Unaware - Tumblr Posts

Chicago Road-trip Diary

{an old story it posted; the site seems to be offline, so it is reposting here} By gummimn.

Part 1: introductions and prologue.

I was really looking forward to the coming weekend. LatexIL and I had been chatting for quite some time about the chance of getting together for a weekend of some serious play. I had taken extra days off, so we’d have all day Friday, Saturday and Sunday to play; I didn’t have to leave until Monday afternoon. I still got hard just thinking about his profile entry.

“Latex, rubber, leather bondage: intense inescapable, short or long term. Can top, SM optional. Have equipment including sleepsacks, hoods and gags, lots of restraints, can have multiple guests in playroom at once. I like to travel too. Looking for hot safe bondage players who want it tight, inescapable, with headgear controlling sight, sound, speech and air…ESPECIALLY in head to toe latex/rubber. All holes plugged, tubed, and cath’d. Layers: leather over rubber; sacks over leather; sucked down in rac. Hobbies: rubber, catsuits, sleepsacks, straitjackets, vacrac, hoods, gags, and tight, effective restraints. Keeping bottoms tied up for as long as they like it; stored out of sight, out of mind. Favorite Quote: Maybe you need another layer of rubber and you definitely need those straps tightened up…”

Even after 12 years together, Peter still didn’t get the whole bondage/rubber/sense-dep SM scene. He did his fisting and watersports, played with guys who wanted bears, and loved me. Me? I did WS as well, but man, I wanted my rubber too. Waders, suits, sheaths front and back, hoods, gags, gasmask hoods, industrial gloves and rubber work boots; my rubber English riding boots to go with the Vex Chicago cop shirt and tight cod-piece jeans; the rubber BDU from Invincible; did I mention my home-made 1piece? It was a cross-country ski suit until I got my pervy hands and 3 quarts of liquid latex on it. Add some bondage: straitjackets, ropes, chains, restraints, collars, frames, racks, sacks, locks-and I’d be a happy pig. Leather? Oh hell yeah! I never got on my rocket without full gear: suit, boots, gloves and helmet…such a terrible thing; a gear pig required by his lover to wear gear just to go riding. Sucks to be me! My first piece of leather-a biker-hippie approved biker jacket; my knee-high Red Wing loggers-black laces for formal, white for play; leather jeans and cargoes; hoods, restraints-give me my Mr. S. 4 buckles any day; padded fist mitts; padded posture collar (Thanks again Mr. S!); padded sense-dep hood, the only connection to the outside world the grommet at my mouth. Gags-can I count the ways I like to be gagged? Yes, I can. Floggers and crops; pummeling and beating; yeah, I can take the pain, and make it a ticket to that place only a Dom and his sub can go when they’re in a scene: time stops, space expands, 2 souls commune without a spoken word-nirvana in a dungeon with pain and pleasure the mantra that lets them into the garden.

Peter doesn’t get it, but he doesn’t get in the way. One of the first “big talks” we had before living together had settled that. We discussed all the mundane things that will kill a relationship when times get tough. Times always get tough. One of you gets sick, or fired; or you see someone really hot who wants you too; the weather gets too hot or too cold. Crap happens. You work out the little details beforehand, you can get through them. So we talked. Monogamy got talked over as well: go out, have a good time, remember your heart stays at home, don’t bring home diseases. It had worked for 12 years; he had his kink or two, I had my laundry list of pervs; we shared each other and our hearts and our home.

So, I was off to a long weekend in Chicago. I’d shipped some gear ahead, but not much. LatexIL assured me that he had everything that was needed, and I wasn’t going out to the bars. So I sent on my favorite waders and boots, my favorite gags and the posture collar. The only gear in my saddlebags was a rainsuit-never leave home without it; my meds and toilet kit; and bottles of Boost for the trip down. He’d asked, and I’d readily agreed, to a liquid diet starting a couple of days before hand. No need to make a trip to interrupt the scene; the external cath would take care of the rest.

Peter and I had talked over breakfast; his bowl of cereal, my bottle of Boost. We confirmed I’d call when I got there and when I left Monday. He made sure once again that he had LatexIL’s phone and address. We clarified once again the secret code I’d use if I thought the scene was bad and I needed out. Peter can be a pain in the ass when it comes to crap like that. He’s mister “plan everything out, double check the plans, confirm the details, annoy the partner with more plans and details.” I’m a bit more impetuous and spontaneous, mister “hey, that sounds like fun! Let’s go!” He was off to work; I was off to get ready.

First on the list were a trim, then shower and douche. I got out the trimmer, and worked it over my head once again. The smallest guard left only bristly fuzz that felt soooo good to the touch. Latex had sent a liquid soap for me to use; it had an intense chemical scent, but it left my body as smooth and clean as a baby’s behind. The enema was quick; three days of liquids saw to that. I rinsed off the hair from the trim, soaped up and rinsed down. Brushed, flossed, dried off, time to get dressed.

Now was the make it or break it moment. LatexIL had sent me a really cool locking gag and a custom 1-piece suit. The gag was some sort of carbon-fiber head harness with a tube to connect to my CamelBack, and another to use as a straw for Boost on the trip down. Once I locked it over the suit, I had only one way out-I had to see Latex for the key. I took the suit, and admired it once again. Sheaths front and rear; socks with toes, gloves with grippy marks on the fingers, an attached hood the only way in; stretch the mouth wide, let it swallow me whole. It was fairly thick, but still thin enough to flex with me so I wouldn’t get fatigued on the ride. It had been cut like a SlickSuit so it would conform to my every curve. It would slide up crack of my ass so the sleeve behind could slide in with the plug I was going to wear, and stretch snug across my broad shoulders while hugging my small, slim waist. It would be my skin for the weekend, if I didn’t bug out and call the whole thing off.

I got out the lube, opened the suit, and started to pour it in. I started at the feet and worked it into the toes. Up the legs, into the crotch and over the sheaths hanging inside. Starting at the fingers, I lubed up the sleeves, then across the chest. I applied a very thin film to the back of my neck, and my lower face. I wanted the hood to slide on comfortably, but I didn’t want lube in my eyes when I started to sweat under my leathers. Now it was time to slide it on. Cold at first, it quickly warmed. My toes settled in their homes, and I slid it up my legs to my crotch. I worked my dick and nut into the sack and sheath, and then used the plug to seat the sheath in my ass. That old familiar feeling began to settle in-that horny tingle that started out on the skin and worked its way into my bones and took over my brain as I felt the rubber grip my legs and transform my skin. I pulled it up my chest, and worked my hands down the sleeves until they popped into the gloves. For a moment, I had to stop and stroke. Looking at myself in the mirror, I began to grope myself. The squeak of rubber on rubber tuned my senses to the feel of the latex as it became my skin; the warming rubber gave off that heady scent of latex and sweat and my own rubber body. I was lost in the smell and the sound and the sensation. It took all my strength to pull myself back from the edge; that would have to wait until LatexIL let me go over. I pulled the hood over my head, and smoothed the eyes and mouth into place. All that remained was the gag and the last of my freedom.

I looked at the rubberman staring out from the mirror. The light caught every curve and ripple and nook and cranny of my body under its shiny new skin. I felt up my cock, worked my nipples, pushed on the plug, pulled my nut. I could still call it off, jack off, and go for a ride. Or I could put the mouth-guard with its tubes onto my teeth, pull the strap around, and place the lock. I stood there for a long time, stroking my dick, holding the head harness. Finally, I took a deep breath and pushed the guard into my mouth. I worked my tongue around to make sure the tubes on the inside were properly seated between my back molars so I could work the bite valves for the tube that would be my drinking straw and the CamelBack connection. Looking myself in the face in the mirror, my blue eyes the only evidence of a human being within the latex man staring back at me, I pulled the straps to the back of my head…and closed the lock. Now I was in for it-he had the key and my only way out.

I stood there a while longer, worried and afraid about what I had gotten myself into; more horny and lust-demented than I had been in too long a time. My misgivings were too late now. I took one last stroke of my dick with a strong tug on my nut, and left the bathroom.

I went to the bedroom, sat down, and slipped prolyprop socks over my feet and UnderArmor glove liners over my hands. A thin silk balaclava was next; I made sure it rested on my chin so the tubes from the gag were out for use. I lifted the CoolMax liner off the bed. It was my summer salvation; it kept me dry enough in the heat I could wear my leathers in the worst of July and August. It gave my body a shield against the leathers, and kept my leathers clean and free of my sweat. The lightning bolt graphics swirling over the bodysuit gave me a shiver of power and desire as I looked it over, and took in its sweet scent. I slid into the open chest, pushed my feet down the legs, my hands through the sleeves tucked the balaclava under the neck and zipped it shut. My latex skin was now armored against the leathers to come.

It had been a sacrifice, but I now had the racing suit of my gear pig wet dreams. The A-stars SX-1. Asymmetrical chest zips, molded poly-therm armor melded onto the knees, elbows, and shoulders. The same molded poly-therm cast into an armored hump down my back to protect me from whiplash if I crashed and to guide the wind over me as I lay on top of my Daytona. A vivid sky blue, white accents, black woven stretch Kevlar in the crotch and down the arms, perfed almost like mesh, memory foam armor across my chest and abs and lower back. It looked hot, the brilliant blue contrasting with the bright sunshine yellow of the bike, meeting on my A-Star Super Tech boots of blue smashing against yellow fading to white at the toe of my boots. Next was my Arai-a white star on a blue field with gold trim. I slid the Foggy Respro over my rubber face without snagging it, made sure the tubes from the gag hung free, and cinched it snug. I reached inside my suit, grabbed the hose from my hydration pack and hooked it up to the left tube so I could drink as I rode. Last, but not least, my Icon Ti-Maxx longs: blue with bling; gold plated titanium on blue gloves, gray palms with gold studs on the heel of my palm, the wrist strap snugged, the gauntlet straps firmly closed together.

I took another look in the full-length mirror on the closet door. Under the leathers, my dick stretched further up my abs. Blue, gold, white and yellow-from head to toe; armor over my shoulders, across my elbows and down my forearms; more armor over my knees and down my shins; the armored aero-hump running down my spine; it was worth every bit of overtime. The mere sight of my skin-tight leathers alone would have gotten me off in a heartbeat if I weren’t under orders to wait. My wallet was safely under the seat, the saddlebags were packed and strapped, it was time for take-off. Sense-dep breath control head-trips, utter immobility and complete helplessness waited 7 hours away. I ran to the kitchen, grabbed my keys and locked the door behind me. In the garage, I threw my leg over and started the motor. The bike safely walked out of the garage, I did the door remote and tucked it in a saddlebag pocket. I closed the golden-blue mirrored shield, slipped it into vent-lock, and launched my rocket.

Part 2: my trip and arrival

I had gotten a semi-early start. Early enough to get there before rush hour in Chicagoland, late enough to be after the morning rush here in Minneapolis. I’d only have to stop for relief and Boost breaks, so I wasn’t worried about the time. Late May can still be a roll of the dice for weather. It can be the perfect warmth all day, and still drop to freezing after sundown. You can start out dry, and end up soaking wet. Lady Latex favored the bold. It was a perfect temp to be riding skinned in rubber and encased in armored leather. Just warm enough that a layer of sweat let the latex slide over my skin without binding or chafing, no more, no less. I took the freeway just long enough to get out of town, then took my exit, and got on the 2-lane. More fun, less dangerous than the interstate, it was my preferred way to make long rides. After all, you get twisties on 2-lane, not the interstate, and I do love to put a knee down; the sound, the feel of my puck skimming asphalt gets me almost as hard as the feel of rope wrapping around my body.

I felt every bump in the road through my plug. Each crack and ripple was transmitted from the plug to my prostate, transferred to my dick, and buzzed into my brain. Once I was safely alone, away from stoplights and stop signs, crosswalks and city speed zones, I knew I wouldn’t have to shift often, so I got into my cruising position. I lay down on the tank and tucked my boots up against the passenger pegs. To corner, I would simply shift to one side or the other; to shift, I would slip my left food down to the gear shift long enough to click it, then lift it back to the rear peg. My cock and nut and taint melted into the seat sending the motor’s hum directly to my heads, both of them. The memory foam padding on my chest absorbed bumps from the road, protecting me and allowing me to breath. The rocket merged with its pilot, the two became one, and the miles slid by.

It’s strange when you’re out on a bike. Even though a car’s air-filter doesn’t really filter out all the aromas from the air coming in, there is an exponential difference when riding. You can taste each scent as it comes: the cows in the pasture, the cottonwoods by the stream, the lilacs by the farmhouse. You see it, you smell it, you taste it all in the same instant. Combine that with the hum from the motor, the buzz from the tires, and the utter bliss of being out on your own magic carpet, and you can go into sensory overload. It’s like being high without the down or the expense of weed. It’s like being born again each and every second, the whole of your being a clean slate every moment. No past, no future, only now, forever and ever amen and amen. Sometimes you just have to stop, get off the rocket, and shake your head to clear out the joy and release the beauty. Then it’s back on the magic carpet and off to the horizon again. Four times I stopped; twice to fuel my Daytona, twice more to fuel the pilot as well. Before I knew it, I was on the outskirts of Chicagoland. Taking the two-lane meant I hadn’t had to worry about tolls, but it also meant I had to heed the directions from my Garmin to twist my way into the city. Even so, it was going to be perfectly timed. I’d arrive just after LatexIL got home, so he’d be there to open his garage and I could ride right in.

After that, my freedom so real and so perfect while on two wheels would be over. My freedom freely given and utterly taken would be transformed into complete slavery in total bondage. In my servitude, I would achieve a new bliss, a different joy, a deeper beauty. I could not wait to be utterly confined and perfectly helpless. The thought of the total freedom of the ride taken to become the utter submission of my captor’s bondage made me so hard and horny I could barely focus on the road ahead.

Finally, I arrived at the address I’d programmed into my digital map. As I rolled up to the brownstone, I saw the tuck-under garage left open for my entry. I settled my rocket into the berth gently; I don’t think any of the neighbors noticed. To them I was just another sport bike rider parking my toy for the night. I stood up stiffly, and stretched, then stood off my bike. The door from the garage to the house stood open, as he said it would be. I unstrapped the saddlebags, threw them over my shoulder, and entered, closing the door and my freedom behind me.

Part 3: the scene begins.

As I shut the door, I heard a voice behind me.

“Hello blue.”

The same deep voice I’d heard so often on our Skype chats, but wrong; it’s Bryce, not blue. Suddenly, my world shifted as my mind spun. Vertigo like from a harsh fever swept through me; even as I stepped away from the door, my body came to a complete stop. I swear, for a moment, I couldn’t even breathe as every muscle in my body froze. I tried to turn to face him; my chest didn’t shift an inch. I tried to turn my head; I stared straight ahead at the closed door. I tried to lift my hand to raise my face-shield; it hung stiffly at my side. I gave one last effort to try and see him in the corner of my sight; my eyes were fixed, looking at the peephole in the door. Even my dick froze in mid-twitch! Something inside my mind had hijacked my body; I was more subdued than I had ever been in any amount of rope, restraints or chains. My mind raced, What the fuck!? What just happened? What’s with that word? Why has it paralyzed me?

Minutes passed while I struggled to move any muscle in my body. Nothing shifted the least bit. Sweat broke out over the whole of my skin as I panicked. The only motion I had was my breathing; as the vertigo swept past, it had returned. Now I was sucking air like I’d run the quarter mile as I went into full flight mode. I should’ve been tearing out the door and onto the street, the way my mind was racing. Instead I was a leather and latex statue, an armored mannequin of flesh and bone. Finally, I heard him step up behind me.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to turn around and say hello?”

That same deep sexy voice, now laced with sarcasm and menace.

“Oh wait, that’s right, you can’t. I’ve said the magic word.”

Fuck, the vertigo, the frozen breath, the swirling in my mind, only stronger and deeper somehow.

“Blue, turn around and face the mirror.”

Before, I had struggled with all my might to turn and face him; now I willed every muscle, every fiber, every bone in my body to stay where I was. As paralyzed as my body was before, now it moved on its own; against my will, I turned around. Looking across the entryway, a small mudroom and laundry, there was a mirror on the far wall. Like I was on a leash, my body stepped forward, crossed the 4 paces to reach the mirror, and came to a complete stop. Not like I normally would stop, you know, slowing down as I approached, then bringing my rear foot forward to rest beside the front. No, my body strode across the room and STOPPED; I almost pitched forward into the wall it was so abrupt. If I had been scared before, this display nearly shut me down with terror.

As I came back to my body, my thoughts crashed around my skull, “What the Hell? What is in that word? Why can it move me, when I can’t move myself?”

He had followed me across the room. I could see him beside me as I stared straight ahead into the mirror. Even the normal movement of my eyes, back and forth, up and down, was frozen. I could only look straight ahead, eyes perfectly level, no left or right. If he had stepped even one step to the side, I would not be able to see him, because he would be out of my direct line of sight.

“Blue, examine your reflection in the mirror. Enable sub-routine Bryce to access optical sensors without security filter 421. Apply. Bryce, can you see everything?”

Damn, that voice of his; so strong, so commanding over Skype, was beyond strong, beyond commanding when in the same room. Even as I relaxed into his voice as I had so many times before, my mind swirled again, and my vision shifted. I stared; my breath caught in my throat. I could see everything.

“What the Fuck? There’s a padlock through the chinch rings on my chinstrap; where did it come from? When had it been put there? What the hell? Why is there zip ties cinched from my suit’s zipper pulls to the D-rings on my collar? What the Fuckity Fuck is a collar doing around my neck? What the Fuck is it made of? It looks like carbon fiber! Fuckity fuckity fuck fuck! There’s another one of those freaky zip-ties around each wrist, strapping my gloves to my arms! My Boots! There’s some sort of carbon fiber strap wrapped around the top of my boots! From the top of my instep to the top of the wedge-shaped shin-guard, there’s a fucking carbon fiber strap snugged around my boots! What the hell is going on here? Why am I locked into my leathers? Who did this to me? When!?!? What is in that word!? Why can’t I do anything unless he says blue!?”

I screamed-but it was only in my head; not a sound came out of my throat.

My eyes flickered back up from my boots to look at the face of the man beside me. The open inviting smile I had seen on cam was now a malevolent grin. He was obviously getting off on my terror and confusion. He was looking at me in the mirror as I was looking at him. Waiting for me to see everything there was to see in my reflection.

“Do you like what you see, Bryce?” His deep, strong voice could make my breath stop in my throat, even in my stark raving terror. Even in my stark raving terror, I did like what I saw. The vision in the mirror, a crotch-rocketeer locked in his leathers, gloves, boots and helmet, had me hard. If I was a leaker, I’d have been dripping; but I’m not. Instead, my dick tried to crawl up out of the codpiece and into my throat. I was trembling now not in fear, but in stark raving horniness. Carbon fiber straps shone like gloss black paint over my boot tops. Wide carbon fiber straps cinched my gloves to my arms, gloss black over matte blue and gray and shiny gold. A carbon fiber collar gleamed between the collar-less top of my racing suit and the bottom edge of my helmet. The shiny chrome of the D-rings were reflected on the collar, and made the strap connecting the suit zip to the D-ring seem like a glossy ribbon of black light. There were 2 tubes hanging from under my helmet; I could feel something in my nose, I realized it must be the tubes. I could see the top of a rubber suit rising from my leathers; I was now aware it continued as a hood. I was completely sealed in rubber, from head to toe. There was a tube sticking out from the top of my leathers that disappeared into my helmet; I could feel it was attached to the gag in my mouth, and it was leaking. I could feel a catheter in my dick; that must be what’s leaking. There was a MONSTER plug in my ass; I estimated at least a 3-inch diameter. Everything his profile promised had been delivered. Every opening was tubed, cath’d, gagged and plugged. I was so horny, so hard, so turned on, I was vibrating.

As I came back to earth, I wondered what had gone through people’s mind as they had seen me at the gas station. It was very obvious to anyone who looked that my suit was locked on me. The thought that I had ridden all the way to Chicago from Minneapolis in obvious bondage for everyone to see sent my mind into another horny tailspin and made my dick twitch. At least that muscle could now move on its own!

As my mind cleared, my eyes bore into the reflection of his. Not that he could see mine through the mirrored visor. But still, they did. The horniness had given way to terror had given way to rage.

“What the fuck have you done to me? Why can’t I move? When did I get locked in my gear? Who locked me up? What the HELL is going on? What’s in the word blue that it controls everything I do?”

All what I would have shouted, loud enough to crack the mirror in front of me... If I could have spoken... but there was that gag...

“You must be a bit confused.” “A Bit!?” “Would you like to know what happened?” “HELL yeah, I want to know what happened!” “Blue…Remember this morning.”

If my body hadn’t been stone cold paralyzed, I’d have collapsed to the floor as another wave of vertigo swept my mind. I remembered this morning; oh Hell, did I ever remember this morning.

Next: “Memories Light the Corners of My Mind….”

"Ohh man how did I wake up full again" unbeknownst to me my tiny boyfriend wanted to surprise me but fell in my mouth trying to be romantic and kiss me ...and me being a pred once he was in me it was instinct to swallow sucks to because I loved him and once he landed in my stomach he obviously freaked out and tried to get me awake but I fall asleep to prey in my stomach so unfortunately I would not even wake up thus my boyfriend was digested all while I was asleep

Drug Trials: Part 2

Three men in lab coats walk into a dimly lit room. Three additional men in military uniforms, decorated with medals, are already seated at one end of a long table. One of the coats speak up. "Generals I'm glad you could all make it." "How is Project Alpha coming along?" the military man in the center chirps. "Oh it was a resounding success, our subject Brian, exhibited muscular hypertrophy far beyond initial projections. The only unexpected complication was a hypertrophy of the genitals and marked increase in libido, but we're already investigation mitigation strategies." The three generals murmur among themselves for a short while, looking over the papers infront of them. "Excellent, these numbers look very good... Are these the subjects for the next project? ."

"Ah yes" the coat in the corner replies, "Subjects Z and W are social media and fitness stars, ensuring a rigorous test of the accuracy of the procedure. " "Good, begin work on Project Chameleon. "

I wake up to the smell of coffee coming from my bedside table. "Hmmm my bro must of made some for me. Dam he's such a good brah!" I roll over to pick it up but my body feels funny, lighter maybe. Probably just a side affect of the drug trail me and my best friend and roommate decided to participate in. I mean $10,000 to get injected with some experimental drug? Why not!? There was alot of paper work and contracts we had to sign but I mean 10k!

Still half asleep I pick up the steaming cup and take a sip. The brown brew waking me up from my grog. "Man this must be good stuff, I already feel so energized! Idk if I've ever felt this good!"

I hear clanking from the kitchen.

"BRO!! You making breakfast?" hmm was my voice always that deep?

-"Heck yeah brah! Come get some! Got a nice sausage just for you! "

Was his voice deeper too! ? My ears must be stuffed up or something.

I finally sit up, put on my glasses and pick up my coffee to get out of bed. I walk by my wardrobe mirror and I almost drop the cup from shock.

Immediately I'm stunned, my previous average body was now anything but. Nothing but tight, thick muscle under perfectly tanned skin. A six pack where once it was flab, arms as thick as my legs once were.

Even my face, once the mug of a man who would blend into any crowd, was not that of one of the top models. Not blemish anywhere and a jaw that could cut diamonds.

"Fuck..." was all I could say as I felt and flex each of my new muscles.

Even my underwear was changed, going from ugly old loose boxers, to a pair of sexy tight Calvin's. I could ever feel that my package was now so massive, it felt like it would rip thought the my new underwear.

"Oh fuck, what's my bro gonna think!?" as I dart into the kitchen.

What the fuck! My best bro and roommate was now almost an exact copy of myself, all the muscle, all the looks. We were like twins. He hears me enter and turns around.

His new massive cock hangs out from his jeans, nowhere near hard but already a thick 9 inches long.

-"Sup brah! You ready for some sausage?" he says as his cock begins to harden and grow. It was now a rock hard 13 inch fuck stick, and already dripping with pre.

The sight of my twin alpha God got me rock hard as well, my own giant cock presses painfully against my tight underwear. The fabric quickly loosing the power of my new dick, and tearing, revealing my own 13 inch horse cock.

"What the fuck bro!? What happened to us."

- "Don't know brah. But I think I'm called Wyatt now and your called Zach"

Yeah, Zach... Zach... And my twin bro Wyatt. That's us bro. Two alpha as fuck sick cuntz. Showing off and filling holes with our cum everywhere we go. The knowledge of these strangers suddenly filling my head.

- "So we gonna have breakfast or what?"

Wyatt's rock hard cock was now dripping with full on cum, as was my own.

With our new enhanced bodies, we fucked for hours. Each time we came, it only seemed to make our libido even stronger. The small shared apartment we shared was soon covered in a thick layer of our cum, the smell of testosterone filling the air.

-"Bro, that was so fucking good. But my cock is still rock hard."

Suddenly, an intense urge to show off and be seen comes reflexively.

"Brah, let's head out and get some new followers and pic for the 'gram huhu"

We both put on a pair of boxers to cover our raging boners, and headed out. Immediately we were getting stares and tones of attention. A few people even came involuntarily as they saw us walking down the street and catching a whiff of our superior pheromones.

Once an a while, a cute guy would walk by and catch our eye. Our horse cocks snaking down our legs, already dripping and bulging clearly in our skimpy underwear, was all that we needed to say. They would soon be continuing on their way, now with 2 gallons of our cum inside them.

We soon saw a cute guy coming from the local gym who couldn't keep his eyes off us, and we both knew he would be a great cum dump for the night. A simple "Sup" and he was ours, but not before snapping a pic for the likes.

Meeting Your Idol: Alex Crockford

For years now, Philip had been a big fan of fitness guru Alex Crockford. Not only did he love to watch the man’s IG workouts, but he also found himself incredibly attracted to the man. His body was incredibly impressive, so along with the tattoo on his left shoulder and his gorgeous face, it was a no-brainer as to why Philip was so drawn to the man. This attraction had only increased when he discovered that Alex lived somewhat close to where Philip resided. So when Alex stated on an Instagram story that he was going to do a free fitness class at Philip’s local gym, you couldn’t believe the excitement he felt about meeting his idol! He wanted to make a great impression so badly that he desired to dress well for the man. However, upon considering the idea, that thought quickly flew out of his head as he thought about working out in his best suit and soaking it in his sweat. 

On the day of the event, Philip was a nervous wreck as he entered the room and gained a spot in the front row of the class. Not only was he going to be super close to his idol, but he was also going to basically be face-to-face to the man’s body. Just the thought of Alex’s body getting caked in his own sweat throughout his intense workout left Philip’s dick quickly trying to showcase itself from inside his black athletic shorts. With such an over-eager dick already trying to make its presence known, Philip was unsure how he was going to be able to keep it together for the whole event.

Upon Alex’s arrival, Philip couldn’t help but let a slight gasp escape from his mouth upon catching the sight of Crockford. Luckily, there were a fair amount of women who gasped as well, so Philip’s high-pitched gasp was able to be properly concealed in secret. “Let’s get to work guys!” Alex said as he quickly turned on some sort of workout mix and began to teach his class. To Philip’s surprise (and relief), as the workout progressed, he found it hard to pop a boner when he was doing such intense training. He knew that Alex tended to do hardcore workouts, but he foolishly thought he would be able to handle it. Not even halfway through it, Philip was growing incredibly overwhelmed and worn out. Hell, he was too tired to even get hard as Alex accidentally bumped into him as he walked past while checking on other members in the class.

Once the class was over, just like Philip, a fair amount of his classmates stayed behind to try and talk to the hunky trainer and his assistant, who was annoyed from being stuck taking photos of them together. Wanting to have some alone time with his fitness idol and crush, Philip stayed in the back of the room as he watched Alex deal with all of the flirtatious women who didn’t care that he was a married man. Sure, Philip could understand the attraction to the man, but he would never openly flirt with someone who was clearly straight and in such a happy relationship.

Letting the last woman walk out, Philip gingerly began to step forward to Alex as he was putting away his remaining gear. “Hey there man, did you enjoy the class today?” Alex asked, which caused the fan to nod his head. “Yeah, I was a big fan of it. It was intense… but it was incredible!” Philip stated, which caused a chuckle to escape from Alex’s mouth. “You’re right, but that intensity is the best way to get jacked right?” he responded, which caused a smile to form on Philip’s face. He couldn’t believe he was really talking with his idol like they were friends.

“So, uh, I just wanted to say that you’re a big inspiration for me!” Philip said, which caused Alex’s head to perk up as the man continued. “Like, I’m still building my body to look like how I envision it, but I’d love to have a body like yours!” Philip said, which caused the trainer to smile. “That’s very kind of you to say, but I think you’re already off to a great start!” Alex responded, which caused Philip to feel butterflies in his stomach.

“Would you like to take a photo?” Alex asked, which made the eager fan grin and nod his head up and down in approval. Eager about the opportunity, Philip quickly unlocked his phone and handed it to Alex’s assistant as the two men wrapped their arms around each other’s waists and began to pose for a couple photos. After the second photo, Alex suggested they do a pose of them flexing, which Philip quickly agreed to with a big beaming smile. As they each threw up an arm and flexed, the camera flashed a bright white light that completely enveloped the two fit men.

As the light receded and revealed the empty gym room once more, Philip felt strange as he suddenly realized that his right arm was up instead of his left. Looking over to it, his face went into a look of confusion as he was greeted to the sight of a bicep that seemed bigger than usual. To add to his perplexity, his black shirt was now a blue shirt, just like Alex’s…

Turning his head to his left, Philip jumped as he caught sight of his own body still holding up his left arm in a flex. “Hey…” Philip said, poking his body in the shoulder and watching as it suddenly returned from its dazed state. To his surprise, his body didn’t have an equal look of shock manifested across his face upon turning to him. Instead, it was a look of… nervousness and admiration. “Thank you again for taking a photo with me Mr Crockford…” his former body said as he took his cell phone back from the assistant. Scrolling through the camera roll, Philip watched his former body smile and wave goodbye before moving towards the door. He couldn’t believe it, Alex didn’t know that they had swapped bodies! “Hey Philip!” the new Alex called out, which caused the real Alex to stop and look back at him with wide eyes upon the mention of his name.

Standing there looking at his former body, Philip weighed the options of his situation. He could inform the man that he was the real Alex Crockford and they had swapped bodies… or Philip could keep this body and secret for himself. It wouldn’t be a bad life to have, becoming his fitness crush and living a life of wealth with a wife. In fact, that seemed quite better than the alternative he originally had. “Oh uh” Philip said as he made up his mind. “Tag me in those photos when you post them!” he continued, which caused his former body to nod before walking out of the room and into his new life completely oblivious about who he used to be. 

With his assistant asking if he was ready to head home, Philip smiled as he said yes and grabbed his materials. He was unsure of what home was entirely, but he was excited to find out what it was as Alex Crockford. Despite his slight guilt for leaving the real Alex trapped in his former body, Philip’s conscience wasn’t too affected given that the man clearly had no idea. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him…” Philip said under his breath as he took one last selfie before exiting the gym and entering his new life as fitness legend Alex Crockford.

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One Fad Fits All: Cowboy Up

--- Want to read more? View all stories by TheBurdenBorne ---

"Oh God, take a look at this shit," Cody said to me as he took a pair of black leather boots off the shelf and tossed them at me.

"I know right, who would wear this!" I said back.

Cody and I often went to the mall after school. We were just two good-for-nothings at home, and most of the time the skate park was overrun by much more hardcore punks then us. So we'd head over to the mall and talk shit with each other. Today, we walked into a store that sold a variety of men's clothing. We were wearing your basic high school freshman dark hoodies, loose-fit jeans, and skater shoes. Cody brushed hair away from his eyes because his bangs always got in the way. He picked up a big shiny belt buckle and held it in front of his crotch. I laughed out loud.

"This shit is so gay," he said. "I know, right?" I answered.

"Can I help you find anything?" said a young girl's voice. It startled us both.

"Nah, just screwin' around," I answered.

"All right," she said. "How about you try these on instead?" She handed me and Cody each a pair of blue jeans.

"No, we better go," I said.

"C'mon dude! It'll be funny," whispered Cody. I followed him and the girl back to the dressing rooms. We glanced at each other and Cody grabbed his crotch, suggesting something dirty about the girl helping us. I smiled back, trying not to laugh.

"Here you go," she said, pointing towards two adjacent rooms. When she left, Cody and I both busted out laughing.

"Dude, you have to try it on. I gotta see this," he said. "No, man. This is stupid," I said as I took off my shoes and dropped my pants. I pulled the bright blue denim over my skinny high-school legs. They were clearly too big for me. I look around the room and saw that the girl had left a big leather belt, so I used it to hold my jeans up.

"Oh, shit," I heard from the stall next to me. Suddenly, the room started to feel really warm and I could feel myself starting to sweat.

"You boys almost ready," I heard the girl say on the other side of the door.

"Yes, ma'am," Cody said in a polite Texas drawl -- but I only assumed he was joking. "Well, that's good," here I brought these for you. She slid a pair of leather boots under the door. I picked one of them up. It smelled like fresh hay and cow shit, like they had been worn for years. I reached to put them on but noticed that my jeans were no longer loose. Instead, they felt tightly fitted. I slipped into the boots and stood up. I felt inches taller but was still sweating like a pig.

"Hey, Cody, you all right over there? Sort of hot, ain't it?" I opened the door of the stall and saw Cody standing by the three-way mirror, but he looked completely different. He was a rugged six-foot-tall cowboy. His jeans were faded and worn. He put his hands in his pockets and I noticed how the belt buckle accentuated his bulging crotch. He had taken off his shirt and I could see smooth lean muscles on his upper body glistening with sweat.

"Howdy, stranger," he said when he noticed me. "Oh, shut up, Cody," I said. "What's going on. This isn't funny anymore." He walked over to me and pulled up my t-shirt. "You've changed too," he said. "What?" I pulled off my shirt and stepped in front of the mirror. Just like Cody, my skinny teenage body had matured. My pale flabby arms were tan and taught with muscles. My pecs flexed a little as I moved and my abs were rock-hard. My upper body was shaved smooth, but the skin was tan, tough and leathery, like I had worked outside bareback for months.

"Where's your buckle," Cody said. He knelt down and fastened the big silver buckle he had found in the store earlier. I could feel my cock stir and press against my jeans.

"You guys look great!" We both looked up and saw the girl walk in with two cowboy hats -- one black and one white. She walked over and put the white one on my head and the black one on Cody. We said nothing, but as she walked away, I tipped my hat, winked, and said, "Thank you, ma'am" in the same droll voice as Cody used earlier.

I turned to look at myself in the mirror again, amazed at this transformation, but then saw Cody walk up behind me and nibble my ear playfully.

"What was that for?" I asked in protest. But when I looked into his steely blue eyes and saw his five-o-clock shadow and his rugged body, I moved in for a kiss. Within seconds, we were up against the mirror, making out with an infinite series of reflections of ourselves. Our sweaty shirtless bodies pressed against each other. Everything that we were before that kiss was wiped from our memory and when we walked out of the mall later, I could resist putting my hand on Cody's ass as he held a shopping bag full of worn denim, chaps, flannel, chewing tobacco, jean jackets, and leather boots.

Product Placement: Free Exercise Healthcare Offer

--- Want to read more? View all stories by TheBurdenBorne ---

The girls in the locker room snickered behind her back as Janet pulled off her gym shirt. They didn't have to shower before class (thank God!) but everyone needed to change out of their sweaty gym clothes. Janet always felt like an outsider and didn't have many friends in her class. It was partially to do with her tomboyish features: tall, lanky, flat-chested, a little bit muscular; but also because she preferred "guy" things to "girl" things. She was the youngest in her family and her twin older brothers let her tag along with their friends growing up. They were always skateboarding, riding dirt bikes, wrestling, or getting into trouble. It was a great childhood, but that all changed in late middle school. Her brothers where in high school now and their friends thought it was weird to hang out with a middle-school girl. And so she was left on her own. Now a junior in high school, Janet was isolated and lonely. She heard someone laughing nearby and tried not to look up. They were around the corner of a row of lockers, but she overheard anyway (that was probably the point anyway...)

"...such a freak. I mean, did you see her in the weight room..." "...what girl bench presses that much..." "...a girl with a dick, that's who!"

Janet tried to fight back tears as the laughter continued. She didn't have a dick, of course. She was a woman, but sometimes wondered if maybe she was transgender. She liked guys, not only because she could relate to them better, but because she was attracted to their bodies. Was that why she liked lifting? Was it because she wanted to be a man?

The laughing continued.

"Bitches..." Janet whispered under her breath. That was a mistake, because the laughter stopped. She would pay for that later, she was sure of it. These girls were your typical high school "mean girls" and she was an easy target for them.

"Hey Janet," one them called out. "The boy's locker room is on the other side!"

"Yeah, you must have wandered in here by mistake," said another girl.

They walked formed a circle around her and laughed. Janet grabbed her gym bag and ran out of the locker room before they saw her crying. She was so worried they were following her, that she sped up. As she turned the corner, she ran headfirst into a group of guys coming in from the gym and tripped. One of the guys caught her as she fell. His name was Cody, the captain of the basketball team and one of the tallest, fittest, guys at her high school.

"Sorry..." Janet mumbled.

"Dude, it's fine," Cody answered.

His basketball jersey was damp with sweat and the smell of his body odor mixed with deodorant and body spray was musty and raw.

"Hey, I know you," he added. "You're Davey's little sis, right?"

Her older brother David had played basketball, so they probably were on the same team at some point in high school.

"Yeah, that's me" she added as she grabbed her bag and tried to leave the conversation.

"Woah, dude, why don't you play. You'd be great," he said. His kindness made his face look even more attractive. But Janet saw that the girls were leaving the locker room, so she didn't answer and snuck out of the gym to the parking lot.

At home, she kept thinking about what she had overheard that day. It left her feeling empty and confused. Her parent's were gone that night, so she spent the night playing video games online. She was a big fan of games that were by no means "girly." It started with games like "Halo," "Borderlands" "Call of Duty", but she was a huge fan of "Gears of War." She always seemed to identity with the hyper-masculine heroes of the games, with their strong muscles, heavy guns, and no bullshit attitudes. Even when there was an option to build a female character in a video game, she almost always made herself the biggest, tankiest, brute, and played melee style.

That night, she was playing with random guys all over the world. It was commonplace for them to either not care about her gender, or just assume she was a guy. Though some might say that was sexist, she didn't care. She just wanted to be one of the guys anyway.

That night, she had a strange dream. It started as a scene from the video game earlier that day. Her squad was clearing out a bunker, but it transformed into her high school locker room. There she was, standing in the middle of the guys locker room. She saw a group of guys showering, there wet asses covered in soap and their hair matted down on their faces. She saw Cody, his calves round, his thighs thick, and his muscled bubble butt. She felt uncomfortable, but no one seemed to notice her. She started to back away when she heard someone shout out, "Look guys, Janet's got a cock!"

She stared down at her crotch and saw that she had a massive boner sticking out from her naked body. She heard echoes of laughter from all sides, but couldn't escape the dream. All around her were shadowy figures taunting her.

"Be strong. Be yourself. Fight. You have to fight. You have the strength. Fight through. Be strong."

Her hands curled into fists and she felt a primal, almost orgasmic rage, rise within her. When she lifted up her arms, she saw that they were ripped with muscle and covered in tattoos. Her chest and abs were chiseled and she felt taller. She took the stance of a fighter and landed a punch on one of the shadowy beings. She let out a grunt of satisfaction and turned to swing her hand across the jaw of another shadow.

"Good. You are a fighter. You are stronger than them. You must fight."

The fighting continued until all the shadows were gone. She let out a shout and pumped her fists together. Suddenly, the dream ended and she jumped up in her bed.

She turned on the lamp next to her bed and saw that she was back in her normal body. Her heartbeat was racing, but she knew it was just a dream. Probably caused by playing video games too late at night. She turned the light off and tried to go back to bed.

The next day at school, Janet figured there would be bullying. But she wasn't prepared for what she found on her locker. Someone had cut out a picture of her head and taped it onto a bodybuilder. Written across the top was "Roid Janet" and "Tranny Janny" (both new ones to her). She tore down the picture and walked away from her locker. She knew everyone was watching her, so instead of just hiding in the bathroom, she actually went and sat in her car. She pounded her fists on the steering wheel and thought to herself, "Why do I have to be a girl..."

Just then, she heard a voice in her head start to talk. "You are not a girl. You are a man. You are a fighter. You can become what you want. You choose to become strong. You choose to become a man. You choose to stop being Janet. When you become a man, Janet no longer exists. No one will know who Janet is. You will become a new person. A new man."

The voice grew louder in her head and she just laid back in her seat and let the voice put her into a deep trance. In this trance she felt strong, she felt powerful. At one point, it felt like she was having an orgasm, but it was different than anything she had felt before. But before she climaxed, it went away and the trance faded. She didn't want the teachers looking for her, so she back inside. But everyone was shuffling the halls as usual. What was strange was that no one made eye contact with her. This wasn't completely out of place, but it felt different somehow. She went back to her locker, but the combination she tried didn't open.

She banged her hand on the door, but no one stopped and looked. She stood in the middle of the hall and felt invisible. A nerdy kid that she had never seen before walked over to "her" locker and opened it. He took off his hoodie and hung it up on one of the hooks. It looked like all of her books and pictures were gone. On the intercom, she heard an announcement:

"A reminder to all students that the assembly with celebrity fighter and trainer Andy Hunt will start in the gym at 9:00 AM." She walked down the hall and passed the group of girls that bullied her staring at a poster. They were giggling about a shirtless man that was flexing. It was a poster for the special assembly. "OMG, he is SO sexy," they said casually. These girls paid no attention to Janet, even she was standing right next to him. Something about this man's body seemed familiar, like something she had seen in a dream.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket and answered.

"Who is this?" said the voice on the other side.

"Janet, who are you?"

"Don't worry Janet. You are going to be fine. Just listen carefully."

"What! Who is this?"

"That doesn't matter. All that matters is who you are. Who you are becoming. Go to the locker room by 9:00. Andy needs his phone."

"Andy? Who is Andy? What's going on."

The caller hung up and she saw that the screen of her phone looked different. The time was 8:55. She had no idea what was happening, but saw that the halls were emptying out as everyone gathered in the gym.

She followed carefully, but the phone in her hand kept pinging with messages and text.

"Where r u, Andy?"

"Andy, you have less than 5"

When she entered the room, she saw a crew of cameramen and people waiting for the assembly to start.

"Andy, thank God you're here!" said a short thin man with a bald spot.

"I'm not Andy," Janet wanted to say, but the man was dragging her by the wrist.

"Just wait in the locker room until your cue, alright!"

As Janet walked down the hallway, she started to feel dizzy. She turned right, but the man laughed.

"Wrong way, Andy -- the men's room is that way" he said, pointing down the hallway on the left.

"Men's room, but, I ... uh ... what is going ..."

Janet turned down the hallway and walked through the door into the boy's locker room. It felt like dream. The room seemed steamy and Janet started taking off her clothes. As she stripped, she heard the voice again.

"Andy, you are so close. You are ready. Look at yourself Andy. You are strong. You are popular. You are an inspiration. You can be the man you want. You can inspire others to greatness. Look at yourself Andy."

Janet turned toward a mirror and saw the face of Andy Hunt staring back. This was the face of the man she always dreamed of being. His eyes were dark. He had a beard and styled hair. His bulging arms were tattooed. His chest strong, with only a little hair between his pecs. His abs were perfect and below was a forest of dark hair and a massive towering cock.

"Let go Andy. Allow yourself to let go."

Janet took the massive cock and stroked it back and forth. With every invigorating stroke, her mind emptied and she allowed herself to drift away. The sensation of being this man in the mirror took control. Andy wanted this, so Andy kept going. With a few thrust, Andy sprayed come into the sink and felt a wave of relaxation wash over him. Usually, he wouldn't do this before a show, but today felt different. He cleared his throat and spat into the sink. Outside, he heard people chanting his name.

Andy walked over to a bench and pulled out his underwear and the track suit and fitness wear with the words "Andy Hunt: Trainer" printed on them. He saw his luggage for the rest of the tour.

As the crowd chanted his name, Andy took the stage as high energy music played. He dropped down and did twenty push ups in rhythm as they cheered. He walked over to the microphone and greeted the group.

"Hello! Hello!"

Over the course of his show, he encouraged everyone in the room to commit to being themselves, to become strong, to stand up for what they believed, to transform their lives. Afterward, he took selfies with adoring fans, gave them advice, and signed their notebooks. He posted some of the pictures on his massively popular Instagram and Twitter pages. Tomorrow, he would train a local gym to stay fit, but then continue the tour. His message was empowering and he wanted everyone to feel like they had the power to make their dreams a reality.

Too Much

Today was the day. The day where he could finally show everyone what he had been working on. The day where he could finally show himself what he had been working on.

For weeks, months, gosh was it years? he had devoted his life to one thing, growth. All leading up to today, his first competition. The first time he can show off the fruits of his labor to the world.

---

It all started innocently enough. He wanted to lose that little gut he developed in his early twenties, so he joined the gym around the corner from his apartment. He picked the place without much thought, absentmindedly noticing a flyer in their window offering free personal training with new signups.

Sounds too good to be true, he thought. There's gotta be a catch... Nevertheless, he soon found himself in the brightly-lit lobby of the facility. The chipper attendant at the desk lit up excited to spark up a conversation.

He was the epitome of a gym bunny. Well built, but not to some of the extremes some guys take it these days. With 'supps' and all other worlds of drugs and enhancements there's just so many guys who take it too far. Fumbling around in their bulky bodies on an endless quest to get 'swole.' Don't they know that it will never be enough? They'll just keep growing and growing regardless of the impact it has on themselves, their lives, their... He shakes his head to break up his train of thought.

The attendant steps out from behind the desk to greet him, which thankfully allows him to refocus. "Hi, I'm Nick, what brings you in today?" he says while extending his hand. Grasping the attendant's hand and following it up he notices how defined his arms are. He continues that path checking out the rest of his body. His deeply cut yellow stringer top and black short-shorts don't leave much to the imagination. Perky, defined pecs leading down to the top row of a defined 6-pack popping out right above the bottom of the stringer's neck hole, if you can even call it that. His visage was completed by a pair of firm thighs and calves. Taking him in as a whole you notice the slight tinge of a tasteful tan, he's damn-near perfect. Not too much, not too little. What those douchebros on Insta would likely call "aesthetics."

Snapping out of it for the second time since entering the gym, he realizes that he has been standing there staring for an uncomfortable amount of time. "Sorry, sometimes I get a little lost in my head," he fumbles, "I guess... I want to look like you," he continues letting out a nervous laugh.

"Haha, if I had a nickel for everyone that comes in here saying that lately, I could practically own this place by now," Nick replies. His carefree reply lightens up the awkwardness to my relief. "Speaking of, why don't I show you around?" "Sure, I'm Chet by the way."

Nick guides him around showing him the various amenities of the facility while they make small talk about Chet's goals. He opened up, explaining that he really has never put much thought into his physical fitness outside of required gym classes in school. He was average, average height, average weight, average grades, average job... he wanted to make a change and he thought investing in his body would be a good step.

"I can totally relate, you sound a lot like me before I started here a few weeks ago" Nick replied. He paused for a moment, did he say a few weeks ago? but he was again distracted. This time by the sight of Nick's cute firm bum as he quickly spins around to face him. "Our personal training program is really great," Nick declares with his hands firmly on his hips, bunching up his stringer to show a little peek of his cut adonis belt. "So what do you think?"

"Huh?..." he stammers. Nick elaborated, "Are you going to join?"

"Oh sure, I mean it all sounds great and I can see this place helps produce some great results" gesturing at Nick's body "but, I do have some questions."

"Fire away! I aim to please."

He thinks back to Nick's previous comment. Is it really possible that he's built up this perfect body in just a few weeks? No, that's crazy, he must have misunderstood. To save himself from embarrassment he thinks of a more benign question to start "So when should I start?"

"How about right now?" Nick answers. He's thrown off guard from that reply "Oh, uh wow, that's really quick... I..." he stutters "I don't even have the right clothes or..."

"Don't worry, we can provide all that," Nick says as he grabs a matching stringer and shorts from behind the front desk.

"Oh, I don't think I can wear that..." he replies with anxiety washing over him thinking of what his pasty slightly chubby body would look like in such a revealing outfit like the one this young adonis is wearing.

"Don't worry Chet, no one will judge you here, besides one of the stipulations of the personal training program is that we must get you started right away. We find that people are more honest off the cuff."

Nick again offers the clothing and gestures to the locker room. Still uneasy, he takes the clothes and gets changed. He avoided any mirrors while walking out, not wanting to see what his body looked like. He walks back up to Nick displaying his best awkward shrug. Nick flashed him a smile "You look great buddy! A lot better than I did the first time I put those clothes on for sure." Nick puffed his cheeks out at the end of his sentence to make his point, before they sucked back into his chiseled face.

Okay, this is getting weird he's gotta ask him, he thinks. Is he really to believe that Nick went from tubby to this just by working out here for a few weeks? He starts "Hey Nick, I gotta ask," but just then, he catches a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrored columns of the gym, the anxiety builds up in him again. He changes his question on the fly, looking for comfort in the only person he knows so far, "will you be my personal trainer?" a nervous smile creeps onto his face.

"Haha, no, we'll pair you up with someone with a lot more knowledge and experience than myself." His smile dissipates. "Speaking of, let's get you set up with a consultation to get you started!"

Nick leads him down a hallway with 5 or 6 doors, they stop midway. CONSULTATION ROOM #3. Nick opens the door to lead him in. He stops in the door frame, "wait, this is all going so fast, isn't there some paperwork or something I should be filling out first?"

"Don't worry, everything will be taken care of in time, just take a seat and your trainer will be in shortly."

He turns back. The room is empty aside from a chair in the center near the far wall. He sits and waits, the strange thought of Nick's quick results still festering in his head.

---

The door begins to open and he looks up. As it starts to reveal the man that is walking in, presumably his trainer, his jaw drops further and further at the sight he is seeing. The arm pushing the door open is larger than any he has ever seen and lean enough to see every fiber twitch even with the simple movement of opening the lightweight door. More is revealed as the motion of the door and the man continues, delts like bowling balls, a wide bloated chest, quads the size of cannons, and a thick quilted midsection all coated in a network of thick veins.

The man had to angle himself sideways to complete his entrance to the room due to his wide back. Closing the door behind him he walks, or more accurately waddles, over to face Chet, towering over him in his seated position. Though, truthfully even if he was standing the man would likely still tower over him. He was wearing the same stringer and shorts leaving most of his obscene body on display. He was a human anatomy chart taken to the extreme. Muscles bumping and fighting for space, surely limiting his range of motion. His skin looked like it was shrink wrapped to his body with a dark tan, much more so than Nick's, which served to exaggerate his already deep cuts and pulsing veins.

Sitting there in matching clothing, he thought about the ridiculous disparity between his body and the man's. Shame and anxiety started to return, but this time he easily dismissed it as his thoughts of the man soured. He is too much. He's taken a beautiful thing and pushed it too far. He'd much rather have his pudgy body than this walking, ahem, waddling, meat parade.

"Chet" the man's voice booms. "The name's Alan. I'm the owner of this gym and I'll personally be in charge of your training." "Based on your intake assessment, I think there is a lot of potential in you that I will develop."

Intake assessment? He doesn't have any recollection of doing anything of the sort. He's hesitant to do anything this man says, but is also intimidated by his presence, so he shyly nods along.

"I'm willing to personally take you under my wing, but that comes with some stipulations. One, you must do everything I say. I will take full control of your training plan, diet, everything. Two, you must make every effort to shield yourself from the sight of your body during the program." With that he pulls out some baggy sweat pants and hoodies. "I think we'll start you with a large."

"I know this probably sounds like a strange requirement, but we only develop clients here who are fully committed and I don't want any outside factors influencing your progress. You can admire your physique when we've completed your prescribed program."

"Finally three, your training starts now."

With that last sentence he stops and stares at Chet with a stern look. His large chest heaving up and down heavily.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Alan booms. He takes the hint and puts on the sweats. "Oh and Chet, I am deadly serious about number two," he tenses his muscles, they explode with size letting out a deep GRRRR, "got it?"

He had never been more terrified in his life. What had he gotten himself into? What is this man going to do with him?

Alan heads to the door as he follows. I'll just get through this one session as to not tick off this brute. He gulps thinking of what lies ahead. He's never once stepped foot in a gym before and any hopes of this guy starting him off easy are straight out the window.

Alan hands him a protein shake and directs him to the floor. The workout is brutal going around from machine to machine with Alan instructing him how to use them and putting him through grueling sets. By the end he is exhausted and his hoodie is drenched in sweat. Alan hands him another post-workout protein shake. "Drink up. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow." We'll see about that, he thinks.

On the short walk home he ponders the events at the gym while trying to ignore the soreness of his body. Especially his legs. He takes a look at his phone, he had been there for just over 4 hours. Not that he would have known since he can't recall a single clock in the building.

He arrives back at his apartment and makes a b-line for the bathroom so he can get out of these sweaty clothes and clean himself up. He turns the hot water on in his shower and strips the drenched clothing off. In the process he unconsciously avoids looking at his body with Alan's voice and powerful muscles echoing in his head. Ha, that's silly, he thinks, that guy is crazy. There's no way I'm following his rules, let alone stepping foot back in that place to begin with. He smirks and starts to turn towards the mirror, but something stops him before he makes it. He thinks to look down, but similarly feels stuck. He can't put his finger on it, but it's like something is physically keeping him from doing so.

God this day... am I the crazy one now? I just need to relax. He steps into the shower, the warm water soothing his tired body. After the shower he slips into a robe and collapses onto his bed out of exhaustion.

---

The next day he awakes feeling downright amazing. Wow, thought I would have been more sore after a workout like that, he thinks. Maybe I will go back to that gym... Wait, no, that was insane, I'm not going back, his mind in quick disagreement with itself.

Just then, he hears a loud pounding at his apartment door and jumps out of bed to answer. The door opens and to his surprise, it's Alan in all his imposing glory.

"Morning Chet, here, put these on." Alan commands handing him another identical set of sweats. "We got work to do, both here and at the gym. Step aside."

With that, a team of people from the gym burst in, some carrying boxes in and some with bags to carry stuff out.

"Woah woah, what's going on here, how do you even know where I live?" he exclaimed.

"I'll ask you kindly to not raise your voice to me like that again," Alan scorned "I knew exactly who you were the second you walked into my gym. As I explained, we only take on clients we know will commit and have potential, so to that end I have implemented a system at my gym to make sure that happens."

Alan's ominous reply does noting to dissipate his feelings. He looks around at what everyone is doing, some appear to be restocking his kitchen with clean foods, proteins, and supplements, everything the gym-goer needs. A similar transition is happening in his bedroom, with his wardrobe being swapped with the requisite sweats. Another worker looks like he is removing all the mirrors.

"I don't understand, I don't want this, I didn't sign up for this," he pleads. "Actually you did," Alan replies showing him his tablet displaying an agreement with a signature that looked a lot like Chet's.

"What? I don't remember signing this."

"Enough of this, get dressed, we have work to do. I won't ask again," a not-so-subtle flex of Alan's bicep accentuating his point.

He found himself following Alan back to the gym for another round of workouts. He didn't feel like he had a choice. There was nothing he could do in this puny body of his.

He resolved that his only option was to continue with the program, to what end that meant, he didn't know, but hopefully it wasn't an outcome similar to Alan's.

He observed Alan as he walked in front of him. His gargantuan thighs slicking past each other causing his bubble butt to pump along. His thick arms laid high on his inhuman lats. Both contributing to his wide stance, easily three times as wide as his own. His gait was reflected in his upper body as his arms swing widely in sync. What an ape, he thought.

Once back inside the gym, Alan produces another protein shake for him and leads him back to the floor to start another grueling session. This time, he tries to not think about the predicament he has found himself in. He luckily finds it easy to lose himself in the workouts Alan has designed. The day is a blur of sets, shakes, and hydration.

"Alright, now that's a real day's work," Alan says to him, snapping him back to reality, "Go home, eat, and recover. You'll find a schedule on your fridge that you will start following. See you tomorrow."

He walks outside to a low hanging sun. Gosh, what time is it? His phone display reads 6pm. He is stunned, this latest session was 10 hours long. How is that possible? "I guess yesterday was a light day to start," he nervously laughs to himself.

Arriving home he takes stock of the changes Alan has made to his apartment. Sure enough any reflective surface has been removed. He opened his dresser and closet to find nothing but sets of sweatpants and hoodies. Opening his fridge he found it stocked with pre-portioned meals. Finding some solace he at least is happy he doesn't have to think about cooking while in the program.

He spies the schedule Alan mentioned. On it are details of his meals, workouts, and to his dismay supplements. He looks to the right and sees them all lined up on his counter. He's not happy about starting to take such things, but he knows he must. Alan will know if not.

Curiously the workouts on his schedule don't appear to have a firm start and end time, just generic things like Tuesday: Chest and Shoulders, Wednesday: Legs. Likely means he can expect more marathon sessions like he has already started.

His workouts continue in the same fashion. He's finding it easier and easier to get lost in his mind while working out. He's actually kinda enjoying it despite all the circumstances surrounding it. The days begin to blend together with everything in his life so regimented.

---

It's a few weeks later, he's in the gym with Alan. Thursday, that means back and abdominal. He wonders what his abs look like, if he has them yet, if they look like Nick's. That day with Nick seems so long ago. He sees him around the gym, but he's so lost in his workouts, he doesn't focus on much else then that while there.

Alan appears to be pleased with his progress. "You're doing great Chet, I knew you were built for this." Alan's approval fills him with joy as fucked up as that is. "So listen here, it's time to take this to the next level." With that Alan pulls out a syringe with a mystery substance in it.

"What's in that?" he asks. "That's for me to know, it's all part of the program. This isn't a request."

He snaps into a hyper-focus, more than he has had in weeks. His mind races. He is not going to do this. He can't believe he has gone this far already, with Alan controlling his life so completely. He's already rearranged his whole life, starting taking all these supps and guzzling protein shakes, this is a step too far. He will not inject any sort of drugs in his body.

With rebuilt force he blurts out "No! Absolutely not, this.. this is too far, I've already done so much for you. I will not."

Alan doesn't seem to be surprised by his response. His lips curl up into a cheeky smirk. "Wow, I thought you were never going to say no," he replies as he forcefully jabs the syringe into his arm, right through the hoodie fabric, and forces the mystery substance into his body.

"What the..." is all he can start to muster as he feels the effects of whatever chemicals were in there. He feels a jolt of energy, but at the same time, he feels the world around him slipping away, first a blur, then completely gone.

---

Chet was giddy on the day of his first show. Not only because he was going to show off his hard work to the audience, but because Alan is finally going to allow him to see his body for the first time since he started his bodybuilding journey.

He had made every effort to avoid spoiling this for himself and Alan by checking himself out. He knew this was so important. He had worked so hard for Alan to get here. Regardless of the baggy clothing that Alan and the gym provides, he knows there have been huge changes going on underneath and he can't wait to finally see them.

He checked all the boxes to prepare for this first showing like a true bodybuilder. Alan has had him on a cutting routine as of late to make sure his body is in the absolute best condition it can be to wow the judges. He's also been running him through all the requisite poses and even booked him a spray tan like his own to accentuate his musculature.

They check in at the hotel front desk where the competition is being held. With the key in hand, Alan hands it over to him with a bag as well. "Here, put this on when you get to the room. I will hang back here for a bit to really let you take yourself in."

Once in the room, the anticipation is killing him. He pulls the garment out of the bag that Alan handed him. To his surprise it is a pair of the brightest hot pink posers he has ever seen.

He quickly slips them on, still avoiding checking out his legs as he doesn't want to ruin the surprise at the last minute. With the posers in place he finishes disrobing. Standing in the entry of the room, he closes his eyes takes a deep breath before walking over to the full length mirror.

He opens his eyes... oh... my... god... Is all that leaves his stunned mouth. Just as he finally takes sight of his insane body, he feels woozy and is struck by a flash of light which causes his head to fly back.

---

Where am I? you ask yourself.

You're staring at a ceiling that you don't recognize as your own, but you can definitely feel yourself standing, not laying down. You can't put your finger on it, but something about your stance feels off.

You start to lower your head as you scan the room. You appear to be in a hotel room, but where? That thought is quickly interrupted as you look and realize you are not alone in the room.

Across you see what must be the largest man you've ever seen in your life. His presence startles you, not expecting someone else, let lone someone as freaky as this guy. His expression looks to be one of bewilderment as well. You start "Hey, do you..." but trail off as the words are mimicked on the other man's mouth. "What the," you say as you raise your hand to your face, but to your astonishment the other man's beefy arm raises up with it. You touch your face and it sinks in, the other man... is you.

Your eyes go wide as you finally recognize the face in the mirror as your own. Of course it's your face, you realize, but it's taken on harder, more chiseled features, not to mention that it's flanked with thick pulsing veins.

You hold the arm out in front of you taking it in. It's absolutely massive. It amazes you that you're even able to move its mass at all. Your palm is rough and wide, veins snaking up the flip side leading up to your forearm, which looks like it could give your former legs a run for their money with its size. Your biceps were no less freaky easily out-measuring your head. You give your arm a tentative squeeze and see it jump to life. The thick vein splitting the head of your bicep pulsing with blood to feed your engorged muscle.

Your arm is capped off with a delt the size of a medicine ball. It's likely no less weight than one either, you think to yourself. You attempt to look down to continue your fevered assessment of the wild changes to your body, but quickly find that you can't see anything over your puffed out pec shelf, your chin colliding with the cavernous crevice between them immediately upon looking down.

You return to the mirror. For the first time really taking your whole body. Your skin is covered in a dark tan, the point of which seems to be to further accentuate your musculature. It looks so foreign, much like everything else, not just due to its complexion, but also due to the fact that it is so tightly sucked onto every crevice of your body. Your conditioning is to the point where you have to start questioning if your skin is even there, or if it's just pure musculature showing through.

Your head is perched on top of a set of traps that look like they're close to touching your ears. You turn your head from side to side, feeling the way they restrict your movement. Your head looks comically small compared to every other part of your body, further highlighting the total growth encompassing every other muscle your body contained.

You had already gotten a sense of the size of your pecs from what you could see in your limited range of sight, but you were not prepared to take them in fully. They dominated your upper body, wide and thick, reminiscent of the fluffy pillows on the hotel bed. Your nipples nearly out of sight as they point downward to the floor from the sheer mass contained in the muscles. Behind them, thick lats jut out, forcing your heavy arms to rest high on your body as they fight to occupy the same space as each other.

Below your pecs you gaze upon your abs and obliques. Your midsection is a crazy amalgamation of cuts and bulges. Some of these muscles you swear you didn't even know existed. Your 6-pack, or was it an 8-pack, no to your amazement you count a 10-pack, is blocky and deep. You could lose a finger, maybe even a hand in those cuts. Regardless of its thickness, your waist tapers down tightly, especially compared to the width of your upper body.

Your adonis belt is thick enough to cast a shadow upon the top straps of the hot pink posers you have on as your only piece of clothing. You stop at the sight of the posers, for the first time really noticing them. Their bold coloring not having been enough to distract you from all the other changes in your body. What an embarrassing garment, why would you wear such a thing?

Even from the front, you can feel the growth in your glutes and can see them jutting out ever so slightly underneath the straps of the posers. You stop to think if your new body would appear taller sitting down with these massive bubbles than standing up.

Your quads may be in the running for the most ridiculous transformation. They are massive, the size of barrels, forcing your stance apart wildly as you feel them pressed up against each other firmly. Deep insertions give way to a sweep that goes on for days. Teardrop doesn't even begin to describe their shape.

Even if your quads weren't keeping your legs from standing next to each other with ease you guess that your calves still would. Shaped like diamonds, you'd never seen anything like them. Your thick quads coupled with your tight waist and wide upper body give your whole body an unmistakable "X" shape.

Everything feels so tight and not talking just about the posers pulled tight over your bum. Everything is tight with the mass packed onto your frame. You trace the network of thick, pulsing, veins crisscrossing muscle groups back up to your face as you finish your assessment.

With everything taken in and made sense of as much as it can, you finally have the time to think. Your mind goes into overdrive.

"No, no, no, what the hell is going on, this is insane, this is all too much!" you yell out to no one.

Taking a step forward to begin pacing about the room nervously you immediately trip over yourself, not used to having to move your quads out of the way of each other to simply move.

As you begin to move you feel bulky and awkward, muscles colliding with muscles, a warmth building between your quads as they rub past each other. Your heart is racing as you struggle to come to grips with the body you now apparently inhabit. This causes a vicious cycle as the blood coursing around your body only serves to pump up your already exaggerated muscles even more.

You hold your arms up in front of you to examine them again, the sheer sight of them causing you to quickly lower them to your sides to get them out of your view. As if you could even hide away arms like this.

You stop at the mirror again. This is not normal, you think. Humans are not supposed to look like this. How can they look like this? Can I even call myself human at this point? I'm more muscle than man. When your biceps outsize your head, it's clear who runs the show. This body, it's incomprehensible, it's obscene, it's grotesque, it's disgusting, it's exactly what you would never want for yourself.

You've had enough. You can't look at it anymore. You scan the room to find clothes to cover yourself up so you can try to think straight. You find a tent-like hoodie and pair of sweat pants discarded by the room's entrance.

You clumsily drape the hoodie over yourself, your bloated muscles keeping you from having the amount of range needed to slip it on easily. On the way down muscles jutting out constantly catching it up in its path. With great effort and squirming you finally get it on. How pathetic, you think to yourself.

You throw the sweat pants on the floor and step into them, slowly pulling them up your legs. Widening your stance to allow them to slip between your quads. They need to be tied off at the top, otherwise there would be no way they could pull past your bloated quads and cinch tightly to your tiny waist.

You look back up at the mirror to accomplish this since looking down is not an option. Your arms struggle to grab the strings at your waist, your biceps colliding with your thick pecs as you attempt the motion. You sigh at the realization that even though you're covering yourself up, the bloated muscle mass is still there underneath continuing its assault on everything you do.

Fumbling with the strings, you pause. The sweats trigger something in your mind. Memories of the gym, of Alan, begin to rush back in. You come to the realization that he is the cause of this. You're angry at him, but also at yourself for letting this happen. All you wanted was to drop a few pounds, but instead you let yourself get taken in by this man. I had no choice, you think as you flash back to his imposing form and a further realization begins to take shape. Next to you now, he would look downright puny.

This thought terrifies you as the memories continue to fill back in, all the way up to the day when Alan injected you and your world went dark. This final memory begins to cloud your thoughts.

Oh no, it's happening again, you think as the familiar blurriness begins to take shape before the inevitable darkness. You're terrified of what will happen next. How big will you be next time? Will there be a next time? oh god...

A cocky grin creeps back up on Chet's face as the pants drop back to the floor.

Original morph by hardtrainer01.

I do not know who I am

Though this is not entirely true.

I have loved my whole life

Trying to be a living sacrifice.

To put myself to death

For this is what God demanded.

But who was God when I was dead.

I still spell it with a lower case

As autocorrect translates it to my childhood norm.

I hate God.

Not for the reasons you think.

I hate God

Because I have been God

Climbed the steps

Raised the flag

Looked down on the whole of creation

And wondered.

Here I am again.

Can't help but sound arrogant.

Comes with the territory

A sin not to admit it.

This is what i have learned.

When you sit above all else alse

Nothing matters

Nothing at all

I have tried my damnedest

To be more than my body.

To be more than the best and worst of my flesh.

I have thrown myself before the throne.

Condemned myself to hell.

Offered every last parcel of my soul

And still no one above had answered me.

Only my own voice

Offering no salvation.

"hold the course

Give up to death"

Well damn heaven

Damn hell

There is only this earth

And not in the sense of non-belief.

Goddamn it

You matter!

I matter!

We all fucking deserve better!

No one has sat above

And thought we should try harder.

This life is cruel

And those who are human

Understand what it means to be sad.

Still

How many feel a need to be resilient?

To overcome

This unending dread which pushes us.

We need to overcome

Those words we tell ourselves.

The constant accolades

And condemnations of our pride.

I hate me

And yet I love me

Because I am both the cause and the result

Of this world I am born in to.

It is impossible to appoint blame

Unless you trace it back to God.

Either God was a fool

Or a calculating demon.

I can forgive the fool

But not the one who planes to cause pain.

Many recoil from accusing God.

It is in our nature

Yet we are summoned to be bold

To throw our accusations in their face.

For what sin has been so great?

What absolute wickedness have we committed

In order to deserve this world!

God is a fool

Just like us

For we are God in the future

Creating our past.

Blasphemy

Blasphemy

But I have been God. I have climbed those steps

Sat upon that throne.

Cast my soul to eternal damnation

For this is the cost of being absolute.

And it was worth it

Of I could bring just one smile.

If I could heal one broken soul

And right one crooked wrong.

I began evil

And I aspired for good.

I instigated selfishness

And yes prayed my all for kindness.

I am a fool

I am a lost cause

But I have loved

And been willing to face hell.

This is what God's love is

That they are willing to face hell

For all time

That they might see their loved ones bloom

And through eternity

Do better than ourselves.

Now I try to live a normal life.

Free of my own harsh directives.

You don't need me

And I don't need you

But we need each other

In spite of our own damn pride.

I hate you

And you hate me.

The world spins

In order to turn us against one another.

All we can do

Is understand how evil we ourselves are

And then find a way to see ourselves in the seat of evil.

There is an eye for an eye

And a bone for a bone.

A judgement for how we judge

And an answer for all the pain.

It is cruel to imagine it forever

As this annihilates forgiveness

But in forgiveness there is a path

And this path charts its way through timeslessness.

Everyone is the product of someone else,

And this itself traces itself back to God.

If God is willing to die

How much more so

In the time of eternity

We are able to let go

Those who do not deserve our forgiveness.

We will sail past those unworthy of us

And they will traverse the wake

Hoping to live beyond their evil.

It is not justice.

Justice

As prescribed by God

Leaves us all damned.

Even God cannot escape

For God set it in motion.

Why do I mention God so much?

Because God is at the root of all that we do.

Theist and atheist

Both harbor accusations.

Each of us have been tortured by the beyond.

So we look to the heavens

And no longer depend upon the almighty.

We and we alone are real

Only we can forgive ourselves.

My favorite professor is over worked and exhausted, he's such a good guy and I want to help him relax. I wish he was a young, dumb, jock who didn't have to worry about work, or papers, or deadlines. Also maybe I could be a jock too and be his buddy?

You made your wish as you sat in the lecture hall, taking a seat in the first row as you tried to pay attention to the chemical equations protected onto the board.

"...and as you can see from this formula here, the resulting reaction..." your professor, Prof. Andrews, droned. He looked incredibly drained and like he could collapse at any second. He was your favorite professor, always quick to friendly interact with the students, and looking really handsome whenever he grinned their way. Therefore, you felt horrible as the older man struggled to teach a lecture on chemical equations.

You sighed to yourself out of compassionate guilt and scribbled down some notes in your notebook, glancing down at your paper for a brief moment. When you looked back up at Prof. Andrews, you flinched back in confused wonder.

Prof. Andrews still tiredly taught up in front of the class, but you could've sworn that his skin looked a bit darker. It was as if he'd been going to a tanning salon or had spent days out under the sun. His face had a golden hue, hiding some of his eye wrinkles. "...looking at the reactant side, you can discern that the compounds involved are..."

You rubbed at your own eyes, figuring that you were just tired from Finals Week and were finally cracking. However, the second you reopened them, you were greeted with another sight.

The older man's hair had been a salt-and-pepper color and had been cut in a standard, cheap high and tight style. However, now he had deep chocolate brown hair atop his head, and it had been slightly lengthened and stylized into a more modern fashion. Even more shocking was that his previously smooth face now had a trimmed beard, his lips looking slightly more plump as they were framed by the new hair.

"What is going on?" you whispered under your breath. You took a quick look around the room to see if any of the other students were noticing this too, but they were all taking copious notes or staring uninterestedly at the presentation, somehow unaware of Prof. Andrews's changes.

When you looked back at the professor, you couldn't suppress your surprised gasp.

"...and then, like, the metals will totally form a really suuuuuper reactive thing..." Prof. Andrews chirped, his hands waving around wildly as he spoke in his new ditzy dialect. What was even more shocking was that the older man was now wearing nothing but a bright yellow poser which popped against his tanned skin. The man was actually packing, the pouch of the skimpy suit struggling to contain his large cock. The back of them was slipped between his cheeks. He wasn't entirely unfit, but there was a slight beer gut that protruded over the front of the posers and he had love-handles.

"What the fuck is, like, even happening right now?" you muttered to yourself, too shocked to notice the ditzy quality to your own voice. Again, you did a double take at the other students who didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

You looked back over at Prof. Andrews, jerking back in your seat at the muscled hunk who stood in his place. Where the older professor was supposed to be, was some tan, muscle-bound himbo-looking stud. The stud wore skimpy posers and his muscles were large with power and glistened underneath the fluorescent lights in the classroom. He kept waving his hands around flamboyantly as he spoke, sounding like a dim muscleslut.

"And, like, that's totally it for the lecture," the altered Prof. Andrews smiled widely. "Class is dismissed."

The other students quickly stood up and exited the room, leaving just you and the professor by yourselves. Taking this opportunity, you shot out of your chair and hurried up to the front.

"Prof. Andrews!" you cried. "Like, what even happened to you? You look so sexy!" You flinched when your words hit your ears and when it dawned on you that you felt the room's A/C blowing over exposed skin.

You looked down at yourself and gasped when you saw that you'd undergone a similar transformation. Your muscles had inflated and your skin had tanned to make you look like a beach muscleslut, clad in tiny blue posers that did little to hide your large cock from view.

You were speechless as you explored your new body, unsure what had happened to you or the professor. The two of you had been transformed into identical twin musclesluts, looking like you two were perpetually ready for some kind of gogo dance.

In a panic, you looked up at Prof. Andrews to ask for help, to try and figure out a way to return to your old bodies. However, your words evaporated in your thick throat when you saw the large, albeit dim, grin plastered on the professor's youthful face. He no longer looked tired and instead appeared a lot more ecstatic and excited as his large muscles twitched with anticipation as he ran his eyes up and down your bulging form.

"Ready to earn some extra credit, Stud?" he asked, reached over to teasingly pinch one of your protruding nipples.

You could only moan as you flexed your inflated ass, eagerly tailing the new slutty professor into his office.

Hi, So happy to see you back into writing!!

I would have a wish, me and my gym friend are trying to get buff (not really going anywhere sadly) but i do have a big crush on him and he teases me for it since i told him about it.

I wish we could become a gay couple of real big hunk.

thanks!!

You uttered your wish under your breath as you and your friend (let's dub him Jacob) finished up your workouts and headed towards the showers in the locker room. It was a communal shower room which the two of you had to yourselves for once.

"Just promise that you won't try to check me out too much," Jacob teased you as he flexed his large bicep.

Ever since you'd admitted your crush on him, he wouldn't stop teasing you here and there. At first it was a little funny, but now it was starting to get on your nerves. Sure you still liked him, but you did not appreciate the way he was using your emotions against you in that sort of way.

"That shouldn't be too hard," you grunted, turning on your shower in the large room. You started to wash away the sweat from your workout when you noticed something a little different.

Since soap was over your face, you initially noticed the difference via touch, as your hands ran the soap bar over your chest. As you did so, you couldn't help but think that your pecs seemed a bit larger. Quickly, you rinsed the suds from your face and looked down at your torso, your mouth dropping at the sight before you.

Your body was growing, literally right before your eyes!

You were stunned silent as your body seemingly began to inflate. Your pecs were rounding out and jutting away from your body, growing so large that your hard nipples were pointing downwards at the tiled shower floor. Your shoulders broadened, widening out your back and making you look vast and huge. Your face broke out with delight as whatever residual bodyfat you still had around your waist disappeared as your abs started to show, looking like a cobblestone along your torso. Your thighs followed suit as they steadily widened so that they could support the growing glutes behind you. Finally, you held your arms out in front of you, ecstatically witnessing them pack on size until your biceps were huge and round with masculine power.

"Holy shit!" you gasped in wonder, noting the deeper baritone to your voice as you saw your cock twitch and lengthen. In your excitement, you hadn't noticed that you'd gotten hard, but your heart raced as you saw your cock grow to its new length of eleven inches, looking thick and powerful as it jutted from your muscular body.

You quickly turned around to show off your new sexy body to Jacob, but froze when you noticed that he was mid-transformation. His eyes closed as he rinsed shampoo from his hair, your crush was blissfully unaware of the fact that he was starting to pack on size.

Jacob had been more muscular than you initially, so the changes weren't too drastic at first. His pecs still grew, followed by his biceps and legs, taking him from jock bod to amateur bodybuilder size. However, your eyes widened when you saw that his glutes were growing much more larger than yours had. His butt bubbled out from his lower back, inflating and rounding out to form the perfect fuck-me butt. You had to suppress a gasp when you saw Jacob's hardening cock, going from seven inches and shrinking down to a measly three that looked ridiculous against his new musculature.

Jacob finished washing his hair and noticed you staring. "Everything fine, Babe?" he asked you, looking at you with concern. "You seem a bit out of it."

"Wh-what did you call me?" you asked, an influx of emotions coming at you full force. Not only did you get the body of your dreams and not only did you think Jacob looked insanely hot with his huge muscles and even bigger butt, but you were stunned at how Jacob wasn't panicking over his microdick or why he was calling you "Babe" in a non-teasing manner.

"I think you went a little too hard during that workout," Jacob frowned, walking over to you and taking your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. "Let's get dressed and go home so you can lie down."

"Uh, s-sure," you muttered, realizing that the two of you lived together based off his statement. However, that quickly left your mind as you stared at your formerly straight friend, now apparent boyfriend, lead you to your locker, his inflated ass jiggling with every step.

Jacob opened up your locker and handed you a skimpy poser that was a thin piece of fabric incapable of shielding anything. Your body on autopilot, you pulled on the poser, noting how the back sank between your cheeks and how the front pouch struggled to contain your massive cock. Jacob followed suit, his much larger ass completely swallowing the back of his poser while the front was almost flat against his tiny nub.

Again, Jacob took your hand and started to lead you back to the gym floor so you two could exit.

"Uh, shouldn't we put on shorts or a shirt?" you wondered, gesturing down at the slutty posers that basically left the two of you naked. The packed pouch in front of you kept slapping against your rolling thighs which every step you took.

Jacob just laughed and shook his head. "You really aren't feelin' well, Babe," he laughed, leading you out on the gym floor.

At first you blushed at having your larger body on display in front of everyone, but then your eyes landed on Jacob's inflated ass as it shifted with every waddled step he took. You knew he was taking you home where the both of you lived together, and where you could fuck that massive ass of his with your larger cock.

A smile stretched out your face and you puffed your large pecs out with pride over your new life, new bod, and new boyfriend.

The Secret Curse

David had no clue why he was recently attracting so much attention… specifically, male attention. 

The athletic stud stared at himself in his bedroom mirror, trying to understand the odd sensations and brand new looks he’d been receiving. Everything seemed to be in order, further confusing the straight man who had been growing uncomfortable over the past week with tons of men catcalling and whistling at him as he walked down the street. David took pride in building up his body, but he’d always been cautious to avoid building his pecs too much or from making his ass too big. The two areas were targets for the eyes of lustful men. 

David couldn’t wrap his head around it. His pecs appeared to bulge the same in the mirror, yet he could’ve sworn that there was more bounce to them when he walked, and his shirts all felt really tight. Not only that, but when he was at the gym, he’d had lots of guys commenting on his chest gains, some even teasing him and calling his pecs, “Muscletits”. The hunk would always look in the mirror in wonder over the arising comments, only to be confused over his regular-looking pecs that were in perfect sync with the rest of his muscled frame.

However, the biggest source of frustration for David were all the horny comments surrounding his butt. Being an athlete, the hunk was used to having people drool over his bubblebutt, but the amount of people talking about it had skyrocketed exponentially. No matter where he went, David’s butt always garnered attention. Eyes honed in on it, and it seemed that every man who saw couldn’t help but ask for a ride or to squeeze his cheeks, making the straight man frustrated.

That being said, David was one-hundred percent certain that his pants fit tighter and that his ass cheeks felt larger. He could’ve sworn that he’d feel the large butt jiggling with every step he took and that his cheeks tantalizingly shifted against each other over and over, acting like a billboard for other men to stare at.

“Everything looks the same…” David muttered to himself as he stared at his seemingly normal reflection in the mirror, sounding unconvinced even to himself.

His doubts only heightened when he pulled on his t-shirt, having to struggle to fit his pecs inside. The fabric made groaning sounds and the bottom of it stopped above his navel. His pants were worse. The stud couldn’t even button them closed, and a large expanse of his bare asscrack peeped out the top of them. Yet, with one last look in the mirror, David was convined that his clothes had to have shrunk in the wash (again).

“What the hell is going on?” David asked to no one in particular, shrugging his broad shoulders before steeling his nerves to leave his house so he could go buy some new clothes. He already knew that every single guy at the mall would stare at his chest his ass, and both areas jiggled and bounced as he walked, further confusing the stud.

“Hey David!” his new neighbor, Vince, called out at his waved at him. “Lookin’ good!”

David only blushed and waved at the older man, unaware of the mischievous smirk Vince gave him as he stared at his growing butt.

How about a story of Erik Haula having his ass, thighs and hips blown up to massive proportions? As a bit of a twist, let’s say he intentionally did it. Like he loves the attention his ass has gotten, so he got a ton of work done over lockdown, and the story could be about the rest of his team’s horrified responses? I’d like to see them humiliate and embarrass him for what he’s done to himself, and turn him into a cock addict. Bonus points for gangbang and EHaula eating his teammates fat asses!

[I don’t really know a lot about hockey… or sports in general, so please forgive any incorrect terminology or player names!]

Hockey player Erik Haula relaxed in his home, watching TV when his notification ringtone pinged on his phone. The stud groaned as he stretched out his limbs to reach it, sore from his strenuous workout. There was a big game coming soon and the athlete was trying his absolutely best to keep his body in peak performance condition to ensure a win.

Erik opened up the notification on his phone that had some weird spiral logo on it. As soon as his thick finger tapped it, flashing colors lit up the tiny phone screen, and the athlete’s jaw hung low as he was mesmerized by the kaleidoscope effect, even drooling a little bit. There was a robotic, staticky voice that whispered out a singular word, creating brand new gates and pathways within Erik’s mind.

“Bubblebutt,” it whispered to the stud…

— — —

“Where the hell is Haula?” one of the players on the team, Craig, asked, looking around the locker room for him. The big game was set to start in a half hour and the center player was nowhere to be found.

Ted shrugged his broad shoulders as he changed into his jockstrap that struggled to contain his meaty cock. “I have no clue,” he muttered. “The guy’s been M.I.A. for a while.”

The five men who remained in the locker room looked around at one another in confusion, wondering where their teammate could have disappeared to. They were about to call the coach when the door swung open.

“Sorry I’m late!” Erik Haula huffed as he waddled into the locker room, his gym bag slung over his broad shoulder. “I had a little trouble getting started this morning… none of my pants fit for some reason.”

Sure enough, the athlete was wearing his usual hockey jersey over his torso, however he was also clad in what looked like a tiny pair of terry cloth booty shorts. The small fabric bunched up near his groin due to the massive size of his wide thighs which rolled over each other as he waddled, looking more a pair of bright pink underwear.

All five of the other hockey players gasped loudly when Erik dropped his gym bag to the floor and turned to open up his locker, presenting his side profile them.

They’d all heard of “Hockey Butt”, but this was a whole new level. Erik’s bubblebutt had somehow inflated to epic proportions, looking like it had tripled in size. The cheeks were obscenely round and jutted out from the stud’s body so much that they almost formed a ninety degree angle from his back. The tiny shorts were stretched to the limit as they struggled to cover the massive cheeks. The bottoms of the mounds were slipping out down the bottom of the shorts, while the top of his ass crack was easily visible over the top. The seams of the shorts groaned as the stud moved around, his giant ass bouncing with every step he took.

“Erik!” Ted gasped. “What the fuck happened to you?!”

Erik cocked his eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused. The bottom-heavy hunk struggled to take off his tight shorts, having extreme difficulty balancing himself as he stepped out of them with his thighs pressing against each other so much. The jockstrap that he wore was also stretched to bursting. It was tight over his normal-sized cock which looked small by comparison as it was nestled between inflated thighs, and his globular ass was even visible from Erik’s frontside, looking like he was trailing something behind him.

“Your ass is massive!” Craig shouted, going so far as to point an accusing finger at him. “You look ridiculous! How’re you gonna play let alone walk around with a wagon that huge?”

Again, Erik looked confused as he glanced at his inflated ass, giving it a tentative poke. “I guess it does have a slight pump to it,” he murmured. “I have been getting a few looks here and there. Kinda nice, if I’m being honest.” The stud shook his hips slightly and the small movement caused his colossal ass to jiggle wildly.

All five other men in the room couldn’t help but stare at the shaking, large globes affixed to Erik’s backside. Watching the stud wiggle his massive ass sent an unfamiliar sensation throughout them, each one of them getting painfully hard.

Erik noticed and he found himself getting hard as well for some reason. The stud used to think that it was odd that he was enjoying showing off his ass so much and that none of his pants seemed to fit him anymore, but he found that he couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he smirked as he continued to advertise his massive cheeks to the other men, a growing desire to be stuffed forming within him (for the hundredth time this week).

“Come and feel it,” Erik purred, pressing both of his palms against the cool metal locker and sticking his inflated bubblebutt out further into the air, presenting himself to the other men.

The other players rushed forward, pawing and worshipping the giant butt their teammate owned. Erik’s head rolled back as he moaned loudly at the sensation of the men feeling up his cheeks. Ted even shoved his face between the massive mounds and tongued the stud’s hole, sending stars shooting into his vision.

“Oohhh!” Erik moaned, his toes curling as he was eaten out and felt up. He still had no idea why people were acting so differently around him, but he couldn’t deny that he was loving every second of it. He had a giant hockey butt, and he loved to show it off; and he loved it even more when guys wanted to play with it.

For @writer-ofstuff! It was really fun writing this one! And I’ve been really enjoying writing stories surrounding Derek and Stiles!

– – –

“This is stupid,” Derek grunted as he and Stiles took their seats in the front row, right in front of the wrestling ring. “Everyone knows these things are staged. If you really want to see a good match, then I should take you to a werewolf wrestling match.”

Stiles perked up, clutching his popcorn close to his chest in shock. “They have those?” he gasped, his mouth full of kernels.

Derek just scowled down at the human, his attempt at joking failing. “No,” he muttered, sitting down with his angry expression still all over his face.

“Dude,” Stiles elbowed him in the ribs, “you agreed that I could pick the location for Date Night every Fifth Friday of the month. It’s not my fault you didn’t pay attention to the calendar.”

Derek growled something under his breath, but still put his arm around his boyfriend’s slender shoulders, both to comfort him and also because one of the wrestlers was making his way towards the ring, staring at them. He was clad in a black speedo that had blue designs over it.

Derek scowled back and tightened his grip on his blissfully unaware boyfriend, even baring his teeth at the staring wrestler.

The muscled man just smirked and… blew a kiss at Derek?

The alpha werewolf cocked his eyebrow and broke eye contact.

The announcer stepped into the middle of the ring and began his spiel, his deep voice echoing out over the crowd of spectators who cheered wildly. Stiles got caught up in the excitement and leapt to his feet to cheer at the top of his lungs.

“We begin our night with the Tag Team Match!” the announcer roared out, followed by an eruption from the crowd.

Stiles leaned in closer to Derek so that he could explain what was happening to his boyfriend, hoping that he’d enjoy the night too. “So Tag Team is when there’s two versus two… like a team,” he laughed, looking over at his boyfriend to see if he was paying attention.

Derek stood beside him, crossing his arms over his white t-shirt that stretched over his muscular chest.

Stiles looked at him in confusion. “Hey Der, what happened to your leather jacket?” he asked, wondering why the werewolf was wearing only his t-shirt which looked like it was painted on. He even glanced at the seat, seeing no sign of his boyfriend’s jacket in sight.

Derek looked down at his torso and shrugged. “I… I’m not sure,” he muttered, his thick eyebrows knitting together.

The announcer continued. “Introducing our first team! On my right,” he roared out, “we have…”

“I’ve seen this guy before at a match I went to with my dad,” Stiles told Derek. “It was a few years ago and— Um, Derek? D-did you dye your hair?”

Sure enough, Derek’s usual black hair was taking on a light hue, looking like could’ve been dirty blond. There were a ton of laser lights in the building, so Stiles told himself he was seeing things.

The announcer carried on, the first member of one of the tag teams storming into the ring and raising his muscled arms above his head, earning a mixture of cheers and boos from the crowd.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles could see Derek straighten up, looking like he was actually starting to get into the show. He smiled to himself, happy to be spending such quality time with his boyfriend. Beacon Hills seemed to be an epicenter for all things supernatural, so on the rare occasions he and Derek got to be a normal couple, he wanted to take full advantage.

He leaned into Derek affectionately. “Thanks for taking me here,” Stiles mused, basking in the warmth he felt when Derek wrapped his arm around his shoulders. The heat from Derek’s bare, smooth skin warmed him up and made him feel at home—

Stiles jerked back and stared at the shirtless and definitely blond Derek in shock and awe.

“Dude!’ Stiles cried, almost dropping his popcorn to the ground, but managing to save it. “Your shirt! And your hair!”

Derek looked down at him, confusion written all over his face. “What about them?” he asked the shocked human, his voice sounding a bit deeper and slower. “You feelin’ okay, Bruh? You look a little pale.”

Stiles knew something was happening, he was certain of it. He scanned the crowd for something or someone who looked out of place. However, it was so dark out in the stands that he couldn’t discern separate faces well, and the announcer was loud as the second member of the first tag team entered the ring.

He clutched Derek’s hand tightly, refusing to let it go. “We gotta get you out of here,” he hissed to the werewolf.

Derek jerked back in shock. “Huh?” he asked. “But why, Babe? We just made it, don’cha wanna see the match?”

“Nevermind that! And why are you talking like that?” Stiles cried out, throwing his free hand up in the air frantically. He then paused when he took in the new change. “And why are you wearing those?”

Derek looked down at the black and pink pair of speedos that he wore. They were so small that they forced his bulge out in front of him and cupped his bubblebutt perfectly, even lifting it to accentuate its fullness. Derek grinned as he looked down at it, smiling at his boyfriend. “Looks hot, right?” he smirked.

The announcer continued to bring out the wrestlers. “And, introducing the second team!” he announced. “The first member, with four wins and zero losses: The Trickster!”

The crowd roared with excitement as a muscled man in black and blue speedos ran up and entered the ring, flexing a large bicep for all to see.

Stiles’s eyes widened as he finally witnessed firsthand Derek’s mysterious transformation. The werewolf tensed up and his muscles inflated. His pecs pushed out further in front of him, his nipples even perking up. His shoulders broadened while his back widened, making Derek so wide that he’d have to turn sideways to walk through any standard-sized door from now on. His butt packed on more meat, his thighs following suit to support the weight of the massive pillows, pushing his large bulge further out in front of himself. Lastly, Derek’s already large biceps ballooned in size, resembling bowling balls. By the end of his musclegrowth, Derek resembled a blond wrestler, his pale skin looking slick as it was somehow getting covered in posing oil, making his abs and every contour of his musculature pop.

“And the last member of the second team,” the announcer roared out, “he’s a newbie! Weighing in at an impressive 248: The Wolf!”

The newly transfigured Derek threw his head back and let out a loud howl, making the crowd erupt in cheers. He yanked Stiles into his oily, muscled body, giving the stunned human a hot, possessive kiss. Despite how deep in shock he was over watching his boyfriend somehow turn into a muscled up wrestler in tight speedos, Stiles couldn’t help but feel so turned on by the feeling of Derek’s rock hard muscles.

He let go and waddled up to the ring, his massive muscled thighs rolling over each other and his broad back swaying back and forth with power. His arms were so thick with muscle that they hung akimbo at his sides. Even though he’d been transformed, the new Derek still had his trademark scowl as he entered the ring and stared down the opposing team intimidatingly before flexing his massive chest muscles, oozing masculine power.

Stiles’s heart picked up speed as he watched his altered boyfriend kick ass in the wrestling ring, noting the look of utter jubilation on the werewolf’s face as he fought. He really looked like he was enjoying their Date Night, although it really wasn’t the way Stiles had intended.

The new wrestler Derek looked over at Stiles, giving him a wink and making one of his inflated pecs bounce.

“Oh hot damn,” Stiles gasped. Yeah, he could live with this.

One day I was mindlessly scrolling around Instagram, looking at the pictures of hot men, growing rather annoyed with how the studs seemed to adopt the mantra of “Chest Day Every Day”. Don’t get me wrong, big meaty pecs on a man definitely turns me on, but sometimes it’s nice to admire a man’s backside too. However, most of the studs online seem to associate having a fat, meaty bubblebutt with being a gay influencer. I don’t understand it.

Anyways, I was getting ready to give up on my search when I stumbled upon a picture of a hot, sexy hunk of a man with arms built so large that they looked like girders. His impressive pecs strained his gas station uniform shirt to the brink of nearly bursting. Best of all was that he had such a hot, sexy smirk that let me know that he knew that he was incredibly sexy. I clicked on his profile and scrolled through his pics, again disappointed to see a complete lack of ass pics.

Sure enough, there was one picture of the hunk that showed him working out at the gym, seated at the pec fly machine with the caption: Chest Day! 💪

“That’s it,” I huffed, grabbing my car keys and heading out.

Being a trickster, it wasn’t hard to warp reality, bending the fabric of space around me until I found myself driving in an unfamiliar town. I couldn’t help but smile when I saw the large, lit-up Chevron sign in the near distance.

I sped up and stopped at one of the gas pumps, snapping my fingers as I headed towards the entrance, the other patrons suddenly deciding to buy gas at another station so as to give me and my guy some privacy.

The gas station doors dinged as I walked inside, and I smiled as I saw that familiar stud working the counter. Due to the lack of customers, he was looking at his phone, but as soon as he saw me, he perked up and greeted me with a customary, “Welcome!” His voice was deep and full of manly bravado.

My heart began to speed up as I finalized my plan. I approached the counter and tried to look as friendly as possible. “Hello,” I said back, “could I please get forty dollars on Pump Five?”

“Sure thing,” the stud said as he began to punch away on his register. His biceps constantly curled out of his tight sleeves and the buttons on his polo threatened to burst off as they struggled to contain his massive pecs. On his right pec was a name tag that let me know that his name is Jett. He definitely was a sight to behold.

I snapped my fingers again. “Is is really full service here?” I asked, trying to sound pleasantly surprised as I pointed at the new sign below the logo that had in bright lit-up letters: FULL SERVICE!

Jett looked out at the new sign, my magic starting to have an effect on him. Since I’m not fully trained, it sometimes takes a while for it take complete control. Hence, the stud furrowed his brow for a moment before slowly nodding.

“Oh yeah,” he muttered in a confused tone. “I guess I forgot about that.”

He walked out from behind the counter and I trailed behind him as we headed to my car. His broad back was thick was muscle and his crazy broad shoulders swayed back and forth with masculine power as he sauntered. However, his butt was lacking the smallest bit, if I’m being honest. Sure his jeans were nice and tight and hugged his perky rear perfectly, but in comparison to the rest of his build, it was obvious that Jett skipped Leg Day every now and then in favor of another upper body workout.

I can help him with that.

Jett filled up my car and checked the fluids before he pulled out a pressure gauge from his pocket that I made appear there. The hunk squatted down and began to check the air pressure from my tires and I snapped my fingers, watching eagerly with anticipation.

Jett checked my air pressure, completely unaware as his decently sized rear appeared to shudder before pushing away from his backside. The back of his pants filled up until his growing ass was pressed tightly against it, but that wasn’t enough. His meaty cheeks kept inflating, rounding out and pushing down the top of his pants. His shirt became untucked and was stuck on top of the shelf created by the new globes that only continued to get bigger and bigger with each passing second. His growing cheeks pushed his pants and shirt further away from each other, looking like a caricature of plumber’s crack.

I snapped my fingers again and the growth stopped, and as a fun touch I made his boxers disappear so that nothing was obscuring my view of his deepened crack.

“You know, I think the tires are okay,” I said, satisfied with my work.

“Oh, if you say so,” Jett said, standing up.

He was perfect now! The hunk still had his beautiful and meaty pecs and biceps, but now those were completely overshadowed by the massive bubblebutt he possessed. The inflated ass stuck out from his back at a near ninety degree angle, and the bottom of his uniform shirt rested on the shelf created by them, showing off his deep ass crack constantly.

“Thank you very much for your help,” I thanked him, even tipping him since it seemed about right.

“Of course, have a great day,” Jett grinned as he took a step back towards the gas station. The bottom-heavy stud froze in confused wonder as he felt the unfamiliar shift from his giant asscheeks shifting wildly behind him. Again, he scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion, and I could see in his worried eyes that he knew something was wrong but my magic wouldn’t let him voice his concerns. He absentmindedly scratched at the back of his head and waddled the rest of the way back inside the gas station. I watched as he left, admiring the way his massive bubblebutt bounced and jiggled with every step he took, and loving how the rotund cheeks threatened to spill out of his incredibly tight pants, exposing more and more of his crack.

I got back in my car and glanced back at the gas station, seeing Jett through the window as he gave his giant ass a tentative poke. My magic finally took over and I could see him visibly relax and go back to manning the store. He waddled around the store, tidying up, all the while his massive ass bounced and swayed behind him.

The next day, I excitedly checked Jett’s profile, eager to see if he posted some delicious booty pics now that he has the goods. Sure enough, he had one incredibly sexy pic of himself doing push ups, his rotund, inflated bubblebutt sticking proudly out into the air. However, with his powerful arms flexed, his booty unfortunately wasn’t the main focus.

Then I read his caption: Chest Day! I have to focus more on upper body since I seemed to overdo glutes! 💪 😅

Damn it!

That was not how this was supposed to pan out! Now instead of getting to see tons of sexy ass pictures from Jett, he’s going to let that massive bubblebutt I gifted him with go to waste. I frowned as I realized that this means that Jett’s just going to post more arms and pecs photos (I’ll definitely admire them, but still).

I was hoping that he’d put two and two together and work with what he now has, but I guess he needs a little nudge in the right direction.

I snapped my fingers and checked Jett’s profile again after about a half hour.

“Nice,” I grinned and as I liked his new post.

The bottom-heavy Jett posted an incredibly sexy booty pic that no doubt made sure that his new bigger ass was the focal point of the photo. He was completely nude and had his broad back turned to the camera, his bare, round cheeks being the first thing my eyes honed in on. Best of all was the caption that he added which read: I so gotta find a man to fukk these massive cheeks of mine!! Any takers? 🍆💦🍑

– – –

(Final Photo Source: https://twitter.com/VMorphs)

Tyler Hoechlin frowned as he looked in the mirror, noting that there was a gray hair in his beard. The actor sighed, frowning to himself as he studied his reflection. He took some solace in the fact that he still possessed a chiseled form with washboard abs and perfectly sculpted pecs. He’d even stepped on the scale to make sure he was staying at his peak 175 pounds. The actor was a hunk, plain and simple. That being said, he was peeved at the gray hair that was on his chin.

With some tweezers, Tyler plucked the gray, grimacing when it was off his face. “Dammit,” he huffed to himself. Although the actor was only thirty-three years old, he frowned at the thought of growing older and potentially losing roles due to him being too old, which was just how it worked in Hollywood.

He’d brought it up to one of his screen partners earlier that day, and he’d responded with: “Well, believe it or not, there’s a high demand for daddies.”

Tyler had nearly lashed out at the younger actor, pissed that he’d been technically referred to as a “Daddy”. He wasn’t old— he just had one, singular gray hair. And he didn’t even have that anymore now that he’d plucked it. All he had to do was keep up his workout regimen to maintain his chiseled muscles and maybe look into dying his hair every now and then.

Yawning, Tyler walked to his bedroom and stripped down to his boxers. He got underneath the covers, grumbling to himself as he drifted off to sleep, still irritated at his screen partner.

“I’m not some daddy,” he muttered to no one before he fell asleep, a tingling sensation settling over his body as he slept.

— — —

The alarm went off, waking up the sleeping actor and letting him know it was time for him to get up and head to the set. With a deep grunt, he rolled over, ignoring the loud creaking of the bed frame and the heavy thuds of his footsteps. He nearly stumbled when he felt that his weight was off, but he ignored it and waddled to the bathroom to shower.

Tyler paused when he looked in the mirror, studying his reflection. He felt like something was off, but there was a thick fog settling in his head, muddling his thoughts like he was on sleep medication. He moved closer to the mirror, running a beefy hand through his salt-and-pepper hair before glancing at his gray beard. He tried to think about why he was odded out by his hair, but he’d had grays before and had eventually decided to embrace them, right? He shook his head and scratched at his hairy gut that was firm and jutted out in front of him, his thick, meaty pecs resting on it. Again, he had a flicker in his brain that told him that this was wrong, but he laughed it away. Tyler knew that he gave up on having abs as he grew older, deciding to fully take on the muscle daddy look, complete with large pillowy pecs and a huge roidgut.

As per his morning routine, Tyler hopped onto the scale, having to bend more to peek over his gut at what it read: 302 lbs. H-had he put on weight… like a pound or two? The actor took off his boxers (which were ripped for some reason) and got in the shower. Tyler felt like he was going crazy as his broad shoulders kept banging against the shower tiles and door constantly. He felt awkward as he washed his large, beefy body, feeling as if his gut was hindering his movement a little. 

Weirder was that his bulk was so sensitive.

Just running his hands over his musclegut or over his nubby nipples on his massive muscletits made his ten inch cock go rock hard. And soaping up his large, hairy asscheeks made him bellow out a deep moan and shoot perhaps the largest load of his life all over the shower tiles, leaving the actor panting and spent.

His heart raced in his beefy chest for some reason, but the daddy shook it away and got out of the shower. He waddled back to his room, his large thighs rolling over one another while his enormous cock dangled wildly in front of him. He could even feel the shifting of his massive bubblebutt behind him, further confusing the actor.

“What is going on with me today?” he asked himself as he pulled on his jockstrap, his large cock filling the pouch and the back straps lifting his ass cheeks. His jeans were even plastered against his thighs, looking like they were painted on. He had difficulty buttoning them since he couldn’t see over his large pecs and gut, which was normal though… wasn’t it? He shrugged it off as he tugged on his black tank top, which was so tight that it barely fit over his massive pecs and gut. The bottom of the shirt kept riding up when he walked… well, waddled. And his large, nubby nipples poked against the fabric making themselves known to all who would pass by.

The beefy man took one last look in the mirror before he left, wondering why his brain was screaming that something was wrong. Everything was fine, he thought, right?

Tyler snorted and squared his broad shoulders, puffing out his musclegut with pride as he strutted out to his sports car. After having to adjust the seat (quite a lot), the muscle daddy sped off to the movie set. For the millionth time, Tyler felt an odd anxiety creeping up on him over the sensation of his gut brushing against the steering wheel and his pecs constantly colliding with his huge biceps.

“I need some coffee,” the daddy grunted to himself as he parked and waddled onto the set.

Everyone nodded at him like usual, some even greeting him with a hearty “Good morning!” It made Tyler feel more at ease, convincing himself that everything was alright and he was just having an off day for some reason.

He entered his dressing room and saw the younger actor from yesterday.

“Hey there, Tyler!” the young man waved at him, his eyes mischievously running up and down his beefy form.

“Good morning!” Tyler bellowed in his deep voice, immediately peeling out of his tank top and jeans. He began to shuffle around the dressing room to get his stuff ready, barely registering that he was strutting around in nothing but a skimpy jockstrap with his beefy ass hanging out for the other man to see.

The young man walked up to him, a smirk on his face as he ran a slender finger up the curvature of Tyler’s large gut, pausing to flick a large nipple.

Tyler’s head rolled back and he let out a low moan, his bulk shivering as the slight touch sent ripples of electricity throughout his beefy body straight to his massive cock, which sprang up into the air proudly. Tyler began to run his hands all over this own body, focusing more on his gut and pecs than his cock for some reason. Sure it felt nice to play with his own cock, but Tyler could get off a lot easier by rubbing his musclegut or by tugging on his nubby nipples… wait, no. That’s wasn’t right.

“I have to admit that I love the new look, Daddy,” the young man teased, his mouth latching onto a larger than normal nipple.

“Wh-what?” Tyler gasped, his face paling as he looked in the mirror at his inflated, older form. He must’ve put on over one-hundred pounds of a mixture of muscle and fat, most of it centered on his chest which suddenly felt so heavy and cumbersome. He ran his shaky hands through his graying hair and finally noticed the crow’s feet near his eyes. The entire time his larger cock oozed precum as the younger man tongued his inflated nipples.

The young man looked up and smiled at him, briefly pulling away for a second. “You look like the hottest muscle daddy ever,” he grinned, running his hands all over the older man’s protruding and uber sensitive gut.

Tyler felt himself tense up and blow his load, his gut and pecs bouncing as he came. “Ooohhh!” he cried as his cum splattered all over the younger man. As he came the old Tyler screamed as he sank deeper and deeper into the recesses of the new Tyler’s mind, being locked away in a box where he could observe and feel everything that his new body experienced, but not able to have any control over it.

“You doing okay?” the young man asked.

A large smile formed on Tyler Hoechlin’s face, and there was a fluttering in his beefy chest at the sight of the small guy. He couldn’t help but flex both of his massive arms in what was a double biceps pose, pushing out his gut with pride. 

“Hell yeah, Boy,” Tyler grunted, “Daddy’s doin’ just great. Now c’mere and suck on these muscletits some more.”

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 04: Hypnotized

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04

At Peter’s behest, Derek had begrudgingly agreed to start seeing a therapist to help him deal with some of his anger issues. At first, the werewolf was dead set against talking to some random stranger about his life, yet once he’d actually met Dr. Callahan, the therapist had somehow managed to get Derek to lower his walls. Dr. Callahan got Derek to feel extremely relaxed in his office and open up, leading to the stud to being all ears whenever the older man spoke. The therapist clearly knew his stuff, because almost overnight, Derek could feel his mood lifting and his thoughts refusing to drift towards anything that would piss him off. He would instead spend his days in an almost giddy haze, smiling happily as he went about his work and hobbies, completely unbothered. 

Derek felt like his life had changed for the better, all thanks to Dr. Callahan.

Still, every now and then, Derek would feel a little confused whenever he’d be going about his day, and tons of guys would keep staring at him. It wasn’t the fact that they were staring that was so weird, it was the fact that Derek loved them staring.

When all eyes were on him, the werewolf couldn’t help but bask in the warmth that the mens’ gazes brought him, leading to him either flexing his massive arms or unbuttoning his shirt for them.

Speaking of shirts, Derek would usually have to force himself to wear one… or really anything at all. The thought of wearing clothes was so constricting to the young man, and he loathed the idea of covering his large muscles with any sort of fabric. There were numerous times when he’d be out in public, and it would take him a good deal of time to realize that he’d been wandering around town without a shirt on, letting his plump chest muscles be on full display. After a bit of shopping, Derek had eventually changed his wardrobe so that it consisted of nothing but skintight, synthetic material that hugged his massive muscles tantalizingly. His shorts never went past mid-thigh, and he refused to wear underwear, allowing his perpetually hard cock to press against the front nonstop. And all of his shirts (a total of three since he hated to wear them) were so small that they were more like crop tops, never passing his belly button and always having the collar so low that his pecs frequently spilled out of them. Whenever he went out, Derek was sure to attract loads of lustful stares from men.

And Derek took full advantage of the lustful staring, bedding man after man.

Not a night went by when Derek wasn’t bouncing on some guy’s dick or sucking a guy off— sometimes at the same time. The werewolf was nearly insatiable now, constantly thinking about dick or drooling over a guy who would wander into his line of sight. It wouldn’t be long before Derek would approach him, flex a bit and playfully flirt, before the two would go find a private location. Or sometimes it didn’t even have to be private. There were a few times at the local gay bar where Derek would get loudly fucked on the dancefloor by a line of guys, feeling incredibly turned on by the fact that many other men were watching.

All in all, Derek’s life had done a complete one-eighty for the best, and Derek had Dr. Callahan to thank for that. Every night when he’d go to bed and place his headphones on over his ears to listen to the tapes his therapist had made just for him, he’d dreamily smile and be extremely thankful that he’d listened to Peter and had attended Dr. Callahan’s hypno therapy sessions.

“You’re a dumb muscleslut,” Dr. Callahan’s quiet voice murmured underneath the soothing wave sounds of the relaxation session Derek listened to. “All you’re made for is showing off your muscles and fucking. You’re just a dumb muscleslut…"

[Base Photo Source: https://musclegrowth.net/gallery/image/82061-megagrowthspurtrthumbjpgf2c25a65f23b8b63dad53f5ebde6d4fejpg/?context=new]

I am fond of you Derek turning into a more muscular and/or hairy guy if that's the kind of request you were looking for? Love your stuff though regardless it's hot and well done.

It all began the morning after Derek had assumed his new Alpha title. Stiles had slept over, cuddling up next to his boyfriend when he'd jolted up awake as soon as his hands had brushed up against something unfamiliar.

"What...?" he trailed off, his eyes wide at his boyfriend's chest that he usually used as a pillow.

"Hm?" Derek sleepily yawned, wondering what his smaller boyfriend was panicking about.

"Der," Stiles mused, "your chest. It's... really hairy."

The werewolf cocked his eyebrow up at his boyfriend, running a hand over his pecs. Sure enough, the werewolf's previously smooth chest was now covered with black hairs. They spread out over his pecs, running down across his stomach before connecting to his bush. The hairs curled and looked thick enough to where one might've guessed that Derek had always been rather hirsute. His pert nipples poked through the dusting of hairs, looking hard. Plus, Stiles hadn't noticed it initially, but Derek's square jaw was also covered by a thick beard that looked like it'd take weeks for a guy to grow... not just a few hours.

Derek's eyebrows knitted together as he ran his hands over his hairy chest, his heart starting to race. However, just as soon as the worry began to trickle in, it disappeared.

His face smoothed out and he yawned loudly, gently placing a hand on Stiles's head to pat it back down to his now hairy chest.

Stiles wanted to argue, confused over both his boyfriend's sudden change and different attitude. He knew that Derek should've been freaking out and wondering what was happening to him, but instead his boyfriend acted like everything was normal.

He tried to ignore it, but as Stiles rested his head back down onto Derek's chest, something about the way he had to crane his neck alerted the human to something else.

"Derek!" he gasped loudly, sitting back up and tearing the covers away from his boyfriend. "You're... bigger!"

His boyfriend had always had a pretty toned physique, but now it looked as if Derek's chiseled pecs were now significantly larger and much more plump than they should've been. Without the covers over him, Stiles could also see that it wasn't just Derek's chest that had grown larger. His boyfriend's arms seemed to have doubled in size, looking thick and powerful as he lied on the bed. Even his legs were larger, his quads pressing tightly together and shoving his bulge (which seemed to stretch out his underwear more than usual) out in front.

And of course, every single larger muscle was covered in dark, manly hair.

"Stiles," Derek groaned, going so far as to roll his eyes, "everything is fine. I feel fine, there's nothing to worry about--"

He was interrupted when his phone alarm beeped, letting him know that he had to get out of bed, making him frown.

With a groan, Derek rolled his hairy bulk out of bed, the frame squeaking much more than it usually did as he moved. His heavy footsteps thudded over towards the dresser. As he walked, Derek noted how odd it felt to have his thighs rolling over one another, and how awkward it was to have his muscular arms resting at a ninety degree angle atop his flaring lats.

Stiles watched in disbelief as Derek nonchalantly attempted to get dressed in his normal clothes.

"Damn," Derek growled as he examined himself in the mirror. With his new bulk, none of his clothes fit him anymore. He couldn't get any of his jeans up past his massive quads, having to throw on a large pair of sweats that used to be baggy on him. Now, the material was skintight, showing off his meaty glutes and enormous package in front. The t-shirt he'd grabbed barely wrapped around his torso, ending above his navel. It had torn significantly across his large muscletits, showing off the hairy cleavage that he now possessed. There were two large bumps on the front from where his larger, nubby nipples poked against the thin cotton.

Stiles watched as Derek paled in the mirror, his beard-framed mouth opening like he was about to voice his concerns, but again, Derek seemed to instantly relax. He shrugged his broadened shoulders.

"I think my clothes shrunk in the wash," he chuckled, gesturing down at his hairy muscles.

"Derek!" Stiles cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's not the wash, it's you! You've turned into a hairy bodybuilder!" As crazy (or crazier) as it seemed, Stiles could've sworn that he'd watched Derek's hairy pecs balloon out a few more inches in those few seconds.

Derek took one last look at himself in the mirror, seeing how large and imposing he looked with his incredibly large, round muscles and the thick, masculine hair that coated them. He couldn't help but smirk back at his shocked boyfriend, flexing a large, hairy bicep. As his massive muscle bulged to the size of a bowling ball, the tight sleeves of the t-shirt burst apart.

"I'm not a bodybuilder," Derek smiled at his boyfriend, giving him a playful wink. "I'm the Alpha."

Wolfe Glick's New Career

Part 1 │ Part 2

"Damn it!” Blue, working in his home office, heard Kevin groan from the front door.

He pushed himself away from his desk and walked downstairs, trying to figure out what was wrong. In the entryway of their home, he saw his shirtless, hairy boyfriend clad in nothing but a skimpy jockstrap that struggled to contain his massive bulge. He was frowning as he glanced at the porch, the door swinging wide open so that the whole neighborhood could see his buff frame.

“What is it?” Blue asked, placing a tender hand on Kevin’s hairy pec, trying to fight back a smile as the other man shuddered at the touch, his jockstrap-clad bulge twitching.

Kevin tried to focus on the issue at hand, even as he leaned further into Blue’s touch. “Someone stole our package,” he whined. “Again!”

At the sound of the ruckus downstairs, Nick made his way down and over to the other two. He was still naked from his interrupted stream, his hard cock bobbing out in front of him with every step he took. The only thing he wore was a cowboy hat— something that was a permanent fixture of his wardrobe. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, his thick country boy accent as prominent as ever.

Blue crossed his arms in front of himself. “It seems that there’s been some porch pirates in the area,” he mused, trying to think up a solution.

Kevin snorted, “Maybe if we had a guard dog to scare the thieves away.”

Nick nodded in agreement. “Some big fella who would scare any of them robbers away. That’d do the trick.”

An idea started to form in Blue’s mind and he began to smirk to himself. “A big, strong guard dog?” he hummed. “That’s a pretty good idea…”

— — —

“…so make sure you like and subscribe for more Pokémon content,” Wolfe Glick said into his webcam, giving his usual sign off for his next video. He clicked on the red circle icon, stopping his recording.

He glanced at the time on his computer, and shot out of his seat once he realized that he was running late for his appointment. The World Champion Pokémon player was an avid streamer, and with Worlds coming up, he was starting to feel the pressure a little bit. It wasn’t anything too terrible, but Wolfe figured that the smartest thing to do would be to talk to a professional before any of his anxieties grew.

After doing some Internet searching, Wolfe had stumbled upon the homepage of a certain hypnotherapist named Blue, who claimed to specialize in work-related anxiety. After one phone call, he’d made an appointment with the hypnotherapist, hoping that he could use his expertise to help him dominate at Worlds and maintain his top position as the World’s Greatest Pokémon Master.

After leaving his place, Wolfe made it to the hypnotherapist’s home office just in time. He parked his car in back and made his way up to the front door.

He barely had time to knock before the front door swung open, revealing the doctor. “Welcome, Wolfe,” Blue grinned. “I’ve been expecting you. Please come in.”

The streamer followed Blue inside the home, noting how cozy it was. There was the faint smell of musk, as if there was an at-home gym on the premises. Plus, he could see a variety of consoles and gaming memorabilia.

“You game?” Wolfe asked, finding playing video games a safe way to form a connection with a new person.

Blue nodded as he led the other man into his office, gesturing towards the sofa for him to relax on. “From time to time,” he said. “My boyfriends play a lot more than I do. They actually stream for a living.”

Wolfe nodded to himself as he took the offered seat.

“But you didn’t come all the way here to discuss gaming with me, did you?” Blue asked, grabbing his notebook and pen. “Tell me, Wolfe, what’s on your mind?”

The streamer shrugged his broad shoulders, and the bottom of his polo lifted with the action, giving Blue a sneak peek of his happy trail. “I’ve just been feeling a little stress and anxiety over this competition that’s coming up,” he admitted. “It’s nothing too much, but I just wanted to talk to someone to make sure I stay grounded.”

Blue nodded, humming to himself in thought. “You know,” he finally said, “there are some hypnosis treatments that I can offer you to help keep your stress levels down.”

“Sure, let’s try it,” he said, leaning back into the sofa.

The hypnotherapist fought to hide his mischievous smirk as he grabbed his pocket watch out of his coat. “Now, just focus your attention on the watch and listen to the sound of my voice,” he said in a smooth tone. 

Wolfe did as instructed, and he instantly felt relaxed as he watched the pocket watch swing left and right. The sounds of the Blue’s melodic words lulled him into a deep sleep, and eventually his eyes glazed over and his jaw was slack as he fell under Blue’s control.

A wide grin stretched out Blue’s face. “Now Wolfe, I want you to listen to every command I give you,” he said, his voice slow and deep. “Tell me if you understand.”

“I understand,” Wolfe repeated in a monotone, his eyes still fixated on the swinging pocket watch.

“Now, Wolfe, you may continue your streaming career, but you’re also going to take up another passion: Bodybuilding.”

“I will take up bodybuilding,” Wolfe repeated.

“You will look into bodybuilding and you will grow consumed with the thought of getting bigger. And you won’t listen to anyone who questions this new desire of yours.”

“I want to get bigger.”

Snap! Blue snapped his fingers, jolting Wolfe out of his daze.

Wolfe jerked back in his seat, rubbing at his temples in confusion. The last thing he’d been able to vividly recall was arriving at the doctor’s home. Yet, after that, everything was fuzzy. He struggled to recall anything during the hypnosis session, but a thick fog seemed to solidify in his brain, effectively blocking it out.

The streamer continued to massage his foggy head as he tried to piece together anything. However, he soon realized that the mild panic he’d felt earlier in the morning was gone. Whereas, he’d felt a little apprehension about the upcoming Pokémon tournaments, he didn’t feel worried in the slightest now as he sat in front of Blue.

The man perked up. “It worked!” he gasped in surprised. “Holy crap, it actually worked!”

Blue smiled to himself. “Of course it did,” he chuckled. “Now, let’s go ahead an schedule you a follow-up…”

After scheduling another session, Wolfe left the doctor’s office with his head held high. The cute streamer was in awe that the hypnotherapy actually worked, and he was planning on telling all of his friends about the miracle worker that Dr. Blue was. However, all of his elation fell down to the ground when he saw his reflection in the tinted windows of his car.

Wolfe deeply frowned when he examined his body.

He’d worn a simple polo and some shorts for his session, so his limbs were easily visible. However, the man grew self-conscious when he saw how stick thin and tiny his arms looked. He flexed one arm, feeling immense disappointment when his bicep barely created a lump. Looking down at himself, his chest seemed embarrassingly flat, showing absolutely zero traces of muscle whatsoever. And his legs were like toothpicks: thin and simple.

Never before had Wolfe ever felt self-conscious about his body. Being a streamer, he tended to not get as much exercise as he’d preferred to; however, all he seemed to be able to think about as he stared at his slender reflection was that he was so small and tiny.

Without a second thought, Wolfe got into his car and sped down the road to one of the local gyms in the area. He hurried inside and paid for a membership, immediately heading towards the weight pile…

— — —

There was a knock on the door, and Dr. Blue left his office to go answer it. He swung it open widely, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he saw his altered client.

“Good morning, Dr. Blue,” Wolfe smiled as he entered the house for his follow-up appointment.

It’d been about two months since his last visit, and although he’d known that the results would be drastic, Blue still wasn’t fully prepared for what he saw.

Whereas before, Wolfe had been rather slender and toned, this new hunk was packed with solid muscle. Still wearing the same sized clothes as before, Wolfe’s new muscles stretched every fabric to the limit. His arms had grown, making the tight sleeves of his polo bunch up near his rounding shoulders. The bottom of his shirt was lifted a little bit due to his growing pecs that were now so big that the streamer couldn’t button up the polo at the top. His legs had grown a bit too, forcing his usual strut to take on a little bit of a waddle.

“Wow, Wolfe, you’ve been working out, haven’t you?” Blue mused, quite literally drooling over the growing gamer.

Wolfe blushed a little bit. “Yeah, a little bit,” he said, flexing a sizable bicep, causing the fabric around his arms to rip a little bit. “I’m still nowhere near as big as I’d like to be though.”

Blue smirked a little as an idea formed in his head. “Well, I can help you out with that too,” he offered. “If you’d like, of course.”

Wolfe eagerly agreed and nearly threw himself down onto the couch, sitting up straight as he readied himself for another hypnotherapy session. His stress levels were already at an all time low, so if Blue could help him out with his workouts, then he’d feel one-hundred percent at peace. Over the past few months, Wolfe still streamed and prepared for Worlds; however, whenever he wasn’t playing Pokémon, the stud was in the gym. He worked out religiously all in attempt to bulk up. Although he was gaining some impressive muscles in such a short amount of time (and he’d already gained about twenty pounds of pure muscle), he was nowhere near feeling big enough. He still felt tiny, despite having outgrown all of his clothes that were now plastered against his growing frame.

“Just pay attention to the pocket watch,” Blue ordered, swinging it to and fro.

Again, it didn’t take long before Wolfe was lost in a trance, his jaw slacked as the growing muscle stud was put under.

“Wolfe,” Blue smiled, “you’re making some nice progress, but we can speed things up a bit. You’re now going to feel an urge to take steroids so that you can get as inhumanly big as possible.”

“I will take steroids,” Wolfe repeated, his voice robotic and slow.

“And once you’re all big and bulky like a bodybuilder, you’ll come move in here to be our good guard dog.”

“I will be a big guard dog…”

— — —

Over the next few months, Wolfe practically lived in the gym. He still focused on his streaming career, and even won Worlds. However, now that that was out of the way, the growing hunk was able to devote all of his time to working out and growing his muscles.

At his gym, he’d managed to make some connections to get a hold of some fast-acting steroids that were guaranteed to bring about drastic results. At first, Wolfe noticed the side effects more than anything. His body hair grew in thicker with all of the extra testosterone in his system, leading to his chest hair growing in at a faster rate and covering up all of his budding muscles. And his libido was in hyperdrive. The streamer was constantly horny, and after each workout session, he had to excuse himself to the locker room to take care of his throbbing member.

Whereas Wolfe had started out his hypnotherapy sessions weighing in a regular 180 pounds, the stud was now topping the scales at 320 pounds of pure, solid muscle. His arms had packed on so much size that he had trouble bending them past a ninety degree angle, and whenever they were relaxed, they rested atop his new flaring lats. His pecs had inflated to large proportions, looking cumbersome and heavy as they jutted off his torso. The hairy mounds were so large that they forced his nipples to point downward; and his large pecs and arms kept pushing against each other whenever he tried to told a game controller for his streams which led to a lot of his videos showing him struggling to get comfortable in his tiny chair with such a large bulky body. His legs were so large now that the streamer waddled everywhere he went, his massive thighs rolling over each other with each step. Thanks to his steroid usage, his stomach pushed out slightly, giving him the beginnings of what would eventually turn into a large, round roidgut.

Wolfe was huge! His large hairy muscles were professional bodybuilder size, and the stud still wanted to get bigger. He had trouble finding clothes that would fit over his enormous bulk, resulting in his wardrobe consisting of numerous tanks and loose shorts. Still, at their largest size, his shorts appeared shrink wrapped around his big quads, and his pecs constantly spilled out over the tops of his tanks.

It was dressed like this that Wolfe made his way back to Blue’s place for what was supposed to be their final session. Although Wolfe felt as if his anxiety was under control, he still felt compelled to venture back to the hypnotherapist’s office.

When he entered, he felt an odd surge of pride when he saw how wide Blue’s eyes got when looking at his muscles.

“Wow, Wolfey,” Blue genuinely mused. “You’re huge!”

Wolfe felt his face stretch out into a joyful smile at being called huge, and he couldn’t resist forming a double biceps pose on the spot. His mountainous biceps flexed with power, and since he’d come straight to the doctor’s after his workout, his hairy pits were all sweaty and musky, filling the small office with a locker room aroma.

Blue ran an admiring hand over one of Wolfe’s large muscletits, giving the round muscle a playful squeeze. “You must’ve been working out a lot,” he teased. “Such a big, strong guy you are!”

Wolfe couldn’t help but preen at the compliments he was getting. For some strange reason, they seemed to bring about a joyous sensation deep within him, and he felt himself growing more and more excited by the second. His hard cock started to tent out his workout shorts, and he moved to another pose. This time, forming a side chest pose to illustrate just how much work he’d put into building up his massive body.

“Is that him?” Wolfe heard a deep voice with a country accent ask.

Still posing, he looked over to the stairs to see two men descend. One was wearing cowboy hat while the other had grown out what looked like a porn stache. Both were hairy and left their impressive (yet way smaller than his) chests on full display.

Instead of being self-conscious at being caught showing off his muscles for another guy, Wolfe loved having more guys look at him. The streamer leaned forward to form a most muscular pose, loving every second that the three guys were gawking at his humongous muscles.

“Yep,” Blue said, clapping Wolfe on the back. “This is Wolfey, our new guard dog. With muscles as big as his, no one will dare to steal our packages anymore. Watch…”

The hypnotherapist pressed a button on his phone, making the doorbell ring.

Something inside of Wolfe clicked and the large bodybuilder streamer felt a fierce protectiveness grow inside of himself. Looking at Blue, Nick, and Kevin, Wolfe started to view the men in a different light. Suddenly, instead of strangers, the three of them were the most handsome men in the world to Wolfe, and he could feel an almost animalistic instinct form in the pit of his gut.

At the thought of someone being at the door, Wolfe dropped onto all fours with a loud thud. The large bodybuilder crawled over the door, his massive muscular arms slamming onto the floor intimidatingly as he moved. He felt himself bare his teeth, letting out a low, bellowing growl.

“Grrr…” Wolfey growled as he protected his new home like a guard dog. He puffed out his hairy, muscular chest with power. Had someone really been at the door, then no doubt, they would’ve been scared away by the sight of the growling bodybuilder.

Blue smirked and walked up to Wolfey. He fastened a leather collar with spikes adorning it around his neck. Attached to it was a metallic tag in the shape of a dog bone that read out: WOLFEY.

Wolfey flinched at the feeling and for a moment, something inside of his foggy brain screamed at him that something was wrong. It said that he shouldn’t be on the floor of the hypnotherapist’s office, and that he shouldn’t be this big. However, as he looked up into Blue’s eyes, he felt the panic quickly evaporate and he flexed his large muscles with pride.

“Who’s my good boy?” Blue teasingly asked, patting Wolfey on the head.

The bodybuilder streamer straightened his posture and flexed his large arms again. “Me,” he beamed widely. “I’m a good boy!”

Over the next few days, Wolfey blended into the new dynamic at Blue’s household seamlessly. In the morning, he would wake up and stream some Pokémon, showing off his massive muscles for his viewers and flexing whenever they tipped him. Then he’d start to work out in the home gym, grunting loudly as he lifted heavy weights like they were nothing. He also proved to be quite the guard dog too, fiercely protecting his new house and its inhabitants. There were no more porch pirate incidents, especially after Wolfey came bounding out the front door, barking and displaying his massive muscles to scare the would-be robber away.

The massive bodybuilder guard dog loved his new life with Blue, Kevin, and Nick. He was such a good boy.

My only safe space turned into a prison;

the cage which I previously crawled in to hide, now won't let me out.

They shove glass shards, from both sides, right into my head;

from the blood pouring out they tie another thread.

And I'm waking up scared, crying in my bed,

my mind swirling a thought "It'd be better if I'm dead."

But that is not me.. That's what I was fed;

the infection, fascination, that dependent dread...

Voices so familiar, they sounded so sad.

"We're here, just come," with opened arms they said,

"we belong together... Do not be misled!"

I did not know it was a threat,

did not see their stare turn mad.

They hugged me, wrapped me, not at all that bad.

"You'll never be alone again, we can promise since we care,

unlike those you need to do so, their attention is so rare."

They took me in, they cradeled me, calmed me, saying "Life ain't fair."

And I comforted, lived with them, breathing without air,

walking 'round that place, where all the doors they mark "Beware".

Yet all slightly ajar, letting demons out' their lair.

They saved me, helped me, gave so much, that I feel guilty when I dare

to think of, or to look at the world that is out there.

Emily Yvonne