Massive Bulking - Tumblr Posts
In high school, Trent and Bryce had never even spoken--Trent barely knew who Bryce was, vaguely recognized the skinny little guy from his yearbook photo but couldn’t recall speaking to him ever. The fact that they ended up getting into the same college barely registered on Trent’s radar. It was a big campus, so the chances they’d run into each other ever (especially with their different lives: Trent was going on a full ride football scholarship while Bryce was going to study biochemistry or some shit) was pretty slim. That’s why Trent was so shocked the day before he left for summer football camp to find scrawny Bryce banging on his door. “It’s simple,” Bryce explained, producing a small kit containing a number of pills and little vials. “Just take a blue gelcap and a red gelcap before breakfast, then drink the little green vial before dinner.”
“The fuck is this?” Trent asked, poking the colored pills with his finger.
“It’s cutting-edge biological innovation--or at least, it might be,” Bryce said with an awkward giggle. “A massive breakthrough in male potency. I needed someone to test it out on, and c’mon, Trent: you’re like the biggest heartiest dude in the world. Serious gains for you would put you on a whole different level!”
“I’m already on a whole different level,” he chuckled, shrugging his big shoulders. Coach said the line would never be the same with him on it. Trent was skeptical, but a part of him wondered--what if this little dork was on to something? “If this shit makes me grow tits…”
“Gosh, no!” Bryce protested. “No no no. Well, you’ll grow big hard manly pecs--bigger than the ones you already have, that is…” Bryce gently nudged Trent’s chest. Was this little kid a fag? Trent wondered. These pills better not be a bunch of roofies.
“Fine, whatever, I gotta go,” Trent said. Bryce left, blushing and fumbling as he backed away. Trent considered just tossing the little kit in the trash, but for some reason he held on to it. The first day of camp, he woke up, popped a red pill and a blue pill, and before bed he snapped off the cap of a green vial. The next day he practically sprang out of bed. Every part of his body was brimming with energy. When running laps he’d break away from the other lineman and keep pace with the tight ends and wide receivers. Within weeks he was confidently squatting over 600 pounds for reps (his high school 1RM was 500). His body practically blew up, fifty pounds packing onto his body in no time putting him well over 350--and most of it was solid fucking muscle! Obviously everyone was shocked, suspected him of using gear, but his piss tests all came out clean. Trent was obviously a freak, everyone (including Trent) acknowledged, and he was on his way to the NFL. His first season at a D1 school was going to be epic. Not once did Trent even think to acknowledge Bryce’s contribution--until the kit was almost empty. He couldn’t start the season without it.
The first week of school, days before their first actual game, Bryce finally responded to one of Trent’s frantic e-mails. “I’ll come over today with a refill. Don’t sweat it. Glad you’re enjoying the process.”
Bryce showed up to Trent’s dorm with a duffel bag. “Where’s the stuff?” Trent asked desperately.
“Give me a second,” Bryce explained. “You know, this is for a project, not just for your personal gain. I have to record the results first.” Bryce pulled out a tape-measure, started measuring Trent’s massive thighs and his huge arms. The diameter of Trent’s chest was big as the distance around a smart car, exceeding the length of the tape measure Trent proudly noted as Bryce jotted the results down in a notebook. When Bryce knelt to measure Trent’s waist, the big man couldn’t even see the skinny nerd over the crest of his massive pecs. (He hadn’t seen his feet in over a month--not that he cared.)
“Everything’s going according to plan,” Bryce said. “Can you drink this for me?” He handed Trent another vial, this one containing a pale lavender fluid. After three months of ingesting Bryce’s chemicals turned him from a big lineman to a massive beast, Trent was more than eager to down the liquid without question. It numbed his throat, made him feel warm and a little dizzy.
“Can you strip down to your boxers?” Bryce asked. “I need to get some more readings.”
Fuck no, Trent thought, but he felt his hands lazily reaching for his belt, dropping his pants, pulling off his shirt. Yeah, he thought. Let the little fucker get a look at the giant monster he created.
Bryce pulled out a stethoscope, listening to Trent’s breathing. To give the little fag a show, Trent bounced his pecs, frustrating the effort and making the little man chuckle and blush.
“Wow. You’ve turned out better than I could’ve hoped. One last thing I wanted to check out.” Bryce’s hands nimbly yanked Trent’s dick out of his boxers, giving it a few firm strokes. Alarms went off in Trent’s head--but his thoughts were so slow, his brain so mucked down, he just let it happen.
“Ten inches, Jesus,” Bryce gasped. “Have you always been packing this much?”
Bryce’s admiration neutralized Trent’s slow-witted panic about his dick being exposed. He flexed his groin, made his dick bounce. “Fuck yeah,” he growled, although in truth, he’d always remembered his dick as being just over six inches--since his recent added bulk, he just hadn’t seen it in awhile, although he’d thought it felt considerably bigger as he’d furiously jerked himself each night (a side effect from Bryce’s pills, he figured).
“Okay, big fella, one last thing,” Bryce said. He produced a metal halo from his bag and fit it around Trent’s head. “You might want to have a seat. This might be a little disorienting.” Bryce slid a desk chair behind Trent and he sat in it without thinking.
“What… is this…” Trent thought, reaching up to grab at the halo with his thick fingers. He couldn’t get it off. Bryce produced a halo as well, placed it on its head and had a seat on Trent’s bed.
“Now just let things naturally take their course, buddy. Won’t be long now.”
Trent suddenly felt tired, his whole body seeming to go numb, the vision of the scrawny bug on the bed across from him getting further and further away, everything going black…
...and suddenly his vision cleared and he saw a massive dude in boxers removing a halo from his head. The guy had to be 7’5”, over 500 pounds or something! He was so big it looked unreal. Trent’s stomach dropped when his eyes adjusted and he looked down at himself--surprised to see the floor, unblocked by a giant expanse of his own bulk. He looked at his small, soft hands, his skinny limbs, then back up at the giant dude in front of him.
The giant had his face--he was staring at himself! His doppleganger stood, grabbed him by the neck with one hand and yanked him to his feet. (The feeling of being picked up and carried like that shook him to the core.) “Take a look,” his double said in his voice, holding him in front of a mirror.
Bryce’s face looked back at him. The huge guy dropped him on the ground and Trent touched his face, watching the reflection match his movements. This wasn’t possible, this couldn’t be happening--somehow he was Bryce, and he had a good idea who the guy in his body was.
“Bryce? What did you do?” he squeaked in an unfamiliar voice.
“No, YOU’RE Bryce now,” said the giant guy. “And I’m Trent. Take a fucking look at me! I built this body into quite a tank, didn’t I? I could probably win the goddamned Nobel Prize for this work, but I won’t have much use for it.” Bryce, in Trent’s massive body, gave him a shove with just two fingers. Trent was knocked off his feet. “I can’t believe how fucking powerful I feel! And look at this big fucking dick!”
“You can’t do this!” Trent squeaked. “I’ll tell everyone!”
“I destroyed my notes, you little fucking bug. There’s no evidence of what I did. Plus, who the fuck is going to believe that I switched our bodies? Have fun in the crazy house little buddy.”
Trent couldn’t believe what Bryce--in his body!--was saying, but there wasn’t much he could do. Bryce shoved him out the door, slammed it in his face. Trent wanted to kick the door back open, demand his body back, but he knew he couldn’t--not now that he was 5’4”, 80 pounds if he was lucky. In shock, he turned around and walked away. He seemed to head automatically for a dorm he didn’t recognize--or did he? He mechanically fished keys out of his pocket, knew exactly which one would open the unfamiliar door, then fell into a bed he’d never seen before and cried into the pillow.
I mean it was only a “curse” in the technical sense--something I magicked up to tweak the laws of nature a little and put a little twist in Harry’s life. He was a big sturdy rugby player, so I figured I’d be helping him out.
My little incantation swapped his horniness for hunger and then amped it up through the roof. Harry’s brain and his balls were now totally rewired. Wolfing down burgers, cramming caramel covered popcorn into his mouth, washing it down with thick milkshakes, all made his dick lick like a faucet. Every night after rugby practice he’d sit down, promising himself he wouldn’t do it again, but then he’d just try to scratch the itch, just a little--just one chocolate bar--and he’d find himself naked on the floor writhing in a sheet cake he’d full-body tackled before shoveling it into his mouth by the fistful. After one of those fits I happened to stop by and find him on the floor, driven wild by these sensations but unable to fully cum.
Lucky for my boy I showed up with a family-size pack of hot-dogs and fed them to him two at a time. The last one I dangled above his anxious, desperate mouth, teasing him him for minutes until I finally let him swallow it--and his steel-pipe dick exploded all over the two of us. (I made him eat that too.) I just left him there in his mess. He probably tearfully, shamefully cleaned it all up, took a cold shower, and promised himself he’d never do that again before sobbing himself to sleep.
The pounds are just packing on Harry’s body. That’s part of the spell, too: where a normal man would get flabby and soft, Harry’s only going to get thicker and more dense the more he eats. Watching him stretch before his match, I’d estimate he’s twice the size he was when this all started, and I had no intentions of letting it stop anytime soon. I wanted to see him blow up so much he could barely move on the field, swell him into my own personal meat mule built only for feeding, fucking and cumming.
Honestly, he should be thanking me instead of tearfully asking me why I did this to him (easy answer, big fella: being pleasantly shaped but failing to like me back is enough to earn this). I’m bringing his body and his pleasure thresholds to new heights. I couldn’t wait to see how far I could take him.
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BrandedX2: “Big Guys Taken Down a Notch”
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