Cosplays and costumes

[hairy-bothered]

You needed a costume for the frat house Halloween party. After browsing a bit you settled on the GT man Superman knock-off figuring it’d be funny since you were a student at Georgia Tech. Looking at yourself now you weren’t so sure this was a good idea...you were absolutely swimming in this costume.

A few seconds later you felt your body crack and mold. You grew taller and your muscles ballooned. Your hair turned black and your jaw squared. Even your package bulged. “WTF,” you muttered as you no longer recognized the man in the mirror.

As the changes slowed, your face morphed and took on a resemblance to movie versions of Superman. Your muscles maxed out at super human size. You weren’t even sure if you could fit through doors anymore.

Regardless, you looked at yourself with the cocky confidence of a super hero. You had become GT man and were ready for any challenges the world would throw at you. As you were leaving you picked up a bottle of hair tonic…just in case.

[heroatheart07]

[spndxjcksblog]

[jgotham]

[forthegaze123]

I can't stop thinking about this story by @maleagetransformation all weekend. You can check the og story here.

https://www.tumblr.com/maleagetransformation/707184709054185472/maleagetransformation-my-sons-birthday-was-coming?source=share

So, this is my attempt at rewriting it, with a few twist of my own (and using the gif I posted earlier). I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did.

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Harness for Birthday

The apartment was quiet that morning, the kind of heavy, anticipating silence that pressed against the cheap walls like the humid air outside. Sunlight slanted through the half-drawn blinds in the living room, catching dust motes that danced lazily above the worn couch where I sat, my massive frame sinking deep into the cushions. I was already half-hard just thinking about it, my thick cock twitching inside my sweatpants as I glanced at the clock for the hundredth time.

Noon.

Clay’s eighteenth birthday.

The day everything changed.

I’d spent eighteen years waiting for this. Eighteen years of knowing the family secret—the one that hit every man in our bloodline like a freight train on their eighteenth birthday.

Not just any change. I can say it's like a full, bone-deep metamorphosis. One minute you were you, the next you were having the skin, the muscle, the very essence of some hunky stranger. It was hormones and those rare HOX genes firing off in a way that made great apes look basic. One in a million men got it. We got it every generation, and we made it a goddamn tradition.

My great-great-grandfather had started this ‘cheat’ way, scouring docks and gyms for the perfect specimens, stealing socks or snatching shirts right off clotheslines if he had to.

I’d done it cleaner—mostly. Forums, auctions, back-alley deals. Premium cash for a single sweat-stained tank top or a crusty jock. But this time? This time I’d hit the jackpot.

The leather harness had arrived two days ago, wrapped in plain brown paper like it was nothing special. But I knew. I’d bid like a madman against every horny fucker on that dark-web auction site. A straight-laced Russian bodybuilder—real name ‘Davide something something unpronounceable’, but the profile pic had been pure sex—selling off a piece of his personal used bondage gear. Black leather straps thick as belts, gleaming metal rings and buckles that looked like they could hold a bull in place.

The description said it reeked of him after a heavy lifting session: sweat, musk, testosterone.

No doubt I’d maxed out the budget I’d saved for years just to win it. Shipping had been a bitch, but it got here in time. Can't wait to see my son use gear that his old man had hunted down like a wolf.

And no big family blowout this year. The divorce had seen to that. Just me and Clay in this cramped two-bedroom apartment, cheap rent but comfortable enough with the creaky floors and the faint smell of old takeout. No uncles, no cousins, no distant relatives crowding in to watch the boy become a man.

Just us.

Which made the other tradition—the one that came right after the change—even easier. Convenient even. Incest? Not anymore. Not when the boy who stepped out of that bathroom wouldn't be Clay anymore. No blood ties anymore once the metamorphosis hit.

It'll be just two horny, transformed studs celebrating the brotherhood the only way that mattered: Skin on skin, bodies pressed close. Raw, filthy, no-limits sex.

I adjusted my heavy balls through the fabric of my pants, feeling them churn with anticipation. My own body was still the same bulky beast it had become decades ago—hairy chest straining my tank top, thick gut from years of hearty eating mixed with powerlifting, arms like tree trunks. I’d transformed into a lumbering American powerlifter type back in my day. But Clay was about to get something even better.

The bedroom door creaked open at exactly noon.

Clay shuffled out, that lanky, almost comical frame of his on full display. He was still my boy in every way that mattered right now—skinny shoulders hunched a little under the blue-and-white checkered button-up shirt that hung loose on his narrow chest, khaki pants belted tight around his slim hips. Freckles dusted his cheeks, and those wire-rimmed glasses sat perched on his nose, magnifying the nervous excitement in his hazel eyes. His brown hair was tousled, a little too long in the front like he’d been running his hands through it all morning.

At eighteen he looked more like a gangly college freshman who’d forgotten to hit the gym, dwarfed next to my massive bulk on the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“Dad? What’s the big present? You said it was special.” His voice was still that high, boyish pitch, cracking just a little on the last word.

I grinned, slow and wide, my cock giving a heavy throb as I stood up. The floorboards groaned under my weight. “It’s time, son. Time for you to join the brotherhood. Are you ready?”

Clay’s eyes lit up, that desperate hunger flashing across his face. He nodded so fast his glasses slipped down his nose. “Fuck yeah… I mean—yes. I’ve been waiting my whole life for whatever this is. You’ve been dropping hints since I was like, ten.”

I reached behind the couch and pulled out the box, wrapped in dark blue paper with a simple black ribbon. My hands—big, calloused, veined—trembled just a fraction as I handed it over. Clay tore into it like an animal, paper shredding everywhere. The harness spilled out: thick black leather straps crisscrossing like a cage for a god, metal rings cold and heavy, buckles glinting under the light. The scent hit us both at once—deep, masculine, the ghost of whatever Russian beast had worn it last. Sweat, leather oil, pure man-musk that made my mouth water.

“What the…,” Clay breathed, already yanking at the buttons of his shirt. It hit the floor in seconds, revealing his flat, smooth chest and the faint outline of his ribs. His pants followed, kicked aside along with his boxers. His little cock—still soft, maybe five inches even hard—bobbed free, nothing special yet. He tossed his glasses onto the coffee table without a second thought. “This is it? This… harness thing?”

“Oh, come on, don't be ungrateful. Now put it on,” I growled, my own hand slipping down to palm the thick bulge in my sweatpants. “Arms and head through the holes. Then get in the bathroom. Trust me, boy. This is the start.”

“But how am I…”

“You'll know it, son.” I cut him off, stroked myself slowly through the fabric, feeling the heat build.

Clay’s fingers fumbled with nervousness and excitement as he slipped the leather over his head, threading his skinny arms through the straps. The metal rings clinked against his narrow frame, the harness hanging loose on him like it was made for someone three times his size. He looked ridiculous and perfect all at once—my lanky kid drowning in premium bondage gear that smelled like pure sex.

He gave me one last wide-eyed glance, then padded barefoot toward the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

I stood there in the hallway, heart hammering, cock fully hard now and leaking into my pants. Seconds ticked by. I pictured it all, just like my own transformation years ago—the rush of heat, the bones shifting, the muscle exploding outward. My hand worked faster inside my waistband, thick fingers wrapping around my veiny shaft as I listened.

A groan filtered through the door first.

“Nngh…” it's Clay’s voice, still his own but already strained.

Then it started.

The sounds built slowly, real-time, like the universe itself was savoring every second. A sharp gasp. The creak of the harness straps pulling tight. A wet, stretching pop—like joints realigning.

“Ahh—shit, Dad, it’s… I think it’s happening…” His words came out breathy, higher-pitched at first, then cracking on the next moan.

I pressed my forehead to the wall, stroking myself harder. “That’s it, Clayton. Let it take you. Good boy.”

Inside, the groans intensified.

“Hhhnnnggghhh…” The sound of skin stretching, muscles swelling against the leather with audible creaks and snaps. The harness rattled as his frame expanded, filling the empty space strap by strap. I could hear his feet shifting, toes spreading wider on the tile, growing longer, thicker, the soles flattening out to monstrous size thirteens. His back arched—audible pop-pop-pop of vertebrae lengthening—and his lats flared out like wings, straining the metal rings until they bit into new, burgeoning muscle.

Dark brown hair lightened at the tips, fading to dirty blond as it thickened and tousled. His jawline cracked forward with a deep, masculine snap, lips plumping fuller, brow ridge pushing out into that heavy, effortlessly alpha slope. Thick stubble erupted across his cheeks and chin, rasping against the leather as he tilted his head back.

“Uuuuuhhhhh…” The moan rolled out longer now. Soon that high-pitched whine of my boy will melt into something gravelly and foreign.

His pecs ballooned next. I knew it from the wet, heavy slap of flesh against flesh—two massive slabs of muscle inflating, swelling outward, pushing the harness straps apart until the leather groaned in protest. Thick, dark fur carpeted them in seconds, turning those swelling mounds into deep, jiggling cleavage that I could already imagine burying my face in.

“Mmmph—fuck, they’re so heavy…”

Arms thickened in sequence—shoulders ballooning into cannonballs, biceps swelling into massive peaks that got higher and higher, forearms corded with veins and dusted in the same dirty-blond hair. His hands—once slim and boyish—grew meaty, fingers lengthening into thick, powerful digits that gripped the sink edge hard enough to make the porcelain creak.

Hips gyrated with a wet slap of skin. Thighs inflated into tree-trunk hams, quads splitting and reforming under the harness until the leather dug deep into new, striated muscle. His spine lengthened with a series of soft, wet pops.

He was getting taller. The bathroom suddenly felt too small for him.

His ass rounded out behind him, cheeks growing heavier. Two massive, furry globes that I knew would feel like warm steel under my palms.

The best part—the part that had my cock drooling pre-cum all over my fist—was the voice. That familiar, whining pitch from my son shifted completely, turning into deep, husky groans that vibrated through the door.

“Arghhhhhhh… Hmmmggghhhhh… Daahhhddy…”

His cock was last. I could hear it—the wet, pulsing throb as it lengthened, veins snaking up the shaft like ropes. The foreskin stretched over a plump, leaking head, the whole thing swelling thicker and longer until it hung heavy, almost to his new knees, a fat cucumber of a dick swinging between thighs that could crush watermelons.

The voice that came next was almost unrecognizable—deeper, thicker, rolling with a heavy Russian accent that hadn’t been there seconds ago.

“Hhhahhh… zey feel like… like zey’re gonna bhurzzsstt…”

All of that finalized as two tennis-ball-sized nuts dropped low in a loose, furry sack, churning audibly with fresh, potent seed.

“Arghhhhh… Hmmmggghhhhh… Zis… zis bahdee… eet ees… perfect…”

The sounds slowed. Heavy breathing. The occasional soft creak as he tested the new limits of the harness. Then silence for a few heartbeats.

The door handle finally clicked.

He finally stepped out.

And there he is. No more scrawny Clay.

He filled the doorway—the newly made man, the doppelganger locked in for life.

Six-foot-three of pure Russian muscle god, every inch matching the bodybuilder from the auction photos but brought to throbbing, breathing life. The harness strained perfectly now, metal rings biting into fur-covered pecs that heaved with each breath, leather straps framing abs like cobblestones and a waist that tapered dramatically into those tree-trunk legs.

His nipples were larger and stiff. Sweat ran in rivulets down the deep cuts of his eight-pack, catching in the thick treasure trail that led down to his cock.

The cock—uncut, thick, already half-hard and glistening—veins snaking along the shaft. It swung heavy between his thighs, the head peeking from the foreskin like it was begging for attention.

His feet were monstrous—size thirteen, wide, powerful. His arms hung like slabs of meat, shoulders capped and round, biceps peaking even at rest. Thick forearms, meaty hands.

He wobbled for a second on those massive new feet, then righted himself with a cocky roll of his shoulders, massive back flaring wide enough to block the hallway light.

He stared at me—eye level now, not looking up like the boy he’d been five minutes ago. His face… god, that face. I guess he's a couple of years older than me now. Rugged, masculine, square jaw dusted with thick stubble-beard, full lips parted, brow slightly forward, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. Curly dirty-blond hair tangled at the ends, thick stubble shadowing a jaw that could cut glass.

That wide, white-toothed smile stretched across his face, as broad as the massive, furry ass flexing behind him. He leaned in close, I can clearly see his beard damp with tasty sweat.

Hot breath ghosting my ear, and whispered in the thickest, sexiest Russian accent I’d ever heard— just like the auction seller’s voice clips I’d jerked to.

“Zanks for ze harness, Dahddy. Deed ay yust gyet talair ahnd beeger? Hhhahhh…” The words rolled out low and rumbling, trilling deep in his throat.

His massive chest rose and fell. He reached up with one meaty hand and cupped one of his fur-matted pecs, squeezing the thick muscle. The harness creaked. He tweaked the stiff nipple between thumb and forefinger until it pebbled, and let out a low, rolling moan.

“Mmmph… zey feel zo zensitive… ees too goood.”

He looked down at himself, then back at me. His smile widened.

My cock jumped in my pants, leaking so much pre it soaked through. I tore my tank top off, pressing my own huge, hairy chest against his—sweat-slick skin meeting sweat-slick skin, fur rubbing fur, the harness cold metal biting between us. His new musk hit me full force: deep, masculine, like a gym locker room after a record deadlift session mixed with leather and raw testosterone.

“What else do you want to do now, Clayton?” I growled, voice thick with lust. “It was so worth waiting eighteen fucking years for this.”

He laughed—a deep, barrel-chested sound that vibrated against my sternum—and wrapped those tree-trunk arms around me, pulling me in until our cocks slapped together through my pants. His was already rock-hard, a massive, veiny monster throbbing and ready to combust.

We kissed.

It started slow—lips brushing, tasting, then deeper. His new tongue was thicker, stronger. Our tongues wrestled as he moaned right into my mouth.

He tasted like heat and musk and something new. I groaned into his mouth. His massive hands—calloused now, strong—slid down my back and grabbed my ass, squeezing hard. I grabbed his chest, fingers sinking into the thick fur and hard muscle, thumbing his nipples. He broke the kiss with a sharp hiss.

“Ahhh—dahd… do zat again…”

I did. I pinched and rolled the stiff nubs. His hips jerked. His cock swelled fully against me, hot and heavy, the head leaking against my stomach.

“Mmmphhh… Pleez, Dahddy… khelp meh eksplorr zis nyu bahdee. Ay jast vant yuu. Ay am zeksy hunk nau. Ay doan’t mahnd beeng heem for ze rrrrrrest of mai laaaife, daaa.”

We kissed harder, wet smacking sounds filling the hallway as saliva dripped down our chins. His accent made everything filthier—every word a turn-on that had my balls tightening. I reached down and wrapped my hand around his enormous cock, feeling it pulse hot and heavy in my grip, the foreskin sliding back and forth over the fat, leaking head.

“That’s my boy,” I murmured against his lips, stroking him slow and firm, thumb circling the slit until more pre-cum oozed out. “Feel how fucking huge you are now? This Russian stud’s body is all yours.”

“Uuuuhhhhh… Dahddy, eet feels zo goood…” He bucked into my fist, hips rolling with raw power, those heavy balls slapping against my wrist. The harness creaked as his pecs flexed, nipples hard as diamonds. I dropped my head and latched onto one, sucking hard, tongue flicking the metal ring that pierced it through the leather strap.

He groaned loud— “Ahhhrrrrghhh!”—and his free hand tangled in my hair, holding me there while his other hand groped my own thick ass.

We stumbled toward the bedroom, bodies grinding, cocks leaking trails of pre-cum on the floor. I shoved him back onto the bed, the frame groaning under his new weight. He sprawled out like a king—legs spread wide, massive cock slapping wetly against his furry abs, balls hanging low and full. I stripped the rest of the way, my own heavy dick springing free, and crawled between his thighs.

“Vatch me, Dahddy,” he rumbled, voice dripping with that exaggerated accent as he flexed one arm, bicep peaking like a mountain. “Ay vant yu to see everyzing.”

He reached down and stroked himself lazily, the wet schlick-schlick of his fist over that fat, uncut shaft filling the room. I watched, mesmerized, as he explored his own new body—pinching nipples, running thick fingers through the fur on his chest, lifting one heavy pec and letting it drop with a meaty jiggle.

I couldn’t wait anymore. I dove in, burying my face between those massive thighs, tongue dragging up the seam of his balls before sucking one fat nut into my mouth.

“Mmmph, you taste like pure man,” I groaned around it, the salty musk flooding my senses. Clay—my new Russian god of a son—threw his head back, moaning loud and guttural.

“Hhhnnnggghhh… Dahddy, yesss… suck zem. Zey’re zo full for yu…” His accent thickened even more with pleasure, r’s rolling endlessly as his hips jerked. I moved to the other ball, then dragged my tongue up the underside of his cock, tracing every throbbing vein until I reached the plump head. I swallowed him down as far as I could—still only halfway, he was that fucking huge—gagging wetly around the girth while he fucked my throat with shallow, powerful thrusts.

“Glk—ahhh—glk-glk—mmphhh!” The sounds were obscene, spit dripping down his shaft and soaking his balls. He gripped the back of my head, guiding me, his moans turning into a constant stream of accented filth.

“Zat’s eet, Dahddy… choke on mai beeg Russian cock…” he groaned, one big hand settling on the back of my head. “Yor tongue ees zo hot…”

I gagged when the head hit the back of my throat, but I didn’t pull back. Tears pricked my eyes. I wanted all of it. His balls slapped my chin—heavy, full, swinging. I reached up and rolled them in my palm. He shuddered.

“Unnnghhh—!”

I pulled off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting my lips to his cockhead, and flipped him onto his stomach. That massive, furry ass presented itself—two perfect globes split by a tight, pink hole that winked as he arched his back.

I rubbed and pressed my fingers into it. He pushed back against my touch with a low moan.

“Pleez… put zem een… ay vant to feel eet…”

As he wished, I worked two fingers slowly, scissoring, stretching. He was tight but yielding, new muscle relaxing under my touch. I added a third. He rode my fingers, hips rolling, the harness straps shifting across his massive chest with every movement. Sweat dripped from his pecs onto my stomach.

“Oh yeahhhhh, this hole is mine now,” I growled into his crack, dove in without hesitation. My tongue speared deep, rimming him sloppy and loud. The taste of clean sweat and new man driving me wild.

“Uuuhhhhrrrgghhh! Dahddy—pleez—more!” He pushed back against my face, harness straps digging into his lats as he flexed. I ate him out for what felt like hours—tongue-fucking, sucking, biting the firm flesh—until he was a whimpering, moaning mess, cock leaking a puddle onto the sheets.

Finally, I slicked my own throbbing dick with spit and pre-cum and pressed the head against his hole. “You ready for Daddy to welcome you properly, boy?”

He looked back over his massive shoulder, that thick Russian accent dripping with pure lust. “Da, Dahddy… fuck meh. Make me feel zis nyu bahdee from ze inzide. Ay need eet.”

I pushed in slow—inch after thick inch stretching him open—while he moaned and pushed back, the harness rattling with every thrust. The room filled with the wet slap of skin on skin, the creak of the bed, and his endless, accented groans.

“Ahhh—yesss—fuuuuck—zo beeg… zo deep… yesss… harder, Dahddy—ruin zis tight hole for yu… Fhuuuaaaackkk!”

We fucked like that for ages—slow at first, then harder, me pounding into that perfect ass while he flexed and moaned and begged in that filthy Russian drawl. Cum was everywhere by the time the first load hit—his cock erupting hands-free across the sheets in thick, ropey blasts while I filled his guts.

But we didn’t stop.

He bottomed out, sitting fully on my lap, my cock buried to the root in his furnace-hot hole. His massive chest heaved. The harness creaked. He leaned down and kissed me hard, then started to move.

Up. Down. Slow at first, letting himself adjust to the stretch. Then faster. His ass slapped against my thighs. Plap. Plap. Plap. Wet, filthy sounds. His huge cock bounced between us, slapping my stomach with every drop. Precum splattered. I reached up and grabbed his chest, squeezing the thick pecs, tugging the harness straps, pinching his nipples.

“Harder, dahd—ahhh—fuck mai ahss harder!”

I thrust up to meet him. The couch creaked under us. His moans filled the room, deep and rolling and accented.

“Da… da… yesss, dahddee… yor cock ees splitting meh open… ay love eet…”

He rode me like he was made for it. Sweat flew. The smell of sex—musk, leather, cum, sweat—thickened the air. His cock leaked steadily onto my chest and stomach. I stroked him in time with his bounces, while he groped my hairy chest and called me “Dahddy” between broken moans.

Next I came with a shout, hips jerking, pumping thick ropes deep inside him. He kept riding through it, milking every spurt. Then he grabbed his own massive cock and stroked once, twice—

“Arghhhhh—!”

His orgasm hit like a truck. Thick, heavy ropes of cum sprayed across my chest, my face, my open mouth. Pulse after pulse. He kept cumming, painting me, the smell of it sharp and masculine. Some landed on the harness straps. Some dripped onto the couch. e sounds of pure, filthy brotherhood.

And still, we kept going—exploring every new inch of his body, every position, every filthy fantasy the transformation had unlocked. His accent never faded, his cock never softened, and neither did the hungry way he looked at me, whispering.

He collapsed forward onto me, massive body blanketing mine, both of us panting, sticky, shaking. His cock still twitched against my stomach. Mine was still buried inside him, softening slowly.

For a long minute we just breathed. His curly hair tickled my cheek. The harness was warm now against my chest. I ran my hands slowly up and down his huge, sweat-slick back, feeling every ridge of muscle.

He lifted his head. Those new, handsome eyes looked into mine. A slow, filthy smile curved his full lips.

“Ay love zis, Dahddy… give meh more…. Ay am going to fill yor ahss… breed yu… Ay am going to make yu feel zo good…”

[21wanderer]

The silver lining

Body a day II - #2: Spectrum

The hologram suit was ready for action. Having slipped on the massive, and on its own quite impressive, silver muscle suit, the wearer initiated the program and the transformation began. At first the suit began to darken, the silver sheen dulled and turned grey, before it began to take on a human skin tone. It tightened around its wearer whilst muscles, veins, freckles, pores and birthmarks replaced the grey lustreless material, as it bended the whole spectrum of light to create the illusion of an all-natural muscular hunk.

Breathing heavily as his arousal grew, he watched his appearance becoming more and more human and more and more convincing.

He then began to tweak the in-built voice modulator. “Testing… testing… testing” he repeated as he adjusted the pitch until he found the exact sound he liked. The voice was stolen from some guy he had found on social media, but he liked it a lot, so he wanted it for himself.

He slipped on a couple of Calvin Klein boxers (three sizes bigger than what he’d normally wear), that would cover the one thing the suit was lacking. But he was still very satisfied with the result. He flexed and the illusion was perfect. Nobody would imagine he was just a guy in a suit. The spectrum of light was carefully controlled to make him appear as his ideal self, even the infrared part. If you looked at him through thermographic camera, you wouldn’t be able to tell that this was just a guy in a suit.

He rummaged through the piles of clothes he had prepared, more than enough for various outfits… and identities should it be desired. He could become anyone, as long as they fit the proportions of the suit, and he didn’t want it any other way. Being a muscleman was something he had always wanted, and he saw no reason to change that anytime soon.

Having finally decided on an outfit, he took a couple of selfies in the bathroom mirror, admiring the result. Then it was time to head out and put this hologram to the test.

“Let’s go!”

[razostory]

The Power of the Kryptons - Becoming Superman

It sucks being the weak kid. It’s my senior year and life as the school nerd was running me down. All the kids picked on me, even the younger kids. PE was my worst nightmare, Coach had us do hard drills and forced everyone to shower naked, the football jocks picked on me and my unathletic friends to no end. I grew tired of it. I grew vengeful, I grew angry. “I’m not going to stand for this anymore,” I said. “I gotta do something about it.”

Superman was on the scene, all the rave, insanely popular, of course; he was rescuing people and aiding law enforcement. I remember as a freshman this senior named Clark did a lot of honorable stuff, he was also popular. But a few weeks ago I made a connection: this man of steel was actually the elusive man I remember from my freshman year, Clark Kent. No one else seemed to put the two together, and I sure wasn’t going to tell anyone. When Clark was a senior and I was a freshman, he gained respectable reputation for himself but he didn’t talk much and kept to himself. He was good at hiding the alien that he was. But I wasn’t fooled. He never helped me, after all. He even looked at me during PE one day my freshman year, I could see him contemplating to rescue me, and he didn’t. I got a black eye that day from the bully Bruce, a football lineman. He’s still in my PE class today. I never forgave Clark for that. Shortly after that embarrassing incident I discovered something strange about Clark. He was changing in the baseball locker room after practice. I ran into the locker room to avoid the bullies who were trying to pin me down and use me for punching practice. I hid in a locker and saw Clark undressing. On his chest was a subtle, scar-like S. It grew red every few seconds. He didn’t want anyone to see it. He was hiding something. Of course I didn’t make the connection until I saw the S on the superman hero outfit, a tight fitting one piece of blue and red that proudly showed the hero that he was. Then I knew, it was the same guy. Superman? Clark Kent? He didn’t fool me.

A few weeks ago I discovered Clark’s secret hideout at his parent’s old farm in Smallville. He used it when he wasn’t traveling to his fortress, or whatever it is. He didn’t think anyone knew about this hideout in Smallville, but I hiked miles through the forest to find it. There I discovered everything about his past, about his alien ancestry, about his supernatural powers, about his incredible physique and stamina. I lusted for it. I wanted it, it was the answer to my own pathetic existence. But how could I get his powers?

After my second visit to the barn, I discovered the kryptonite. Apparently it crash landed fragments of Clark’s homeworld. Maybe the planet was destroyed, I don’t know. But after leaving his hideout I found four chunks of red meteor glowing in the forest, near the path I took to his hideout. I picked up the rocks and stashed them away, running back to Clark’s hideout to read about the red meteors he wrote in his journal. This stuff was the key. It was a special kind of kryptonite, it could literally pull and move the alien’s power from one body to another. I wanted it. It was going to aid me in moving his power into me. I had been studying the effects of the meteor for a few weeks and was able to use some chemistry equipment from the high school to boil it down into a liquid form. I could use a modified version of the kryptonite, combining it with magnesium, to force Kent into a hypnosis, then I could use the liquid kryptonite on his suit to aid me in pulling his powers. I knew what to do, I only had to get the man of steel under my control.

I sneaked back to his hideout on a Friday night and patiently waited for him to return. Now that he was a reporter or something in Metropolis he didn’t come back to his hideout often, but I knew he’d come back tonight because he wasn’t on the news. I fell asleep behind a haystack before waking to a shaking wind coming from a large hole in the barn. The man of steel, in his tight and muscle-defining outfit, flew into his domain and used his powers to barrier it, protecting him and me from the outside world. He had no idea I was there. I smiled.

I watched him write at his desk, focusing on his heroic deeds of the day. He wrote an entry in his journal and read a book for awhile. The muscles on the alien were magnificent. I couldn’t look away. His thick head of dark hair waved on his scalp, and his hair prickled over his hands and face. This create was magnificent, and he was going to be mine.

He stood and stretched himself, looking around to see if anyone was looking. Of course he thought he was isolated. Then he did something that surprised me. He started to slip himself out of his suit! “oh this is perfect!” I told myself, as I needed his suit to aid me in transporting his powers into me. Superman took his left and right arm and with some struggle peeled the suit away from his arms before sliding it down his chest. Unhooking his cape and hanging it on a nearby hangar. The man peeled his suit down his chest exposing his large and bulked back and shoulders. He reached his waist and rolled it over his ass. The alien wasn’t even wearing any underwear! Just his one piece suit. The man of steel didn’t shave his ass or legs, and his dark hair prickled out as he slid it down his body and stepped out of the suit, revealing his naked, power-ridden body. He hung his suit and turned toward me. I hid behind the haystack. His rod was growing. The alien was getting aroused! He took his hands and slid them through his pubic hair staring at himself in the mirror, flexing his muscles, admiring his massive and sculpted physique.

“This is too easy,” I said. I needed the alien in his most vulnerable state, and this was the perfect opportunity. With his back turned to me once again I grabbed a vial of the liquid red kryptonite and pulled off the top. I had to just splash a little on him to weaken him, then I could move forward with my plan.

The man started pumping his massive rod, letting the world around him drift away. I quickly stepped behind him and flung the bottle onto his muscle-rocked back. “ARGH!” he screamed in pain. The liquid quickly sunk into the alien’s body and he twisted and turned as his body seized in pain. “What the…who are you?” He said, falling onto the ground, letting go of his dick.

“It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “Go to sleep now, superman, I’ll see you in a minute.”

It took a lot of effort to pull the man of steel to a barn post in the center of his lair. I tied his chest to the barn post to hold him there, and took a chunk of my reduced magnesium kryptonite and hung it right above his head, just high enough to keep him weak and dreary, while still giving him some consciousness. After a few minutes the man of steel woke up.

“What? Where…who are you?” he said, still in pain from my attack earlier.

“What’s it matter? I’m about to become superman.” I said smiling, watching the man of steel lift himself up, only to see himself tethered to the post behind him. “But you can call me Kyle,” That was my name, but I didn’t really care at this point.

“You were at my high school, but how did you know about me?” superman asked.

“You fuckin neglected me when I was tormented, superman!” I said. “I knew you were Clark Kent ever since I saw you get naked after your baseball practice. I could see the S inscribed on your chest, you tried so hard to hide it, but you didn’t know I was there, hiding in the locker room from the bullies who you neglected to protect me from! Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. You let yourself get exposed. You let me find out about it. I discovered your weaknesses and I discovered what this rock can do. And now I’m going to take what you neglected, and I’m going to use it for myself.”

The Kryptonian looked at me quizzically. He had no idea. “You’re trying to tell me after years of batting your foes you don’t know what this shit can do?” I asked. “This is red kryptonite, it can pull your incredible powers out of your body, and deposit them into me. And I’m going to use it.” I couldn’t help but chuckle, these powers were about to be mine. “Don’t you get it super FREAK?! This is the end for you! You locked us into your lair and now I’m going to use your powers against you!”

Superman started to put the pieces together. He saw what the red kryptonite could do. He knew what I was going to make of him. “No, no you can’t!” He started to beg. “Your planet needs me, I’m their hope for an oncoming siege, I’m here to save you not torment you! Don’t do this! You don’t understand!” His voice getting continually desperate.

I laughed again. “Oh so the all powerful alien is begging now? I love it. Human’s aren’t hurt by the kryptonite. So after I gain your powers I will be unstoppable. I will be immune to all attacks. I will take over as the planet’s new savior. But only after my tormentors feel the wrath of my powers!”

I could feel my dick hardening at the fantasy. It was going to be awesome. I knew if I got this far I would get his powers. I would become Superman. No stopping me now.

The naked man of steel struggled underneath the glowing red rock. He wanted to escape but he couldn’t. I had come this far, I had to finish what I came here to do. I took the suit neatly hanging on the wall and found a bucket. I needed it to move his powers into me. I stuffed the suit into a bucket and dumped two vials of the red, krypton liquid into the bucket. The liquid starting cloning itself as it integrated into the suit, creating a full bucket with the liquid suspending the suit inside of it. The liquid thickened and darkened, mixing the blue of the suit with the red of the liquid.

I sat the bucket in front of the alien and loosened his restraint from his right arm. “In order for this to work, super freak, you gotta get me some of your seed,” I said, pointing to his enormously large but now flaccid dick and balls. “Pump it.”

He knew what I was doing. He knew my plan. “No!” he said with some struggle, the power of the kryptonite above and below him. “I won’t succumb.”

I smiled. “Yes you will.”

The body of the naked alien was mesmerizing. He was perfect in every way. I stepped forward and lowered the glowing rock closer to the alien, entrancing him, making it difficult for him to see where he was, what was going on. I looked down at his dick, his balls heaving behind it in panic. I reached out and lifted his dick with my hand. The weight was insane. The girth of it huge, barely able to fit my small hands around it. I gave it a tug. The alien hadn’t masturbated in awhile, it didn’t take long for it to jump to attention. “Umm…” he said, yelping in pleasure at my stroke. I jerked again and again, the man of steel trying to evade my strokes of pleasure but unable to hold back, the rock beckoning him to continue. “This is your power, superman,” I said, “and it’s going to be mine.”

“Please don’t,” he begged, his eyes shut, further losing himself in his own pleasure. Lost under the hypnosis of his own erection and the red meteor above him, superman brushed aside my hand and took his dick for himself, jerking it, lost in his own pleasure of his massive cock. His balls pulled into his body as his dick grew further, his body preparing itself to ejaculate his alien seed.

His body was perfect. I could feel the heat of the alien radiating off of him. I touched my chest. As I was to be the one to gain his powers, I needed to add my own seed, too. And I could feel my dick jerking in my shorts, eager to join in on the fun. I threw off my shirt and kicked off my shoes. Superman opened his eyes, still lost in his own jerking. But looked me over as my pathetic body revealed itself under my clothes. I got to my boxers before he could see my own small erection underneath my underwear. “What are you doing?” He asked between breaths.

“We need both of our seed in here. For the first time I think I’m not embarrassed to expose my naked body. Because I won’t own it for much longer,” I said, peeling down my boxers and getting naked across from the man of steel.

The massive alien was hypnotically massaging his dick, under the influence my newfound rock of power. The thought of gaining his powers were too much for me, I started pumping with the fantasy of becoming this muscular and powerful behemoth. It only took me a minute to explode with excitement, my semen landing in the bucket below me. “OH YEAH!” I whispered as pleasure wracked through my body. “This is mine! You are mine, aren’t you super freak?” I asked, more confident than ever before.

Superman was not completely lost in his own hypnosis, “No, NO, NOOOOOO!” he shouted before his dick choked and started spewing his seed. It was massive, loads of cum falling out of his dick and into the bucket I placed below. “Umm, no, ARGH AWW!” he shouted in pleasure as the cum mixed with my own, the krypton liquid, and his suit below. The red liquid ate it up and started sparking streaks of power, red electric bolts moving across the bucket and the suit.

I hoisted the rock back above the alien and let his consciousness come back to him. I walked to the sink and washed off my hands. The naked man let go of his dick, surrendering himself to what was to happen. “Please, don’t, do, this,” he said between breaths. “You don’t know what you’re gaining. The red krypton is evil. It will make you do things that you never imagined before.”

I paused, listening to the alien. “That’s exactly what I want,” I said. “I didn’t go through this trouble for nothing, I want my new wrath to be heard on the world, I want them to know who I am.”

For the first time in my life I didn’t mind being butt naked in front of someone else. This was my time, this was my turn to become that which the world would fear, that which would succumb to my powers. “If I decide to become a hero,” I said, “it will be after I’ve exhausted my need for vengeance.”

The red liquid had now soaked into the suit. It looked the same as it always had, but it was now ready for it’s new bearer. I unfurled it and examined it. It was at least twice my own size, but I didn’t care, that wouldn’t matter. The man of steel looked up at me with concern, defeat and begging in his eyes. “Please don’t,” was all he could say.

I pushed my left leg, then my right, into the suit, curled it up over my dick, which was finally shrinking again, and over my skinny butt. I rolled it over my thin treasure trail and up and over my stomach and chest, slipping my arms into the right and left sleeves. The suit was huge on me, but it felt welcoming, encouraging. I was feeling more and more confident with every move I made, fitting my fingers into the gloves, attaching the back up to my neck and unfurling the cape.

I could feel the suit vibrating over my body. It was feeling me, determining me. Matching itself to me. “Oh wow,” I whispered, the pathetic alien looking at me as it tightened against my body. The latex started shrinking as it grabbed hold of my skin and shrunk down to reveal all my pathetic figure.

Then the pain started.

Hot, searing shocks of pain erupted from the suit, it felt like lava was being poured onto me and scraped off. “ARRGH!” I shouted. The suit started lifting my body. Levitating me up 5, 10 feet into the middle of the barn. “What the fuck!” I was able to shout, “god what is this?” the suit was wracking my body, causing it to twist and turn in searing and painful movements, my head felt hot and heavy as waves of energy started to encircle me. My chest started getting particularly hot as the suit’s large, red “S” started to glow and spark with red, electric bolts.

The suit forced me to face the naked alien below me as the sparks shot out of the S and onto the alien. Searing him with the same pain I was feeling. “ARGH NOO!” he shouted as it burned off his ropes and pulled the muscular behemoth toward me. “My powers, NO!” he shouted again as the red bolts of electricity pulled the alien, lifting him off the ground and encircling him. As he slowly flew toward me the bolts literally drained him of his muscle and drew them upward in waves of immortal energy toward the suit and into my body. Immediately I went from pain and confusion and pleasure and confidence.

“Oh god,” I said, “Oh yes, YES YEEESSS!” I shouted as I felt the immortal powers of the alien burrowed into me through his suit. “FUCK YEAH!” I shouted again as my chest twisted and turned before spasming pounds of muscle underneath the suit. My pecs grew outward into thick, tight slabs of meat, followed by my abs quickly rumbling and forming a deep 8 pack with a defined and sharp adonis belt, pushing my suit back outward, expanding it against my ever-increasing body. I reached down to feel the washboard, every contour tightening against the suit. My legs blew outward with thick, steel quads stronger than those losers on the football team. My knees knocked and my shins expanded, before pushing outward, stretching my legs as they gained length and muscle. The powers reached upward to my shoulders doubling them in size before extending out toward my biceps and hands, growing them to match the size of the once-powerful alien’s stature. I could feel my legs elongating as my shoulders doubled up toward my neck, now thickening. The masculine overdrive of the superhero powered new masculine hairlines across my face and down my chest, building a physique of a powerful alien-god. I looked upward to the former man of steel, a look of fear and pleading on his face as he reached his skinny, disintegrating arm toward me, begging me to stop, quickly losing all of his stature and stamina. He levitated closer and closer to me until we were only a foot apart, “Don’t do this!” he begged underneath my power of theft removing everything he knew before. “You can still stop this!” he said, the freak becoming smaller and skinnier and more pathetic than ever before, his hair receding, his muscle mass disappearing, his features fading.

“You’re mine, superman! I am now the new Superman! The most powerful being in the world!” I shouted, feeling my ass lock in and push a hard and defined bubble butt outward. As the man of steel dried and withered into nothing but the red electric bolts engulfing him, the last of his body literally pushed itself into me like a ghost, and I felt my immortal seed grow inside my package, my semen realigning itself to the pure power of the Kryptonians, growing with aggression as is pushed hard against my suit, my dick soon following with intense girth and power. The man of steel was gone. I was now Superman.

The red powers engulfed me. “YESSS! YEAAHHHHHHH!” I shouted, “my POWERS!” as I gained the knowledge of the Kryptonians, the immortality, the ability to fly, the ability to morph and transform, I was becoming more than superman. I was becoming a superbeing of all power. “GAARRR!” I shouted as my eyes turned red. Erupting a stream of power onto the roof of the barn, burning the fortress that Superman had set over his lair.

I could feel the powers coursing through me as they zapped into my body. I flew upward at the speed of light and into the upper atmosphere, feeling the burn of powers course through me. “This is who I am!” I shouted, my deep, defined voice rattling through the skies. “I am the power of the Kryptons!”

I could feel Superman’s powers coursing through me. I could feel my body relishing in what I had gained. I could feel the knowledge of what I could do, and the innate, begging need for me to exact some evil vengeance. The red of the kryptonite filled me with the vengeance I sought, and I intended to use it. I had been bullied too long, pushed around, ignored by those who deserved me the ultimate respect. Now they were going to get it.

I willed my suit away as I floated in the skies and looked at my bare, immaculate chest. I turned to see my toned bubble ass, exposed with intense muscle, and I flexed my legs and arms to test their sinew and power. Stretching, I pushed my hands down to my dick just as Superman had done earlier and tugged on its power. My body rattled with intense pleasure. “Oh yeah, this is going to be fun,” I said, willing the suit back onto me and flying through the sky. “The football bullies are mine!”

From:

https://musclegrowth.net/topic/10836-the-power-of-the-kryptons-becoming-superman/#comment-121230

[heroatheart07]

[heroatheart07]

[khantransformations]

"Captain America’s Living Tank Top"

Shang-Chi had always been the odd one out among the Avengers. The master of martial arts, son of the legendary Wenwu, trained with a discipline few could match. That night, after an especially intense session in the private Avengers gym, he decided to stay a little longer. The place was completely silent, lit only by the dim overhead lights.

Sweaty, with the top part of his red-and-gold dragon suit slightly torn, he walked toward the old locker room. There, lying on a wooden bench, was Captain America’s gray tank top, still damp with fresh sweat. The scent of clean, masculine effort filled the air.

Driven by curiosity, Shang-Chi picked it up and inhaled deeply.

At that exact moment, the fabric came to life.

The tank top twisted violently as if it had a will of its own. Gray and red threads extended like living tentacles and slammed violently onto his chest. Shang-Chi let out a shout and tried to rip it off, but it was already too late. The living tank top adhered completely to his torso, covering him only from the waist up and disintegrating the upper part of his dragon suit into black smoke.

“What the hell is this?! Let go of me!”

The tank top began to expand and fit perfectly to his body. The Captain America shield glowed with intense red light over his chest. His eyes started shining with a blinding electric yellow as the transformation began while he remained standing, unable to move from the spot.

“Ahhh… my eyes! They’re burning!” he growled, clenching his fists.

His muscles exploded in size while he stayed upright. His pectorals swelled into two huge, round, rock-hard plates that stretched the tank top to its limit. His shoulders broadened brutally, his arms inflated with monstrous biceps and triceps, thick veins popping everywhere. His abdomen defined into perfect eight-pack abs under the fabric. All of this while his eyes continued shining with that intense yellow light.

His tanned Asian skin lightened rapidly, turning into a perfect white-golden tone. His black hair became golden blond and neatly styled. His face transformed: a squarer jaw, higher cheekbones, straight nose… the classic face of Steve Rogers. His glowing yellow eyes kept flashing as Captain America’s personality flooded his mind.

“No… I’m Shang-Chi… I’m the son of Wenwu! You can’t… ahh!”

Below, his training pants began changing on their own. The black fabric turned dark military green and stretched to accommodate his increasingly thick, muscular legs. At the same time, his ass inflated dramatically, becoming large, round, and firm, perfectly outlined against the new pants. His cock grew inside the fabric, thickening and lengthening until it became a thick, long, heavy dick that formed a very obvious bulge.

Shang-Chi remained standing, panting, his eyes still shining intensely yellow. The living tank top pulsed against his chest and back, sending waves of pleasure and new memories.

“Fuck… stop… I can’t resist…” His voice already sounded deep and American.

Lust hit him like a freight train. His new cock was rock-hard, throbbing painfully against the green pants. He couldn’t hold back anymore. He yanked his pants down with trembling hands and his massive new cock sprang free, thick and dripping.

He started stroking it hard, moaning like an animal while his eyes glowed brighter and his big ass clenched with every stroke.

“N-no… I am… I’m Captain America!”

With a powerful, deep roar he came violently. Thick white ropes shot out, splattering the floor and the tank top. Each spurt erased more of Shang-Chi. When the last drop fell, the yellow light in his eyes stabilized… and nothing of the Chinese warrior remained.

Only Steve Rogers was left.

The new Captain America stood tall with perfect posture, walked to the locker room mirror, and looked at himself with a growing smile. He flexed his massive arms, making the veins pop, then turned slightly to admire his large, round ass that filled out the green pants perfectly. He posed front, side, enjoying every inch of his new hyper-muscular body.

“This is real power…” he murmured in a deep, cocky voice.

Satisfied, he stepped back from the mirror. At that moment, the classic Captain America shield materialized on his back, held by straps that appeared out of nowhere, shining in perfect red, white, and blue.

Now he only thought about fulfilling his duty as an Avenger. Nothing else mattered. He adjusted the gray tank top that fit his upper body perfectly, straightened his dark green military pants, and left the gym. Outside, his classic motorcycle was waiting. He mounted it with confident movements, flexing his arms and chest so the new muscles strained against the fabric. With an arrogant and satisfied smile, he started the engine.

“Avengers… assemble.”

The air around him was thick with a strong, masculine scent: pure American testosterone.

[khantransformations]

Non-profit fanfiction. All characters belong to their respective creators and copyright holders."

Alola Speedo TF

Elio, a 22-year-old trainer, was walking along the sunny beach in Alola, dressed in his usual blue-and-white striped t-shirt, dark shorts, and his favorite black cap. The warm sand felt good under his feet as the ocean waves gently crashed nearby. Suddenly, something caught his eye — a white speedo with bright green trim lying half-buried in the sand.

“Oh? A swimsuit?” Elio said out loud, surprised. “What the… who left this here?” He looked around the beach, but there was no one in sight. The speedo looked strangely familiar, almost like something he had seen before in a dream. Curiosity got the better of him.

He bent down and picked it up.

The moment his fingers touched the fabric, the speedo vanished in a burst of glowing green energy that coursed through his entire body like molten fire.

“W-what the fuck?!” Elio gasped, trying to step back, but the heat was already spreading through his entire body.

He clenched his fists, fighting it.

“No… Stop! What is this energy? What’s happening?”

A powerful wave of pleasure hit him. His pectorals began to swell slowly, pushing hard against his t-shirt. He could feel the muscle fibers thickening, growing denser and rounder with every heartbeat. His nipples hardened instantly, rubbing against the fabric and forcing a low moan from his throat.

“Uff… fuck… my muscles… they’re growing… it feels so damn good…”

His black cap started changing. Rainbow colors spread across the visor and sides, while the “C” logo transformed into a bright yellow sun surrounded by a vibrant rainbow. At the same time, his hair grew longer and wavier.

His shoulders widened with a pleasurable crack, ripping the sleeves of his shirt apart. Biceps and triceps exploded in size, thick veins bulging under his rapidly tanning skin. His arms became massive, powerful, and insanely arousing.

“Shit… my arms are getting so big…!” he groaned, involuntarily flexing one. The rush of pleasure made his knees weak.

The energy moved down to his core. One by one, his abs carved themselves deep and hard, forming a perfect, sensual six-pack that flowed into a sharp V-line. His shorts started stretching dangerously tight.

Then came the most intense part. His cock, already half-hard from the overwhelming pleasure, began to grow. It thickened and lengthened rapidly, pulsing hard inside his shorts until the fabric tore open with a loud rip. His new massive dick sprang free — thicker, longer, veiny, and rock-hard, dripping precum under the bright sun.

“Ahh… my cock… it’s growing so much… it’s so thick and heavy…!” Elio moaned, one hand instinctively wrapping around the huge shaft. The sensitivity made him shudder with ecstasy.

His ass was next. His glutes swelled dramatically, becoming round, firm, and juicy, pushing backward with every throb. The cheeks grew fuller and more erotic, stretching and tearing what remained of his shorts.

In that same moment, the white-and-green speedo reappeared, magically wrapping tightly around his new enormous bulge. The fabric sank deep between his massive ass cheeks, perfectly outlining every inch of his thick cock and heavy balls.

His mind was starting to cloud.

“No… this isn’t me… I shouldn’t… mmm… but this body feels incredible…”

Waves of a new personality flooded in gradually. His usual shyness melted away, replaced by growing cocky confidence and playful dominance. A mischievous smirk appeared on his face as he ran his hands over his swollen pecs, pinching his sensitive nipples.

“Fuck… look at this… these huge muscles… this fat cock… this big, round ass…” he muttered, his voice becoming deeper, rougher, and more seductive.

Memories and desires shifted. He started thinking about teaching pokemon battles on the beach, surfing massive waves, and shamelessly seducing anyone who looked at him. His old identity as Elio was slowly merging into a hyper-muscular, extremely horny version of Professor Kukui.

He leaned back against a palm tree, arching his back and thrusting his huge ass out. He rolled his hips, grinding his massive erection against the tight speedo while moaning without shame.

“Yeah… this is what I am now… a beach god with a body built to drive everyone wild… ready to teach, to fuck, and to enjoy every second of it…”

A colorful flower lei appeared around his neck. The new Kukui flexed both arms with a deep, satisfied growl. His oiled muscles gleamed under the tropical sun, his speedo barely containing the throbbing monster inside.

The shy young trainer who had arrived in Alola was almost completely gone.

Only the new, muscular, dominant, and incredibly horny Professor Kukui remained — striding confidently down the beach with a seductive smile, ready to enjoy his new life to the fullest.

[spndxjcksblog]

IG - andaherocomesalong

[maningup]

Gods Reborn: Poseidon

A/N: Gods really do be arriving, messing up lives, then moving on, huh?

Zeus had really pissed the wrong collection of gods off, so much so they’d even screw over their own Rebirth in the coming era. Why couldn’t his brother just not lie with everything that made him aroused.  Mortals and gods from their own pantheon were fine, but trying to go beyond that? Poseidon’s divinity and all its power reduced into the form of a necklace. Nothing more than a tiny trident, his own planetary symbol. Where it would be bought like a cheap dollar store trinket. Some mortal girl trying to show a romantic declaration of love, or some such, to her male counterpart. All the power she held, and she had no idea as she placed it on the young man’s neck.

Stanley, as she called him, was a lanky young man, pale skin, oversized glasses. If anything, he did have a very puppy-like innocence, with his baby face, warm brown eyes, and soft brown hair. After years of waiting, Poseidon had hoped this was his escape. When the metal met flesh, he poured the tiniest bit of his divinity into Stanley. It was simply a test. He wasn’t going to pour it all and risk his escape and the vessel's destruction. That was something stupid and ill-advised Ares would do. Unbeknownst to the couple, Stanley's body lapped it up, muscles surging with slight growth. They didn't notice how his chest protruded into his shirt, or how his short sleeves hugged his arms. Stanley had to take his glasses off as the world got blurry. He rubbed his eyes only to find that he could see. He placed them in his pocket weirded out. With that act the air around the young man changed from mousey nerd into a more average self-assuredness.

The male and female parted as Poseidon now dangled against Stanley’s pecs, better for the god’s own temporary comfort, but he was determined to not be a fucking necklace for much longer. The fledgling mortals said some irrelevant things about this being their breakup before college, but Poseidon couldn’t be bothered; he needed Stanley alone if he wanted to test more. Mortals could be so panicky about their flesh obeying gods’ commands. Poseidon waited patiently for Stanley to walk back home.

Though once Stanley walked into his bedroom, he slammed the door and dropped his pants. His young cock was begging for attention; processing divinity wasn’t easy on most people. He stroked it, only tangentially aware of how heavier it was. He wasn’t as well acquainted with his cock like most teens his age heading off to college. Elise, his now ex, wasn’t the type to have a random rendezvous. Poseidon groaned at how boring the mortal’s thoughts were. Pushing in his divinity connected Poseidon to the teen, but what a dreadful start.

Grabbing a tissue, Stanley covered his cock. “FUCK!” he cried a word he rarely used as something wrenched his balls dry. The tissue was soaked as the scent of pure nut permeated the room, “Eww gross!” Stanley looked at the shimmer left on his hand as he tossed the wet tissue papers in the trash. In his previous dalliances' he’d never drenched an entire tissue before. Poseidon heard that and knew the young mortal better prepare himself because there was more to come.

The summer before college Stanley became Poseidon’s experiment. Every night Poseidon slipped more of his divinity into Stanley. He wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like when he found his soul and body, but Stanley was highly receptive. That was probably a sign things were going well. As for Stanley, he went from a paper-thin nerd to a jock chugging down protein shakes before a morning workout. Poseidon was just dumping loads of energy Stanley’s body put into use. His voice went from a meek mild thing to loud and brash. When he walked, his body demanded notice. The tank tops incorporated into his wardrobe certainly got eyes on his arms. His ass didn’t need any special clothing attention, just a bubble from the start. Then, there was his cock. People thought he was smuggling a dildo around before he started wearing the proper underwear.

People noticed the changes, but thanks to Poseidon’s careful planning chalked it up to those latent growth spurts mortals had. On the first night after Stanley had left for college, Poseidon tried to make his move. It was the perfect opportunity. Stanley's parents were far away, and the young man didn’t know anyone around them. Poseidon could simply vanish into the night. No one would know. The god poured more of his divinity than he ever had into Staney as the young man slept. The teen whimpered as his cock rose in his sleep; a wet dream.

“Dudddeeee shut up.” His dorm mate sleepily said, turned towards the wall.

Poseidon was going incrementally but it didn’t feel like Stanley could house much more of him. The god became sure the boy would burst as his cock began to drip. Then suddenly Stanley’s cock exploded, cum flying throughout the room, edged to the brink by divinity.  Stanley only released a quiet whimper as his cum coated the room, even flying over to his new dorm mate. The abundant load was the gift of a god, especially one whose dominion was over water. Fresh young jock cum became the permanent scent of Stanley’s dorm room. Poseidon, frustrated, recalled all his divinity back into the necklace, but there was no undoing any changes in Stanley. From then on Stanley was just the host who wore Poseidon’s necklace. He was indistinguishable from any other college gym-goer or athlete.

But then came the frat house.

So many potential matches for Poseidon, at least compared to the store he had been left in. And Stanley had decided to live there. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as if Poseidon had the ability to influence Stanley’s actions. The most he could do was make the young man spit him out whenever he bit on the necklace.

“REMOVE ME FROM YOUR MOUTH AT ONCE MORTAL.”

Stanley couldn’t hear those thoughts, but he surely felt the inkling of divine rage, always, dropping the chain fast.

Eternity wasn’t much to an immortal, so four years should have passed in the blink of an eye. Tragically, when confined to a small chain with no way to move, and only allowed to perceive, Poseidon’s situation became hell. Stanley no longer had divinity with him, but he benefited from Poseidon’s numerous attempts. The god watched the teen amass muscle the natural way, turning the gym into his new religion. With that the change of Stanley into ‘Stan the man’ came naturally. The frat brother with the perfect haircut, faded on the sides, brown curls at the front. Shades became his eye wear of choice, muscle shirts and workout shorts joining his wardrobe. Every year his back broadened, his shoulders rounded, pecs jutted just a bit more out, while his ass got extra cushion.

By that point Stan was starting to look like the perfect vessel. Poseidon wondered if he had been wrong and the gods souls and bodies just needed to adjust to their power? He was just taking wild leaps, but what more did he have other to be tempted. The god of the seas would have to watch Stan wake up and blow his load before getting to the day. How dreadful it was to not be able to touch and enjoy pleasures of the flesh himself. His solution: Another attempt. The result?

Another failure.

All he got for it was Stan suddenly, having an increased love for the university’s pool, and spring break trips to the beach. Nothing that actually solved Poseidon’s predicament. Stan was always good at taking him off before touching the water. Poseidon missed the waves, he missed ocean life, he missed his domain. As a necklace all he could do was stare up at the sky until Stan returned to pluck him up again.

Poseidon lost his cool for a moment during Stan’s senior year. Stan had been elected frat president, and his reign was coming to an end as he prepared to graduate. His junior brother, Javier, soon to be the next frat president, challenged Stan: chug copious amounts of alcohol within a timed match. What strange rituals the humans of the common era had. But as a personal prize Javier wanted the chain on Stan’s neck. Stan didn’t give a shit and agreed to it. The two young men started the challenge with a time limit of 2 minutes. Javier packed 5 cans away, Stan only got 4 and a half. He lost and Poseidon was pissed at the nonchalant attitude Stan had to lose divinity.

Stan and Javier retreated to his room, while the frat’s party raged on. There was supposed to be a secret passing of the torch, but once the door closed, Stan was all over Javier kissing him up and down. The two young men grabbed at each other pulling off shirts and stepping out of pants. Stan fumbled them back to his king-sized bed. Ever since Poseidon had started experimenting on Stan, he’d lost all desires for girls. The only thing Stan was concerned about was being a suitable vessel, even if he didn’t know that was the true motivation behind going to the gym. He’d never be a vessel though; he wasn't born to be one. However, there was someone there that appreciated the work Stan put into his body more than anyone else.

Javier wasn’t even a brother back then, just a wide-eyed freshman, who latched onto Stan and his presence. As for Stan, external validation was certainly nice. It turned into sex because…they were horny as shit. Only by the lingering grace of Poseidon’s divinity did no one catch on to the president plowing his protege’s ass or riding a junior’s cock. They thought they were being sneaky, but these young men grunted and moaned like the world was coming to an end. One time Stan forgot to close the door, no doubt people saw his tan bare ass pounding away at something, maybe they just assumed it was a woman.

Tonight was different though, Poseidon was angry. Javier was not his vessel. The young man had worn Poseidon as a necklace before, often when Stan was asleep. He’d touch at it and stared down at Stan, is that what Aphrodite would call ‘love’? If so, Poseidon didn’t need it, just his own body and soul would do. Melodrama was for other gods. Poseidon gave one last feeble attempt to escape, releasing his divinity at the height of Stan’s climax as Javier rode him. Then Javier pounced on Stan getting inside his ass and fucking a load out of his president.

Poseidon recalled his divinity. He was tired of trying and so he slept.

When the god woke up, he was not adorning Javier’s neck, A new male had taken his place. Same frat house but different furniture, different young men through the hall. He had passed years like a nap. No matter, he tried pushing his divinity into the new male. The guys cock was the first to respond, spraying cum uncontrollably onto the floor. Awkward as he had just walked downstairs to the fridge. His cock had just hardened out of the blue, poked out of his boxers and ejaculated as he went for the handle. All witnessed by one freshly initiated pledge eating breakfast. Poseidon was curious as he watched his new vessel approach the other young man, cock still drooling. Then the president offered to (and did!) fuck the new brother on the table to keep his mouth shut. He knew that during pledging the freshman just wanted some presidential man meat, so he gave it to him. Nothing about Poseidon was given away on that day. A month later however, the frat brothers noticed their new brother was putting on more than a little weight. His stomach was more than, chubby, or bloated, it was rounded. Everyone seemed to know what happened. There was a tale going around about two presidents fucking with the necklace some years back and both ending up pregnant.

“That’s supposed to be a myth, Murph, something we say to scare pledges.” The president paced back and forth in his room.

“Myth or not Bohdi, there’s a small Indian child growing in Darwin’s gut and you put the boy there.” Bohdi’s best friend sat on a chair, watching his friend and president spiral out.

“Why is Lester’s stomach getting so fucking big! A baby takes nine months.”

Poseidon watched it all play out uninterested. Didn’t mortals have any understanding of divine pregnancies? Now, they weren’t fathering anything close to demigods, but even Zeus himself gave birth to Athena fully grown from his head. The boys were pleased to learn outside of their frat no one responded as rationally as they did. Men having babies was odd, but not impossible in their minds.

Bodhi however was shitting bricks, the night of graduation because Lenny looked ready to pop. The doctors had confirmed it to be true above all else: Lenny was about to bring Bohdi’s big ass son into the world. Meanwhile the frat brothers became interested in the tale about the necklace, multiple people were asking to try him on. That’s when the god realized their sudden fascination was perhaps the newest vehicle for escape. Poseidon got passed around the night as he poured his divinity into every young man’s chest he landed on. No response from his soul or body. However, his testing came to an end when Lenny began to give birth on their couch. 

The brothers worked together through a lot of fumbling as Bodhi’s progeny entered the world. Poseidon was positively bored with all the cooing over the mortal infant. Eventually his necklace form was handed over to the next president in a private ceremony. The god could only give an internal sigh. Reduced to a ridiculous heirloom by mortals. He laid against the new chest, that night and the god could hear his divinity working through the young men of the house as they moaned in unison.

How many years was Poseidon trapped in this new way following that day? Passed on repeatedly through classes. He thought a place of mortal young men would be a sign for his escape. But perhaps it was only ever punishment. Maybe fate had seen his attempt with Stan and did not appreciate it. He may not have been Dionysus, but listening to merriment and pleasure, unable to participate, became unbearable. Even worse when he saw the results of his divinity shared on the frat brother’s bodies. The muscles obviously, but the offspring. Strong powerful guts and abs bloated out, which should have been rightfully Poseidon’s children. Instead of girlfriends, the frat brothers sought out other members to copulate with and did it well.

Then one day perhaps mortal-sanity struck as the latest president, tummy full of his Vice-president’s future soccer star, got into his car and drove. He arrived at the beach feet stomping in the sand, as his gut fluttered a kick. He pulled the necklace off, balling it in his fist. Poseidon could see what was going to happen. He wanted it too. Even if he didn’t understand why. Hadn’t the president put the vice-president into a similar predicament? Poseidon was chucked far into the ocean as the water surrounded and claimed him. At least he was home again. Suffered an entire saga with no reward.

—

It was midday when Poseidon found himself tossed through the waves. He thought he’d stay sunk forever but he kept getting kicked up by the water. Unfortunately, in his form the water was not his to command, all he could do was experience it. Maybe it was for the best as that’s how he lucked upon Seo-jun’s neck. Tossed under by a wave, a boy in a wet suit swam up head perfectly going in the unseen open chain. When Poseidon graced a new body, the god feared his next turmoil, but there was an explosion. Seo-jun’s mind became completely open to Poseidon with even a touch of divinity. They slotted into Poseidon’s mind as if they had been there all along. A boy on vacation with his family from Korea.

Poseidon’s divinity didn’t need to be pushed out; it was welcome back in as Seo-jun swam up. The body extended as his legs grew stronger, taller. His feet turned massive, almost like flippers aiding in his swimming. The wetsuit peeled, unzipped, guided by an unknown hand, as Seo-jun upper body sprouted. A crack in his spine that made him surge, as his chest produced two twin pecs followed by hard abs. His paddling arms like blades, their reach wider.  His divinity that had been shared out came roiling back to him. His shoulder’s bulked with his traps wider and better than Atlas. The water’s surface was nearby. As he breached the surface, the water bulged and Seo-jun’s face changed. When it finally met the air, a hard jaw line was waiting. Poseidon’s symbol separated from the necklace flowing to his hand as a larger palm grasped it, and the form unleashed.

Poseidon rose from the depths, Seo-jun’s wet suit now spilling down over their reunited existence once more. The ocean released their body with a healthy sheen, a gift for the god of the oceans return. He stood at the water’s edge. Considering how to punish the frat brothers for their transgressions. What was a god if not a petty being? Then again, perhaps they could stew with their offspring. Without Poseidon’s divinity there were sure to be hard questions to answer. Besides, he had his own brother to punish for starting it all. As for the frat predicament pointing back to him among the gods, surely, he could blame the birth rate increase on Zeus. Who wouldn’t believe that? 

[dreamertf]

Fusion

Fuckkk bro I was fiddling around with the chronovaic and I accidently merged our-my conciousness (es) and bodies together. Now im this surfer emo guy and I don't think I can reverse it. Its taking a little to get the hang of but bro, the amount of chicks im scoring is fuckin insane. Got nipple piercings, something i put off for because I never had the confidence- but with this new body im fucking hot as hell. I could've just used the chronovaic to give myself the piercings- but whats the fun in that? I want to feel the pain. Who knew bitches would like this things so much, works for me to- it made them hella sensitive. Sometimes i get hard just from my shirt rubbin against them. Thinking about doing another thing my old body was afraid to do- try out guys. Theres this twink that works at the cafe down the road, he couldn't stop looking at my bulge and I don't blame him- that thing is 12 inch soft now.

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