Want to know what Andy has wished for? Check out the master post here!
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“Hey Andy, do you have a second to chat?” Tom asked politely as he leaned against the doorframe. Amidst the loud, raucous laughs and yells in the background, the rotund man seemed quite out of place standing meekly by the door of his private office. He stepped back to allow the waterboy to step inside, then closed the door behind him to shut out the noisy hoots and hollers from the jocks as they made their way to the showers after practice. Waddling to his chair behind the desk, the older man struggled to sit, his large beer-belly getting in the way ever so slightly. He motioned for Andy to sit across from him.
“I noticed the guys have been… extra aggressive and attentive to you lately. And I just wanted to let you know that this sort of behavior shouldn’t stand,” Tom continued, keeping his gaze fixed on the younger man. He knew the athletes often enjoyed picking on people who weren’t in their peak physical condition. The head coach struggled to gain their attention and respect, even when he was running practice. Tom could only imagine what Andy was experiencing and wanted to extend a hand if the other man was struggling. “If you want to step away or take some time off, I completely understand. And if you want to go even further, I’ll support you. You’re a part of this team too, and I’m not going to stand for any sort of mistreatment on my watch.”
For whatever reason, the coach seemed distinctly aware of the way the waterboy was staring back at him. It looked like a mixture of appreciation, surprise, and wonder. Tom didn’t exactly know why the other was so shocked; he didn’t think he was a bad or scary coach by any means. Then he shifted in his seat, suddenly aware of a pinching tightness around his thighs. The older man reached down and used one of his meaty hands to adjust his swelling bulge. “Stupid thing always acts up at the worst times,” he muttered under his breath as he felt the waistband of his underwear rub against the swelling tip of his fat cock head.
“Anyway, like I was saying,” Tom continued, leaning back in his leather chair. The seat grunted as it sank lower under his massive frame. His sleeves ripped, and the thick, hairy man chuckled, his train of thought already slipping when he caught sight of the peaks on his biceps. “Damn, already? Just bought this new polo, too. They always make them too small for me,” the older man complained as he rubbed his chiseled jawline. His forearms brushed over his heavy pecs, adding more tension to the ripped fabric as his muscular mounds made the shirt sag and fold in on itself. There was a clear shelf there, easily dwarfing the rest of the team’s muscles. But then again, the guys always loved it when he showed them how to play, especially when he was shirtless. Tom was their role model, the guy they all wanted to end up like. And if he had to let his pecs breathe and bounce a little in the hot summer sun, who would say no to that?
He idly rubbed and scratched at his hardening nipples, the older man letting out a sharp hiss at the sensitive feeling, causing the nubs to feel like diamonds under the clothing. Tom’s self-adoration and worship were an integral part of every meeting, and it always finished with him rubbing his hands over his hard-earned abs. The coach took pride in his body, something he spent plenty of time forming and sculpting until he was absolute perfection, like one of those Greek marble statues or some shit like that. He let out a loud, heavy blech, exhaling the heavy smell of the two protein shakes he had downed earlier for lunch.
“Like I said. That kinda shit doesn’t fly around here. You wanna mess around with the boys, you oughta come in here and show some respect to me first,” Tom grunted as he spread his meaty thighs apart. Even through the tight khakis, there was a clear third leg starting to rise up in a way that Andy could see from over the desk. “You know what you gotta do to keep your place here on the team, boy. And don’t tell me I’m wrong; I’ve seen you staring at me like a thirsty little slut the whole time I’ve been talking,” the older man growled as he made sure to pull down his fly.
“Now hurry up and be a good boy. We’ve only got a few minutes before they start lookin’ for you. And who knows? Maybe I’ll let them watch and learn from me. Give them something to practice on you later.”
Agent Fisher reports on his roommate's transformative descent into being a father figure straight from a 90's sitcom as he tries to pretend he's not into it.
Dad and Bear Tf's are always some of my favorites to write and this one is no different! Took the flavor but not the style of a certain foundation! Enjoy this daddification from the POV of a desperate agent who has failed his station and by the end suffers the same transformative consequences. -Occam
This is a report from Special Agent Fisher on a previously unidentified anomalous artifact. Delivered to my apartment while I was away on an expedition, a VHS tape labeled Dad’s Den was opened and watched by my friend and roommate who, unaware he should resist, succumbed to its effects and in time was replaced by what can only be described as a stereotypical dad. As if he were straight out of the video tape he couldn’t help but watch.
Given I was on foundation business during the encounter and have already suffered through the loss of my dear friend Clayton, I would request leniency. I submit this thorough report of the VHS tapes effects as evidence and when guaranteed both my personal safety and continued employment I will deliver both the video footage and the anomalous artifact in question.
I understand how this will be perceived but know I only hold the foundation’s best interests at heart. This is simply not my fault and I refuse to be demoted due to a situation out of my hands that I have already suffered beyond measure from. If anything I deserve a promotion for resisting the tape’s allure and effects, though at present I simply want guaranteed and continued safety for Clayton and myself.
Please read the following account of what I have dubbed AA-0646: ‘The Fatherly Film’ before coming to any decisions.
Consummate professional that I am, my installed cameras were able to capture Clayton’s entire encounter with the anomaly. Delivered in a box addressed to my true name, Clayton was none the wiser. Under the impression that I worked for the Parks service, my roommate was entirely unguarded when he decided to just open the box. Perhaps this is a failing of your protocol regarding cohabitants but I digress.
As soon as the package was in his hands there began an audio static in the recording. Isolating it I am able to confirm it was the sound of a laugh track, like you might find on the very same schlocky sitcom that is now in my friend’s hands. At this unfortunate point it is my professional opinion that it is already too late for my poor roommate. Proof of this is the dusty VHS player that appeared under our tv when he tore open the box.
When he moves to the television Clayton inserts the tape into a VHS player we didn’t have moments ago before flopping onto the couch. Then the true effects begin as Clayton is completely lost to the screen. Hardly moving for hours as the tape plays far longer than any cassette could possibly last, Clayton doesn’t blink as dated jokes and shoddy sets beam into his mind with no end.
Previously my roommate could hardly go half an hour without pulling out his phone to aimlessly scroll. When I’d at last convinced him to watch Fellowship of the Ring with me I had to constantly get on his ass for getting distracted by notifications and summarily doomscrolling. I’d be annoyed at him suddenly finding attention span to spare for this drivel were I not distraught by what happens in the following days.
After about six hours of this, Clayton finally starts to doze off. Eyes that were locked on the screen despite their ever-present glaze flutter shut before closing altogether. At the very same time the screen turns off. Overnight little of note occurs. Head lolling back against the couch, the sound of his heavy breathing can barely be caught on my cameras.
Every so often his mouth hanging open twitches into a grin as hands resting on his stomach scratch aimlessly. It feels safe to say this is when true biological changes begin. Never one to grow stubble by the time daylight arrives there is some darker fuzz surrounding his mouth and scattered across his jawline.
When he at last awakens, decidedly earlier than I’ve seen the perpetual night owl ever rise on his own, his arms twitch and rise as his mouth opens to audibly yawn. The quiet cracking sounds of his arms stretching as some heft is revealed on his waistline is covered by the shockingly loud sound of him yawning.
At this point I had hoped he was free from the tape as when he stands there’s a clear look of confusion on his face. Clayton clearly recognized something wrong was happening. If only I was there. Wandering into the kitchen, Clayton appears to grab a pizza from the fridge and return to the living room. There he removes his shirt and tosses it onto the floor before doing some very noisy stretching.
Body bared it’s suddenly obvious that even without actively watching the tape that he has continued to change. Clayton was always complaining about his inability to grow any body hair, whining that it makes him feel like less of a man. Clearly this desire is being preyed upon as a treasure trail suddenly begins to crawl up his already slightly heavier stomach.
Even more apparent is the generous spread that has begun to prickle across his thin chest as it too starts to grow, having been freed from the shirt he slept in. Returning to the couch and sinking back into the same position he slept in, the new weight on his upper body settles in a manner I personally would describe as more attractive heavier.
Thoughtlessly he reaches for the remote and puts his new favorite show back on. Entranced once more, now that his whole chest is out it’s clear that Clayton is visibly growing. Frequently his fingers scratch his chest as each twitchy grin from what he’s watching shoots a few new strands of hair to scatter across his developing pecs.
So too does a small but wide treasure trail begin inching upwards, onto his belly as the distracted man just eats and laughs at jokes he must have heard half a dozen times by now. A few times he raises an arm behind his head to reveal the most drastic hair growth thus far.
The action takes a tad more effort than I’d expect, surely due to the new mass on his bulking arms, or perhaps he’s already growing less flexible. At any rate, there is an unmistakable bush of hair hiding under his arms. Slightly shiny on the film, the strands look to almost be as long as those on his head. It’s quite, well, distracting.
While I remain physically and mentally unaffected from my briefest of encounters with Clayton, something about his scent has left my mind foggy if I focus too much on his pheromones, if that is the correct word. It was quite overwhelming, I- let’s just say it’s fortunate that such an esteemed employee encountered this brutish bear of a dad, this anomaly that is. Keep this in mind as you continue to read, I’m a perfect employee. You can’t just replace me.
Moving on, on day two his changes accelerate. Though it took all night for his first few patches of body hair to bloom, now that he’s mindlessly watching Dad’s Den again they are flourishing. In one episode his chest is wholly overtaken by thick chest hair. By the next it connects with his paltry treasure trail before that too expands to cover his still bulking stomach.
And as he continues changing he laughs all the more. Wide smile on his face as his lips are tickled with stubble, Clayton rubs his stomach as each guffaw is louder than the last. Ruffling the dense coverage on his stomach, his hands can’t help but reach under his waistline for a scratch or two.
Doing so a distinctly different glazed look overtakes his eyes. Still smiling blankly, Clayton’s head lolls back as he kicks off his pants to expose legs that have grown their own garden of fur as they’ve been hidden from sight. When at last the jeans fall to the floor his feet bounce back a few sizes larger as the coat atop them is just as thick as that on his calves and thighs.
Hand still seemingly magnetized to his tangled bush and apparently needy cock, the expression on his face shifts to one of desperation. Leaning back so far I can barely make out him biting his lips as some spit trickles into his beard. Core twitching as the bulge in his pants grows heavier, and heavier I-
Apologies. Again.
After Clayton tuckers himself out, he falls asleep in exactly the same position he has still yet to move from. One sullied hand stuffed in his pants, the other behind his head allowing his sweaty pit to aerate our living room. It’s unclear what precisely launches the next wave of changes but it is at this point that our home begins to change.
Something of a neat-freak before he began watching, it’s increasingly clear his cleanliness will not survive the change. Morphing into a man almost proud of his filth, the pizza box falls to the floor next to a hamper of clothes that have clearly already been worn more than once. His cozy antique love seat gives way to a gaudy la-z boy recliner as our once quaint living room shifts irreparably into a dad cave.
That night, in between snores that rise to a degree loud enough to almost shake my camera, Clayton also begins murmuring in his sleep. It quickly becomes clear to me that he’s telling jokes. Repeating lines from the show. I don’t make an effort to listen to them of course, they’re always almost annoyingly bad. Here’s a recording of him for an example:
Ah well that’s a pretty good one no? Suppose I could include a few more. If you’re interested? Men-toes. Heh. I uhm- Back to it, of course.
In sleep he continues laughing at each and every one of these jokes he dreams up or retrieves from Dad’s Den. And with each reverberation of struggled snores and raucous guffaws he bloats all the larger, and ages all the sightlier. By midnight his coat has grown enough to cover him like a proper pelt.
The sweaty bush in his pits connects with the blanket of even coverage painted from his neckline to his pubes. Perpetual stubble that now decorates his face is slightly speckled white as it reaches upward to connect with messy hair that is beginning to thin. Meaty muscle continues to pack on just as fast as the mouth-watering heft growing on his gut.
The next day he awakes before sunrise. Launching into a massive stretch and not yawning so much as yelling, his back cracks wider as he moans at the feeling of relief. Scratching his heavier ass to reveal a few lengthy curls decorating his backside, Clayton meanders into the kitchen. His footsteps fall like flippers as our apartment’s new wood panelling creaks under his weight.
Jokes about rising and grinding and what a brew-tiful morning it is resound in the kitchen accompanied by giggling crackling deeper. Until now his voice had maintained at least a familiar tone but with each pun to nobody it’s like his voicebox is aging as his resting tone sinks deeper and deeper. And credit where it’s due I do find myself enjoying his puns more and more.
When the morning sun does stream into the den, Clayton returns with a black cup of coffee. I’d be surprised he’s able to stomach it given his preference for incredibly sweet lattes, but the grand reveal of his new fatherly form is far too stunning to describe anything else. Uhm, scientifically speaking.
Resting his massive feet on our coffee table, Clayton leans back and starts downing his dark roast as the television just starts up without him even needing to lift a finger. Now mouthing along to the dad’s dialogue as if he were voicing it himself it’s clear my roommate is more Dad than his old self.
Crow’s feet etch into his eyes as smile lines trail down his cheeks, hidden his thick stubble. It’s difficult for me to tear my eyes away from his masculine form. I didn’t even notice at first that the dad- that Clayton had changed into a jock, but as his much larger dick twitches under the tight fabric. As his toes curl and the arches of his feet crack wider. As his bulky biceps bulge larger with each raise of the steaming dark cup, streaking into his beard before he wipes it with his rough hand fuck shit
Clearly there are some hazards involved with watching this process but I can guarantee that there is nothing memetic or mind-altering besides watching the tape itself. Which I have taken care to completely block from my recordings. You’re welcome again.
Back to it the changes in our apartment have similarly accelerated, where we once had posters and framed art there now exist bizarre family portraits. Clayton with some college aged offspring though from the best I can tell there isn’t a single one with a wife. Perhaps related to the plot of the show? Perhaps because my roommate’s gay. Not to sound like a broken record but if you want any further of my hypotheses you know what to do.
Skipping ahead, I’d figured that his changes would have slowed since to my eye his dilfy form had reached its apex, but I was quickly proven wrong. Today as his hairline continues to thin and his body hair continues to thicken, his body starts to truly bulk. I’d heard of dad strength but it’s almost ridiculous watching him grow heavier and stronger.
Eyes almost rolling back into his head Clayton’s stomach finally grows into a proper dad bod as heavy pecs hang atop it, bloating themselves into the perfect canvas for his thick curls. Beside the growing barrel of a torso rest arms increasingly patterned with throbbing veins and twitching with strength.
His forearms are covered with the type of hair you’d balk at in person. I could hardly believe it when I did see them in person, they’re like a second layer of skin lifted almost an inch off the arms, so thick at points you can barely see the veiny, muscled guns beneath. To say nothing of the very same curls trailing up his massive biceps. How they twitch with the slightest movement of his sausage fingers. How they grow larger as he continues watching the show. As he continues watching. As-
Ugh god this report is giving me such a headache.
Over the following day it seems the anomaly starts skipping and fading away on the, much larger, TV. Clayton doesn’t seem to react though, he continues just mouthing the lines to himself as he goes about the house. Grunting with every movement like a man decades older than he should be, my new fatherly roommate ambles about with a toolbox I swear he’s never lugged out before as he goes about any chores that don’t involve tidying up.
Slight baldspot on his increasingly speckled head and thick hair crawling up his ass from tacky cargo shorts, it’s at some point this day which I’d say the artifact has finished its dirty work. As Clayton interacts with confusion to whatever aspects of his old self remain they rapidly adjust to fit his new life.
Everything in his wardrobe lengthens more than a few sizes before morphing and restylizing to lose even the slightest amount of fashionability. The man oozes practicality as much as he does raw masculine sex appeal. Soon there’s not a trace of our old home, even my bedroom seems to have been corrupted into that of a son who’s gone off to college.
I’ve yet to do an investigation as to the nature of his apparent new family but should I be allowed to once more use the agency’s resources. And, to prove I’m acting in good faith, there is one remaining object from his past, a photo of the two of us together which is now an image of myself and him in his current form. It was this I found him looking at when I at last returned from my mission.
He set it down softly when I entered and leaned against the wall. Obviously I instantly knew something terrible had happened. I tried to convince him to drop everything and come to the lab but he wouldn’t listen. I- he just kept saying these stupid, stupid jokes. Obviously I know now what happened but even then I felt like I was talking with a character rather than a person. Rather than my roommate.
But I couldn’t really look away. The way his weight shifted as he moved, the musk that filled the whole place- I know I said watching his transformation wasn’t mind affecting but being in his presence very well could be. Even now I find myself craving that scent. God he was so fucking-
I digress. As soon as I found myself starting to enjoy the shitty jokes he kept firing off, I shook out of it and realized Clayton’s expression shifted from when I first entered. At first he looked blankly at myself before his eyes softened as if he seemed to recognize me. Not as his friend or roommate though, no. Instead he said his kiddos had been telling him about a coach that was moving in next door.
I’d be lying if I said this didn’t suddenly give me dry mouth and butterflies in my stomach. But I acted quickly and according to protocol. I immediately left and retrieved my security footage remotely after sealing our apartment for Clayton’s safety and the safety of anyone who might accidentally stumble into our place.
Returning later with the proper physical and psychological protection, I retrieved the anomalous artefact in question and Clayton. At present myself, the artifact, and Clayton are in my safehouse unknown to the agency where we will remain until I am guaranteed continued employment. After retrieval the only further effect was changing my prius into a station wagon. Which doesn’t bother me for some reason or another.
Apologies again for the underhanded tactics but I know at least one supervisor who attained his position acting similarly during that banana protein shake disaster. Time is of the essence so the quicker you approve my demands the quicker we can get this contained.
Yours. Agent Fisher
AGENT FISHER: DEMOTED
One day after receiving Agent Subject Fisher’s missal he was found, reprimanded, and retrieved for further testing. AA-0646 victim “Clayton”, furthermore named AA-0646-A, was taken in for questioning and, as Fisher described, his previous identity and mind have been subsumed by this new dad persona.
Agent: Do you recall your life before you were a father?
Clayton: Awh gee there it’s just been so long y’know? I’m not one for dwelling on the past. My kiddos always used to whine and winge like you wouldn’t believe! Ohh but before I settled down I did think about being a historian, matter of fact!
Agent: Really? Well-
Clayton: Course, there’s no future in that! Hah hah hah! Heh.
Agent: Mmhm I see.
When Fisher came up in questioning, AA-0646-A went glassy in the eyes and produced a second variant of AA-0646 from his robe, distinct from the original; this version is decorated with a garish title sticker labelling “Coach Next Door”. Lou over in processing is confident the tape is porn but as the Agency demands, we must discover everything about this Anomalous Artifact, and there is no better test lab rat than our newest Subject Fisher.
While AA-0646-A allegedly changed over the course of a few days, Fisher’s changes were far hastier. Perhaps exacerbated through his frequent and ill advised contact and borderline obsession with AA-0646-A.
As Fisher suggested Agents have neglected to observe what the program actually consists of, but given the subject’s excitement it seems to be somewhere between outright porn and a classic sitcom. After the first viewing, the subject has begun to exhibit increased muscle mass and hair growth.
When momentarily prevented from viewing AA-0646, the subject began to grow frantic before being assuaged by the suggestion of physical exercise. Following this subject’s mass began to increase with even more haste. Subject continued to exercise even after AA-0646 was returned, more so when it began to play once more.
On the second loop the subject grew in height and body hair began to accelerate to a degree agents describe as ‘above average’. While his upper body develops pecs and biceps, his jaw sharpens as it too is overtaken with stubble that befits his new self.
Agents tell me the subject at this point appears to be an ‘otter’. I neglect to follow up. From the images delivered however it is clear the subject is no longer the Fisher we knew and tolerated. Almost nude in the test room, subject’s malfitting underpants are stained and filled with a notable bulge.
Finally, on watch three, much like on subject AA-0646-A’s Day three, the transformation accelerates to totally excise whatever remains of the subject within. Muscle mass still rising, it is soon displaced by fat that befits an ex-jock, clearly the coach next door in question.
Body hair has accelerated from ‘above-average’ to ‘extreme’ and the messy stubble on his face has begun to be speckled with a few white hairs. Subject’s surely thinning hairline is covered by a cheap sweat-stained baseball cap allegedly not given to him by Agents, nor were the jock strap, whistle, or tube socks.
Given AA-646’s ability to generate matter and shape reality Doctor Marquez suggests subjects AA-646-A and AA-646-B, that is ‘Fisher’, be quarantined and their respective instances of AA-646, sealed away from them. The idea is broached with A and B and surprisingly they are amenable, as long as they are quarantined with access together.
This request is deemed acceptable and the Agency will see fit to keep the affected subjects under constant supervision. Though, given the agent’s best guesses as to what is to occur between the pair it remains unclear what intelligence will be gathered. Still, knowledge above all else. We shall see to it that someone decidedly lustless shall oversee the continued research on instances of AA-646.
While Special Agent Fisher’s prior demands may be neglected, at the very least he and Clayton, that is 646-A and 646-B, shall have their needs met by the agency and each other.
Recommended follow up: Agents are to remind cohabitants letter of the federal law to not open mail addressed to others. Agents are to exercise caution around VHS and other vintage recordings. Furthermore any Agents with daddy issues or kinks are to avoid Block 600A until further notice.
Can u write a story about a twink nerd who turns into and swaps bodies with the school basketball star (maybe price Sanfort at Nebraska) when he sneaks into the locker room during practice and puts on his compression shirt and Nike shorts
Dwight never really thought of himself as a sports person. He didn’t grow up playing sports; he certainly didn’t have the athletic build for them, and he never understood the appeal of getting all hot and sweaty doing workouts and playing games together with a team. He thrived on being unnoticed and in the shadows, often overlooked in social settings because of his lack of style and awkward expressions. The young man couldn’t help but feel envy and jealousy whenever he saw the adoration and admiration people showered on the school athletes, though. Despite having incredible test scores, a GPA that could have gotten him into anywhere, and an application that was nothing to scoff at, Dwight was still treated like a nobody while the school invested all its money in the sports teams, especially the basketball team.
The academically gifted student spent his mornings and evenings working in the biology lab, helping his professor with research on developing a solution that could alter the fundamental DNA in the human body. Dwight was sure he was working on a life-changing project and invested his heart and soul in making sure the experiments and documentation were flawless. That changed when his professor came in to tell him the school was slashing the department’s budget to help fund the basketball team’s advances towards the national conferences. A rising star had given the team a real shot at winning it all, and the school cared more about that than anything Dwight and his professor were working on.
The older woman didn’t seem phased by the decision, offering Dwight a sad smile and a slight slump in her shoulders as she broke the news. But the young man was furious. None of this was fair. They were doing good work, great work. How could the college ignore them and focus on those stupid, smelly jocks instead? Dwight was pretty sure none of them even deserved to be at the university. Comparing their test scores and GPAs made it clear who the real star should be. Gritting his teeth, he slammed his palms against the lab’s countertops and cast a spiteful eye out the classroom window. The professor had left them alone to clean up their work, but Dwight could only watch the students cheering on the basketball team as they strolled around the quad like the kings of the campus.
“Everyone should be worshipping me!” Dwight hissed as he glared at the head star of the pack. Standing heads above everyone else, he could easily spot Pryce from the crowd. His height and athletic prowess made him impossible to miss, and his face was plastered on posters and banners all over campus. Dwight glanced down at himself, knowing that his smaller frame and lack of muscles were nothing to admire at all. But he was on track to be valedictorian. He was going to change the world. “They only care about those stupid, dumb jocks. They don’t know anything else, and yet I’m the one who has to suffer while they get all the fame?”
As he wallowed in his growing anger, Dwight’s eyes landed on a full bottle of his experimental solution still packed up from yesterday’s testing. A thought wriggled into his mind, and the angry nerd’s eyes narrowed as his brain began to connect some dots. If no one was going to worship him now, perhaps all he needed to do was become someone the school would notice. It was what he deserved. Picking up the bottle, Dwight quickly left the lab and hurried through the hallways. With everyone else focused on the celebration, he was confident he would be left uninterrupted.
Dwight made his way over to the gymnasium and stepped into the musty locker rooms. His nose wrinkled in disgust as he tried to bite past the stinging sensation lingering in his eyes. The air felt thick with a particular ripeness, mixed with heavy-smelling deodorant that did little to mask it. Covering his more sensitive nose with his elbow, Dwight scanned the lockers until he found the right one: Pryce Sandfort’s. The golden boy. The one who had it all. He jimmied open the locker, ignoring the pile of sweaty underwear and socks at the bottom. He reached into the athlete’s duffel bag, pulling out a still-damp compression shirt and shorts. Then, Dwight began his process, spraying the solution onto the athletic gear. He went through about half the bottle before dumping the rest on the pile of socks, underwear, and basketball shoes. Nothing about this felt particularly exciting or enjoyable, but if his project was successful, it would all pay off for him.
Stripping himself down, the skinny student was grateful that no one was around to see him in his more embarrassing state of undress. He quickly picked up the soaked shirt and yanked it over his head, only fishing out his glasses when they got caught in the fabric. Even with a compression shirt, the fabric hung a bit loosely off Dwight’s bony shoulders and skinny arms. He tried not to think about the heady, overpowering smell that assaulted his nostrils as he began pulling on the rest of the gear. The sweaty, damp pouch on the jockstrap sagged over his own family jewels. The shorts barely fit over his slender waist, and the smelly socks and shoes made his jaw ache from how hard he clenched his teeth.
And then, Dwight waited.
The only sound was the audible dripping of shower water hitting the metal drain, the soft tick of the clock passing the time, and the sharp, bated breath of Dwight hoping for something… anything… to save him from his embarrassment. He was praying for just a bit of time left to undo everything and quickly sneak out before the team came back and caught him. How would he explain what he was doing? At best, he’d be branded a pervert and forgotten again. At worst… Dwight didn’t dare think about it. But just as his bony fingers reached down to peel the damp shirt off his back, a clear jolt ran through his body, and his muscles twitched.
A stretching sound followed, like plastic or rubber being pulled tight. The scrawny young man barely had a moment to figure out what it was before he felt a growing weight in his arms. Glancing down in confusion, Dwight could only marvel as they began to lengthen and hang closer to the floor. His bones and joints cracked and shifted into place, accommodating the new size as muscles began to plump and swell under his skin. Dwight stammered in surprise, stumbling back awkwardly before plopping down onto a bench.
The noise grew louder as his legs began to stretch and grow. He groaned as a dull, throbbing pain pulsed through each of his muscles. It felt like years of exercise were pouring into his body, overwhelming his brain with stimulation. His back arched as his spine popped and lengthened to a dizzying height. Dwight’s face contorted from both pain and pleasure as his sudden growth spurt continued, barely noticing how his newfound muscles began to push against the compression shirt.
There was a tightening around his feet, and the nerd could feel his feet and toes growing into the shoes he was wearing. It now felt nice and snug, laced tight to keep him from stumbling on the court. Reaching down to adjust himself in his more-formitting clothes, Dwight hissed a little at the sharp pinch from the jockstrap trapping his swelling, thickening cock. There was a hefty pouch now in place, even visible as Dwight carefully stood up to make his way over to the mirrors. He needed to know. He had to be sure. There was no way… unless?
Pryght’s voice caught in his throat as he stared back at his particularly handsome and sexy visage. That was the face of a star, after all. The one whose likeness was put up all over campus. He found himself smiling at himself, smirking even. He looked good like this. Tilting his head to the side, he could catch a whiff of himself still ripe from practice today. Pryght’s eyes glanced over at his pits; he groaned softly in satisfaction of his musk. Damn, did he always smell this good? It was easy for him to get lost in the sauce, catching a whiff like this, but then again, it was easy for everyone. His almost-trance-like state was interrupted by the boisterous, loud sounds of his boys coming back.
“Yo, Pryct! There you are! Sick day today, right?” one of the boys hooted as the team passed by, each of them clapping him on the shoulder or giving him fist bumps on their way into the showers. Pryct grinned as his body responded in turn, automatically matching their actions. He couldn’t remember why he felt so nervous for them to walk in on him again; they were the homies! They were used to him doing some stuff with or without them, and as the top dog of the team, it was his right! His eyes gazed over the tops of their heads as he caught sight of his coach flagging him down. There seemed to be someone shrimpy and scrawny flailing about next to him, although the kid looked like someone who would tip over if the wind blew.
“Hey, Coach, what’s up?” Pryce asked curiously as his gaze shifted over toward the scrambling nerd by his side.
The older man jerked his head at the dude next to him, his brows furrowed as he quickly explained the situation. The kid was saying he was the basketball pro, the real Pryce. And a whole bunch of other stuff that didn’t really make a lot of sense. It didn’t sound basketball-related, so the athlete had sort of already checked out. He only shrugged his shoulders in response when his coach asked him if he knew the kid.
The towering basketball player shook his head, a glimmer of amusement on his lips. It was clear it was just another fan trying to get close to him. He had to deal with them from time to time, but the team was always understanding and helpful in protecting him. “Nah, never met him before. You don’t mind keeping him away from me, do ya? Prob’ just one of those creeps or something,” he grunted with a look of disgust lingering in his eyes when he stared at the intru– the impos– the other dude. “Yo, is it cool if I get out of here, Coach? The boys and I are gonna try to get in some more practice while we’ve got time.”
And as he strolled away, Pryce could still hear the weedy, wimpy whines of protest behind him. It made sense for them to envy him. Worship him. Adore him. He had it all. And he wouldn’t have given it up for a single thing.
Want to know what Andy has wished for? Check out the master post here!
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When Andy heard the light knocking on his apartment door, the young man hurried over to peer through the peephole to see who was at the entrance. From the fisheye view, he could only catch a glimpse of the top of someone’s head, though the stranger quickly stepped back, revealing his short, skinny frame. It practically looked like a kid on the end, with the other man appearing almost smaller than Andy.
“I-I’ve got a package? For Andy?” A thin, weedy voice called out, holding a brown box in his hand. It was a new set of gym clothes he had ordered, although Andy hadn’t expected it to arrive until tomorrow. The small delivery man cleared his throat, a clear rasp evident in his words as he did his best to speak louder. “I, um, I forgot my pen, actually, for you to sign it. Do you mind grabbing a pen or something too?” he asked sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.
Feeling bad for the smaller man, especially since he was out delivering packages in this summer heatwave, Andy called back out. “Yeah, let me grab a pen. I’ll get some water for you, too. Seems like you could use a drink,” he said cheerily, doing his best to seem a bit helpful to the other man. He only got a soft stutter of appreciation as a reply, although Andy was already moving away from the door to search for the items. If he had stuck around a few moments longer, he might have heard some strange noises on the other side of the door. It sounded akin to fabric ripping and stretching, with a wispy voice deepening into a sweet, velvety rumble with some hefty bass in each grunt. The voice on the other end seemed to radiate with power and authority, nothing like the shy stammers that had asked for a pen just moments before.
As Andy made his way back toward the front door, he was surprised by the loud, heavy thumping against the wood. Each knock rattled the door, and the young man was almost worried that it would fall down. Before he had a chance to ask what was going on, he was interrupted by the booming voice of the deliveryman, who was still waiting for him.
“Yo, you comin’ back or what, dude? I’ve got places to be,” the voice growled out at him. There was another heavy thump before the letterbox flap opened. Where envelopes would usually slide in from the front door was replaced by a thick and sizable cock. The girth of the fat hog of meat was practically stuffed up against the full height of the rectangular opening, showing off a veiny, throbbing shaft that was only half-hard and leaking with precum. “I got this special package for you that needs some extra signing. I kept it nice and wrapped up for you as part of our delivery service,” the other man grunted.
Swallowing thickly, Andy carefully peeked out through the peephole once more to see what sort of man was showing off such dominance and lewd behavior. From his position, though, all he could see was a set of heavy, heaving pecs, pressed up and strained against the delivery company’s uniform. The sleeves had busted clean off, showing off boulder-sized shoulders and flexed biceps that could easily trap Andy’s head up against those sweaty pits. There was a pause between the knocking, and the young man could clearly see the other man bouncing and flexing his heavy pecs. As each mound of muscle jumped, Andy could feel his body practically aching to be used by the deliveryman. The large hunk leaned down, letting his chiseled, handsome visage come into view. There was a wolfish smirk on his lips, as if he knew that Andy was taking a peek at his impressive figure from the other side of the door.
“You gonna open up this door or what? These packages aren’t gonna sign themselves, bro.”
There was an audible click as the lock unlatched, and Andy was greeted by the towering sight of a man the size of a mountain, leaning against his doorframe with a cocky grin as he stared down at the quivering twink.
“Good boy. You’re lucky I’m the one who came to deliver your order of lingerie and thongs. The other guys wouldn’t be as gentle as I,” the large man rumbled as he tossed the small cardboard box over to Andy. On the outside was a clear label from the company, The Jock Shop, with very explicit packaging detailing what was inside. A furious blush colored Andy’s cheeks as he hid the box behind him, although the deliveryman was already stepping inside and locking the door behind him. He stared down at the other man with an amused expression in his eyes.
“No need to be shy about it. Let’s see if it fits. That is, if this fits inside of you,” he chortled as he reached down to stroke his hardening cock. It seemed Andy would have to leave the company a well-written review of their services, at least after he could think clearly again.
HAHAHAHAH FUCK, INI SIH GUE CARI GARA-GARA. Pasti semua senior cowok bakal cemburu sama gue abis itu bilang gue sok kegantengan lah, sok keren lah, terus mereka bakal ngisengin gue. Senior-senior cewek pick me paling bakal ngikutin cowok mereka, tapi mereka sambil nyentuh-nyentuh gue juga terus pas udah di kost-an mereka ngomongin gue. Tapi gue yakin, gue bakal nidurin minimal 1 senior selama masa ospek entar, gue harus bikin tuh orang pingsan terus dia harus ngibrit dari kost-an ini pagi-pagi buta sebelum ketahuan sama orang-orang bahwa dia keluar dari kamar gue, but I'll make sure everyone can tell that she or he's out from my room late enough or they leave something that I will return publicly that will make them beet red from embarassment!
Nemuin Chronivac ini bener-bener absurd sih. Gue dari gak lulus SIMAK untuk ketiga kalinya sekarang jadi lulus. Badan kerempeng gue berubah jadi sekeren ini. Gue suka banget fitur Chronivac yang autofill, pinter banget nih AI-nya ngebuat backstory super seamless bahwa selama gue ngulang buat SIMAK, gue yang emang udah fitness junkie ya udah nyari uang dengan jadi PT buat biayain hidup gue serta berbagai les itu dan itulah kenapa badan gue bisa sekeren ini.
Gue juga jadi tahu banyak soal fitness, macro, semua perkara gym sama workout nih otak gue udah kayak ensiklopedianya. Mana ada gue jadi kasir Indomaret kerja bagai kuda jadi gak sempet belajar makanya gagal terus gitu. Gak ada tuh cerita gue harus ngutang pinjol cuman biar bisa ikutan les. Orang-orang pada daftar mau jadi klien gue dan gue berhasil buat mereka achieve fitness goals mereka. Fuck, ini app emang keren banget, jadi gak sabar ngupdate pas akhir tahun entar
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Eng
HAHAHAHAH FUCK, I'M REALLY LOOKING FOR TROUBLE WITH THIS. All the male seniors will be jealous of me and tried to fuck me around while the pick-me females would follow their bf leads even though they would lust upon me behind closed doors. I'm pretty sure I can land at least 1 senior during the freshman welcoming period and I'm gonna ensure that I will fuck this senior so hard, she or he will need to dash out from my room before the morning comes to avoid getting recognized for walking out from my dorm. But I'll make sure everyone can tell that she or he's out from my room late enough or they left something that I will return publicly to them that will make them beet red from embarassment in public
Stumbled upon this Chronivac thing is indeed very absurd, in a good way. The way it rewrites the way that I failed the uni entrance test for the 3rd time in a row to now successfully passed through it is nothing short of awesome. The autofill section literally twisted everything to my favor and explained the gap year I took from merely working in the cashier at a convenience store chain and altered it to fit my current body. It literally laid down all these details of me finding fitness in highschool, took it seriously and became a PT right after graduation. My sob story of not having enough money because my parents unable to support my school aspiration remained, but the work as PT in the local gym paid it off and I enjoyed getting money so much, I even postponed to go to school as work was enjoyable, or so the Chronivac filled it. I have all the necessary knowledge to do the job as well, making me a certified fitness junkie through and through. Fuck, this app is so cool, I can't wait to update this stuff by the end of the year.
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I don't like to do exact translation of my story but I guess it captures the essence of it
Nothing beats the moment that your legs start to grow. It really solidifies that your body is categorically different. I love when a transformation happen bottom-up. Feet and legs are the foundation for what's about to happen to the rest of your body. If you want to grow into a muscle beast, it enhances the excitement. If you don't, it fills you with dread for what's coming. Both are equally hot to me.
Bigger legs brings power. You're transformation happens at the gym. The weight you normally lift feels like nothing. You add more plates. It still feels like nothing. You become a spectacle to all onlookers as you add even more plates. You feel unstoppable.
Legs change how you move. You start growing in public and your clothes rip to shreds, leaving you in just your underwear. You can't even rush to a private area because your new tree trunks won't let you do more than waddle back to your car. Your cheeks flush from the embarrassment but your dick is getting hard. You convince yourself it's a natural bodily reaction. We both know it's more than that.
You can no longer sit comfortably on your couch. You go from lounging to dominating. Nothing you do is cute anymore. Everything is imposing.
Legs literally changes your perspective by making you taller. People treat you differently when then have to look up you. The guys that used to intimidate you feel smitten when you're around. Part of them knows that you're still that small guy they used to ignore in the locker room but they can't suppress the growing desire for your approval now that you're a foot taller and 100lbs heavier than them.
Your legs expanding, swelling, tearing, and reforming in monstrous proportions is the change that has the biggest impact on your body. You might not always notice a bigger chest or tighter abs or football sized arms but your legs take up so much space as your biggest muscle groups that you will always notice them. The demand to be seen. To be felt.
You are now forced to man-spread. You always tried to take up as little space as possible but you find it so uncomfortable to sit how you normally do. Legs crossed awkwardly like a gentleman. You didn't even notice yourself doing it. Soon you start showing of, spreading your legs further and further apart. You've been meaning to buy bigger shorts but you old clothes just accentuate the goods too well. You start to welcome the subtle changes that slowly bring newfound cockiness confidence and masculinity.
And maaaaannn I bet it feels so good. All that corded muscle growing down your legs like tree branches. You can't go more than thirty minutes without looking at them now. Even in the middle of a conversation, your eyes slowly drift downwards and your hand slowly pulls your (already tiny) shorts even higher up.
Obviously your glutes balloon outward, giving you a huge ass that threatens every pair of pants you put on. There's whispers of "Why is he wearing his son's clothes?" and "Maybe he should skip leg day." People at your work event even made bets on how long it would take for those chinos to rip clean off. Every time you turn you back, all eyes are on you. You love every second of it. The feeling of your pants being shrink-wrapped onto your body is a constant reminder that you are an object now. And based on the fact that you haven't bought new clothes since your transformation, I can assume you like the attention.
New body, new mind. Forever changed by your lower half.
