The Night Before Christmas

The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse... you were all alone for the holidays. While your friends managed to get home and were with their families or decided to spend the night partying until sunrise, you were stuck alone at home. This wasn't your plan for this year. Your stupid boss wouldn't let you take off the day before, so you had to work on Christmas Eve. You had planned on flying back home to your family after work had finished, but a surprise snowstorm canceled your flight back home, and you had no way of getting there. While your parents were obviously upset that you wouldn’t be joining them, they couldn’t be angry at you, because it wasn’t your fault. You couldn't control the weather. 

Trying to find something to keep you occupied, you had spent the evening baking cookies for Santa Claus. Obviously, you were old enough to understand that Santa didn’t exist, but you had baked cookies for him every year with your mother since you were a kid, and Christmas Eve would feel incomplete without the smell of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. However, once the baking was done and the kitchen was cleaned, the silence that filled your house was deafening.

Placing the tray of cookies and a cold glass of milk by the fireplace, you poured yourself a large glass of eggnog and headed into your bedroom to put on a Christmas movie on your laptop. Maybe watching other people in the festive spirit will bring you some joy. Scrolling through all of the streaming services you had, you were unsatisfied with the array of films. You had seemingly seen everything. Finally, you stumbled upon that old 90s movie with Tim Allen, The Santa Clause. The idea of this toy salesman turning into Santa and learning the true meaning of Christmas was so insane! But nonetheless, you remember liking the movie when you watched it many years ago, so you decided to press play. As the movie played, you continued to drink your eggnog. Eventually, you finished your first glass and went back to get a second. With every sip of the eggnog, you found yourself becoming more and more relaxed. The movie was funny enough, but you found your eyes gradually getting heavier. Slowly, everything faded to black.

Cough cough 

You awoke suddenly to the sound of coughing. You jolted upwards. Your laptop was still warm on your legs, and the movie was still playing; it was only halfway finished. Throwing your computer off to the side, you hurriedly stumbled out of bed to see what was happening. As you turned the corner, you saw it. There, standing in your living room, was some fat old guy dressed as Santa Claus. In one hand was one of the cookies you had baked earlier, and the other was clawing at his throat. His cough had stopped, but he was still gasping for air. He was choking. Before you had time to react, his knees gave out and he stumbled backward, landing on the floor. His massive body shook the house, and then, everything was still. It was silent. He wasn’t moving. Stepping forward and raising your foot, you tried to nudge him, to see if he was still alive. Instead of meeting his leg, your foot seemed to move right through him, instead catching the fabric of his red suit. Before your very eyes, this dead man who had broken into your house seemingly dissolved into thin air. All that was left of him was the half-eaten cookie and his outfit.

You had to call the police. A man had just broken into your house. Running to your counter and grabbing your cell phone, you raced to the front door to see that it was locked. Running to the side windows, you saw that they were… locked. Walking to the back door, sure enough, it was locked too. Looking at your alarm system, you saw that it was armed. How did this guy get into your house? You put your phone down. Walking back into your living room, you stepped over the red suit and stuck your hand up the chimney. Sure enough, the flue was open. Oh my god. Did the real Santa Claus just choke on your cookies?

Now what? You definitely can’t call the police. They wouldn’t believe you that Santa just died in your room and his body vanished. Sure, you were a little tipsy from the eggnog, but knew what you saw. No one would believe you, still. Hell, you wouldn’t have believed yourself! It sounded like something directly out of a Christmas movie.

You paused. Like something out of a Christmas movie. Looking down at the outfit the fat old man had just been wearing, you thought back to the movie you were watching. It could have been the eggnog talking, but why couldn’t you just try his clothes on? I mean what was there to lose? It’s not like there was actually a dead person in your living room; only his clothes.

Looking at his hat, that had once been on his head, you picked it up and placed it onto your coffee table. You sat on your couch to deliberate what your next course of action should be: call the police or try on Santa’s clothes. Staring at this hat and looking beyond at the full outfit which lay strewn on the floor, you made up your mind. If nothing else, maybe this will put you in a festive mood.

Standing up and placing the hat on your head, you instantly were overcome by an intense gurgling in your stomach. You felt so incredibly bloated. You rubbed your hands on your stomach, only to feel it rapidly expanding outwards in front of you. Bringing your hands to your chest, you felt it sag as your pecs grew into mounds of fat drooping from your torso.

Your ass grew enormous, stretching the fabric of your pants and tearing the seams. Falling backward onto your couch, you heard as the legs buckled under your growing weight. Your thighs splayed further and further outward, ripping your pants and pushing your legs farther and farther apart. Your fingers swelled into large sausages and your feet grew massive. 

The hair across your body lightened to a gray, before becoming as white as snow. Your upper lip itched as white hairs pushed their way out, growing long and meeting up with the hairs forcing their way from your chin. Soon, you sported a large, white, bushy beard. Wrinkles began etching their way across your face and body as you aged rapidly. Standing up from the couch, you stumbled as your center of gravity changed with your massive weight gain. Slowly, you managed to bring your body to the clothes of the former Santa Claus. Reaching down and grabbing the fabric, you pulled your blubberous legs through the velvet pants, shoving your giant feet into the brown leather boots. You lifted the heavy suit jacket over your shoulders and massive beach-ball stomach, before adorning it with a buckled belt. You brought your massive fingers into the white gloves and lifted his glasses onto your face.

You looked exactly like him. You were the spitting image of Santa Claus. Looking at the tray of cookies that you had baked earlier and the big guy had just choked on, you decided it’d be best to pass on the cookies tonight. Instead, you turned towards the chimney, ready to get back to your sleigh and deliver the rest of the presents before sunrise. Bringing festive cheer and joy to the world was enough to make an old man like you laugh gaily with glee:

Ho, Ho, Ho!

The Main Event

You always took a weekend to go to the nearby music festival on the beach every summer. It was always a blast. There were usually some good artists playing, sometimes a few minor celebrities: nothing too crazy. After a long, cold winter, you were ready for another good summer of live music and a little bit of drinking. However, it seems also though the vibe of the festival had been slightly changed this year.

Arriving at the beach, it was clear that something was different. There were thousands of people all huddled around the stage. Where there usually were some picnic tables or beach chairs there were crowds of people. There was no space to sit. On the stage in the distance was some DJ playing his set, and the area by the front of the stage was crowded with sweaty, intoxicated teenagers, trashing around wildly.

Although the energy was wildly different this year, you were still determined to find some way to have a good time. Resigned to the back of the crowd, you found an empty spot on the sand and sat down, allowing yourself to bask in the warmth of the sun. The morning had been cold when you got in your car to drive here and the forecast hadn’t called for so much sun, so you were dressed for colder temperatures. Your yellow chinos and white t-shirt reflected the sun's rays and seemed to be glowing in their own right. However, the brightness of your clothing didn’t prevent someone from stepping right into you and tumbling face-first into the sand.

Looking to your side, you saw an older man with a lanyard around his neck that said “Event Promoter”. He had managed to sit back up but he was wiping the sand from his eyes, aggressively trying to clear his vision.

Rushing to help the man back to his feet, you grabbed his hand. Almost instantly, you felt your mind empty. You had no more thoughts. You were fixated on this man. The man, having cleared the sand from his eyes, looked you up and down, and nodded. Still holding your hand firmly, he stood up and began guiding you through the crowd of energized people. The warmth of the bodies around you caused you to sweat profusely, but you didn’t care. This man was guiding you, and all you needed was to follow him. Approaching the front of the stage, the man separated with an aggressive shove two people open-mouthed kissing, before taking you around the side to the wings of the stage. Dripping with sweat, you stopped walking when the man turned around and held your face with his hands.

“You’re going to be the main event”

With those words, your eyes rolled toward the back of your head. You began panting heavily, trying to cool your body down. With each breath, your body swelled. Your chinos grew tight around your swelling ass and thighs. They grew taut and muscular, stretching those poor pants to the absolute limit. Your chest, as it heaved, began expanding into a shelf of raw muscle. Your abs pushed their way one at a time from your torso. Your shoulders stretched outward from your neck, ripping your shirt into pieces as it fell towards your feet. Your biceps swelled into mountains of muscle, veins snaking their way down your forearms, which thickened, and towards your now massive hands and fingers. Dark, sweaty hair swirled its way from the center of your chest, encircling your nipples and nestling its way into your armpits, which were dripping with your odor. The hair crawled down your chiseled abs towards your crotch, which pushed against your pants, swelling to an incredible size. The man took his hands off of your face and you looked down at yourself. You felt incredible. You looked incredible.

The man beamed at you, admiring your massive frame and admiring his handiwork. “Okay, Zac. Are you ready to give this crowd the greatest show they’ve ever seen?”

Staring back at the promoter, you nodded with a cocky grin and stepped out from the wings and onto the stage. As soon as the crowd caught sight of you, they went apeshit. Why wouldn’t they? You were an international superstar. You were the main event. You were Zac fucking Efron. They had all come to see you and your massive sexy muscles. Through the roar of the crowd, you could make out voices yelling at you to show off your muscles. Staring back into the crowd with all of those screaming, lustful faces, you smirked. So they want a show? You’ll give them exactly what they want.

How Would You Feel?

Once again, you're sitting in front of your screen, scrolling through Tumblr. Your feed is filled with these muscular, brawny men. You enjoy staring at them, don't you?

How pathetic. You should be ashamed of yourself. These men didn't spend years of their lives fine-tuning their bodies just for some scrawny punk on Tumblr to get off to them. How would you feel if some losers on the internet violated you like that?

My post appears: it's a plain white photo. No hot men to arouse you. But you can't scroll away. Not now, when the fun is just about to begin.

Those men you keep staring at are hot, aren't they? Your jaw is slack as you continue staring at this strange white screen that appeared on your feed. You feel a warmth spreading across your body. Your arms grow massive, covering themselves in a coat of dark hair, leading to your armpits which become dense, damp jungles. Your dick is pressed together as your thighs expand, the same dark hair swirling its way down your body. You're still staring at the white screen, even as your eye-line increases, with your ass swelling into two globes of muscle and providing cushioning on your chair. The stench of your bare feet is pungent as they grow massive and engulfed in thick hairs, but you still stare. You lift your shirt, rubbing your hands over your now-muscular torso and washboard abs, reaching your enormous pecs. You begin to rub your perky nipples. They're so sensitive. Your dick swells in your jeans as the white screen disappears. You turn your camera on and begin filming. I hope you like being nothing more than eye candy to strangers on the internet. I can't wait to read all of the nasty comments!

Making a Boyfriend

It was your first semester in college. You were so excited to have a little bit of freedom. As soon as you stepped into your dorm room and saw your roommate, Peter, and the pride flag hanging above his bed, you knew this was going to be awkward. You had nothing against gay people. They were fine most of the time. But having one as your roommate? That was too much.

He was quiet, which was fine, but you always felt that he was checking you out. Whenever you were sitting at your desk, you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head. When you turned, he averted his gaze, but you knew. He was into you. You were not gay.

God, it was so awkward.

After taking your daily shower, you walked through the hallway and back to your room with your towel around your waist. Opening your door, you stepped in. Seemingly out of nowhere, Peter rushed behind you and held his hand on your chest. Stunned, but unable to move, Peter whispered in your ear:

"I need a boyfriend."

Suddenly, you didn't mind Peter's hand on your chest. You were gay, and you loved a cute boy to have his hands all over you.

"You're so strong, have you been working out?"

Peter's words echoed in your ears. You felt your biceps thicken your lats expand, giving you a wide back. Your thighs expanded and new, rock-hard abs pushed their way out of your torso. You were jacked. You loved going to the gym just as much as you loved Peter.

"I'm so glad that you're taller than me so I can nuzzle up to you when we're in bed together."

You felt your legs lengthen and your spine crack as your point of view rose. You were now a tall 6'4. Your hair lightened to a blond and curled. You felt your towel drop from around your waist. You rushed to cover your newly exposed ripped body.

"I love how carefree you are too. You've got the himbo vibe perfected."

Your mind felt foggy. The classes you were taking, everything you had learned so far in college, disappeared. All you could remember was meeting your hot boyfriend Peter when you moved into the dorm, the gym, and football. You slowly lowered your hand, exposing your dick, which had swelled to a monstrous 11 inches.

"Since you're already naked, let's go cuddle in bed together."

Making your way to the bed, you laid yourself on it, ready for Peter to crawl into your big, muscular arms, just as he had done since the first night you spent together in your room.

Wow! I’m so incredibly grateful for my early Christmas present. I woke up this morning to see that I had passed 1,000 followers!

I started this blog 3 months ago to write some transformation stories that I wanted to read, involving men and photos that I was attracted to. I’m so humbled that over 1,000 people read my little page of writing and decided that they wanted to see more. I plan on writing semi-consistently as I continue to find inspiration in anything I see!

Thank you all again for supporting me as I explore this creative outlet.

Slobify me. I’m no coward.

Your wish is my command.

Lets start small, first of all we'll turn you into a nice cocky jock. Something to make your profile picture more suiting. Lean mass, a perfect cut six pack and exuding confidence.

I would have stopped there but you didn't want to take the risk you said "Slobify me" so I'll do exactly that. Guess that is a lot more than confidence exuding from you.

Sexy and sweating like a pig, for some I might say sweating non stop is enough to be a slob but because you seemed so confident to be one I'll go the extra mile for you.

Lets really muscle you up, we need more mass to work with, can't just have some fitness model type body dealing with all the curses you wished for. Whilst I'm at it I think some hair is in order. I haven't given any blokes hair in a while so your body will have to make up for that.

There we go, looking more like my type of guy. Huge muscles, insane strength. That sweat sticking to each strand of hair and finding it impossible to leave your body, B.O becoming worse with every second and becoming more of a permanent stench. But I dunno, you seem to be digging it and still seem pretty confident, well since you love it so much why don't we give you even more mass and some habits to work with. There is a problem though, your body can't put on any more muscle, but you wanted it so you got it.

UUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRP

oh boy that stunk like stale protein and cake mate. You're still a big burly bodybuilder, just one who took the bulk too far. We still aint done buddy. You so desperately wanted to be "slobified" so there is no turning back now. That means more hair and more stink. You'll now be coated in so much B.O you'll wanna hold your nose, hell your eyes will water up from it mate. Alright you giant hairy bulk head lets take a look at you now.

A massive beard and coated in hair, perfect for what comes next. Because you are now such a slob I hope you'll warm up to your habits quick. Things like spilling your protein shake all in your beard and down that muscled gut of yours. Things like never doing laundry again so all your clothes are coated in sweat, cum and protein stains. You'll find food and shakes permanently stuck in that beard of yours, shoving a protein bar in your face whenever you feel even the slightest itch of hunger, and you'll find most of those wrappers stuck to you, forgetting to peel them off for a few hours at a time. Just try not to sit on any mate because you'll find it near impossible to get those big arms back far enough to peel it off your ass.

But I still don't think we're done, in fact I think you still want more. So here ya go, every day you’ll get slightly bigger, slightly taller, slightly more mass, until you become 900 pounds of mass. Your sweat and stench will soak into your furniture but not only that over the next week as you grow bigger your furniture will break under you, first it’ll be your chairs, then your couch and of course your bed. Soon your house will be filled with sweaty wet stinking broken furniture.

Hope this is enough for you mate, if you want more or less just let me know and Ill give you more,

Enjoy being an enormous lumbering beefy slob mate.