age. More scruff. Some chest hair. Less boyishness in the mirror. So he uncapped it.
The tonic smelled sharp and strange, old and herbal with something bitter underneath. David rubbed a little over his cheeks and jawline, then across his upper lip. He poured more into his palm and worked it over his chest, down the center of his stomach, over his shoulders, even along his arms. His skin prickled instantly, then flushed with spreading heat. He frowned at his reflection, waiting for the sensation to fade. Instead, the faint shadow on his jaw began to darken. The nearly invisible hair on his chest sharpened, filling enough for him to notice - and then some.
He ran his fingertips over the new texture, half-thrilled and half-nervous. By the time he climbed back into bed, the scruff at his mouth had thickened into a short, rough mustache and the hair across his pecs had become real enough to cast a shadow. His heart beat faster, but he convinced himself it was just stronger than he’d expected - it would pass - it was just hair.
David fell asleep telling himself he’d overdone it a little. He woke with a start the next morning. Everything felt wrong at first—heavier, rougher, denser. The sheets dragged differently across his body. His chest felt warm beneath a thick layer of hair. When he pushed himself upright and looked at his hands, he froze.
The backs of them were hairier than they had been the night before, the knuckles broader, the skin less smooth. He brought them to his face and felt not light overnight scruff but a full, coarse mustache and short beard framing a jaw that seemed more substantial than it had been before. He stumbled to the bathroom mirror, Owen just starting to stir in the bedroom behind him, and stopped cold.
He did not look twenty-six anymore. The man staring back at him looked closer to forty. His face was still unmistakably his own, but matured - broader through the jaw, heavier through the neck and shoulders, with stronger lines around the eyes and mouth. His hair was shorter-looking somehow, neater, his features more rugged and settled. A thick mustache and trimmed beard had come in dark and full, giving him a stern, masculine look he’d only ever imagined on older men. Across his chest, the hair had spread into a dense mat that continued down his stomach in a dark trail, with more thickening along his arms and thighs. He looked stockier too, more substantial, more like a man who’d spent years growing into that body instead of a single reckless night.
“Owen...” he said, voice rougher than before. “Owen!”
Owen came into the room half-awake, then stopped dead in the doorway - mouth agape.
For one long second, neither of them spoke. Then Owen’s eyes dropped to David’s chest, his beard, his hands, and finally flicked toward the bathroom counter.
“You used my special Hair Tonic?!” he yelled.
David’s face tightened. “I thought it was just normal Hair Tonic - I ….”
“It is not just Hair Tonic!" Owen’s voice sharpened with real anger now, cutting David off mid-sentence. “I left that out in the sun to spoil on purpose. I changed myself on purpose. You had no idea what that was and you still used it?”
“You changed yourself? You mean you did this to yourself on purpose?!” David snapped back, then looked away, shaken by the sound of his own gruffer voice. “I just wanted…” He swallowed and rubbed a hand over his chest, feeling the thickness there. “I just wanted a little more. A beard. Some body hair. I didn’t think it was going to do this!” David gestured to his older body.
Owen’s anger faltered, replaced by a grim, complicated sympathy. He knew that impulse too well. The wanting. The private pull toward a rougher, older, hairier version of manhood. David let the bathroom and sat back down on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands again like they might belong to someone else. He looked upset, genuinely upset - but not devastated. Not all the way. Because every few seconds his fingers drifted over the new growth on his chest, or up to the heavier shape of the beard at his jaw, as though he couldn’t stop checking that it was real.
“This is my fault,” Owen said finally. “I shouldn’t have left the tonic out for you to find. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re… probably stuck like this.”
David let out a shaky breath. “Great.”
Silence settled between them. Morning light spilled across the room. David’s reflection lingered in the mirror opposite the bed: older, hairier, undeniably changed. He looked at himself again, this time longer. At the thicker chest. The rough mustache. The stronger, more mature face. It wasn’t what he had meant to ask for. It was too much. Too fast. Too permanent.
And yet some quieter part of him - deeper than panic, harder to admit - recognized the shape of his own wish inside it.
“What am I going to do? No one will recognize me! I hate that this happened - I have to get out of here!” he said in a panic while trying to stuff his thicker frame into his jeans - sucking his gut to fully zip them, and throwing his shirt quickly over his shoulders.
Owen folded his arms. “Do you hate this?” he said looking at David. "The way you've been looking at yourself in the mirror reminds me of myself when I first woke up after using the tonic."
David stopped dressing took a deep breath and looked down at himself, then back at the mirror. He had to admit he was attractive like this - more like the men he pursued - and enjoyed being pursued by. He noticed a twitch in his boxers as his dick started to grow - panic subsiding and being replaced with lust. Lust both for Owen, who had filled him just the prior evening to the brink with his daddy seed - and also for the half-dressed man he saw reflected in the mirror.
Owen walked over to the sofa in the corner of the room and sat down with his head in his hands for a moment while Owen waited.
“No. I don’t hate all of it” he admitted with a grin at Owen as he unbuttoned his pants - his thick hairy pecs pushing against his half-open shirt. His eyes smoldering at the sight of Owen’s shirtless torso and beautiful face.
Owen stared at him for a moment, then gave a short, disbelieving exhale that was almost a laugh. “I see … you’re a bit older than my usual type now, but I think this might work...” he said with a grin as he approached the older version of the perky 26 year-old he had fucked the night before.
Owen dropped to his knees in front of David and helped him slide off his now-too-tight jeans and underwear, freeing David’s thick semi-erect daddy cock nestled in a thick bush of pubes - “Guess a trip to the mall is in order” he said with a grin as he took David’s dick in his mouth - feeling it continue to stiffen.
David let out a little moan and replied, half joking, “Yeah, I guess I put on a little extra weight somewhere in my 30s.”
After a couple of minutes receiving head, David pushed Owen onto the couch and pulled down Owen’s sweatpants, revealing the same uncut daddy dick that he had deep inside him last night - which might as well have been an eternity ago. “Things are going to be different today, son” he stated irrefutably - Owen looking up to him with soft bedroom eyes. “It’s your fault I’m close to my father’s age, and stuck like this - so now I’m going to be the daddy and you’re going to be the piece of meat I please myself with. Understood?”
Owen simply nodded and replied with a soft “yes, sir.”
“Good, now roll over for daddy so he can see your ass.”
Owen complied, moving onto all fours and presenting his hairy asshole to David - who gave it a quick look before sticking his head between his cheeks and eating it out in preparation.
Owen remembered the feeling of being prepared from before his change - from the countless older men he let enter his tight frat boy hole. He knew what was coming - and despite his recent shift to daddy himself he couldn’t help but anticipate how bottoming would feel in his new body.
After prepping Owen, David rose to one foot, with the other propped against the couch. He spit on his dick and lined it up with Owen’s ass and thrust in hard. Owen gave a quick yelp and tightened around David’s dick - but he didn’t care. It was Owen’s fault he was stuck like this and he was going to exact as much pleasure from the situation as possible.
After a few hard thrusts, Owen started to gently moan as David settled into a more steady rhythm. David reached forward grabbing Owen’s thinning hair pulling his head back and whispered in his ear, “You like this don’t you?”
Owen nodded between soft moans.
David continued, “No matter what you look like on the outside, you’re still just a bottom bitch frat boy.” He reached around and grabbed Owen’s dick and began jerking it while pumping into his ass.
“You made yourself older, you gave yourself a beard, a hairy chest, you got the look - you played the role last night as well - but deep down we both know you’ll always crave this. Crave a stronger man controlling you and filling you with his daddy cock.”
David released Owen’s hair and picked up his pace. As he approached climax he thought about the man he saw in the reflection - hairy, mustached, confident - maybe this new version of him wouldn’t be so bad. He snapped back into attention as he felt Owen jolting underneath - coming onto the sofa with a hand wrapped around his own dick. "Daddy didn't say you could come yet, son."
Owen just whimpered as David picked up his pace and intensity, quickly following suit coming deep into Owen - then collapsing on his back in a pile of sweat and chest hair.
Across the bedroom, on the bathroom the bottle of Hair Tonic sat on the counter where David had left it, half-open and innocent-looking, as if it had done nothing more than keep its promise. Not youth. Not restoration. Something stranger. Something closer to desire. Like a man beginning, despite himself, to see what he might become - and embracing it.
Jake had always been better at imagining rooms than entering them. That was what architecture school had taught him, or maybe what it had exposed about him.
He could spend hours thinking about how a hallway narrowed before opening into light, how a ceiling height changed the feeling of a room, how brick looked different at dusk than it did at noon.
For fun he liked to paint. He could paint until three in the morning with a podcast playing and a half-finished video game paused beside him. He could present a model and explain, carefully, why a wall bent the way it did.
But walking into a bar alone? Holding eye contact with a man with a thick beard and cowboy boots? Taking up space around the kinds of guys who seemed born knowing how to lean, laugh, lift, flirt, and fill a room? That was harder.
Texas was full of them. Frat boys in athletic shorts and backward caps crowding the coffee shop near campus. Fitness bros with damp hair and enormous gym bags crossing the street like traffic had agreed to wait for them just to see them cross in short shorts and tank tops. Cowboys who were mostly just men with good genes, expensive jeans and undeserved confidence, but who all seemed to possess the same relaxed certainty in their bodies.
Jake watched them more than he meant to. He watched their shoulders. Their forearms. The way chest hair curled out of an unbuttoned flannel. The way a mustache could make a man look older, rougher, more decisive. He watched the men who approached other men without the nervous pause Jake always felt in his stomach.
He wanted them - that part was obvious and easy to admit. The harder part was admitting he wanted to be them. Not literally them - but rather a version of himself more like them. And not forever - at least this is what he told himself. Just for long enough to know what it felt like to walk through the world with that kind of weight. Enough to know what it felt like for other men to look at him first. Enough to stop feeling like the thoughtful, slim, average grad student standing just outside the fantasy, with his sketchbook pressed to his chest, like a lost Disney princess before the inevitable glow-up and the arrival of the romantic prince.
Late one Thursday night, after a studio critique that had gone badly enough to make him skip dinner, Jake ended up on Tumblr. He had been following hairy-bothered for months.
The blog was exactly what the name promised: hairy men, transformations, captions about masculinity, frat boys, gym daddies, “before and after” edits that were just plausible enough to make Jake stare too long. The blog posted in a voice that felt teasing and patient at the same time. Daddy-ish, Jake thought once, then closed the app as if someone could see the word in his head.
That night, exhausted and irritated, he opened a message box to the author of the blog.
Jake: Weird question. Do you ever feel like you’re attracted to a type of guy because you wish you were that type of guy?
The answer came back fast enough to make him sit up.
hairy-bothered: Not weird, pup. That’s usually where it starts.
Jake stared at the word pup for a while before replying.
Jake: I’m not a pup.
hairy-bothered: Sure, if you say so. ;)
Jake laughed despite himself, embarrassed alone in his apartment. The conversation stretched past midnight. Jake told him more than he meant to. That he was twenty-five. That he studied architecture. That he painted, gamed, worked too much, hooked up too little, and lived mostly inside his own head. That he was single and tired of being nervous. That he liked frat boys and cowboys and men who looked like they knew what they wanted. Then, finally, after a long pause, he typed the thing he had not said out loud.
Jake: I wish I were hairier. Bigger, too, I guess. More masculine. More dominant. Like I could walk into a bar and actually do something instead of just hoping someone notices me and makes the first move.
There was no answer for almost a minute. Then:
hairy-bothered: Careful, Jake. Some boys get what they ask for and realize they were thinking too small.
Jake’s face warmed.
Jake: That sounds like a caption for one of your stories.
hairy-bothered: Maybe it was, maybe it will be, or maybe - just maybe - it’s advice you should listen to.
Three days later, the package arrived. It was small, plain, and addressed to Jake in blocky black handwriting. No return address. Jake opened it at his kitchen counter with his backpack still on one shoulder.
Inside was a padded black box and a folded note. The box held four glass vials, each nestled in dark foam. Two were filled with clear liquid and labeled RETURN. One held amber liquid and was labeled YEEHAW. The last one was cloudy pale blue and labeled BRO. Jake actually laughed out loud.
The note read:
Try one when you’re tired of imagining.
Return when you’re done pretending.
But don’t waste the version of yourself that finally fits.
He took a picture and sent it to Hairy-Bothered.
Jake: Okay, very funny.
hairy-bothered: You got them, I see.
Jake: Are these colored vodka shots? Am I supposed to drink mystery Tumblr alcohol from a stranger?
hairy-bothered: You wanted to know how it felt.
Jake: To be poisoned?
hairy-bothered: Drink the cowboy first. You’ve been staring at boots too long. Wouldn’t you like to fit into a pair of your own?
Jake put down his phone and closed the box.
For two days, he left it on his desk beside a stack of trace paper and pretended he was not looking at it every time he entered the room.
Then came Monday. His studio professor hated his revised concept. One of his basswood models snapped in his hands five minutes before review. A guy in his cohort, the kind of square-jawed ex-frat guy who called everyone “man” and somehow made it sound natural, offered help in a tone that made Jake feel twelve.
By the time Jake got home, he was hot with humiliation. He stood in his bathroom under the flat light, shirtless in loose shorts, staring at himself. Slim. Lightly cut. A little chest hair. A beard that was…fine, maybe even good, but not enough to change the shape of his face. He looked young in a way that irritated him.
On his phone, a message waited.
hairy-bothered: Bad day, cowboy?
Jake exhaled through his nose. He went to the desk, opened the black box, and picked up the amber vial.
“Not real,” he said to the room so that when nothing happened he’d feel less foolish. “Bottoms up…” he muttered to himself.
Then he drank YEEHAW.
It tasted smokey, with hints of honey, and lavender. For ten seconds, nothing happened. Jake sighed and let out a frustrated “of course not…”
Then heat gathered under his skin. Jake gripped the edge of the desk. “Oh,” he said, because it was the only word available.
The heat moved outward in waves. His shoulders ached first, a deep pressure pushing from inside the joints. The bones did not crack so much as settle into a wider arrangement, as if his body had been waiting for permission to take up more room. Muscle packed itself across his upper back and chest, not inflated or cartoonish, but dense and practical. His torso thickened. His waist stayed firm but sturdier, built less like a grad student who forgot meals and workouts and more like a man who carried heavy things because he could.
His shorts tightened at the hips. His thighs pressed against the fabric. His hands clenched on the desk, and Jake stared as they changed: broader palms, thicker fingers, veins rising, skin roughening faintly across the knuckles. They looked like hands that knew rope, tools, steering wheels, the feel of other men’s collars.
The thought made him swallow. The pain subsided enough for him to move to the bathroom - eager to see the changes he felt rippling through his body.
Hair spread next. It started as prickling across his sternum, then became an almost unbearable tickle. His light chest hair darkened and multiplied, filling outward across his pecs in a dense, natural mat. A thick line ran down the center of his torso where the hair was most dense, darker and heavier, pulling toward his navel and below.
Hair climbed his shoulders, dusted his upper arms, thickened on his forearms. He twisted toward the mirror and saw it wrapping around the tops of his shoulders, hinting at a back that was no longer smooth or boyish.
His skin deepened, taking on a sun-touched tan as if he had spent years outside instead of under fluorescent studio lights. His posture changed without his permission. His shoulders eased back. His stance widened. He stopped hovering over himself.
Then his face shifted. Jake felt it in the jaw first: a heavier set, a firmer line. His cheeks matured. The soft uncertainty around his eyes sharpened into something calmer. Lines etched lightly at the corners, crow’s feet that did not make him old so much as experienced. Laugh lines bracketed his mouth. His beard pulled back into rough stubble along his jaw while his mustache thickened, darkened, and settled heavily over his upper lip. His hair receded slightly at the front, sides tidying, top remaining short.
When it was done, Jake stood frozen in front of the mirror. The man staring back was him - sorta. That was the terrifying part.
He was still Jake in the softness around his eyes, still Jake in the angle of the mouth, still Jake somewhere under the stronger jaw and weathered skin. But he was Jake at thirty-five, maybe thirty-six. Jake after sun, work, confidence, years of being heard and seen. Shirtless, hairy, tanned, broad, with a thick mustache and hands that looked dangerous even resting at his sides.
“Cowboy Jake” he whispered in a deeper voice with a Texas drawl - flexing a swollen bicep.
He should have panicked. He did panic, technically. His heart hammered. His mouth went dry. He backed away from the mirror, then stepped forward again because he could not stop looking.
His phone buzzed.
hairy-bothered: Well?
Jake picked it up with his new massive hairy hand. The phone looked smaller.
Jake: What did you do to me?
hairy-bothered: I mailed you a choice. You drank it.
Jake: You didn’t say it would change my age! I look thirty-five!
hairy-bothered: You look like a man who doesn’t stand in the corner of bars watching the world dance by.
Jake looked back at the mirror. His mustache moved when he smiled.
He put down his phone and took a deep breath. “Moment of truth” he thought as he stretched the elastic of his grey shorts to see what had changed below his belt - hoping hairy-bothered had worked some magic on his average 5” cut dick. Jake peaked over his new pecs to see a massive bush of pubes and nestled within, like a snake in the grass, was an 8” semi-hard cock in his shorts. “Whoa…” was all he could mutter.
He picked up his phone.
Jake: BTW - thanks for the new 🍆
hairy-bothered: Don’t mention it. ;) Have fun! 🍆💦💦
Jake put down his phone, and as he pulled his shorts over his hairy bush his dick, slowly becoming visible, flopped out. “Yes…” Jake thought at the sight of his new member on full display. He reached a thick hairy hand down and gave his new dick a little tug, which coaxed his dick into a full erection at 9", thick, veiny with dense hair on the base.
He inspected how the weight of his new rod shifted, the way it responded. He reached behind and felt two golf ball sized nuts in a long dangling sack. He thought about how his new nuts were perfectly situated to slap against another man’s ass as he fucked them.
Jake grabbed his cock with one hand and started to pump his shaft. Softly, at first, but before long his pace shifted into a higher gear and he moved up to the head - sliding his new foreskin over his glans. It felt sensitive in a way his cut cock never did.
He looked at himself in the mirror. At his new muscles, at the hair coating his body, at the thick mustache above his lip that tickled when he pursed his lips. Gradually his pace quickened and he started thrusting into his hand.
He started visualizing the type of men he could dominate in this upgraded body. How they would worship his hairy pecs, dwell a moment longer sniffing his hairy pits, moan under the pressure of his new cock deep inside them.
After a couple of minutes visualizing himself fucking a twenty three year old frat boy from his design studio with a tight body and thick stubble, Jake felt the heat build up across his body and release in an instant with a deep moan as he ejaculated ropes of thick creamy cum on the bathroom mirror. “Whoa…” he muttered again before cleaning up.Â
For the next few days, nobody noticed anything was wrong. That was almost worse than if they had screamed at the sight of him. Jake’s classmates greeted him like always. His professor called on him without hesitation. The barista wrote Jake on his coffee cup and did not blink at the fact that Jake’s wrist looked twice as thick and his mustache could have belonged on a rancher in a beer commercial. The world had edited itself around him.
His driver’s license and student ID showed his new face - and birthdate - July 12, 1990 putting him at nearly 36 years old. Photos on his phone had changed, too. There he was at a gallery opening with the mustache. There he was in a group project photo, broad-shouldered in a denim shirt. There he was on his couch holding a controller, looking like somebody’s hot older brother who had wandered into grad school by mistake.
Only Jake - and hairy-bothered - remembered him being smaller. Only they knew who Jake was in his core.
In studio, this new version of Jake was a problem. He did not fit at the narrow desks the same way - his knees bumped the underside. His fingers were thicker around the delicate knife he used to cut chipboard. His classmates looked briefly confused when he leaned over their models, not because they remembered him differently, but because the shirt stretched over his chest and forearms made him impossible not to notice.
Despite the litany of physical changes, the real change was Jake's voice - and not just his new drawl. He stopped apologizing for himself. He spoke with intention and confidence. He took space and started going after what he wanted.
When his professor questioned his structural logic for a project, Jake heard himself say, “No, that’s not the point of the load path,” and then calmly walked the room through it. His voice came out lower, slower, with no upward nervousness at the end. People listened. The ex-frat guy in his cohort nodded. His professor paused, then said, “That’s stronger.”
Jake should have been horrified. Instead, he wanted to laugh. He nailed the review. That night to celebrate he went to a bar. He told himself it was research. He told himself he needed to know how his new body moved in public, how people responded, whether the change held under pressure. Whether this was worth it. He put on jeans, boots, a white undershirt under an open plaid shirt, then stared at himself so long he forgot the excuse.
The shirt did not hide him. Muscles bulged. Hair showed at the collar. The mustache changed the weight and gravity of every expression. The jeans fit his hairy thighs in a way that made him understand why men leaned against bar counters.
At the bar - a gay western themed affair called the Rainbow Pony - he did not wait. He saw a man near the jukebox looking at him. Not glancing. Looking. Old Jake would have looked away and built an entire alternate life in his head. Cowboy Jake walked over.
“Evening,” Jake said.
The man smiled before answering. “Hi, I’m Dan.”
“Good to meet you, Dan. You here alone?”
“Yes,” he spit out before Jake even finished his thought, “Well...no. I’m here with some friends” he said pointing to a group of men at the other side of the bar.
“Ahh,” Jake replied. “Maybe I’ll catch you later his evening then?” And he made his way through the crowd.
That was new. Everything about the night felt new. Men moved around him differently. Some gave him space. Some stepped closer. He flirted without rehearsing. He made choices. He let his gaze linger and watched men react to being seen by him. His body seemed to know the timing of a slow smile, the weight of silence, the exact angle to lean so the hair at his open collar showed just enough to have men’s eyes linger.
The man from the jukebox had stayed close all night, laughing into his beer, glancing at Jake’s mouth whenever the mustache shifted with a smile. Old Jake would have spent the entire ride home wondering whether he was reading the signals correctly. This Jake did not wonder. When the Uber pulled up, he opened the door, gave the man one slow look, and said, “Get in, we're going to your place.”
The back seat was dark except for the passing streetlights. The second the door shut, the man turned toward him, still wearing that amused, challenging expression. Jake caught him by the front of his shirt and pulled him in. The kiss was not careful. It was warm, rough, confident — the kind of kiss Jake used to imagine other men giving. Now it came out of him naturally, like the new body had brought its own instructions.
The man made a small surprised sound against his mouth, then kissed him back harder. That was all the permission Jake needed. He shifted closer, one broad hand firm at the man’s jaw, thumb brushing the edge of his beard while the other settled against his waist, holding him there like Jake had already decided where the night was going. The man’s hat bumped the car window. Jake smiled into the kiss, not apologizing.
For a moment, the old Jake flickered somewhere under the heat of it — shocked by his own certainty, by the weight of his hands, by how easily he took control. Then the man’s fingers tightened in his open plaid shirt, pulling at the white undershirt beneath, and the cowboy in him pushed forward again. Jake broke the kiss only long enough to murmur, low and close, “You’ve been looking at me all night.”
The man swallowed, eyes bright in the passing neon. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re hard to miss.” Jake’s mustache lifted with a slow grin of self-satisfaction.
“Good,” he said, and kissed him again before the car had made it three blocks.
Dan lived on the third floor of an older apartment building above a quiet street, the kind with narrow stairs, fluorescent hallway light, and doors that looked like they had been painted too many times over the years. Jake followed him up without saying much. He didn’t need to. The whole way, Dan kept glancing back over his shoulder, smiling like he was daring Jake to do something before they even made it inside.
Jake waited until the apartment door shut. Then he moved. Dan barely had time to set his keys on the table before Jake crowded him back against the wall, one hand braced beside his head, the other catching him firmly at the waist. He kissed him again, deeper this time, slower but no less certain.
The old Jake might have asked if this was okay in a nervous voice that made the question smaller than it needed to be. Cowboy Jake asked differently. He paused just long enough to look Dan in the eyes - seeing them screaming for attention and the touch of Jake’s hands.
The apartment was dim except for a lamp near the couch. Jake walked him backward through it, kissing him between steps, making Dan laugh once when he bumped into the edge of a chair. The laugh died quickly when Jake’s hands settled on him again, confident and possessive, guiding instead of asking. He liked the way Dan responded to that — the way the teasing smile slipped, the way his breath changed, the way he stopped performing and started following.
Dan reached to pull off Jake’s plaid shirt, but Jake caught his wrist and pinned it gently against the wall. Dan’s eyes lifted.
Jake smiled under the mustache. “Not yet, cowboy.”
The words should have embarrassed him. Instead, they came out low and natural, like he had always been the kind of man who could say them and be obeyed.
Dan swallowed, then nodded.
Jake let go of his wrist and took his time with the shirt himself, sliding his outer shirt off leaving his white undershirt for Dan to see the dark hair at the collar, the new breadth of his chest and shoulders. Dan stared, and Jake felt that look move through him like confirmation. This was what he had wanted in the bar. This was what he had wanted on campus, in the mirror, in every late-night fantasy he had pretended was only attraction…to be the man someone else could not stop looking at.
He stepped closer again and kissed Dan until the back of Dan’s head touched the wall. Then he leaned near his ear and said, “Bedroom, now.”
Dan laughed once, breathless. “You always this bossy?”
Jake pulled back just enough for Dan to see his grin. “No,” he said honestly. Then, after a beat, he added, “But I’m learning fast.”
Dan took his hand and led him down the short hallway. Jake followed, but only because he chose to. At the bedroom door, he turned Dan around, kissed him again, and shut the door behind them with one broad hand.
Dan’s bedroom was tidy and organized, with a queen sized bed pushed against the window, two nightstand and some photos on the wall. Jake removed Dan’s cowboy hat and put it on his head. “Mind if I borrow this tonight, partner?” he grinned.
He then proceeded to unbutton Dan’s shirt. While Dan returned the favor by pulling off Jake’s undershirt - leaving him in jeans and the borrowed cowboy hat.
Dan gave Jake a good look and said “Wow, I love how hairy you are. It’s so hot.”
Old Jake was beaming on the inside. Cowboy Jake took the compliment in stride by simply pulling Dan towards him and whispering “I know you do” in his ear while simultaneously unbuttoning Dan's jeans and pushing him onto the bed.
Jake unbuttoned his own pants and climbed on top of Dan - grinding their eager cocks against their thigh-tight denim. They kissed heavily while dry humping before Dan reached into his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube.
“I want you to fuck me, cowboy” he whispered to Jake between heavy kisses with tongues intertwined.
“I was waiting for you to say that.”
Jake then pulled down his jeans and underwear releasing his dick, while Dan reciprocated by removing his pants and underwear.
“Hairy and hung” my favorite combination, Dan said.
Jake gave a little chuckle - remembering his former smaller dick and less hirsute body. He then lifted Dan’s legs and spit on his asshole before going in with his tongue - prepping him to take his 9" thick dick. Dan began to moan and writhe at the feeling of Jake lapping in and around his asshole - the bristles of his mustache teasing him.
Jake took the bottle of lube and rubbed some into Dan’s yearning hole with two then three fingers before smearing some over his own dick. He then pressed his cock again Dan’s asshole and slowly pushed in, the two men interlocked in missionary style, face-to-face.
“Mmm…” Dan moaned as Jake’s dick slide in further, stretching him out. "It's been a while since I've taken such a big dick."
"That's a boy, you're taking it like a champ" Jake whispered as he slide his dick further with each slow thrust.
Dan reached up and felt Jake’s hairy chest, kissed his mustached face, and then dug his hands into Jake’s hairy back - pulling him deeper into his ass. The attention drove Jake wild as he began to pump hungrily into Dan’s tight hole.
Jake began to lose himself in thought - here he was doing something old Jake would never have dared - fucking a stranger he met in a bar, being worshiped for his hairy body, stern broad face, and massive new cock.
Jake snapped back into the moment when he heard the tone of Dan’s moans shift. He felt Dan's tight hole begin to spasm around his cock as he came from the intensity of Jake's dick in his ass - cum splattering up on Jake’s hairy chest. Jake pulled his dick out, and pulled Dan to the edge of the bed - rising to his feet and reinserting his dick to get a deeper angle. He then rubbed his hand through cum-soaked chest and lifted it to his mouth - tasting it while increasing his pace.
“Where do you want me to cum?” he whispered to Dan.
“On me” Dan replied, still reeling from his orgasm and the feeling of Jake's dick still inside him.
Jake pumped a few more times into Dan then pulled out and jerked his rock-hard dick until he exploded all over Dan’s chest - with ropes of cum splattering all the way up to the man's face. Jake then collapsed onto Dan, his dick softening pressed against Dan’s cum-coated chest.
After wiping up the cum, Jake snuggled up next to Dan waiting for him to fall asleep so he could slip out before dawn. He did not become cruel. He did not become a caricature. He simply stopped asking permission to exist. He loved it - and that was the problem.
He loved the body. He loved the heft of it, the roughness, the way desire seemed to travel outward from him instead of trapping itself under his ribs. He loved how his own reflection every time he passed a mirror startled him and then satisfied him. He loved the mustache. He loved the hairy chest and shoulders. He loved being the man who approached what he wanted and took it.
But by the ninth day, unease crept in. At school, a first-year student called him “sir” and then flushed. Jake laughed it off, but it stuck. In the grocery store, a cashier guessed he was married. A guy at the gym asked if he had “been this built since he was a young man,” and Jake almost answered honestly.
At night, alone, he studied his face. Thirty-five looked good on him. Too good. But he was twenty-five. He had not earned those lines. He had not lived that decade. Somewhere under the tan, chest hair and steady gaze, the original Jake felt like he had borrowed a truck he did not know how to park.
He messaged Hairy-Bothered.
Jake: I like it.
hairy-bothered: I know, cowboy.
Jake: But it’s weird being this much older.
hairy-bothered: Older bothers you?
Jake: A little.
hairy-bothered: You wanted masculine. You didn’t say young. How many young men do you think are really that masculine? How many exude the confidence you now possess?
Jake looked at the black box. Two return vials. One blue vial.
Jake: The bro one makes me younger?
hairy-bothered: Younger. Louder. Fratty. Hairier than ever. Easier.
Jake: Easier - in what way?
The reply took longer this time.
hairy-bothered: Easier to stop overthinking.
Jake should have noticed the wording.
Instead, he thought about being younger, hairier and built. "Hairier than ever" - whatever that meant exactly. Hot in the way frat boys were hot: careless, physical, energetic, wanted. Maybe he could have the body and the confidence without feeling like he had jumped ahead ten years.
On Sunday morning, Jake drank one RETURN vial. The cowboy left him in reverse. His shoulders narrowed. His hands smoothed. The tan faded. The hair thinned and retreated from his shoulders, his arms, his stomach, his chest, leaving him with the familiar lighter pattern of pre-change Jake. His mustache softened back into his regular beard. The lines at his eyes vanished. His face became twenty-five again.
When it finished, Jake stood in the bathroom mirror looking exactly like himself. He should have felt saved. Instead, he felt reduced.
The bathroom looked bigger. His shorts hung looser. His hands looked delicate around the sink. Even his thoughts seemed quieter, less confident, less rooted in his body. Normal fit, but not comfortably.
His phone buzzed.
hairy-bothered: How’s normal feel?
Jake stared at himself then thought for a moment before replying:
Jake: Smaller.
A minute later:
hairy-bothered: Then maybe normal was never the goal.
With summer break on horizon I have decided to create trilogy about college sports. We are starting with everybody's favourite, the wrestling. If you have other sport you want to have story about, type it to the comments.
Also, as you may know, I created an account on Ko-Fi. If you like this or any of my other stores. You can tip me there.
The office smelled of stale coffee, wintergreen liniment, and the heavy, intoxicating musk of raw testosterone.
Johny stood just inside the door, nervously clutching the straps of his oversized backpack. Short, with a thin, angular frame and a perpetually shy demeanor, he looked like the academic nerd who spent his life buried in library basements rather than athletic halls. He was decidedly not an athlete.
Behind the heavy oak desk sat Coach Marcus. The man was a mountain. He was mature, ruggedly handsome, and built like a literal bear – tall, dense muscle, broad shoulders that stretched his polo shirt to its absolute limit, and a huge chest that surged forward with every breath. He projected an aura of absolute dominance.
Coach looked up from a file, his deep voice vibrating through the room. "Have a seat, Johny."
Johny swallowed hard, remaining standing. "Is something wrong with my academic standing, Coach?"
"Not your academics," Coach rumbled, a slow, knowing smile spread across his handsome face. "But you're short on your physical education credits. It's mandatory for graduation. A lot of you high-IQ guys forget about the body while feeding the brain. But I have a way you can fix it. Right now." Coach reached into a sports bag on his desk and pulled out a spandex wrestling singlet. It was vibrant red with deep blue stripes running down the sides. He held it out. Johny looked at the skimpy piece of fabric, his face flushing a bright, nervous crimson.
"Coach, I don't think..." Johny stammered.
"I need you, Johny," Coach interrupted, his eyes locking onto the younger man with an intense, heavy gaze. "My best wrestler, Dane Mercer, just dropped out of tonight's intercollegiate match."
Johny’s eyes widened behind his invisible anxiety. "Dane Mercer? As Dane 'The Anvil' Mercer? Coach, he’s a beast! He competes in the heaviest weight class. How could I ever replace him? I weigh next to nothing."
Coach stood up, towering over Johny, casting a massive shadow. He placed a heavy, warm hand on Johny’s shoulder, sending an unexpected spark of heat straight down the boy's spine. "Don't worry about that. You can handle it. Go to the locker room, put it on. The match is about to start. Trust me." Dazed, Johny took the singlet and retreated to the locker room. He pulled off his baggy hoodie and jeans, feeling acutely vulnerable in the chill air. He stepped into the wrestling boots and pulled the red singlet up over his thin shoulders. The fabric hung loose, sagging against his flat chest and slender thighs. The boots felt like clunky buckets on his feet. He looked down at himself, feeling utterly ridiculous, his mind racing with panic about the humiliation awaiting him on the mat.
Then, a strange, suffocating heat flared in the center of his chest.
Johny gasped, clutching his stomach as a sudden, violent surge of raw energy ripped through his veins, hot as liquid fire. His vision blurred, the sterile grey tiles of the locker room swirling into streaks of light and shadow.
Thump. Thump. His heart hammered against his ribs like a heavy war drum, echoing in his ears, drowning out the distant ambient noise of the gym. It wasn't just a pulse; it felt like an engine turning over, pumping something potent, thick, and unfamiliar through his entire body.
Suddenly, the floor seemed to drop away as profound dizziness took hold. Johny gasped as his narrow, boyish skeletal frame began to violently stretch. It started with a deep, internal ache in his marrow. His joints popped, clicking loudly in the quiet room as his bones lengthened at an impossible speed. He watched, terrified yet mesmerized, as the lockers appeared to shrink around him. He was shooting upward, his perspective shifting rapidly as his head rose higher and higher toward the ceiling tiles, forcing him to look down at surroundings that suddenly felt incredibly small. He kept growing until he finally stabilized, a towering, giant shadow of his former self, looking down from a staggering new height.
Before he could even fully process this vertigo-inducing vertical growth, his flesh began to swell, responding to the immense new skeletal frame. It started as a deep, primal ache, a stretching of tissue that quickly turned into an intoxicating rush of fullness. Beneath the loose crimson spandex, his once non-existent muscles began to balloon with explosive power. Lean, sharply defined lines carved themselves into his torso, but they didn't stay slender for long; they were immediately buried under thick, dense slabs of hyper-masculine mass that seemed to pack themselves onto his frame by the second.
His collarbones elongated, forcing his shoulders out into a massive, wide V-shape that completely redefined his silhouette. His chest erupted outward, expanding exponentially to form huge, thick pecs that pushed hard against the thin fabric of the singlet until the seams groaned and cried out under the strain. Down his arms, the transformation was just as fierce. His biceps surged, knotting into hard, heavy peaks of solid muscle that flexed instinctively. Below his waist, his slender legs exploded with new mass; his thighs thickened into powerful, solid trunks, packed with heavy muscle that filled out the wrestling boots perfectly, stretching the leather until it gripped his ankles with absolute, unyielding support.
The singlet was no longer baggy. It was stretched to its absolute limit, plastered tight against his massive, muscular body, highlighting the absurd thickness of his new physique. He was a heavyweight titan.
Then sharp short headache hit him. His head started to feel different. He reached up, his large, newly calloused hand brushing against his hair. The floppy, unkempt nerd strands were gone, replaced by a sharp, aggressive, clean-cut fade. His hand slid down to his face, his fingers tracing a massive transformation—his soft, receded jawline had hardened into a heavy, square, ultra-masculine chin, thick and rock-solid.
But the physical transformation was only half of it. Inside his brain, something was being rewritten. The anxious thoughts, the library catalog numbers, the complex mathematical formulas – they were violently overwritten, burned away by a flood of pure, unadulterated adrenaline. In their place rushed an instinctive, flawless understanding of leverage, takedowns, pins, and physical dominance. His shy, submissive nature vanished entirely, evaporated by a sudden, intoxicating rush of supreme confidence.
He didn't feel like Johny the nerd anymore. He felt like a god. A cocky, dominant alpha predator.
A slow, arrogant smile spread across his newly chiseled face. He flexed his massive arms, feeling the terrifying, raw power coiling tightly in his chest. He looked down at his tightly clad, hyper-masculine body, his chest heaving with anticipation.
He knew exactly what he was going to do to his opponent out there. He knew how he was going to dominate him, pin him to the mat, and hear the crowd roar his name. Tonight's tournament wasn't going to be a disaster. It was going to be pure, thrilling fun.
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Joe had known Tyler since they were kids, the two forming a close friendship with one another. Having grown up in the same small town, the two would often talk about their futures. Joe would had plans to join the military when he turned 20, while Tyler planned to pursue a political science degree. When Tyler did leave for college, Joe remained behind working in the family store and getting in shape for the military. The two talked less and less, but Joe heard a rumor while working in the store. Apparently, Tyler had come out to his parents. Joe was shocked to say the least, but when Tyler reached out asking to hangout, Joe wanted to be there for his friend. But as the two sat playing videogames in the back room of the store, Joe couldn’t help but feel awkward.
“So...” Joe said clearing his throat, watching the screen intently, “Uhhh...”
“So what’ve you heard?” Tyler asked, his eyes focused on the screen. It was a small town, and Tyler knew that nothing stays secret in a small town, “I’ll bail you out buddy, yeah I’m gay.”
Joe flinched, “Uh yeah I heard.” He replied awkwardly, “So everything okay? I know your parents aren’t exactly...”
Tyler replied, his voice lower, “It’s fine, I appreciate you still wanting to hang out, man. I needed this.”
Joe chuckled, “Yeah no worries bro! I just wanna be supportive. Besides, what do I care if you like dick in your face?” He asked with a grin, nudging his friend.
“I’m sure you’ll get plenty used to that army boy.” Tyler smirked. The two continued to play their videogame in silence before Tyler took a deep breath, “Ya know, I’m sure my parents would’ve been happier if I joined the army.” He chuckled, “But, I’m not exactly the type.”
Joe shrugged, planning to respond when the lights flickered and he felt a strange sensation shoot through his body, causing him to throw his controller to the ground. He heard a similar sound, as Tyler had done the same, the two looking at one another in confusion.
“What the hell was that?” Joe laughed awkwardly, “Felt like a shock.” It was raining pretty bad outside, so he figured lightning could’ve hit the house. Tyler just nodded, and Joe got up and looked out the window, taking in the violent storm outside. When he turned back to Tyler, his eyes widened, “Bro what the hell? Where’d your clothes go?” Joe asked turning away.
Tyler’s eyes widened, “Me? What about you?”
Joe looked down and found that he was also fully nude, quickly moving his hands to cover himself. Tyler blushed and went to cover himself, only to find he had a raging erection.
“What the fuck dude?” Joe yelled.
“Dude I don’t know what’s happ...” Tyler let out a moan as the feeling in his cock intensified, pleasure reverberating through his body. He stood, his eyes half open as his dick throbbed.
Joe knew something was wrong, and quickly scanned the ground for his clothes, finding nothing. But when he looked back over at his friend, another strange sensation shot through his toned body. Against his will, Joe slowly fell to his knees, his mouth forcing itself open.
“Dude, I need help.” Joe tried to force out, but Tyler barely registered him, still moaning. Joe’s eyes widened as Tyler suddenly walked forward, his erect dick approaching Joe’s face, “Wait dude, what are you...!” Joe felt Tyler’s dick enter his mouth, the feeling completely foreign to the young man.
Tyler meanwhile only moaned as he felt his friend’s mouth wrap around his dick. He knew this was wrong, that something was compelling him to do this. But he couldn’t help it. And when Joe started sucking on his dick, Tyler could only let out another moan. Since when did his friend get so good at this? And why did it feel like his dick was growing? Joe meanwhile felt tears fall from his eyes as his friend’s dick went further down his throat. And to his horror, he could swear that it was starting to grow, taking up more space in his throat. Against his will, Joe could feel his arms wrap around his friends waist, his hands clasping together, as he massaged his friends ass.
“Fuck dude...” Tyler moaned, his voice sounding somewhat deeper, more masculine. He threw his head back and Joe looked up, noticing Tyler’s hair begin to reshape itself into a standard military buzz cut.
Joe tried to say something, but with his friend’s dick deep in his throat, no words could come out. Both to the young man’s horror and relief, the discomfort of sucking on his friend’s member seemed to vanish and it became much easier to handle, as if his mouth was growing accustomed to it. Equally concerning to him, as he looked around, he noticed the muscles he’d been developing in his arms had seemingly disappeared. And maybe it was a trick of the light, but his arms seemed to be slightly discolored, having taken on an almost light green hue.
“What the fuck!?” He thought, tears falling from his eyes, “Please Tyler!” He felt a new sensation well up in his abdomen and chest. He looked down and to his horror, watched as his defined pecs and abs flattened and disappeared, the rest of his body taking on the greenish hue of his arms. He winced as his torso and legs shrunk and he felt his newly flat abdomen and legs curl upwards, following along his friend’s taint and connecting with his clasped hands.
“What’s happening to me!?” He thought, panic rising. He could no longer register his limbs as being separate, it all just felt like one piece of him. And what seemed to be worse was the sensation of Tyler’s ass filling his new body.
Meanwhile Tyler became aware of something soft covering his ass cheeks. And with a grunt, he felt his ass firm up and swell with muscle. Joe grunted as his new body was strained against his friend’s enlarging muscular ass. But Tyler’s ass wasn’t the only area that was experiencing this newfound growth. He felt a burning sensation in his legs as his calves packed on and toned with muscle, followed by his legs. He fell back onto the couch, taking Joe with him, and began to hump his cock deeper into his friend’s throat, which was starting to feel even softer to him, almost like cotton. Joe was forced to move with Tyler, watching as his friend seemingly packed on insane amounts of muscle in mere moments. Abs popped up along his abdomen, while his pecs grew out and firmed up. The newly muscular man happily squeezed his meaty pecs and ran a hand down his new abs, relishing in his new musculature.
“Fuck dude this feels so good.” Tyler moaned in a voice that sounded nothing like him. Deep, masculine, and dumb is how Joe could describe it. Tyler put his arms behind his head and took a deep breath as his pits filled with dense hair, which filled the room with his manly musk.
“Please stop dude!” Joe thought, “I can’t...” Joe could feel his face begin to rearrange and flatten, watching as his hair fell from his head. Joe felt panicked as his eyesight became worse, until he couldn’t see a thing. As his vision faltered, he felt as though the dick in his mouth was now pressed up against his entire face. And that’s when Joe became aware of it: he no longer had a throat, or a human body for that matter. Whatever his face had become was now pressed up against his friend’s tented cock. And while his vision was impaired, he could still process all the smells, sensations, and warmth radiating throughout his new body. He mentally moaned as he felt Tyler’s hand grab his fat cock through his new fabric body and begin to pump.
“Fuck...” Tyler breathed as his biceps and triceps exploded, while his shoulders and back expanded with muscle. He continued to jerk himself through his former friend, the pleasure coursing through both of them.
“Tyler... no...” Joe mentally begged, becoming fully aware of what he had become, “I can’t...” It was the strangest feeling for him. A new set of thoughts began to invade his mind- he was to provide support for his friend, absorb his sweat, cum, and protein farts. He was going to enjoy having his friend’s dick in his face... just as good underwear should do, “Not... underwear...” Joe did his best to resist, trying to remember he had a greater purpose in life. That he wanted to join the army. That he was human. But as Tyler continued to jerk himself off through his former friend, Joe became more and more accepting of his new role. So what if he always had a dick in his face? All he wanted to do was be supportive, right? Now he could be.
Tyler for that matter was going through his own mental rewrite. He never went to college- in fact he had no interest in college. Political science? No way. He didn’t have the brains for that. No, he was a soldier, having joined the army after high school. And so what if he was gay? With his new confidence, he didn’t care what anyone had to say. Tyler chuckled as his eyes dulled and he readily accepted his new reality. He quickened his pace, letting out a guttural moan as he filled his underwear with his seed. At this point, Joe’s resistance completely crumbled, the former young man happily absorbing his friend’s cum and accepting the idea of being this soldier stud’s favorite pair of underwear. Tyler breathed deeply as his underwear seemingly tightened around him.Â
“Shit...” The new soldier whispered, “Gotta clean myself up.” He chuckled dumbly. He got up and posed in the bathroom mirror, taking in the sight, “Damn I look good.” He smirked, feeling his dick harden again.  And so Joe, now Tyler’s favorite pair of underwear, would always be there to support his friend. And Tyler for that matter, was happy to live his new life as a musculature soldier, always ensuring that his fellow soldiers were always taken care of.
A fun assignment- Muscle growth ai sequence and story
Alan and Mac stayed after class as instructed by their politics and economics professor. Alan shuffled awkwardly with his books trying not to look at the mountain that was Mac, the jock was huge in height, weight and muscle mass. Alan wrinkled his nose as he got a whiff of sweat and body odour that was radiating off of Mac, he couldn't believe that they even attended the same college, let alone the same class. How was it that such a dumb mountain of muscle was allowed to coast along while people like Alan studied day and night. Alan had just spent nearly two weeks solid in the library writing his report on the power of words of authority while he assumed Mac must have spent it in the gym.
Both men then turned to their professor, he beamed at them both. "Thanks for staying guys. I wanted to let you know that for the next assignment I'd like to pair you up for a debate. After reading both of your recent papers I think it would be enlightening for both of you to spend some time working together".
Alan almost gasped at the news but stopped himself.
Alan turned and sneered at Mac who instead grinned with delight. Of course he would be happy, he'd have a nerd to do all the work thought Alan before turning back to his professor and coming close enough to whisper.
"Please sir, is that really necessary? I don't have time to babysit some odorous gorilla."
The professor just looked down at Alan with a small amount shock and frustration "Yes. It will be good for both of you." the professor said sternly and turned and left leaving Alan alone with Mac once again.
"Odorous gorilla huh?" Mac said almost amused but with an undercurrent of anger. "I'll show you odorous"
Mac then proceed to grin like an idiot and bend over pushing his enormous muscular bubble butt directly towards Alan, the threading of his shorts ached as the massive muscle stretched it out to his limits. Alan had no time to react as Mac grunted and unleashed a booming, thunderous fart that blasted on for a strong 10 seconds before then bombarding Alan's senses with the concentrated scent of protein and ass.
Alan gagged as the smell assaulted him, the shock and disgust he felt soon turning to anger as Mac laughed at his own foul fart and Alan's pathetic reaction.
Alan was filled with rage as he pinched his nose which did nothing to get rid of the scent that now seem to stick to his nostrils and tongue. Alan's voice came out as almost a scream as the furiously little nerd dropped his books and pointed a the chuckling behemoth.
"You beast, you animal! You monsterous, smelly, dumb oaf! How the fuck did they let someone like you into college its a disgrace!" Alan said red in the face with fury.
However, Alan's fury quickly subsided as he looked at Mac who after being insulted was no longer laughing and instead now looked rather threatening and Alan realised he had just called a man twice his size a monster.
Mac then spoke into a loud commanding tone that instantly made Alan retreat into himself. "Monsterous? Dumb? Smelly? Is that all you think of me as? That's disappointing Alan, I was actually looking forward to working with you since we both got the highest grades on the last assignment."
Alan almost whisper "Highest?
"Yeah I found out some really interesting things when researching words of power and how they have been used in history. For example I learnt this neat little phrase -" Mac then took an deep inhale before then with a deep resonating shout said "ym eciov sdnammoc ym eciov si hturt"
Alan was confused by the jibberish and after standing in silence for a time finally asked "And what does that mean?"
Mac then grinned an almost sinster smile "It means that you will take off your glasses and smash them on the floor, you don't need them anymore."
Alan assumed it was just a threat, Mac's penance for Alan insulting him. Alan had no intention of smashing his glasses but then something odd happened, his hand moved without his consent and grabbed them from his face. Alan whimpered "Wait what's happening?!" confused as he dropped his glasses to the floor and raised his foot. "Stop! Why -crunch, smash, crunch"
Alan found himself violently stomping on his own glasses his body moving autonomously and without his control. When they were fully destroyed Alan found himself looking back up at Mac. He should have been blurry and hard to see but instead he was as clear as crystal, like he had never needed glasses in the first place.
Alan now more fearful look up at Mac's grinning handsome face and asked "How did you do that? Why did I just do that?"
Mac smiled "Words have power and those words have an awful lot of it." Mac then paused and folded his arms which made him look even more imposing. "Those words, they help me to command the truth, which is why you no longer need your glasses and it is also why you no longer dress like a dork and instead dress like a gym obsessed frat bro who loves attention."
Alan was still confused but then he felt a breeze on his legs and saw his trousers starting to shorten and his shoes turning bright yellow. Mac wasn't just commanding the truth, whatever he said became the truth! Alan looked down in horror as his modest button up shirt changed to yellow, its sleeves vanished and the fabric shrunk until only a ridiculously skimpy stringer tank remained. Alan's trousers became bright as they turned from boring grey to neon pink and then pulled themselves up past his knees up and to his thighs, leaving even more of his thin, pale, skinny body exposed to the world. Lastly were his shoes, the bright yellow covered them as they morphed into obscene sneakers that could be seen from a mile away. Alan could only look down in shock as Mac let out another chuckle at the skinny 100 pound nerd in the outfit of the most arrogant bodybuilder.
Mac grinned "You always dress like this even through the winter, you have to be noticed."
Alan then felt something in his brain change, a slight fuzz spread across his memories and now whenever he thought back he was dressed in similiar attire, every class he was in a tank top, even in the snow he was rocking the short shorts and his closet at home would blind him with the neon colours. Alan then looked at Mac was pure fear in his eyes, he hadn't just change his appearence here and now, no... he had changed his entire past and his memories!
Alan turned to Mac and started begging "I'm sorry Mac! I am sorry I didn't want to work with you, I am sorry I called you names, I am sorry that I assumed you were just a an idiot jock! Please just change things back, please just let me go!"
For a moment Mac's expression softened and for a second he considered letting Alan go and living the rest of his life in his new ridiculous outfits but then Alan's insults came back to him and his smile deepened.
"Monsterous...dumb...smelly oaf. Very unkind words I have to say Alan...but words that describe you perfectly."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" Alan screamed as suddenly his whole body felt like it was on fire as his muscles started to flex and itch and swell. Alan winced in pain as his bones started to lengthen and his height increased pushing him upwards. His arms and legs ached as muscle began to grow and expand, his thin torso widened as abs and pectorals began to form as Alan started on his journey to jockdom.
Alan was terrified as the heat inside him then seemed to double as every muscle in his body grew expontially larger and his entire frame grew wider and more unwieldy. Alan looked down and saw his chest grow two large, plump, round pectorals that jutted out like a shelf, each one then flexed and bounced involuntarily. Alan groaned as his torso quickly sported a six pack which very quickly turned into an eight pack as his whole torso soon looked like had had been sculpted from marble. Alan then saw his biceps balloon as thick veins came to surface of his muscles and his biceps grew to the size of cannonballs. While his legs and thighs thickened and soon rubbed together due to their sheer size. What's more behind Alan his once flat pale ass had grow into a shapely round, perfect peach that was hugged delicately by his tight workout shorts, showing it off to everyone who would walk by. Alan now had the body of a gym bunny but still the heat increased inside him.
With one more painful burst of heat and energy Alan felt every part of him grow as his legs, torso and arms all grew in size. Alan looked at Mac pleadingly as he grew to match the jock's eye line and then kept going higher until he was three inches taller than Mac. When the heat finally subsided Alan was taller, heavier and more muscular than Mac, he had to be at least 6'5 and over 280 pounds of pure muscle.
Alan cringed as he looked at his new massive physique and how much of it was now on display due to his tiny skimpy outfit. Alan wanted to keep pleading with Mac but the jock placed his hand on his shoulder and cut him off before he could speak.
Mac was almost giddy as he looked at the newest mounatin of muscle on campus "Now that's the monsterous part, now here comes the dumb part, but don't worry Alan I'll let you keep all those smarts they'll just be locked up inside that head along with your nerdy self and who you used to be."
Alan was about to protest when suddenly the fuzz in his head returned and everything suddenly became harder to piece together. What was it that he wanted to say? Why was he so worried? Was there something that he wanted to stop? Didn't he use to think good? Was that the problem? Even a slight bit of drool started to form at the edge of Alan's mouth as all his knowledge of college, high school, elementary school and everything except the basics was sucked away to a tiny little part of his mind that his body no longer could access. Alan tried to get to it but it was like his mind was walking through thick mud and the more he tried to get to it the less he felt in control of his body and instead it seemed something else was taking control.
Mac grabbed his new creation by the shoulder smiling as he watched the twinkle in the eyes that use to be Alan become trapped at the back of his own mind. Mac then gave the walking wall of muscle a little shake "Hey bro you in there? Earth to Atlas my best bro are you in there or are you too busy thinking about the party tonight?"
Alan no longer could do anything as the fuzz in his brain started to clear and when it did Alan no longer recognised the memories and thoughts. No longer was he studying in his room for hours on end, no he was partying and or going to the gym with Mac and his bro's. There was memories of him drinking and smoking weed, getting tattoos, banging babes and being the best mate to his bro Mac. Alan wanted to scream as his old life, all that education all of his smarts, all of his achievements were erased and replaced with some arrogant asshole gym bro who only cared about his appearence, partying and his best mate Mac.
Alan could only sob from inside his mind in the body of Atlas as tribal tatoos covered his arms, a gaudy gold chain and watch attached itself to his body, while diamond studs appeared in his ears, while his whole body took on an almost fake tan hue. Alan wanted to scream and cry, he wanted his body back but no matter what he did he was still stuck in the mud of his mind, the intelligence and knowledge, his past life all there but until able to take control of the dumb oaf he had become. Alan then felt his stomach rumble and his new body grinned at Mac.
"And here comes the smelly part" Mac said already starting to laugh as Atlas turned around and pushed out his pink short clad bubble butt. Alan desperately wanted to protest and was thoroughly humiliated as he bent over and unleashing a droning, spluttering, foul smelling fart that left Alan sobbing for mercy as he smelt the stench he had now produced and would be forced to smell for the rest of his existence.
"Get a whiff of that bro! That could peel that fucking paint off the walls!" Atlas shouted incredibly proud of the stench he had made and making his best bro laugh.
"You monsterous, smelly, dumb oaf! Get that ass away from me!" Mac laughed as he playfully pushed at his new bro's gaint gas producing ass. "Phew we better get out of this classroom before we stink it out!"
Mac then put his hand on Atlas's back and he returned the bro affection by putting his arm round Mac's shoulder. The two bro's laughing at the stench they had created as they left.
"So what are we doing now bro?" Atlas asked while casually flexing a bicep.
"I've got to find a new debate partner for this class, you have gym session with the boys." Mac said before waving to Atlas and leaving him on his own, where the new monsterous bro found himself blasting ass and then heading to the gym with a tiny almost silent scream echoing at the back of his head.
A fun assignment- Muscle growth ai sequence and story
Alan and Mac stayed after class as instructed by their politics and economics professor. Alan shuffled awkwardly with his books trying not to look at the mountain that was Mac, the jock was huge in height, weight and muscle mass. Alan wrinkled his nose as he got a whiff of sweat and body odour that was radiating off of Mac, he couldn't believe that they even attended the same college, let alone the same class. How was it that such a dumb mountain of muscle was allowed to coast along while people like Alan studied day and night. Alan had just spent nearly two weeks solid in the library writing his report on the power of words of authority while he assumed Mac must have spent it in the gym.
Both men then turned to their professor, he beamed at them both. "Thanks for staying guys. I wanted to let you know that for the next assignment I'd like to pair you up for a debate. After reading both of your recent papers I think it would be enlightening for both of you to spend some time working together".
Alan almost gasped at the news but stopped himself.
Alan turned and sneered at Mac who instead grinned with delight. Of course he would be happy, he'd have a nerd to do all the work thought Alan before turning back to his professor and coming close enough to whisper.
"Please sir, is that really necessary? I don't have time to babysit some odorous gorilla."
The professor just looked down at Alan with a small amount shock and frustration "Yes. It will be good for both of you." the professor said sternly and turned and left leaving Alan alone with Mac once again.
"Odorous gorilla huh?" Mac said almost amused but with an undercurrent of anger. "I'll show you odorous"
Mac then proceed to grin like an idiot and bend over pushing his enormous muscular bubble butt directly towards Alan, the threading of his shorts ached as the massive muscle stretched it out to his limits. Alan had no time to react as Mac grunted and unleashed a booming, thunderous fart that blasted on for a strong 10 seconds before then bombarding Alan's senses with the concentrated scent of protein and ass.
Alan gagged as the smell assaulted him, the shock and disgust he felt soon turning to anger as Mac laughed at his own foul fart and Alan's pathetic reaction.
Alan was filled with rage as he pinched his nose which did nothing to get rid of the scent that now seem to stick to his nostrils and tongue. Alan's voice came out as almost a scream as the furiously little nerd dropped his books and pointed a the chuckling behemoth.
"You beast, you animal! You monsterous, smelly, dumb oaf! How the fuck did they let someone like you into college its a disgrace!" Alan said red in the face with fury.
However, Alan's fury quickly subsided as he looked at Mac who after being insulted was no longer laughing and instead now looked rather threatening and Alan realised he had just called a man twice his size a monster.
Mac then spoke into a loud commanding tone that instantly made Alan retreat into himself. "Monsterous? Dumb? Smelly? Is that all you think of me as? That's disappointing Alan, I was actually looking forward to working with you since we both got the highest grades on the last assignment."
Alan almost whisper "Highest?
"Yeah I found out some really interesting things when researching words of power and how they have been used in history. For example I learnt this neat little phrase -" Mac then took an deep inhale before then with a deep resonating shout said "ym eciov sdnammoc ym eciov si hturt"
Alan was confused by the jibberish and after standing in silence for a time finally asked "And what does that mean?"
Mac then grinned an almost sinster smile "It means that you will take off your glasses and smash them on the floor, you don't need them anymore."
Alan assumed it was just a threat, Mac's penance for Alan insulting him. Alan had no intention of smashing his glasses but then something odd happened, his hand moved without his consent and grabbed them from his face. Alan whimpered "Wait what's happening?!" confused as he dropped his glasses to the floor and raised his foot. "Stop! Why -crunch, smash, crunch"
Alan found himself violently stomping on his own glasses his body moving autonomously and without his control. When they were fully destroyed Alan found himself looking back up at Mac. He should have been blurry and hard to see but instead he was as clear as crystal, like he had never needed glasses in the first place.
Alan now more fearful look up at Mac's grinning handsome face and asked "How did you do that? Why did I just do that?"
Mac smiled "Words have power and those words have an awful lot of it." Mac then paused and folded his arms which made him look even more imposing. "Those words, they help me to command the truth, which is why you no longer need your glasses and it is also why you no longer dress like a dork and instead dress like a gym obsessed frat bro who loves attention."
Alan was still confused but then he felt a breeze on his legs and saw his trousers starting to shorten and his shoes turning bright yellow. Mac wasn't just commanding the truth, whatever he said became the truth! Alan looked down in horror as his modest button up shirt changed to yellow, its sleeves vanished and the fabric shrunk until only a ridiculously skimpy stringer tank remained. Alan's trousers became bright as they turned from boring grey to neon pink and then pulled themselves up past his knees up and to his thighs, leaving even more of his thin, pale, skinny body exposed to the world. Lastly were his shoes, the bright yellow covered them as they morphed into obscene sneakers that could be seen from a mile away. Alan could only look down in shock as Mac let out another chuckle at the skinny 100 pound nerd in the outfit of the most arrogant bodybuilder.
Mac grinned "You always dress like this even through the winter, you have to be noticed."
Alan then felt something in his brain change, a slight fuzz spread across his memories and now whenever he thought back he was dressed in similiar attire, every class he was in a tank top, even in the snow he was rocking the short shorts and his closet at home would blind him with the neon colours. Alan then looked at Mac was pure fear in his eyes, he hadn't just change his appearence here and now, no... he had changed his entire past and his memories!
Alan turned to Mac and started begging "I'm sorry Mac! I am sorry I didn't want to work with you, I am sorry I called you names, I am sorry that I assumed you were just a an idiot jock! Please just change things back, please just let me go!"
For a moment Mac's expression softened and for a second he considered letting Alan go and living the rest of his life in his new ridiculous outfits but then Alan's insults came back to him and his smile deepened.
"Monsterous...dumb...smelly oaf. Very unkind words I have to say Alan...but words that describe you perfectly."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" Alan screamed as suddenly his whole body felt like it was on fire as his muscles started to flex and itch and swell. Alan winced in pain as his bones started to lengthen and his height increased pushing him upwards. His arms and legs ached as muscle began to grow and expand, his thin torso widened as abs and pectorals began to form as Alan started on his journey to jockdom.
Alan was terrified as the heat inside him then seemed to double as every muscle in his body grew expontially larger and his entire frame grew wider and more unwieldy. Alan looked down and saw his chest grow two large, plump, round pectorals that jutted out like a shelf, each one then flexed and bounced involuntarily. Alan groaned as his torso quickly sported a six pack which very quickly turned into an eight pack as his whole torso soon looked like had had been sculpted from marble. Alan then saw his biceps balloon as thick veins came to surface of his muscles and his biceps grew to the size of cannonballs. While his legs and thighs thickened and soon rubbed together due to their sheer size. What's more behind Alan his once flat pale ass had grow into a shapely round, perfect peach that was hugged delicately by his tight workout shorts, showing it off to everyone who would walk by. Alan now had the body of a gym bunny but still the heat increased inside him.
With one more painful burst of heat and energy Alan felt every part of him grow as his legs, torso and arms all grew in size. Alan looked at Mac pleadingly as he grew to match the jock's eye line and then kept going higher until he was three inches taller than Mac. When the heat finally subsided Alan was taller, heavier and more muscular than Mac, he had to be at least 6'5 and over 280 pounds of pure muscle.
Alan cringed as he looked at his new massive physique and how much of it was now on display due to his tiny skimpy outfit. Alan wanted to keep pleading with Mac but the jock placed his hand on his shoulder and cut him off before he could speak.
Mac was almost giddy as he looked at the newest mounatin of muscle on campus "Now that's the monsterous part, now here comes the dumb part, but don't worry Alan I'll let you keep all those smarts they'll just be locked up inside that head along with your nerdy self and who you used to be."
Alan was about to protest when suddenly the fuzz in his head returned and everything suddenly became harder to piece together. What was it that he wanted to say? Why was he so worried? Was there something that he wanted to stop? Didn't he use to think good? Was that the problem? Even a slight bit of drool started to form at the edge of Alan's mouth as all his knowledge of college, high school, elementary school and everything except the basics was sucked away to a tiny little part of his mind that his body no longer could access. Alan tried to get to it but it was like his mind was walking through thick mud and the more he tried to get to it the less he felt in control of his body and instead it seemed something else was taking control.
Mac grabbed his new creation by the shoulder smiling as he watched the twinkle in the eyes that use to be Alan become trapped at the back of his own mind. Mac then gave the walking wall of muscle a little shake "Hey bro you in there? Earth to Atlas my best bro are you in there or are you too busy thinking about the party tonight?"
Alan no longer could do anything as the fuzz in his brain started to clear and when it did Alan no longer recognised the memories and thoughts. No longer was he studying in his room for hours on end, no he was partying and or going to the gym with Mac and his bro's. There was memories of him drinking and smoking weed, getting tattoos, banging babes and being the best mate to his bro Mac. Alan wanted to scream as his old life, all that education all of his smarts, all of his achievements were erased and replaced with some arrogant asshole gym bro who only cared about his appearence, partying and his best mate Mac.
Alan could only sob from inside his mind in the body of Atlas as tribal tatoos covered his arms, a gaudy gold chain and watch attached itself to his body, while diamond studs appeared in his ears, while his whole body took on an almost fake tan hue. Alan wanted to scream and cry, he wanted his body back but no matter what he did he was still stuck in the mud of his mind, the intelligence and knowledge, his past life all there but until able to take control of the dumb oaf he had become. Alan then felt his stomach rumble and his new body grinned at Mac.
"And here comes the smelly part" Mac said already starting to laugh as Atlas turned around and pushed out his pink short clad bubble butt. Alan desperately wanted to protest and was thoroughly humiliated as he bent over and unleashing a droning, spluttering, foul smelling fart that left Alan sobbing for mercy as he smelt the stench he had now produced and would be forced to smell for the rest of his existence.
"Get a whiff of that bro! That could peel that fucking paint off the walls!" Atlas shouted incredibly proud of the stench he had made and making his best bro laugh.
"You monsterous, smelly, dumb oaf! Get that ass away from me!" Mac laughed as he playfully pushed at his new bro's gaint gas producing ass. "Phew we better get out of this classroom before we stink it out!"
Mac then put his hand on Atlas's back and he returned the bro affection by putting his arm round Mac's shoulder. The two bro's laughing at the stench they had created as they left.
"So what are we doing now bro?" Atlas asked while casually flexing a bicep.
"I've got to find a new debate partner for this class, you have gym session with the boys." Mac said before waving to Atlas and leaving him on his own, where the new monsterous bro found himself blasting ass and then heading to the gym with a tiny almost silent scream echoing at the back of his head.
Milo let out a pathetic yelp as he dropped the weights to the floor, each barely 15 pounds and still they were a struggle to hold up. Milo almost felt like crying, he had been going to the gym for a couple of months now and while he had lost a little bit of weight he had gained no muscle at all. He was still weak, scrawny and completely over looked, women wouldn't even notice him not in a gym full of real muscle men. Milo looked around embarrassed, hoping no one has seen his poor attempt at lifting the light weights, when he caught the eyes of Tobias the most arrogant jock at the gym.
Milo quickly looked away but it was too late, the 6'2 jacked, tanned stud which the thick bulge in his tiny pink shorts has seen him. Tobias walked with a swagger, his pectorals bouncing with each step as they were barely contained by his tank top. Tobias oozed confidence and his handsome face, chiselled jaw line and effortless gym style made him the most desirable man at the gym. Tobias towered over Milo as he walked over to the pale, weak, ginger nerd. Milo was expecting some kind of nasty comment or a joke at his expense, he had flashbacks to wedgies, swirlies and nipple twisters he received from the jocks at school and hoped he wasn't going to relive some of his worst memories. As Milo tensed up and looked at the floor, Tobias grinned and spoke but his tone wasn't vicious or cruel instead it was one of concern "Yo little dude, looks like you need some help?"
Milo looked up meekly still expecting this to be some kind of mockery at his expense, but Tobias's expression was warm. "Yeah, I'm just no good at this gym stuff" Milo said awkwardly.
"No stress bro, its hard starting from the beginning. It takes a while to get use to training and eating right." Tobias then flexed his chest whether consciously or unconsciously it was unclear. "Do you want me to help you?"
Milo let out a little smile but that faded as he looked down at the weights he had fumbled "That would be nice but I fear I might be not cut out for muscles."
"Nonsense little man! How about we make a deal. I'll help you get super jacked even bigger than me and then you sort of live like a god amongst men, while you just have to give me one thing in return."
"What thing" Milo said a little sceptical
"We don't have to worry about that now. What do you say, wanna make a deal bro?" Tobias said his smile warm as he extended out his hand.
Milo looked at Tobias and his perfect body and kind smile, he looked at his own weedy arms and the weights he had barely even moved, what did he have to lose? Milo gave a weak smile "Deal" Milo said as shook Tobias's hand, his grip was sweaty, strong and hot almost burning.
Milo let out a little hiss of pain as he quickly retreated his hand from Tobias's it was almost like he had put his hand to fire. Milo inspected his hand and saw no injury but it was such a strange feeling, he looked to Tobias who was still smiling although it looked a little less warm and more like a satisfied grin.
"What do you say we get started right away then little bro?" Tobias said shaking out his arms.
"Sure, what did you have planned, different weights?" Milo said letting himself get a little excited.
"Na na bro, first we need to get you fired up. You're too comfortable and low energy but I have something that's gonna really get your blood pumping!"
"That sounds awesome what is i-" Before Milo could even finish his sentence Tobias had spun his body around, hiked up his leg and bent forward, his big peachy muscle ass stretching at his pink shorts was now just inches away from Milo's face. Milo could do nothing as he was hit point blank with a deep, loud blast of dank, sulphuric gas. The stench rocketing up his nose and burning his senses with a stench of nasty protein rich ass gas.
Milo recoiled in disgust as his eyes watered and he couldn't help but cough at the foul fart that has been pushed into his face. Milo's face burned red with embarrassment, too meek to be angry at Tobias and to ashamed to look around for help. Milo just sat there inhaling the foul smell even as Tobias turned around a gave a chuckle "There, I bet that's woke you up! Now get up its time to get started" Tobias then started walking to a more open area of the gym. Milo sat red faced for a while, the smell clung to his nostrils and didn't seem to fade, was he really going to follow the gassy jock, was he really going to just take that public humiliation from him. Tobias then looked over his shoulder and in a slightly more authoritative tone shouted "I said lets get started" before gesturing for Milo to come.
Milo wasn't proud and hated himself for it but he found himself getting up and awkwardly following in the shadow of the jock.
Milo wiped his nose as he stood next to Tobias the fart still lingering.
"Now little dude we need to get you ready to workout. I mean those shoes have no support and your clothes are so constricting. You need to be dressed like me bro."
"I don't think I would look go-"
SNAP
Tobias clicked his fingers and for a split second Milo thought he saw a flame flicker in Tobias's hand. Milo would have looked for longer but suddenly his t-shirt felt weird, like it had gotten looser as a chill ran down Milo's spine. Milo looked down and gasped as he saw his clothing starting to change. Milo could barely comprehend what was happening, his joggers were rapidly shrinking as his shins, knees and then thighs became exposed as the turned into tiny purple shorts. His shirt has turned a neon yellow, the fabric compacting as it lost its sleeves and the collar sunk into a deep arch exposing his weak chest and pale torso. While his once modest shoes changed to match his new stringer tank, becoming equally outlandish and ridiculous. To finish the outfit off Milo looked down as saw text appearing across his tank, the words 'Beast Mode... eventually' a joke at his pathetic physiques expense.
"How did you do that!?" Milo gasped while trying to hide his weak thin body in clothes that now exposed it all.
"You look so much better little buddy!" Tobias said ignoring Milo's question and panic. "Now its time to fill out those clothes with muscle!"
SNAP
Tobias then flicked his fingers again and then folded his arms...waiting.
"I think I'm going to go, this is getting to stra- woah I feel funny, like I need to run, like need to lift something, like I have to move my body!" Milo said beginning to freak out, that was until he noticed his arms.
Milo looked in fascination as he saw the beginnings of biceps on his arms, he gave them a cursory feeling to check they were real and they were! He then looked down and it seemed he had definition on his chest as well, what use to be flat now had two very small mounds, the very beginnings of pectorals. Milo couldn't believe it.
The growth didn't stop there, Milo watched in quiet fascination as his arms continued to expand until he now had decent biceps and defined triceps. Milo found himself having to move his arms as muscles built up around his shoulders, neck and back making him broader and stronger. Milo felt at his chest as he now had pectorals that has started to push out his ridiculous neon tank, while below he had the beginnings of a six pack. Milo then felt energy swelling in his legs as they packed on muscle and Milo swore he was now a little taller. Milo was left mouth open and in awe as his body continued to swell.
Milo let out a little chuckle of glee as his body grew more and more muscular, it was a dream come true. His torso widened to accommodate more growth as his pectorals ballooned and his six pack started to show through the fabric of his stringer tank. Milo adjusted his stance as his legs, thighs, calves all bulged outwards with pure muscle making him look extremely shredded and defined. Milo couldn't stop looking at his arms they big, strong, masculine something he had always wanted to be and yet they were still growing and as Milo looked at Tobias he no longer felt like he was craning his neck upwards to make eye contact as he grew taller. Milo couldn't believe what was happening and he couldn't believe Tobias's deal was real he was becoming super jacked! Was he really going to get bigger than Tobias?
Milo shook his head as he concentrated more on his new muscles and he now looked Tobias in the eyes. Milo couldn't help but bounce his new meaty pectorals as they stretched out his tank, thick veins rans down his arms as his massive biceps pushed them to the surface. His legs were now thick with muscle and along with his glutes he had a powerful toned lower body. Milo stringer tank then started to shimmer as the word 'eventually' faded away as now the beast had arrived. Milo had to smile with happiness as the feeling inside him started to subside, it was the body he had always dreamed of and Tobias's had given it to him without all the hard work and years of exercise, diet and training. Milo felt like he could lift up a car he had so much energy and was so happy!
"Looking good bro" Tobias said with a smile
"I fucking feel good!" Milo almost yelled his voice now deeper and more commanding than it had ever been in his life. "How can I ever thank you, this is like a dream come true! I have to lift something now"
However, before Milo could leave Tobias put his hand on his shoulder and holding him still.
"Woah bro where are you going? This is just the start bro!" Tobias said
"What do you mean? I am already super jacked. I mean look at these arms!" Milo then grinned as he flexed one of his biceps, the nerd was almost giddy with glee as he showed off his body.
"Ha!" Tobias said before slapping Milo hard on the back knocking his glasses off. "I mean I want you even bigger bro!"
Milo jolted as his glasses were flung off his face, he was about to rush to the floor to grab them when something seemed odd, the world looked clean, crisp, clear there was no blur at all. He could see Tobias's big grin as clear as day and it started to make Milo feel uneasy as the swell of energy inside him returned and he body started to expand again. Milo's chest grew larger and more prominent as each pectoral became bigger than a handful, his biceps ballooned and pushed his arms away from his sides as two hefty cannonball sized muscles grew from his arms. His legs grew to a crazy size and started to wedgie his tiny shorts up his growing glutes, his whole body looked shredded and defined like a bodybuilder before a show. Milo loved how he looked, he was bigger than Tobias now and it made him look even more tough and intimidating, something he had never been before but something started to feel wrong. That energy, that feeling of growth it wasn't stopping.
"Err Tobias I think I'm good now bro" Milo said a little uneasy as he felt his pectorals still growing and his ass cheeks now chewing on his underwear as they swelled even larger.
"You might be bro but I'm not." Tobias smiled but with no joy to his tone, while he looked happy his voice was cold and almost vicious. "No I think I want you even bigger and lets make you look more mature, someone of your age would never be able to look this huge."
"What are you talking about?" Milo said as his body swelled bigger.
Milo then felt something tickle his face as something fell from his head, Milo scratched at his face and as he did he realised just how laborious it was to lift his massive muscular arm. His huge biceps made it hard to bend his arms properly as they bulged and pressed into his body. Milo then felt the tickle again and this time something fell in front of his eyes and fluttered to the ground. Milo could barely see past his ballooning chest that now most women would have been envious of but as he leant forward to see, more fluttered past his eyes and to the ground. At first Milo couldn't work out what the little wisps of red were, that was until they started to pile up around his now humongous feet, it was little piles of hair.
Milo flung his massive mitts up to his head and found his rapidly receding hairlines, he felt at his face and found lines, wrinkles and sagging around his cheeks. Milo quickly turn to a gym mirror and saw his quickly ageing face, he wasn't 20 any more he barely looked 30 and was fast approaching 40.
"What are you doing!!" Milo shouted as he turned to Tobias just smiled. "PLEASE STOP I DON'T WANT TO BE OLD! I DON'T WANT TO BE THIS BIG. PLEASE STOP!!!"
Milo tried to move away but Tobias just put his hand on his expanding shoulders and Milo found himself rooted in place unable to do anything as the rest of his hair fell from his head, his body bloated and bulged with muscles until he looked like a bodybuilder with a serious steroid problems. His arms had expanded so much that moving them was hard, his chest has doubled in size along with his back meaning he would have to turn to the side to get through doorways. Milo yelped as his legs grew even bigger, his shorts now crushing his cock and balls, while his massive muscle butt grew so large that his ass cheeks now hung out the bottom of his purple hot pants. When the energy inside Milo finally started to dim, he found he was now pouting and looking down at Tobias, his head bald, his body a cartoonish caricature of muscle and his age stopping at the ripe old age of 50.
"What have you done to me!" Milo said confused, betrayed and angry. "I look like a freak."
"I just fulfilled my end of the deal bro, you are now super jacked and way bigger than me! Tobias said arrogantly
"NO! This isn't what I wanted! Please change me back!" Tobias said tears pricking at his eyes.
"To bad bro, it is what I wanted though. Now to take my half of the deal" Tobias said "I just what one thing"
"No fuck you! I don't want this! No deal!" Milo yelled
"Well that's to bad Milo we had a deal!" Tobias's voice then turned deeper and distorted and with snap of his fingers the hot jock was engulfed in flames, burning away his skin until only a deep red appeared, two thick horns grew from his skull, while wings sprouted from his back and a tail sprung from the back of his gym shorts.
Milo wanted to scream and sob as the handsome demon crossed his arms and stared at his new muscle creation. "Don't worry Milo I only want one thing, I am sure you won't miss one thing will you?
With fear quivering his voice Milo finally found the courage to answer "What is that you want?"
Tobias then grinned his fangs shown and his true nature exposed "Your free will!" Tobias then laughed deep and long as the giant muscle man beside him quaked in fear unsure what the demon meant, that was until he felt a void appearing inside him. Almost like his essence was being sucked away, his control lessening and his body no longer being part of him and instead it was now an extension of Tobias.
"On to your knees now my muscle pet." Tobias demanded
Milo yelped as his body awkwardly started to move, he tried to stop it, he willed for his new muscles to respond but they were no longer his to command. As Milo found himself sinking to his knees his massive pectorals hanging like an udder, his huge stocky ass poking out and exposed.
"You are now mine." Tobias said not even looking at his newest pet below him. "You will work at this gym, you will sleep at the gym, you will live at this gym and you will do everything to keep it clean and spotless. When you are not doing that you are standing out and attracting people into the gym, you will not speak of how you got your muscles or of me. You will attract the lonely, the desperate, the weaklings like you to me. That is your new role. Now thank your new master!"
Milo had tears in his eyes as his lips moved without his consent "Thank you master"
"Now stand up Milo, eurgh you need a new name you old one is so pathetic. Hmm from now on you will be called Mammoth" Tobias then snapped his fingers and out of bright flames he summoned a bucket and mop and handed them to Milo.
"Now Mammoth then men's toilet's need scrubbing, I want the toilet so clean you could eat you dinner off of it because guess what... you will be!"
"Now off you go Mammoth, oh but before you go I have something for you."
Milo could do nothing as the demon that had cursed him turned around and pointed his big peachy ass at him once again and blasted a horrendous 10 second long droning protein fart at him and Milo had no choice but to inhale every stinking particle.
"There that's gonna stay in your nose for the next 100 years or so!" Tobias laughed as he saw Milo's expression turn from disgust to shock and confusion. "Oh did you forget our deal Mammoth? You wanted to be super jacked but I also promised you'd sort get to live like a god, which for you means...immortality. You are mine for the rest of time!" Tobias cackled as fresh tears started running down Milo's face.
"No get to work Mammoth! That piss isn't going to mop itself!"
Milo could only silently sob as his body lumbered away against his will, the smell of a rank fart always up his nose and his life forever out of his control. All he wanted was for a little bit of muscle and now he was going to scrubbing, cleaning, serving for the rest of eternity in a body he despised.
"Hey Richard is that you?"
Richard sighed, he had only just sat on the couch with a beer after a very long day and his roommate Trent was already bothering him. "Yep who else would it be?"
Trent lumbered in and starting digging around in his waistband, his huge biceps flexing as he rooted around. Richard grimaced and wondered what he was doing, to tell the truth they hadn't really spent much time together, they had become roommates out of convience not friendship. Richard needed another person to rent the apartment, his sister was friends with Trent who also needed a place. They had been courteous to each other but it turns out they had nothing in common. Richard was a data analyst who spent more of his day on a computer and in his free time gaming, while Trent was all about fitness and sports. Richard was careful with money and Trent had been short on the rent the last three weeks that was until today when Trent finally fished out a large wad of cash from the back of his jeans.
"Here you are bro, all the money I owe and the next 3 months worth of rent paid up in advance. Hope you don't mind me paying now, you know how I can be with money" Trent smiled and then rubbed the back of his head anxiously
Richard was shocked as he took the money, there was well over 4,000 in the stack, how had he made so much money? "Wait Trent, you made all this? I thought you only started this new job like two weeks ago?"
"haha yeah, it pays really well!" Trent said proudly
"You will have to get me a job there! This is more than I make in two months and you made it in two weeks!" Richard said enviously.
Trent put his hands on his hips "I don't think you'd like it bro, I think you're too smart for what I do, it doesn't take a lot of brainpower!" Trent laughed "Oh crap is that the time bro? I need to get to work." Trent then turned away and grabbed a duffel bag by the door.
"Are you really not going to tell me where you work?" Richard yelled after Trent while standing up to look at his leaving roommate and only a received a dumb chuckle in response. Richard then looked back down at the cash on the table and deeply jealous he made a wish. "Damn I wish I worked with Trent, bet I could earn even more money than him." Richard scoffed, his tone thick with arrogance.
Richard was about to go back to sitting and drinking his beer when suddenly his body felt hot and he was filled with a burst of almost euphoric energy.
Richard felt strange, like he could run a marathon or lift a car! His t-shirt and shorts suddenly then started to feel tight and as he looked down he could have sworn his body looked bigger, that his arms looked more toned and that his stomach looked flat.
Richard then started to panic as the more he looked the more his body did seem to be growing bigger, stunned Richard watched as pectorals started to swell from his chest, his little belly faded away and the beginnings of a six pack started to appear. His biceps grew rounder and a thick veins started to snake down his arms. His legs thickened with muscles as his thighs started to touch and definition started to appear all over them. His shorts were rapidly shrinking as his size increased and soon Richard heard the straining and tearing of thread. Richard would have thought he looked great if the growth wasn't so sudden and terrifying and unstoppable.
Richard groaned as his muscles and body continued to swell and grow. His pectorals were now rounder and more prominent, while his six pack looked like it has been chiseled into stone. His legs almost seemed to double in size changing his stance to accomodate the massive amount of muscle that continued to grow. Richard looked down frightened at his arms as his biceps became cannonballs and with his triceps quickly following his arms would now never comfortable sit be his sides ever again. Richard winced as his shirt ripped along his back as he grew in height and width becoming a monster of muscle on par with a bodybuilder. Until finally his shirt could not hold on any longer and the tattered remains fell away, while his shorts were almost wedgied up his new musclar ass cheeks, the tight fabric threatening to cut off his circulation.
Richard stood stunned as he looked at his new big hands and the massive muscles that covered every inch of his body, he had to weigh at least 300 pounds of pure muscle. His torso looked like it had been sculpted by the gods, his thighs and calves looked bigger than any human he had ever seen and his arms felt like they could punch through metal. Richard had no idea why his body had suddenly erupted with muscle, did he need to call for an ambulance? But before Richard could think of doing anything else, a searing pain then ran down his left arm, like a million tiny pin pricks running backwards and forwards over it all. Richard grabbed at his arm to try and find the source of his pain but couldn't see what it was but as he looked closer he could have sworn he saw something appearing on his skin, was that a rainbow?
Richard was so utterfly confused and terrified that he froze, he watched in horror as bright, gay, rainbow tattoos appeared all the way down his arm. Richard at first tried to rub them away like they were fake but he soon found the ink was deep and permanently part of his skin and it seemed that wasn't the only addition to his new jacked body. With a wince Richard felt pain in both of his ears as he quickly reached up to find two diamond stud earrings. This was followed by a painful plucking sensation in his eyebrows and burning of his scalp, turning to the mirror he now saw his new thin, styled eyebrows and bleach blond hair. Richard then let out a scared whimper as his skin darkened from his face all the way to his toes giving a deep rich tan. He now looked like a completely different person, like some flamboyant, gym obsessed fairy!
Richard then bcame even more scared as the familiar, horrifying heat of transformation returned but this time it wasn't in his whole body, it was only in his chest, it was only his pecs.
Richard grabbed at them as they started to grow and push outwards, he tried to push them back in but this made them only expand faster and further. The two mounds of muscles soon became moutains, a massive shelf that blocked Richards view of the floor and his feet. The muscles now took up most of his torso and look comically huge!
When they finally stopped growing Richard couldn't believe the size of his pectorals, they were bigger than most women's tits! Why was this happening to him!?
Richard knew he needed help, he needed to find a doctor or a scientist anyone to explain and reverse his sudden growth but as he turned to the door the heat returned and again it remained in one place. Richard felt like crying as he felt the burning heat warming from his new muscular, giant butt.
Richard felt at his butt cheeks, they were already ginormous there was no way they could get any bigger, but Richard was soon proved wrong as each cheek began to bloat and inflate.
Richard felt tears pricking at his eyes as he felt his ass cheeks balloon with muscle and fat. Each cheek grew outwards and kept its perfect peachy shape. Richard winced in pain as his shorts were driven further into his ass crack the larger his butt became, crushing his cock and balls in the front.
When the heat finally left his butt, Richard was left with a mammoth sized booty, one that would become rock hard when flexed but when relaxed would wobble and jiggle endless, drawing all eyes towards it.
Richard put his hand on his head in distress as he desparately tried to work out what was happening and why it was happening, he couldn't leave the apartment like this! He looked ridiculous, his giant pecs and ass made him look like some exaggerated gay cartoon character! Richard needed to find his phone he needed to call for help but before he could his clothes begun to shimmer and change.
It started with his feet when he felt himself raise up from the ground a couple of inches and as he looked down he saw a pair of large, bright white sneakers had appeared, along with his socks changing from black to white and inching up past his ankles. Then his shorts, they remained tight and form fitting, leaving nothing to the imagination but turned from black to bright orange, making sure to grab everyone's attention so no one could ignore his humungous bouncing booty. Then to finish his new look a white crop top appeared just above his chest, leaving his new massive muscle tits to hang out the bottom.
Some text was written across the crop top along with what looked like an owl but before Richard could read it the world around him seemed to blur as his surroundings started to change and came back into focus in a new location. There was music, the smell of food, people, tables, drinks, Richard then realised he was holding a tray of burgers and fries and two bearded muscular men sat in front of him, smiling, waiting.
"Hello? Earth to Dicky! Is that our food?"
"Oh you are such a dumb blonde Dicky! Just put it down already"
Richard shook his head as they called him Dicky and then out of his mouth came words that he didn't consent to, words he didn't want to say. "Sorry babe's I can be such a ditz!" Richard's voice was high pitched and slutty as he placed down their food while giving them a big dumb smile.
Before he walked away Dicky stuck out his massive rear, where the two men happily stuffed in their dollars bills and gave his big ass a spank. "Thank you suga, y'all need anything else you just holla" Dicky said in a perky, bubbling, charming way before mincing away.
Richard then felt himself clawing for control, driving Dicky down just so he could be back in the driving seat. What the hell was happening! Richard managed to stop himself in the middle of the restaurant, he looked at the wall 'Himbo Hooters', he looked at his uniform and the other men serving food and drinks, it was then he spotted someone familiar and Richard practically ran to them across the room.
"Trent!!"
Richard raced over to Trent who greeted him with a smile.
"Oh hey Dicky, I didn't know you were doing a double shift today! But you'd be silly not too, with that ass and those big ole titties you always rake in the most cash!" Trent said while giving Richard nipples a little tweak. It was at that moment that Richard realised why this had all happened, why he was a gay man's wet dream, why he was dressed in this uniform and why Trent was in front of him. He wished to work here and not only that but to earn more that Trent and now he would as this big slutty muscle freak with a giant ass and big juicy muscle tits.
"Aww Dicky why'd you look so glum? I know what will cheer you up." Trent then turned around a slapped a big red button, the restaurant's lights lowered, disco lights started flashing and a bassline thumped loudly across the restaurant. "Dance break!" Trent shouted and all the waiters began to dance and gyrate. Richard knew it was wrong, that he didn't want this, that he didn't want to be paraded like some piece of meat to be squeezed and leered at by men, but that's not what Dicky wanted. Richard screamed as he felt his body begin to dance without his consent, his mind sinking into a swamp as Dicky took control and started dancing and shaking his fat ass and titties much to all the cheers of the many horny men in the restaurant.
Richard was gone and all that left was dancing, ditzy Dicky and his best mate Trent.
He's quite obviously straight so there's no hope for me but I still enjoy watching him and fantasizing. I mean, I'd pretty sure no gay guy who cared that much about his appearance would wear those shoes, right?
For several months during my gym visits we'd see each other, though I'm not sure if he even knew that I existed. We had our routines and I'd miss him on the days when he didn't come at 'our' usual time. Then I spotted something on Grindr. It was just a headless torso but I knew it was him! My heart fluttered. Could this be true? Was it just a catfish? I clicked into his profile and then my heart sank once again as I read his profile and realized I stood no chance with him: "FTM only".
A few days later though, I was in the gym doing my usual thing and I saw him coming in my direction. I pretended not to see him but then he came right up to the machine I was using. Inside, I panicked. Was I doing something wrong? Did I have something on my face? All these questions ran through my head.
"How many sets do you have left?" he asked in his deep, smooth voice.
In a slight panic, I quickly replied "Just finished!" and started to get up and grab my towel. Then he laid one of his meaty hands on my shoulder and pushed me back into the seat.
"No rush." He looked at me and a wry smile appeared. Silence reigned for a few seconds before he sparked up a conversation. "I've seen you watching me, you know. You're not as subtle as you think." I must have gone bright red at this point. "And I've seen you keep looking at my Grindr profile." So it was him! He left the silence a little longer. "You're not my type, but if you could be, would you?"
Seeing him up close next to me, his veins bulging all over his shoulders, his tshirt sticking to his skin, a heady mix of deoderant and musk wafting in my direction - I must have lost my mind. I nodded gently. "Great, let's get out of here."
Long story short: His regular long-term guy at the time had some commitment issues and was not putting out, but he was still totally fixated on him and wanted more. And when he wanted something, he got it. And so, I could be with him if I swapped bodies with this other dude and that dude could be a cis-male and get a dick like he'd always wanted. Seemed like a win-win! So...yeah, this is me now:
My original body was pretty average previously but that was not an issue for the other guy apparently because he was ecstatic just to have a cock. I, on the other hand, didn't anymore and boy that wasn't the only shock. I was probably about 15cm shorter now that I was before. Which means Edgar (as he's called) now towers over me and I'm barely at nipple height next to him.
It's so weird not having a dick. Like, even when I'm fully dressed I feel naked somehow. Not sure how to describe it. Clothes definitely fit differently now too, but now I'm with Edgar, it's the least of my worries.
If anything, Edgar is even hotter now than before. From my new shorter perspective, he's even bigger which drives my wild. I love getting to touch his body and he loves me doing it. And his dick... wow. Part of me is jealous of his dick now that I don't have one but that makes me want it all the more. I'm obsessed with it and I think he knows it. He loves taunting me for having a pussy and likes to remind me at every opportunity. I love seeing the playful side of him and being the focus of his attention for once! He knows exactly what to do with his hands and dick to make this body go wild. He's a real pro to be honest. And the best part? I get to wake up to this hunk every morning!
Hey! Big fan of your work, especially your jock to bear/daddy tfs. Would love to see another story similar to For The Team. Maybe the head of a construction crew is tired of the young lazy guys on his team so decides to transform them into 'real men' to get the job done faster?
"Dude, Steve's dad is fuckin' nuts."
"Think I don't know that, bro?"
"Not sure the beers are worth it, man. Seriously."
The heavy clack of a dropped pipe wrench followed by a string of muffled expletives made both young men snicker. When Liam and John signed up to help Steve move into his new rental, they expected heavy lifting, not an absolute gauntlet. Steve's father, Mr. Richards, was a certified, old-school hard-ass.
"What're you boys laughin' at?"
The booming voice of Mr. Richards cut through the dusty air of the living room. He stepped into the doorway, framing a physique built like a seasoned workhorse. The man practically oozed discipline, sweat, and sawdust. He was always going on about the pride of the construction crew, how it was a real man’s job, and how he wished Steve would show at least half that grit. To him, Liam and John were just "good-for-nothin'" distractions diluting his son's potential.
"Spendin' all your time laughin' it up," the older man barked, glaring at them with hardened eyes. "You pretty boys are useless. Always jokin' around. Can't take a single damn thing seriously."
"All due respect, sir, we're just here to help our friend," Liam said, straightening his posture. John nodded in solidarity, both of them standing tall to prove their loyalty to Steve.
Mr. Richards’ eyes flashed with a sudden, unsettling intensity. "Help him? Oh, I know jus' the way."
Before either could react, Mr. Richards moved with a terrifying, explosive speed that completely defied his age. His calloused hands clamped onto their arms, violently pulling the two young men together.
"What the fuck?!" John yelled.
"Shit dude, let go!" Liam wrestled to break free, but the moment their skin collided, a bizarre, visceral heat flared at the point of contact.
Their arms didn't just touch... they melted. The skin fused, the underlying muscles twisting and braiding together, expanding exponentially as their shared mass coalesced. Youthful, smooth skin rapidly thickened, weathering into a sun-baked, rugged texture right before their eyes.
"Dude! Get off me! Stop pushing!" Liam panicked, his voice cracking.
"I'm trying! I can't move my arm!" John screamed.
Mr. Richards simply grinned, watching as the anomalous reaction rippled through their clothes, shredding the fabric until they were entirely exposed. In a desperate bid to separate, Liam shoved against John’s chest, while John raised his other arm to defend himself. The moment their hands collided, the phenomenon struck again. Their limbs fused into a second massive, heavy arm, padded with thick muscle and dense labor-ready bulk.
Terrified, Liam slipped on the hardwood floor, pulling them both down. He landed hard on his back with John pressed tightly against his front. They hit the floor with a heavy thud, gasping for air.
"You're each worth about half a man from my crew," Mr. Richards smirked, looming over them like a foreman inspecting raw materials. "And two halves equal one whole."
A sudden, overwhelming wave of intense, heavy pleasure spiked through them as their lower halves collided. Liam and John both let out a strangled groan as their groins began to merge. Their cocks melting into each other, settling into a thick, heavy shaft took shape above two massive bull nuts. The cool draft left their new manhood throbbing, threatening to shatter their panicked minds.
"Oh fuck... what is this..." Liam moaned against his will, his thoughts fracturing.
"Feels so heavy..." John gasped, biting his lip as their hips melded seamlessly, reshaping into a wide, immensely thick set of glutes: a solid, powerful dump truck of an ass forged from dense muscle and heavy fat.
As they bucked against the floor in a daze of sensory overload, the transformation surged downward. Their legs collided and fused into pillars of pure power. Thick, hairy thighs took shape in seconds, their calves bulging and their feet stretching into a pair of size 13 giants. They flexed their heavy, calloused toes against the floorboards as the raw, unbridled pleasure continued to reshape their biology.
"Look at that," Mr. Richards chuckled, leaning down to firmly grip their newly formed manhood. "Feels good, don't it? Becomin' somethin' better. I always treat the boys on my site right."
The dual consciousness inside the collapsing minds of Liam and John whimpered. They closed their eyes tight, desperately trying to stifle the embarrassing, breathless sounds escaping their throats. But Mr. Richards wasn't done. He forcefully pressed Liam's upper torso deeper into John’s.
"There we go, nice and easy."
Both young men had prided themselves on their gym routines: lean abs, cardio endurance, and neat definitions. But as their torsos violently slammed together, the superficial fitness vanished. An intense pressure replaced the pleasure as their midsections expanded outward. Layer after layer of dense, heavy muscle packed itself around their shared spine, immediately followed by a thick, proud layer of solid beer-gut fat.
"Fuck, stop! Please!"
"I can't take it...!"
Mr. Richards just rolled his eyes, stroking them rhythmically to keep their minds compliant. A massive, proud muscle gut finalized its shape, heavily blanketed by a dense forest of dark chest hair and a thick treasure trail.
“That’s the stuff.” Mr. Richard’s muttered running his other hand along their hairy stomach, “Real men ain’t smooth.”
The transformation climbed into their chests. Their pectorals collided and swelled dramatically, expanding into two heavy, dense slabs of rock-hard muscle and jiggling fat that rested heavily atop their new gut. It was meatier and wider than anything either youth had ever possessed, completely covered in a rugged mat of coarse hair.
"You're lookin' good," Mr. Richards praised, his voice echoing in their ears. "So close, boys. Well, shouldn't really call you 'boys' anymore."
Everything from the neck down was now a singular, towering, powerhouse of a man. Only their two distinct heads remained, frantically looking at one another in sheer terror.
"Wh-what are you doing to us...?"
"Please, just turn us back..."
"No tears now, c'mon," Mr. Richards smirked, reaching up to pinch one of their heavy, shared nipples. A sharp, shameful moan erupted from both mouths simultaneously. "You're about to be a real man for the first time in your sorry lives. And when I'm done, you'll never know anythin' different."
"Wait! Don't!"
Mr. Richards grabbed both of their heads and forced them together.
A final, muffled cry filled the room as their facial structures dissolved into one another. Their youthful features melted away; their hair fell out completely, leaving a smooth, bald head. The nose widened and flattened into a rugged profile, while a dense, perfectly trimmed beard sprouted across a heavy, square jawline. Youthful eyes shifted, taking on the heavy, weathered look of a man who had spent forty years working under the blistering sun. Their neck thickened into a massive column of muscle, and their skin darkened into a leathery, tanned complexion.
Then, absolute silence fell over the room.
The only sound was the deep, heavy breathing of the massive, lumbering man sitting on the floor, sweat glistening across his newly forged muscles, thick hair, and heavy gut.
Mr. Richards smirked, placing a heavy hand on the bald head. "How's it feel, Chuck?"
The name echoed through the shambles of what used to be Liam and John. Their old memories were scattered, disorganized, and rapidly fading into irrelevance. Who were they? It didn't matter. Chuck was here now. Chuck was strong. Chuck was a real man. He knew exactly who he was. A stupid, satisfied grin spread across his heavy, bearded face.
"Fuck, boss..." Chuck's new, booming baritone voice rumbled in his chest, a sound that made Mr. Richards smile with professional pride. "Can you finish me off?"
"Not until you finish the job," Mr. Richards said, letting go of Chuck's manhood and stepping back. "Got it?"
"Guess that's fair." Chuck grunted, easily pushing his massive, heavy frame off the floor with his bulky arms. "Alright, let's get to it."
Chuck moved with absolute efficiency. He carried three times the weight Liam and John ever could, moving boxes and heavy furniture like they were made of cardboard. He was a real man, and real men knew that if you wanted your reward, you had to put in the honest work first.
As he hauled a massive oak dresser toward the master bedroom, the front door clicked open. Steve walked in, holding a cold twenty-four pack of beer. He stopped dead in his tracks, looking up at the towering, bald, bearded laborer.
"Oh, hey... are you one of my dad's friends?" Steve asked, blinking in confusion. "I'm Steve."
"Chuck," the big man rumbled, offering a brief, respectful nod.
"Thanks for coming by to help," Steve said, looking around the room with a puzzled frown. "Uh... have you seen my friends? Liam and John? I finally brought the beers."
Chuck looked down at the cold cases, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his rugged face.
"Can't say I have," Chuck rumbled, wiping a bead of sweat from his thick brow. "But I'll definitely take one of them beers."
Can you do a story where a smart chubby guy gets his fat redistributed to muscle, specifically to his chest and ass to the point where they become really sensitive?
“Are you sure this will work?” Randy nervously asked as he attached the diodes to Jeff’s chest.
The grad student nodded. “Of course,” he answered confidently. “I’ve done all the calculations and have downloaded all the necessary data. I can use it all to transform this…” He gestured downwards at this chubby body that was topped with a sizable gut that had a large set of moobs resting on it… “…to that.” He then pointed at the computer screen of the muscle hunk who was looking like a natural bodybuilder, except that his ass was slightly bigger than most guys’.
Randy bit down on his lower lip as he finished attaching his friend to the machine. “I guess if you’re sure,” he muttered. “I mean, you could just try the Disney way and find someone who’ll like you for you… or eat some carrots.”
Jeff rolled his eyes at the skinny nerdy guy. “Dude,” he huffed, “no chick wants to fuck the fat guy, and it’ll take me years to turn all this flub into muscles. This is the better way, trust me.”
“I guess…” Randy mumbled, sounding disbelieving as he walked over to the computer that had the picture of the stud on it. “Let me know when.”
Jeff took a deep breath and braced himself. “Do it!” he shouted, balling up his fists in anticipation.
Randy typed in a code and there was a loud hum that sounded out in the small room, lights flickering from the computer and traveling along the diodes over to the waiting chubby man.
Jeff tensed up as soon as the lights hit him. His fat deposits jiggled as he spasmed and he could feel his entire body vibrate as the machine did its work. He looked down at himself expectantly, smiling widely with excited shock as he noticed his gut starting to shudder and pull inwards.
“It’s working!” he beamed, noting the deeper quality to his voice.
All the while Randy stayed positioned behind the computer, keeping a cautious eye on his changing friend.
Jeff’s legs seemingly shrank in width, all of the fat pulling away and leaving behind the toned muscle that had been underneath it. His gut continued to disappear until his abs popped behind his skin that started to take on a tan quality. His moobs morphed into a set of chiseled pecs that no longer sagged, but instead jutted off his chest. Love handles melted away, and his double chin shrank to reveal a square jaw. Once all the fat had disappeared from Jeff’s frame, the changing man was pumped to see his muscles starting to take on size. His legs packed on hard meat, this thighs widening as he felt his ass starting to inflate outwards from his backside. He witnessed his biceps blowing up as his pecs followed suit. The muscled mounds on his chest began to jut out even more from his chest and rounded out to resemble something more akin to muscletits than pecs.
“Um, I’m n-not sure they’re still supposed to be growing like this!” Jeff began to panic as he witnessed his pecs continuing to inflate. His feet shuffled nervously and he winced as his bubblebutt jiggled behind him, and the new stud glanced over his shoulder to witness his ass comically rounding out to look like a pair of beach balls. He reached behind himself to grab at it, an electric shock rippling throughout his core, making him spasm and moan wildly.
Something was going wrong. Jeff’s pecs and ass were not supposed to wind up this big, nor were they supposed to be this sensitive. In his panic, he gripped at his bouncing muscletits and was horrified to feel the same sexual pleasure that emanated from his overly inflated features.
“T-turn it off!” he shouted at Randy, who frantically began to type away at the computer.
The humming stopped and Jeff ripped the diodes away from his curvy, himbo body. His heart fell as he caught sight of his reflection. All of his fat was gone, sure, however he looked utterly ridiculous. His massive muscles were overtaken by his hyperbolic pecs and giant bubblebutt that made him look like some fetish drawing. Worse was that he was rock hard, his much larger cock that was now about ten inches, jutting straight out in front of him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t enjoy it because no matter how much he grabbed it, it failed to produce anything close to the pleasurable tidal waves that his muscletits or bubblebutt did, rendering it virtually useless.
“Something went wrong!” Jeff cried, rushing over to the computer, cringing as he pecs and ass bounced with every hurried step he took. “I shouldn’t be looking like this! What happened to the guy in the photo?!”
Randy typed away and did a quick search before he paled, looking up at the new himbo before him. “Um,” he muttered, “we used the data from the actual model, not the picture.”
“And?”
“And apparently he’s a gay porn star who specializes in pec play and bottoming… and he’s had lots of work down to accentuate those features.”
Jeff felt his heart race wildly at the thought of being stuck in the body of some gay porn star. All he’d wanted to do was lose weight, he didn’t want to be some pec-loving gay guy! “What should we do!?” he worriedly cried, frustrated that even the air from the A/C brushing against his bare pecs was turning him on.
Randy slowly walked over and ran a thin hand over Jeff’s bulging pecs, making the other man shudder and his cock twitch with want. “If it’s any consolation,” he smiled, “I think you look really hot.”
“What are you doing?” Jeff panted, completely humiliated by the sensations he was feeling, but too turned on to do anything about it. He unconsciously thrusted his chest outwards to feel more of his friend’s hands. It took him a second to even register that he’d reached back and had began to fondle his own massive asscheeks, moaning loudly at the dual sensations. This wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out. All he’d wanted to do was lose weight and look like a total muscle hunk to get any girl he wanted. Instead he was some curvy muscleslut who begged for other men to fondle his muscletits or play with his bubblebutt. He was humiliated over what his life had become, but he couldn’t stop the loud moans that escaped his mouth.
“I think I like you a lot more this way,” Randy smiled, flicking a hard nipple on his friend’s bulging pecs, making the altered stud gasp and cum immediately.
Scott Kelly was nervous, which was uncommon for the high-school jock
Scott should be pretty happy. Quarterback for the championing football team, sponsors looking left and right to offer scholarship to the best universities in the country, cheerleaders swooning over his every step.
Scott’s life should be pretty fucking great. Every week it was nothing but partying, banging girls and drinking beer.
That is… maybe not the last one.
Rumours had spread about a doctor coming in from the NFL to check out the leading teams in the country to make sure they weren’t juicing or anything else. “Anything else” being things that could compromise their image, like drinking alcohol.
That morning Scott ran laps around his neighbourhood and chugged as many smoothies as he could to work away the pounding behind his eyes after spending the previous evening in a drunken stupor.
It was 7:30am on a Monday. Normally he would still be asleep for at least another hour but the assistant coach, Mr Jackson, demanded he be at his office to receive his tests. What those tests were however was unknown.
Scott pulled into the school parking lot, grabbed his bag and walked through the empty halls to find Mr Jackson’s office.
He knocked once, twice before the door swung open. A short, stocky man stood before him at least a head shorter but far far wider. He had a short buzzcut of jet black hair that turned grey at the temples and a matching beard. His firm, bouncy pecs sat atop a gut that was equal parts muscle and fat. His shoulders rounded out into twin cannonballs with equally impressive melon biceps, vascular forearms and large hands all covered in that same jet black hair. Below the belt were a set of powerful thighs and calves leading down to size 12 feet.
The man was dressed in a tight fitting dark blue Lycra shirt that only accentuated the swell of his upper body, a pair of grey running shorts lay below seemingly straining against something.Â
He looked up, grinning. “Ah Scotty! Here right on time! I thought you’d still be asleep.” he said jollily.
“I would be if it wasn’t for these tests.” Scott replied placing his bag at the door.
“Well it’s good you made it here now. The doctor is waiting for ya.” Mr Jackson said with a clap to the boys back pointing to a door to the left. It led to the locker rooms so the coaches could shower after practice and change in the privacy of their own office.
Scott walked in, turning the corner to be met with a man sitting on one of the benches. He smiled and stood, his head came above Scott’s and his teeth were gleaming white. The figure reached his hand out, the meaty palm led up to a veiny forearm and a massive shoulder. His impressive pec cleavage was visible through the v-neck cut of his polo shirt. “You must be Scott Kelly. I’m Doctor Andrew Cobalt.”
Scott wasn’t gonna make his first impression one to regret. he took Doctor Andrew’s hand in his and shook it firmly before releasing.
“Strong grip there son.” Doctor Andrew said. His voice the kind of charismatic tenor you’d hear on an infomercial. “Now you understand why you’re here?”
Scott nodded. “Yeah, for some tests? The NRL want to take a look at the top performing high-school team right?” he asked. Doctor Andrew nodded, leaning into a black case and pulling out some documents.Â
“That’s correct. Now I have to ask you some questions alright?” Scott nodded his head, sitting on the bench.Â
“Your name is Scott Cooper Kelly?” A nod.
“You’re 18 years of age?” Another nod.
“6ft 2in tall? 195lb? 9.5 percent body fat?” All met with more nods or hums of approval.
Doctor Andrew smiled and placed the folders back in his bag, instead taking out a small vial and a syringe.
“Irish descent?” he asked. Scott was confused for a moment. “Uh yes by heritage.”Â
“I could tell before you even had to answer.” he replied. Scott scratched the back of his head, the bright red locks being the dead giveaway.
“Now Scott this is a solution to raise your heart rate to check for abnormalities. A side effect however will be sweating. A lot. It would be advised for you to get undressed for this.” The doctor said as if it was a casual statement.
Scott flushed. “Uh, uh y-yeah sure.” He stripped off his jacket, shirt and shorts as well as his shoes and socks. His freckled skin on display.
The man in front of him smiled and filled the syringe with the clear fluid. “Now you may feel a slight pinch.” he advised.
Scott relaxed his arm as the chemical was slowly pushed into his upper left arm. Immediately Scot began to feel the effects. His heart rate increased and it was as if someone opened the flood gates to every pore in his body. He was sweating bullets.
Scott wiped his brow. “Uh doc is this stuff meant to be so uh… effective?” He asked. “Cause this stuff is- ugh!” Scott began before he doubled over clutching his stomach.
His abs clenched and relaxed over and over. At the same time a pressure was building behind the pain; when Scott looked down and loosened his grip be could see his stomach pulse with each heartbeat, distending outwards while the image of his hard abs stayed on the surface. Shocked, he palmed the flesh. A massive belly pushed outwards, firm with muscle.
“What the-” the man tried to say when he felt a lurch come from his chest. The two firm slabs of flesh began pulsing just as his stomach did. They jiggled and bounced, gaining weight and mass through each thundering heartbeat. His nipples grew fatter and harder, becoming two sensitive buds pointing downward on an impressive set of pec cleavage.Â
Scott was furious. “You! The fuck have you done to me! I’ll- ugh!”Â
The boy tried to retaliate before his shoulders and back suddenly shot out horizontally, packing on muscle.
“Well the NFL has seen a recent decrease in volunteers in coaching positions. Let’s face it kid, there’s a hundred of you out there but not many like your buddy in the next room with that kind of experience.”
Scott’s shoulders rounded into twin canonballs, his arms inflating against his pec shelf and his hands becoming thick and meaty, calloused from years of catching balls.
“The NFL decided that we’d take a look at some prospective young athletes and give them a little shove into manhood so they can train up their buddies. A really effacement system.”
Legs corded with muscle expanded into two Christmas hams, diamond shaped calves covered in a thick sturdy layer of meat that would put an Olympic athlete to shame and his feet pulsed, slapping the ground with every step. The boys growing weight only adding to their impact.
“And look at you, so much sexier as a man than a boy.” Doctor Andrew said, turning the unbalanced body around just in time to see his ass inflate. Two tight muscular cheeks ballooned. They wobbled seductively as the doctor parted them, taking in the sight of a winking rosebud begging for a hot cock to open it wide. The force of the expansion completely decimating the backs of the former jock’s underwear leaving him in a sort of pseudo jockstrap.
Scott’s teeth clenched hard as a shock of pleasure coursed through his body, the hot wet feeling of a thick tongue pressed itself over and over against his new daddy hole.Â
“Fuck. I could eat this all day but it looks like we’ve kept your friend waiting for way too long.’
Scott barely registered the comment, lazily turning his head to the now open locker room door. There stood Mr Jackson with a hardon leaking through and staining his grey shorts.
“Holy shit.” he murmured. The stocky man stepped forward and turned Scott to face him. The mans face sat neatly between Scott’s pecs as he licked his lips. “Shit Scotty. I- I knew you’d be big but fuck! Didn’t think you’d be this sexy.”
The doctor interrupted. “It isn’t over yet. We need your help stimulating some extra muscles.” He said with a wink, pushing his face back between Scott’s massive ass cheeks.
Mr Jackson got the hint, dropping down to the almost fully shredded underwear and tearing off the fabric. Scott felt a warm mouth encircle his member, the intense heat sending shocks up his spine. At the same time, his hole was assaulted,Â
Scott’s mouth was blown wide as he was bombarded by pleasure. His cock and balls ached and throbbed, pulsing bigger and bigger. His balls stopped lower and swelled more and more as they released buckets of testosterone into the new daddy’s system.
Scott’s body began to grow a layer of ginger hair quickly, from his pubes outwards nowhere was safe from the pumpkin colored fur. Speaking of pumpkins, Doctor Andrew was having the time of his life licking, tonguing and sucking the studly man hole only getting puffier and more sensitive the longer he ate it.Â
Mr Jackson felt the urge to gag as the boys cock pulsed thicker in his mouth, stretching his lips wide as it grew to beercan thickness. Then it pushed further in, deeper down until all twelve inches of fat alpha cock was all he could taste.
The boys neck thickened and voice deepened as his face began changing shape. His already short hairline receded as his jaw widened and chiseled. Orange stubble began to cover his face, thickening into a beard as his balls drew up and his thick cum churned in his balls. There was a pressure behind Scott’s eyes, a headache forming tat only grew stronger with each gurgle around his cock and prod of the tongue at his hole.Â
Memories of his time spent with girls were replaced with his now husband Jackson, balls deep in his juicy ass and riding the man until he blew deep in his greedy hole. Sitting on the many faces of young jock studs, sucking the sperm out if their all too eager cocks and letting them fuck him till they passed out became his joy, his pride. As long as his players could give him what he wants, he’ll make sure they don’t go under.Â
Scott grunted and growled as he neared the edge, cock throbbing an angry red. “Shit! Fuck I’m gonna-”Â
He was cut short as he erupted, thick, creamy cum filled Mr Jackson’s gullet and pushed up into his cheeks as it flowed hot as lava. With it, the memories of being anything but a loving husband and a good lay with all his top jocks.
Doctor Andrew pulled off, quickly collecting his things in his bag as the two men calmed down. Scott turned to him.
“Hey, thanks for the help there Doc, I was pent up.” Doctor Andrew laughed.Â
“It’s no problem, anything for the top high school coach, I can say with certainty that you’re fit as a fiddle.”
“That’ great! You sure you don’t want us to finish you off?” Scott asked pointing to the mans heavy bulge in his pants.
“No no, I’ll be fine. I’ve got appointments to go to after all.”
The man nodded, helping his gasping husband stand and give him a bruising kiss.
Doctor Andrew waltzed out of the building and fished a list out of his pocket. “One down,” he thought looking at the list of names. “Four to go.”Â
