It was supposed to just be a small tattoo. The first one he would get.
Ethan had never been the intimidating type. He was thin, nervous, the kind of person people accidentally interrupted in conversations and ignored because of his weak appearance. At twenty-three years old, he never had a girlfriend and was the guy everyone talked over, the guy who apologized even when he hadn't done anything wrong. So when he finally decided to get a tattoo, he wanted something simple, something that would make him look a little tougher.
He finally gathered the courage to get one and went to a tattoo shop.
The tattoo artist stood tall behind the counter, broad-shouldered and heavily built. Tattoos covered both arms, crawling up his neck and disappearing beneath the sleeves of his black shirt.
The guy noticed he was nervous and immediately asked: "First time?".
And Ethan nodded, embarrassed by how obvious his fear was, as the artist opened a book of designs.
"Looking for something small?" the artist asked. Ethan nervously nodded. The artist smiled and said: "I think I have just the thing".
And there it was: A dragon. An oriental style dragon. Powerful. Fierce. Exactly the meaning he wanted to be associated with. Ethan stared at the design for a few seconds. It was bigger than what he had originally planned but he was tired of seeming weak and something about it felt right.
"Yeah", he finally said. "Let’s do that one".
The artist’s smile widened. "Excellent choice".
A few minutes later, Ethan was sitting in the chair, trying not to tense up as the machine buzzed to life.
The moment the needle touched his skin, he felt a strange jolt in his arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was noticeable enough that he flinched.
"Is that normal?" he asked.
"Depends on the ink", the tattoo artist said with a small smile. "You never know how the body will react".
Ethan frowned, immediately feeling ridiculous for worrying.
Once finished, the tattoo looked incredible. It had a lot of detail and looked imposing. A black dragon in his right bicep.
As Ethan was about to leave, the tattoo artist called out to him.
"Hey. Don't forget to take care of it"
Ethan stopped and turned around. "Uh... what?"
The artist pointed toward the counter. "You forgot the aftercare kit".
"Oh. Right". Feeling slightly embarrassed, Ethan grabbed the small bag containing the cleaning supplies and left the store, returning to his apartment. As he walked down the street, he glanced at the dragon on his arm. For a moment, he could have sworn the ink seemed darker than before.
The next morning, he woke up with a strange heaviness in his arm. Something about it felt different. He tried to shake off the feeling and stepped in front of the mirror.
The tattoo looked bigger.
At first he thought he was imagining it. The tail seemed longer. The scales seemed to cover more skin than before. Then he noticed something else. His arm looked bigger, his bicep was straining against the sleeve, harder and thicker than ever. And not only that. He could feel a strength in his arm he had never felt before. Ethan spent several minutes flexing in front of the mirror. He knew he should be worried, but every time he looked at the size of his bicep, he worried less and less.
By the end of the first week the tattoo now covered a larger part of his arm. His arm looked defined like those of a professional bodybuilder, even though he hadn’t lifted a single weight in his life. It looked absurd compared to the rest of his body.
Days later one afternoon he felt the same tingling sensation as always traveling across his shoulder. He looked at the tattoo and noticed new black scales were appearing near his chest. Minutes later, his shirt began to tighten.
He looked down watching how the fabric of his shirt was slowly stretching as his pectorals pushed against the tight shirt. His pecs were swelling relentlessly, massive slabs of muscle ballooning outward. The pressure built until –pop– the buttons flew like gunfire, leaving his enormous pectorals completely exposed. Two thick rock hard mountains rising and falling with every breath, glistening with a light sheen of sweat.
And so, over time, each new blot of black ink brought with it a new wave of energy, a strange jolt under his skin that stimulated that area, making it progressively more pleasurable. His shoulders already widened, his chest thick, his other arm also massive. His shirts became too tight, so he decided to start wearing more tank tops in order to show off his muscles. Ethan loved his more rugged gym bro appearance.
Next came Ethan's once soft, unremarkable midsection. It has transformed into a rock-hard, deeply etched six-pack that now commanded worship of its own. V-lines appearing that framed his lower abs and pointed toward his thick, throbbing cock.
He remembered what the tattoo artist had said about taking care of the tattoo. The strange thing was that every time he looked at it, he felt an urge to do something. Massage it. A few push-ups. A quick workout. Anything. As if the tattoo disliked staying idle.
He spent long periods looking at it in the mirror, massaging it and running his fingers over the scales, admiring how they spread across his body. Over time, his life revolved around the gym, working out constantly and eating more protein. He knew the dragon would reward him for it, every workout becoming easier than the last, each new muscle giving the scales more space to claim. And the pleasure of watching his muscles grow became better and better.
Then, nearly a month after getting the tattoo, one night while lying alone in his bed, he was rewarded. Ethan felt a sudden surge of raw energy flood his groin. His once inferior, small cock began to throb and pulsate, forcing him to thrust his hips forward instinctively as a prominent, obscene bulge strained against the front of his boxers. Blood rushed hot and heavy into the shaft, stretching and expanding its length inch by inch with every powerful heartbeat, thickening it into a heavy, veined monster that curved upward aggressively. At the same time, his balls swelled dramatically, growing fuller and heavier as they dropped low between his spread thighs, forcing his legs apart to accommodate their new weight. The thin fabric of his boxers quickly grew soaked and sticky with thick streams of precum that leaked endlessly from the swollen head. Pleasure surged through him in waves, yet no matter how desperately his newly enhanced cock twitched and throbbed, he couldn’t release, not yet. The dragon wasn’t finished with him.
Over the following weeks the dragon kept expanding across the rest of his chest, back and legs. Reaching his spine, the change became impossible to ignore. A powerful stretch ran through his body. His back cracked. His posture straightened. He could feel himself growing as the dragon crossed his vertebra. The world seemed to shrink around him. His legs thickened with dense muscle. His calves expanded. His feet grew so much they could break a pair of sneakers. And it was no longer just confidence, he felt a strength that made him feel superior.
There was a new confidence dominating his body, and people noticed. People looked at him differently and treated him differently. Strangers seemed to respect him more. Some even stepped out of his way without thinking. Ethan found himself enjoying that feeling much more than he wanted to admit.
It was inevitable that his shy personality would begin to fade. His only focus became pushing his body further, seeing how far it could be transformed. He started admiring himself whenever he passed a reflective surface. He stopped caring as much about things like hygiene, often leaving the gym drenched in sweat and carrying the scent of his workouts with him. He found himself cutting people off in conversations, taking up more space, speaking louder. Before long, he was acting like an inconsiderate brute who believed everything belonged to him.
New desires surfaced as well. Once, the thought of being with a man would have seemed strange to him. Now it barely registered as worth questioning. More and more, he found himself drawn to showing other men where they stood beneath him.
The tattoo on his back now reached his neck. And with it he could feel his voice deepening, becoming more masculine. Grunts. Beastly sounds. The changes reached his face. His facial features became more symmetrical and masculine. His jaw grew broader, his features sharper and more rugged. He looked older as though several years had passed in only a few seconds.
The last change could feel penetrating his brain. Fogging his mind and his once intelligence. Memories disappearing. Thoughts that once came effortlessly now drifted away like smoke. His head felt heavy. Slow. A dull primitive warmth spread through his thoughts, smoothing away worries, questions, and doubts until there was almost nothing left. He couldn't recall his own name. His old life felt worthless. Why would a beast like him concern itself with the worries of a timid man?.
And just like that, the mental transformation reached its climax. His entire body seized as his newly massive cock surged, thick veins pulsing along its enormous length. A guttural, broken moan tore from his throat as he erupted violently, rope after heavy rope of thick, potent cum blasting out of him in powerful jets that splattered across his own carved abs and chest, painting the roaring dragon tattoo. With every devastating spurt, the last fragile memories of his old, weak self were violently wiped away, erased completely by the dragon’s overwhelming power. His eyes rolled back, mouth hanging slack and open as a thin strand of drool slipped down his chin, dripping onto his glistening pecs. His heavy balls continued to throb and tighten, pumping out the final surges of his old life. When it finally subsided, his body relaxed, now utterly transformed, completely owned.
Weeks passed. At first, it was enough to admire itself. Hours spent in front of mirrors, tracing the scales that covered its body and flexing the massive muscles beneath them. The Dragon had not transformed itself into such a magnificent creature merely to be ignored but just one man wasn't enough. The dragon demanded more attention.
He was satisfied posting pics online, watching the flood of comments and admiration pour in from strangers. But the dragon's hunger continue to grow. Before long, it found itself browsing apps like Grindr, inviting admirers into its place.
He stood at the center of the dimly lit room, his massive muscular frame gleaming beneath a coat of oil. Admirers gathered around him, hungry eyes fixed on the fierce black ink dragon tattoo that coiled across his powerful chest and shoulder. One man already eager on his knees. Various men, stripped, hard and trembling with lust, stepped forward carrying more bottles of warm, slick oil.
He raised his arms, flexing slowly, letting his enormous pecs bounce. The tattoo stretched and shifted with the movement, scales gleaming as the thick streams of oil poured over his shoulders, his bulging biceps, and heavy slabs of pecs. Hands being everywhere, lips and tongues traced every cut and curve of his muscle. One of them let out a desperate moan and buried his face hungrily between the massive, sweat-slicked mountains of his pecs, pressing deep into the warm sweat.
They all moaned against him, entranced and lost in the heat of his scent.
He grabbed one man by the hair and forced him down to his knees, then the next. They had fed his hunger. Now it was his turn to feed theirs.
One admirer was bent over the wide bench, oiled ass up, while he drove him into him in long, punishing strokes, his massive chest pressed against the man’s back, the dragon tattoo rubbed against sweating skin. Another was pulled up into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, impaled as he bounced him like he weighed nothing. The remaining ones made to kneel and lick every drop of sweat and oil from his flexing muscles while he fucked their friends senseless, tongues dragging desperately over his pecs, sucking on his nipples, kissing the dragon’s roaring maw. Every thrust, every moan, every slap of flesh pleasing the beast, then rewarding them with his own seed while they begged for more.
Finally, standing in front of the mirror, the Dragon ran his now thicker, more sculpted hand over the black scales that wrapped around his body. A faint, meaningless echo of the weak creature he once was passed through him and faded almost instantly. He took a progress pic, knowing that the tattoo would grow even more, spreading beneath his skin and slowly claiming more of him with every passing day. Soon the Dragon would cover everything, and he could hardly wait to see what he would become.
The dragon rests, satisfied… for now.
My longest TF story yet! I've been inactive for a while, but thanks to everyone who follows, likes, and supports my stories
