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[growtherton]

After finishing the final exam of a gruelling semester in pre-law at Growtherton University, Preston felt like he could take on the world, so he put all his dating apps back on his phone, and quickly lined something up. Now that it’s the night of, hiwever, he’s remembering how long it been since he’s been on a date, and is lowkey freaking out. Luckily, his roommate’s in engineering, and thinks his term project is just the thing Preston needs.

[anonymous1233211]

Return of the tickling sand hands

Hey everyone. As we know, these AI chatbots can be such temperamental little bitches with their policies and shit, and I attempted to recreate previous hypno themed tfs but ChatGPT decided it was now suddenly for no good reason against their policies, just like everything! So I decided I'm gonna take a bit of a break from making ChatGPT TFs for a little while, but I want to share you this as I go on this break. The sandy hands that tickled Link and turned him into a moblin are back, tickling and transforming their victims. Enjoy the TF

[gayghostgrimoire]

Evil ghost posession 3

[abstractvanity32]

Ad Click

Brittany sat cross legged on her dorm bed, phone in one hand and a half eaten protein bar in the other. The room smelled like vanilla candle and laundry detergent, string lights glowing soft against the wall. She scrolled past another post from some girl in her econ class, the kind who posed like every day was a photoshoot. “These people are so desperate for attention,” she muttered, thumb flicking harder. “Like, get a personality.”

A bright ad slid into her feed, all neon colors and big text: “Tired of the same old you? One click and everything changes.” She snorted, rolling her eyes at the obvious scam, but her finger tapped it anyway out of pure boredom. The screen flashed once, then went back to her feed like nothing happened.

The itch started right in the center of her chest, sharp and sudden, like a bug bite that wouldn’t quit. Brittany scratched at it through her tank top, frowning when the skin felt thicker under her fingers. Dark hairs pushed through in a fast wave, curling thick and wiry across her sternum and spreading outward until her whole chest was covered in a dense mat that caught the light from her phone.

The skin underneath swelled and firmed at the same time, her small breasts flattening and pushing forward into two heavy, rounded slabs that stretched the tank tight. The new chest bounced slightly when she shifted, nipples darkening and hardening against the fabric.

She sat up straighter, the movement making the hairs on her chest shift. “What the hell is on my skin?” she said, but the words came out lower than she expected, the pitch dropping mid sentence into a rougher tone that didn’t sound like her at all. She cleared her throat and tried again. “This isn’t funny.” It came out even deeper, the vowels flattening into something lazy and unhurried.

The warmth moved outward from her chest, her shoulders rolling back on their own as the bones widened and muscle packed on thick. Her arms followed fast, biceps swelling into solid peaks that split the tank sleeves, veins rising across the surface while her forearms thickened with corded strength. Hands grew wider, fingers turning blunt and strong, palms roughening with new calluses. The tank ripped down the sides as her back flared wide, lats spreading thick under the skin.

Brittany stood up from the bed, the floor feeling farther away as her height crept upward in steady inches. Her stomach tightened and rounded at the same time, abs carving deep but layered with a solid gut that pushed forward, the tank riding up to show the new bulk. Hips narrowed with a grinding shift, thighs swelling heavy with dense muscle that strained her shorts until the seams gave. Calves thickened below, feet stretching longer on the carpet, toes widening as the arches rose and the soles toughened.

A deep pressure built low in her core, everything inside pulling tight and then dropping in one warm, heavy rush. The space between her legs compacted and filled out at once, skin stretching smooth over a thick length that pushed outward against her thigh while a solid weight settled low and full beneath it. The new cock thickened and hardened in a slow pulse, resting heavy against her leg as the sensation settled.

Her face shifted last, jaw widening under skin that roughened slightly, chin and cheeks filling in with dark stubble that quickly grew into a short, even beard. Nose broadened at the bridge, lips fuller, eyes deepening to a warm brown under thicker brows. Light brown hair shortened into dark waves cropped close, the bun falling apart.

The tank and shorts reformed into an open plaid shirt hanging loose over the hairy chest and gut, black briefs hugging the thick thighs and bulge. The dorm blurred and stretched into a small, lived in apartment with construction plans scattered on a table and work boots by the door.

Flashes came in slow waves: complaining about her classmates twisting into easy laughs with the crew, sharp comments inverting into “whatever works, man,” the snotty edge softening into laidback indifference. “These people are so basic,” she tried to say, but it came out as a low chuckle. “Job’s good, body’s good, that’s enough.”

Cole leaned back in the worn chair by the window, phone in one hand and a beer in the other. The plaid shirt hung open over his hairy chest and stomach, the black briefs comfortable and familiar.

He scrolled through his feed without much interest, liking a couple posts from the guys on site, the afternoon light catching the short dark hair on his head and the even beard on his jaw. The project was on track, the crew respected him, and the body felt solid after years of the work. No complaints.

But as the likes and messages slowed, Cole set the phone on the arm of the chair and stared out the window at the buildings across the street. The laidback feeling sat on the surface, easy and steady, but underneath it stretched something quieter and emptier.

The connections stayed casual, the days blurred into the same rhythm of plans and site visits, and no one really saw past the bulk and the beard. The girl who used to pick apart everyone else’s posts was gone, buried under layers of easy indifference that left him sitting alone in a quiet apartment, a man who had everything he thought he wanted and still felt like he was watching it all from the outside.

[raxero-malemetamorph]

WishApp

The heat of the late summer evening pressed down on Marcus like a heavy blanket. The air in his cramped apartment was still and humid. He lay across his bed, stripped down to nothing but a pair of faded yellow briefs. They were loose, standard cotton things, typical of the plain, unnoticeable life he led. Sweat pooled in the shallow hollows of his collarbone. He was scrawny, a constellation of sharp joints and pale skin, his arms thin rods holding his smartphone. He was just mindlessly scrolling through social media, a digital life that mirrored his empty social life. Girls didn't notice him, and he’d resigned himself to a life of digital voyeurism.

An ad for 'WishApp' flashed on the screen. His thumb hovered, then pressed. Why not? he thought, a flicker of curiosity momentarily cutting through the heat-induced lethargy. He downloaded it.

The interface was minimal, almost clinical. A simple text box appeared with a direct question: What is your desire?

Marcus let out a self-deprecating snort. He knew exactly what he didn’t have. Confidence. A presence. He stared at the box.

“What do I want?” he said to empty room. He was a skinny, shy straight guy. He wanted a relationship. He wanted to be able to just be with someone. And he wanted a body that meant something, a body that people would respect. He started typing rapidly. He wanted a relationship so he could have sex every time he wanted it. And also, be a proper big muscle guy. He hit send, not even noticing the tiny, fateful typo in the word ‘guy’.

We appreciate your request. Processing will take some time, the app replied.

He stared at the blank screen, expecting… something. More options? A confirmation code? Nothing. He sighed, disappointed. Thinking it was just a silly gimmick, and he closed the app. Tossing the phone away, Marcus rolled onto his back, closed his eyes, and quickly drifted off to sleep. He had no idea that as soon as his consciousness faded, his body and mind would begin a profound, unstoppable transformation.

His dreams, once filled with vague images of unapproachable girls, began to change. Instead, his subconscious was invaded by images of beautiful, powerful, muscular men. The shapes were defined, the lines confident. He was surrounded by them, not as threatening figures, but as icons of adoration. The dreams felt different—heavier, thicker, filled with a desire he couldn't quite articulate.

The first physical changes were subtle. His skin tightened. A faint rasp of stubble began to push through on his previously smooth jaw. On his chest, where there had been only pale skin, fine, soft hair began to sprout. He writhed in his sleep, the clean sheets now sticking to a body that was growing in density, in volume.

The process accelerated. A deep, resonant hum seemed to vibration through his bones. The app’s 'processing' was intense. His skeletal structure didn't expand dramatically, but his muscle fibers hyper-growth. His deltoids broadened, becoming wide, powerful shelves. The biceps and triceps definition sharpened, his forearms hardening. His chest, once a flat expanse, became wide and massive, the new hair becoming dense and curly, spreading down his sternum. His core tightened into hard, visible blocks of muscle, a six-pack etching itself above a wider, stronger abdomen. Thick, natural hair now covered his chest, abs, and legs.

As the first faint hues of dawn began to bleed through the open window, painting the room in a warm light, the violent crescendo of the transformation finally reached its peak. The frantic shifting and tossing in the bed subsided into a heavy, rhythmic breathing. The skin-and-bones Marcus was completely gone.

In his place lay a magnificent specimen of pure, raw masculinity. His shoulders had expanded into a massive, heroic V-shape, his traps sloped steeply down into wide, boulder-like deltoids that seemed to strain against the very fabric of the mattress. His biceps and triceps muscles were now thick and full, carved with deep, branching veins that pulsed with a newfound, powerful circulation.

His chest had risen into two massive, heavy slabs of muscle, so broad and deep that they shook slightly with each deep breath he took. A thick, masculine carpet of dark, curly hair now completely blanketed his torso, running in a dense line down his defined, rock-hard abdominal wall and disappearing into his waistband.

The change was so absolute that his yellow briefs, which just hours before had hung loosely on his boyish hips, were now stretched to their absolute limit. The cotton fabric was pulled over his heavily thighs and wide hips. Up front, the pouch of the underwear was incredibly tight, straining against a noticeably larger, heavy bulge that pulsed with the intense morning heat. His legs had transformed into thick, powerful pillars,

The transformation was absolute, leaving no trace of the fragile youth who had fallen asleep the night before.

When he woke up, he sat up with a groan. The first rays of morning light illuminating the messy sheets. He didn't immediately notice his change. His mind was still tangled in the powerful, intimate images of his dream.

“Why do I have morning wood after this strange dream?” he muttered. The sound of his voice shocked him. It was a deep, gravelly baritone, completely unlike his usual tenor.

He tried to clear his throat, but the deep pitch remained. He finally looked down.

"What!" he roared, the deep voice echoing in the small room.

He ran for the mirror in his bathroom, his now powerful legs nearly knocking him off balance. He stared at his reflection, his eyes wide in absolute disbelief. The face staring back had sharp, chiseled features. A full, well-maintained beard, short-cropped and styled, covered his jaw, matching the neat, styled hair on his head. He looked like an immaculate, well-defined muscle bear. His eyes were wide, taking in the massive chest covered in hair, the sculpted abs, the thick arms, and the deep muscle strength. He ran his hand over his new body, his fingers pressing into hard muscles. He noticed his yellow briefs, now extremely tight, with a very prominent, powerful bulge. His initial panic began to morph into something else—a strange, thrilling sense of self-awareness.

Suddenly, he heard sounds from the kitchen. The sizzling of eggs, the clatter of a pan.

Marcus slowly pushed open the bathroom door and walked into the hallway. The kitchen door was slightly ajar. He peeked inside. Standing by the stove, his back mostly to Marcus, was another man. The man was massive, a fellow muscle bear with incredibly well-developed muscles. His deltoids were wide, and his biceps bulged as he expertly flipped an egg in a frying pan. His chest was covered in dense hair, matching the hair on his arms and legs. Marcus froze, the sheer, imposing presence of the other man dominating the space.

Marcus watched him. What a man, he thought. Wait, why am I thinking that? I’m not gay. Or am I? The realization of his typo on the app hit him simultaneously with the new, powerful feelings swirling in his core. The dreams had prepared him.

The other man turned around, a friendly expression on his face. He was bearded, with neat, light-colored hair, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of tight red briefs with a nice, round bulge.

"Good morning, sleepy head," the man said, his voice a deep, comforting rumble. "I just made breakfast. I hope you want some."

Marcus took a step forward, the unfamiliar sensations in his transformed body now commanding his actions. His desire for this stranger, this fellow icon of power and beauty, was primal.

"There is one thing I want," Marcus said, his deep voice thick with newfound intent.

He crossed the kitchen, closing the distance between them. The man smiled as Marcus approached. Without a word, Marcus took the other man's body in his powerful hands and kissed him passionately. The man immediately dropped the spatula, his arms wrapping around Marcus's broad shoulders. They pulled each other tight, their muscular bodies pressing together, hair on hair, muscle on muscle, in a sudden, intense embrace.

"Let’s get back to bed…" Marcus whispered against his lips. The other man simply nodded and pulled him along.

As they left the kitchen, Marcus’s phone buzzed. A new notification appeared on the WishApp: Enjoy your wish!

[godisshook]

Big Red

Ethan had been my boyfriend for years, and it seemed as if I were locked in with him, even going as so far as to make life plans. We communicated and understood what each other wanted out of a relationship, we truly meshed. We had been friends since childhood, and when I came out to him, he did as well, and that was history. He would grow to become your classic student-athlete, playing every sport he could, and having tons of extracurriculars. I did band and orchestra, and adored science.

As we got to senior year of high school, I noticed something weird. Ethan would focus on the gym more and more, and he would comment on how "small" he was, comparing himself to everyone else. No matter how much I would reassure him, he always felt small, comparing himself to the biggest in the gym, who were usually grown men. My protests fell on deaf ears, however, and he became hell-bent on becoming bigger.

When we got into freshman year of college, he would be at his worst when it came to his perception of his body, and that came because of his new frat president, Jaime. He joined Greek life as he felt it was a way to build bonds. The president was the biggest guy in the frat, and would constantly show his dominance over Ethan, calling him a "bitchboy" and "Little Red." I tried to keep his mood up, but it was clear he was at a low.

We were set to go to a Christmas party held by his frat, and as I get dolled up, he comes to pick me up, feeling good and generally optimistic. When we get to the party, the pledges at the gate eye me up, and I glare at them back. As the night goes on, I feel the need to stave off sobriety, so I decided to go to get a white claw from the bar. The frat guy running the bar hands me a drink and points to my left, I immediately notice the president himself walking up to me, and telling me to "come upstairs."

The walk up two flights of stairs was definitely difficult, but as we make it up, I notice a couple of the other brothers and Ethan. The president takes off his shirt and looks over at Ethan. "We don't do hazing, but just know I can always take your bitch!" As he says this, he pulls my head down to his boxers and pulls them down, beckoning me to suck his cock. As I look at Ethan pleadingly, he stares straight at the president, with a look that could kill him dead. I was ashamed after that night, but Ethan continued to reassure me, and said, "It's just how the frat rolls."

I soon became responsible for building his diet, and because I was planning on becoming an Exercise Science major, he would jokingly call himself my "guinea pig" as I would test diets and exercise methods on him. He got bigger fast, almost too fast. He started lifting more and became obsessed with his body, we barely even talked as he would spend most of his days in the gym.

We got our own apartment off-campus, and I would still try to cook for him, and he would show his appreciation by fucking my brains out. Things were still great, though, and even as he spent most of his days in the gym, he would still make time for me.

Next year, he would become frat president, and Jaime would seemingly disappear, as he would stay a regular member. Ethan was the ultimate jock now, and he would use me whenever he wanted, calling me his "good boy."

One morning, I saw a new story post from Ethan's account. The guy in the background looks familiar, and as I search for his account, I realize it was the same guy at the party. I swipe up and ask, "Who's the guy taking ur pictures?" Ethan tells me, "I have this bitchboy taking my pictures just to be near my alpha pheromones." A realization hits me as I look closer at the photos, the guy taking the photos was none other than Jaime. Now, the guy who once towered over Ethan was taking his photos.

When I get back to our apartment that night, I see no other than Ethan in the living room, and he tells me to sit down. He explains that the sudden growth he achieved was because he took muscle from the president. As his alpha pheromones strengthened, he took more and more muscle from the frat members, until he became the biggest. Little Red was now Big Red, the most dominant guy in the frat, and the main jock of the school.

Now, he had beckoned me to his feet. I was to worship him now. He would lean back casually into the couch as I sucked on his cock slowly. Climbing up onto his cock filled me with joy, and as I bounce up and down on it, I would moan into the air, even as he would take his massive hands to block my mouth from moaning. He was laser-focused on fucking me, grunting, and pushing my body on his cock. His alpha pheromones flood my body, and I get even wetter.

He took pride in dominating me, and it felt as if he was letting out his rage at Jaime on me. I knew he wasn't really mad at me, but he certainly fucked like he was. His cock filled my whole completely, and he had to stuff it in as it was so massive. Cum filled my hole as he slammed my ass against his cock with his arms, and his dick would throb in my ass, getting cum deep in me.

I rolled over to the other side, and he hugs against me with just his boxers on. As I try to settle to sleep after he ravaged my hole, I feel a hard throb against my ass. Soon, his cock is peeking through his boxers, and by the time I look back, he's staring at me with hungry eyes, and I get wet once more. Looking at him, I can tell he's in a full rut, and he won't stop until he cums as much as it takes.

His cock slides in and out of me, and my body buckles against it. He puts my body into a full bear hug and rams his cock in and out of me. His hands go over my mouth once again, suppressing my moans. We fuck until cum is all over my body, and I lay near him, as he has finally ravaged me completely.

I dreamed of him, he was mine, and our memories together just kept expanding. Waking up in his bed, I get a familiar feeling, and look over to see Ethan gone. As I look around, I see him in the bathroom biting at my thong, "Nice thong, I see you went with green, a shame you’re not getting it back." I blush at the comment and use the comforter to cover myself as I get ready, next to Big Red himself.

[aitransformations]

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Pride

Happy Pride Month!

I appreciate all of the love you guys have been giving my captions - my DMs are always open for TF requests! I'll be trying to do more story captions to go along with photos but wanted to share this quick TF to celebrate the start of Pride.

[forthegaze123]

"Jerry, I'm sorry. I messed up, okay? But don't do it! What about my family?"

"No, can't do. We had agreement, right? And don't worry, your family will still remember you. Well, the NEW you."

"What? You're maniac! Please, don't! I beg you to stooo-bzzzt bzzzt bzzzt-hmmmm... What's up, brah? The name's Chad,"

[vorecaptions4]

"Dude I said you had nothing on me, you are so fucking weak I didnt need to use any wrestling with you at all. Now, you're my bitch and I am starving, give me some of that energy you got, I bet your vital energy will look way better on me than wasted on a weak piece of shit."

Josh felt his very soul being plucked from deep inside him and squeezed of every bit of energy it had, only to be greedly drunk by his rival, the guy didnt show remorse has he drained a few years of his defeated colleage, swallowing and distributing all that vital energy to feed his flesh and make himself younger and stronger. That sip wouldnt be enough to kill Josh, but the pred never said he would drink from his life only this time...

[raxero-malemetamorph]

The Creek

The afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy of the ancient woods as Mike and Steve hiked deep into the wilderness. Both thin, lanky college students with narrow shoulders and smooth skin. Walk towards the camp site deeper in the forest where they want to spend a night.

As they walked, the conversation naturally drifted from upcoming university exams to their frustratingly stagnant love lives.

"I'm telling you, man, it's a curse," Mike sighed, adjusting the straps of his heavy blue backpack. "Another semester, and I still haven't figured out how to talk to girls without sounding like a total dork."

Steve laughed, adjusting his green beanie. "Join the club. We're just too scrawny to get noticed, Mike. We practically blend into the background."

Mike glanced around at the thick, shadowy forest. "Hey, by the way... this area is called The Bear Creek, right? Are there actual bears out here? Should we be worried?"

Steve grinned mischievously, nudging his friend. "Nah, don't worry. If there are any bears out here, they’re probably just gay bears looking for a good time."

Mike snorted, rolling his eyes as they approached a rushing river.

To continue their trail, they had to cross a deep, churning body of water over an incredibly flimsy wooden footbridge. Mike took the lead, stepping cautiously onto the creaking planks, while Steve followed closely behind, holding onto the guide ropes for dear life.

Without warning, a sharp CRACK echoed through the gorge. The brittle wooden bridge snapped clean in half under their weight. With a collective gasp, both boys plummeted directly into the freezing, deep water below.

The shock of the icy current knocked the breath from their lungs. Gasping and shivering violently, they struggled against the flow, their heavy, waterlogged clothes dragging them down. Adrenaline surging, they fought their way toward the riverbank, dragging themselves out of the water and collapsing onto the muddy shore, completely drenched and gasping for air. Realizing they couldn't hike back in freezing, wet clothes, they decided to set up emergency camp right there in a small, sheltered clearing away from the water.

Between two large trees, they strung up a makeshift clothesline and hung their wet jeans, jackets, and shirts to dry. Stripped down to just their underwear, they built a roaring campfire, sitting close to the flames on damp logs, desperately trying to stop their violent shivering.

As the heat washed over them, Mike looked up at Steve and froze. His eyes widened in absolute bewilderment.

"Steve... dude, what is that on your face?" Mike pointed a trembling finger at his friend's jaw.

Where Steve’s skin had been completely smooth just minutes ago, a thick, dark stubble was rapidly breaking through his skin. Down on his chest, fine, dark hairs were sprouting and multiplying right before their eyes.

Startled, Steve gasped, "What are you talking about?" He quickly raised his hands, his fingers brushing against his face. His jaw dropped as his palms scraped against the rough, coarse texture of a freshly growing beard.

"No way..." Steve whispered, but as he stared back at Mike, his voice caught in his throat. "Mike... look at yourself!"

Now it was Steve’s turn to point. Mike looked down at his own chest. His heart hammered against his ribs as he watched dark, thick curls of hair rapidly spreading across his sternum and down toward his stomach. A heavy shadow of stubble was darkening his own jawline, itching with an unnatural, magical warmth. They stared at each other in sheer disbelief, terrified yet strangely mesmerized by the inexplicable phenomenon overtaking them.

Driven by a sudden, internal surge of heat, both boys stood up from their logs. They watched in absolute awe as their bodies began to violently reshape.

The thin, frail frames they had known their entire lives were stretching and expanding. Beneath their skin, thick, powerful muscles began to ripple and carve themselves out. Mike’s chest swelled outward, his biceps bulging into thick knots of power, while his abdominal wall hardened into a chiseled, rock-solid core. Steve underwent the exact same explosive growth, his shoulders broadened significantly, his back widening into a thick V-shape, and his thighs thickening like tree trunks.

"Steve... look at us," Mike growled out. The words felt incredibly heavy, a deep and rumbling vibration that shook his own ribcage. "My voice... what is happening to my voice?"

Steve looked up, his eyes widening as he heard the sudden change, and tried to speak a reassurance. But as he opened his mouth, his own voice cracked and plunged down a full octave, settling into a thick, guttural baritone that practically vibrated the air between them.

"I don't know, man," Steve rasped, his new booming tone echoing off the surrounding trees like a low thunderclaps. "We sound like... Look at your chest, Mike. We're turning into giants."

The vocal shift was profound; their words now carried a heavy, roaring resonance that felt entirely primal, matching the immense physical power of their newly transformed frames.

But the transformation didn't stop. The strange, magical force pulsing through their veins grew even more profound, pushing far past mere athletic fitness and into a territory of raw, massive bulk. Their bodies began to expand with an unstoppable density, their skeletal frames widening to support an immense weight of solid power.

Mike watched in sheer fascination as his waist thickened and his torso widened, taking on a very robust, stocky, and powerfully thick-set shape. Beside him, Steve’s neck surged in size, blending into massive traps that sloped down to shoulders now as wide as a barn door. Every inch of their previously lanky frames was being filled out with heavy, dense mass. Their chest muscles swelled so immensely that they formed deep, shadowed clefts down the middle, while their abs packed into thick, blocky slabs of armor.

This explosive growth put an incredible strain on the only clothing they had left. The flimsy fabric of their underwear was forced to stretch to its absolute physical limits, the seams groaning as the material became incredibly tight and strained against their newly thickened, tree-trunk thighs.

As their bodies changed into giant muscle bears, the primal surge of testosterone triggered an intense, physical awakening below the waist. Right before their eyes, their male organs began to expand and thicken rapidly, filling out with heavy, throbbing heat. The fabric stretched painfully taut across their crotches, unable to conceal the heavy, prominent, and massively enlarged bulges that now pushed hard against the strained material, proudly marking the completion of their transition into ultimate, dominant manhood.

Concurrently, a dense, primal coat of dark, natural body hair completely carpeted their bodies, covering their massive chests, thick bellies, heavy arms, and powerful legs in a rich, masculine fur. Their facial features hardened; jaws became wider, browlines more dominant, and their newly formed, full beards grew thick and rugged. In a matter of minutes, the two scrawny college boys had completely vanished. In their place stood two massive, imposing muscle bears.

They stood close to each other by the roaring fire, breathing heavily, overwhelmed by the intoxicating aroma of musk, woodsmoke, and raw testosterone. The shock of the transformation slowly melted away, replaced by an intense, heavy wave of erotic attraction that pulsed between them. They had never looked at each other this way before, but now, seeing the raw, hyper-masculine perfection of the other, desire completely took over.

Mike reached out, his thick, hairy hand trembling slightly as his fingers brushed against the massive, hard contours of Steve’s newly grown chest. He traced the deep groove of his pectorals, amazed by the sheer density of the muscle beneath the thick fur. Mike let out a low, guttural growl of approval, stepping even closer until their massive chests brushed together. Steve raised his own heavy, muscular arms, wrapping his hands around Mikes thick biceps, squeezing the rock-solid mass with a brilliant, breathless smile.

The unbearable erotic tension that had been building between the two newly transformed giants finally snapped like the dry twigs beneath their bare feet. Driven by a pure, primal instinct that bypassed all logic, Mike stepped completely into Steve’s personal space. The heat radiating between their heavy frames was intoxicating. Mike leaned in, his gaze locked onto Steve's lips, and captured them in a fierce, passionate kiss that instantly set their desires ablaze. The scratch of their newly grown, thick beards meshing together added a rough, intensely masculine texture to the embrace, sending a jolt of pure adrenaline straight to their cores.

Steve didn't hesitate for a single second. The last remnants of his old, hesitant college self vanished completely, replaced by the confident hunger of a massive muscle bear. He eagerly and aggressively returned the embrace. Opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, he wrapped his newly powerful, fur-covered arms around Mike’s thick, solid waist. His large hands gripped the heavy muscles of Mike's lower back, digging into the dense, warm flesh.

With a low, guttural groan that rumbled from deep within his chest, Steve pulled their massive, hairy bodies tightly together. The impact was electric; their immensely swollen chests crushed against one another, and their heavy, strained crotches pressed hard together, the friction of their prominent bulges sending a wave of intense heat through their underwear. They lost themselves entirely in the raw sensuality of the moment—enveloped by the roaring heat of the campfire, the musk of their heavy sweat, and the overwhelming, intoxicating reality of their new, ultimate masculinity.

[vorecaptions4]

"Bet you twenty bucks I can hold my breath longer than you," Carlos said, shaking water from his hair as he hauled himself onto the pool deck. The chlorine smell hung thick in the air, mixing with the sharp tang of competition.

Deshawn smirked, peeling off his swim cap with a snap. "Man, you really woke up today choosing failure." He stretched his arms overhead, muscles flexing. "But sure, let’s take your money."

The locker room’s flickering lights didn’t do Deshawn any favors—his cock was unfairly impressive even in the shitty lighting, thick and heavy against his thigh. Carlos hated how his mouth went dry every time Deshawn pulled this stunt, which was approximately every other Tuesday.

They'd been doing this since freshman year—racing, diving, timing each other, always ending up dead even. It drove Carlos nuts. He could out-swim anyone else on the team, but Deshawn? Every damn time, it was a tie.

The locker room afterward was their usual battleground. Deshawn toweled off lazily, grinning like he’d already won. "Y’know, even when we tie, I still come out on top," he said, nodding toward his towel-clad hips with exaggerated pride.

Carlos rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t stick that way permanently. "Oh, here we go—King Dickhead’s daily sermon," he muttered, wringing out his swim trunks with more force than necessary.

Deshawn’s grin only widened as he let his towel drop with theatrical slowness, the fabric pooling at his feet. "See, this right here?" He gestured lazily at himself, thick thighs shifting as he turned slightly to give Carlos the full view. "This is what they call a biological advantage. Ain’t no tie when it comes to this leaderboard, my guy."

Carlos snorted, pretending to inspect his own nails. "Wow, congrats. You hit the genetic lottery for being a walking, talking dildo. Meanwhile, I actually had to work for these abs." He flexed, just to be obnoxious, but his gaze flicked downward despite himself. Damn it.

Deshawn caught him looking and arched an eyebrow. "Admit it. You’re jealous." He took a step closer, the scent of chlorine and cheap body wash clinging to his skin. "Girls talk, Carlos. They say shit like—" He dropped his voice into a breathy falsetto. "Oh my God, Deshawn, it’s like you’re rearranging my insides—"

Carlos scoffed, but his pulse kicked up when Deshawn stepped into his space, all warm skin and smug confidence. "Yeah, yeah, we get it—you’re God’s gift to coochie," he said, forcing his eyes to stay locked on Deshawn’s face. A losing battle. "Congrats on being born with a third leg. You want a trophy? Or just another excuse to wave it around like a fucking parade float?"

Deshawn’s laugh was low, rolling through the locker room like he owned the air between them. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs and tugged them down just enough to make Carlos’ throat go tight. "Nah, just giving the people what they want," he said, nodding toward the undeniable thickness pushing against the fabric. "You’re people, right?"

Carlos swallowed hard. The bastard wasn’t wrong—Deshawn’s cock was a fucking event, thick and dark against his hip, the head already flushed from the heat of their shower. The way it curved slightly down for how massive it is was stupidly distracting. Carlos hated to admit that.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "You’re a piece of shit. Why the fuck you have to show your cock every chance you get?"

Deshawn’s grin was all teeth. "And yet here you are," he said, leaning in until Carlos could smell the mint of his gum, "still looking."

Carlos’ fingers twitched at his sides, the damp locker room air suddenly too thick. "Please. You think just because you got lucky in the dick department, you know how to use it?" He forced a laugh, rough at the edges. "Bet I could handle that monster better than you if it was mine."

Deshawn’s grin turned predatory. He stepped closer, the heat of his body pressing into Carlos’ space. "Oh yeah?" His voice dropped, rough with amusement. "You volunteering for a field test, mexico boy?" Before Carlos could retort, Deshawn grabbed his hand and pressed it against the leaking head of his cock, smearing precum across his knuckles.

The sensation hit Carlos like a live wire—hot, slick, and so fucking real. His breath stuttered. Deshawn’s chuckle was dark against his ear. "See? Already got you hooked." He dragged Carlos’ hand down the thick length, the friction making his own cock twitch in his speedo. "Talk shit all you want, but you want a taste of this big black cock. Everyone wants some of mine, even dudes like you."

Oh dude, if you only knew what I would do to have a bit of you into me.

"Fuck you," Carlos muttered, but his grip tightened instinctively, thumb brushing the swollen ridge just beneath the head. The black cock throbbed, fattening even more, this time Carlos was taken aback at how he couldn't close his hand around it.

I deserve to have a superior dick like this, not this asshole.

Deshawn’s hand slid down Carlos’ back with a possessiveness that shouldn’t have felt as natural as it did, fingers digging into the firm swell of his glutes. Carlos barely had time to grit out a "the hell—" before those fingers twisted, rough and sudden, and a single digit pressed insistently past resistance. The gasp that tore from Carlos’ throat was half shock, half something far messier, his body arching before he could stop himself. Deshawn’s chuckle was a dark rumble against his ear, his middle finger working deeper with obscene ease, the stretch burning in a way that made Carlos’ toes curl against the damp tile. "Fuck—fuck—get off—" Carlos snarled, but his hips jerked back instinctively, driving Deshawn’s finger to the knuckle.

The hand on his ass tightened, Deshawn’s other hand still smearing precum down the length of Carlos’ trapped erection through the thin fabric of his speedo. "Nah, nah, you asked for this," Deshawn murmured, lips grazing the shell of Carlos’ ear. "Talkin’ all that shit ‘bout handling my dick better’n me—mira, now you got it." His teeth scraped Carlos’ neck, the sting sharp and bright, and then—Carlos felt it. A pull, deep and impossible, like his ribs were collapsing inward, Deshawn’s chest melting against his own.

Carlos’ breath hitched as Deshawn’s body lurched forward with a grunt, his pecs sinking into Carlos’ skin as if sucked into quicksand. Deshawn’s eyes widened, his cock twitching against Carlos’ thigh as he tried to wrench backward—but Carlos’ hands were already moving, one tangling in Deshawn’s neck to yank his face flush against his collarbone, the other clamping around his bicep to hold him still. "The fuck—?!" Deshawn’s voice was muffled against Carlos’ skin, his legs kicking uselessly as his hips dissolved next, thick thighs merging into Carlos’ own with a wet, hungry sound.

Pleasure crackled up Carlos’ spine like lightning, his muscles bulging unnaturally as Deshawn’s mass redistributed beneath his skin. His veins rose, thick and dark, spiderwebbing across his biceps as his shoulders broadened, his spine popping with the force of his body accommodating the sheer bulk of the man disappearing into him. Carlos groaned, head falling back as his hips jerked forward, his cock pulsing in his speedos—then tearing through the fabric as it thickened, lengthened, the weight of it dragging low and heavy between his legs.

Deshawn’s scream was guttural when his cock entered Carlos—not in the way either of them expected, but assimilating, the thick shaft fusing into Carlos’ own as it darkened to a deep, glistening ebony. The stretch was maddening, his balls swelling to cradle the new weight, and Carlos laughed, breathless and wild, as Deshawn’s final shuddering gasp vibrated through his ribs. The last of him—his smirk, his swagger, his heat—dissolved into Carlos’ marrow with a final, wet pop.

The locker room air was thick with the scent of sweat and something darker, muskier, as Carlos flexed his hands—their hands—feeling the power coiled in every tendon. His reflection in the foggy mirror was wrong: taller, broader, his skin a rich bronze where Deshawn’s darkness had seeped into his own, his cock obscene against his thigh, soft and still fat, the head glistening. Carlos grinned, running a thumb over the swollen ridge just beneath it, and shuddered. "Mierda," he breathed, voice rougher, deeper, laced with Deshawn’s cadence. "Shoulda devoured you sooner."

Carlos' fingers traced the obscene new weight between his thighs—hot, heavy, throbbing with every pulse of his heartbeat. The transformation wasn’t just absorption; it was upgrade. Deshawn’s cock had fused with his own, reshaping it into something monstrously thick, the shaft now a deep, veined ebony that stood in stark contrast to his bronze skin. The head had swollen into a ruddy, glistening crown, the ridge beneath it pronounced enough to make his breath hitch when he brushed it. "Holy shit," Carlos muttered, but the words came out wrong—deeper, richer, laced with Deshawn’s smug cadence.

The locker room mirror confirmed it: his reflection was a better version of them, his shoulders broader, his waist thicker, his skin tinged with Deshawn’s darkness where their bodies had merged. But the real masterpiece was his cock—their cock—curving proudly against his stomach, the sheer girth of it making his thighs tremble.

His hips jerked forward instinctively, the new weight dragging deliciously against his abs. The sensation was insane—every movement sent ripples of pleasure through him, the thick veins along the shaft pulsing as if Deshawn’s essence was still alive in there, fighting to be felt. Carlos bit his lip, thumbing the slick head, and a strangled groan escaped him when his own cock—no, theirs—twitched violently in response. "Fuck," he breathed, the word thick with two voices. "You’re still in there, huh?" He tightened his grip, stroking slowly, and the answering throb was unmistakable.

Carlos grinned, palming the heavy length, and a shiver ran through him as precum beaded at the tip. "Told you," he murmured, voice layered with Deshawn’s phantom chuckle. "Looks way better on me."

[vorecaptions4]

[abstractvanity32]

Dockside Bulk

Ava sat on the edge of the wooden dock, the sun beating down on her bare shoulders as the lake lapped quietly below. The bodybuilding competition had wrapped up earlier that afternoon, and she had placed high in her division, but the win felt flat. All the strict prep, the posing, the pressure to stay small and tight had left her tired. Her petite frame still wore the tiny competition bikini, the fabric sticking to her skin from the heat. She kicked her feet in the cool water, watching the ripples spread out. “All that work and I still feel like I’m pretending,” she said to the empty air.

A strange warmth rose from the water and wrapped around her legs. Her calves thickened first, rounding out heavy and solid as dark hairs pushed through the skin in thick patches. The growth climbed upward, her thighs swelling with dense muscle that made the bikini bottoms ride high and tight. Height followed in steady waves, her spine lengthening with dull cracks until she stood over six feet tall, the dock planks feeling narrower under her wider stance.

The warmth moved into her torso next. Her stomach tightened and rounded at the same time, abs carving deep beneath a solid layer of bulk that pushed forward into a firm gut. Coarse dark hairs erupted across the new surface, spreading thick from her navel upward. Her chest heaved as the small breasts flattened and pushed outward into heavy, rounded pectorals, the skin stretching as thick hair covered the slabs in a full mat. The bikini top snapped at the straps and fell away.

Ava stood up, breath catching as her arms swelled fast. Biceps peaked thick and veined while triceps filled out heavy beneath. Hands grew wider and rougher, fingers turning blunt and strong. Her back flared wide with thick lats and powerful traps. The sun felt hotter on the new bronze skin.

Between her thighs, a deep pressure built low and solid. Everything inside shifted with a warm, heavy fullness, skin stretching tight over a thick length that pushed outward against her leg while a full sac settled low and warm beneath it. The new cock thickened in a slow pulse, resting heavy as the sensation settled.

Her face changed last, jaw widening under skin that roughened slightly, a thick dark mustache pushing out above her lip while a short beard filled in across her chin and cheeks. Nose broadened, eyes deepening to a warm brown under thicker brows. Light brown hair shortened into short, dark waves cropped close to her head.

The tiny bikini reformed into bright red swim trunks that hugged the thick thighs and muscular ass. A white bucket hat appeared on her head and dark sunglasses materialized over her eyes. The dock and lake stayed the same, but everything else felt different, more solid, more his.

Flashes came in slow waves: strict meal prep twisting into easy burgers by the water, constant posing practice inverting into relaxed flexes for the mirror, the pressure to stay small softening into simple pride in the bulk. “I worked so hard to look right,” she tried to say, but the words came out low and easy. “Body feels good. Vacation feels better.”

Marcus stood on the wooden dock, hands on his hips, the red trunks riding low on his powerful frame. The thick dark hair across his chest and stomach caught the sun, the heavy pecs and solid gut proud and unapologetic. He flexed one arm slowly, watching the muscle shift under the skin, a small smile tugging at his thick mustache. The competition was over, the stage lights long gone, and this felt right. The lake, the sun, the body he had built and now got to enjoy without rules.

But as the afternoon stretched on and the last of the other guests drifted away, Marcus stayed on the dock, the easy pride sitting on the surface while something quieter settled underneath. The body felt solid and right, the vacation simple and good, but the connections stayed shallow. No one really knew the girl who had stepped onto that stage hours earlier, and no one would ever ask. He adjusted the bucket hat, the red trunks clinging to his thighs, and watched the water lap at the wood. A man who had everything he thought he wanted, standing alone on the dock with only the sun and the silence for company.

[littleeatbig]

[littleeatbig]

[many-of-max]

Created by p

[kemerooter]

Something MARVELous - Part 2

Read Part 1

Recap: Steven was your average junior finishing up a paper when he transformed overnight from a mysterious glowing comic book

He was oblivious to what was happening while he was rushing to finish reading the Captain America comic book — the one that he saw glowing beside the X-Men comic book that caused his overnight glow up.

While reading the part where Steve Rogers starts transforming, Steve started experiencing ‘massive’ changes in the real world.

He wasn’t noticing how his chest started creeping higher as more mass piled onto his pecs. He got annoyed and kept moving his hands to read better since it was blocking his view.

Next, he didn’t notice how his arms just kept growing - as if being fed with a super soldier serum - the biceps looking like they belonged on an absolute unit. He scratched an itch not feeling how big it got or how far he had to reach because his shoulders and back got wider

By the time he was a few pages to the end did the transformation stop

He finished the comic book and immediately ran to his bedroom mirror, that’s when he finally saw the changes

“This is like a dream come true! I look like Steve!!” He said as he flexed an arm which rose up to show off the musculature and veins

He assumes he’s at least 4-5x bigger than who he was last night and about 2x from just before reading the comic. Especially seeing how he’s now adjusting to how big and tall he got — he felt like he had the energy to run the atheltics track 10x without breaking a sweat!

He went ahead and started scrambling to find a comic book he knew he had - a copy of The Hulk - if the Captain America one had this effect on him, what more that one.

He tried checking under his bed but couldn’t see clearly so in a way to test his new muscles, he tried lifting it a bit to check underneath - he just didn’t expect the bed to be so light

“Holy… i couldn’t even push this before!!!” he said while lifting the entire bed with one strong arm

He lifted it up and down a couple more times to check if he was still in the real world — true enough he was.

He found the comic book under the bed and he propped the bed frame against the wall

He opened up the comic book - this one glowing too as if Bruce himself was calling for him - and started reading the comic book right then and there, still in a towel but this time a superhero

“I guess I’ll have to skip the paper and class today” he said as he started reading Bruce Banner’s origin story

I’ll update if I can do a Part 3!