Male Muscle Transformations

Oliver had been even quieter than usual for the past ten minutes. Which wasn’t unusual per se, but this silence felt different than usual. He looked between his friends. 

Noah looked like a Barbarian king with how he sat draped across his chair like it was a throne. Ethan lounged against him, basically hanging off of the ginger hunk’s bulging muscles, his hand sometimes even finding its way towards the overwhelmingly large outline of his cock. And Marcus? Marcus resembled a seven-foot holy knight straight out of a stained-glass artwork.

Oliver adjusted the sleeves of his oversized sweater nervously.

“You guys seriously don’t think tonight feels… weird?”

Three pairs of eyes turned toward him.

Noah blinked slowly.

“Weird how?”

Oliver opened his mouth.

Paused.

Because the problem was impossible to explain.

According to every memory in his head, Noah had always been enormous. Ethan had always looked like an elven thirst trap. Marcus had always been built like a cathedral guardian with the personality of an overfriendly saint.

And yet, some small part of Oliver’s brain insisted that the room hadn’t looked like this before. That Noah hadn’t always accidentally crushed door handles and chuckled dumbly about it. That Ethan hadn’t always spent so much time caressing the Barbarian’s muscle chest while talking. That Marcus hadn’t always looked like he could just throw someone over his shoulder and carry them through a battlefield.

Adrian watched from behind his DM screen. Every time he wove magic, the last person to transform would always notice something subconsciously. There was always some resistance to incomplete narratives.

“Probably just sensory overload.”, Marcus offered as a solution. 

“Yeah, the musk from those two must have you feeling light-headed again.”, Ethan added, one of his delicate hands tracing circles around Noah’s nipple. Noah just nodded, his hand slipping towards Ethan’s ass, his fuckbuddy leaning closer towards him immediately.

Oliver frowned. Sure, the two of them were always incredibly flirtatious with one another, but tonight felt even worse than usual.

Adrian just smiled. “You turn, Ollie.”

Oliver flinched, hating it when people called him that.

“I’m gonna play a Bard.” 

Adrian just smiled, definitely agreeing that a charming Bard would round out their group nicely. “Okay, then roll for Strength first.”

Oliver nodded and rolled the die.

12

There was no dramatic change like what happened to the other three. Some muscle was added to his frame, but in contrast with the muscular powerhouses that were Noah and Marcus, his body stayed leaner and more toned. 

Oliver relaxed in his seat. The sense of tenseness that had been hanging around him finally eased, now that the magic was directly affecting him. He didn’t mind people looking at his body all that much, not feeling the need to hide it away any longer. Not that he thought he ever had.

“Dexterity.”, Adrian said, nodding at his friend’s body language.

16

The transformation flowed through Oliver beautifully, reshaping his body with artistic precision.

His waist tightened slightly, while his muscles leaned out with athletic definition. He still didn’t have the bulky size of his two friends, but he also wasn’t as small and lithe as Ethan. His body somehow found the perfect balance between looking invitingly soft and masculine.

Oliver had become a twunk, a picture book definition of one even. His legs had lengthened slightly, his height now sitting a comfortable 6’1. Not so tall that it was intimidating, but tall enough to show he wasn’t a pushover. His movements now carried a certain fluidity, grace and sense of control with them, just enough to subtly draw the eye of anyone watching.

Noah leaned a little closer to inspect him, in a way that made Ethan look slightly jealous.

“Are you seriously checking out Ollie’s ass again when I’m right next to you?”, the twinky elf complained, Noah leaning back and shrugging his shoulders apologetically in response.

Oliver didn’t recoil at the nickname quite as much this time. And Noah did have a point in checking out his butt. While not quite as large or bouncy as Ethan’s bubble butt, his own ass was pert, perfectly harmonizing with his graceful movements. It was the kind of ass that looked both breedable and like it could throw some serious force behind a pounding.

Adrian looked amused at the situation, already liking the new group dynamic before the changes even fully finalized.

“Constitution.”, he said softly and watched the die bounce on the hardwood.

18

The change hit him like a freight train. Oliver always had had an unimpressive dick, but that was a thing of the past now.

While the transformation also made him look like he was brimming with vitality, his skin seeming warmer and less pale, his posture looser and his body language more confident and downright tempting, the real change was happening between his lean legs.

He didn’t quite have the size of Noah and Marcus, having rolled slightly lower, but there was no denying that the monstercock growing on the Bard was one of the biggest around, only half an inch shorter than Marcus’ and slightly thinner than Noah’s. Undeniably huge, but somehow seeming more manageable next to the two of them.

And not only that. The transformation had also given him an infamous libido. While Marcus fucked anyone who asked and Noah mostly stuck to plowing Ethan’s experienced ass, Oliver had become something of the man whore of the group. While still being pretty shy overall, his perfect build and incredible cock and ass never failed to secure the versatile lover a date for the night.

Adrian just smiled behind his screen. He hadn’t planned for this, but definitely welcomed his friend coming out of his shell to secure some experience. Especially with his character sheet only half finished. “Intelligence.”

Oliver grabbed the die quickly, eager to get his friends to stop staring at his now obvious bulge, even though his 10 incher was the second smallest of the player group.

14

The transformation settled behind the Bard’s eyes instantly.

He wasn’t hyper-intellectual like a wizard would be. Or strategically brilliant like Marcus. But he became a quick thinker, incredibly articulate. And definitely more creative. His room back home changed, several half finished songs and poems appearing. His quick wit also gave him sharper humour.

And he almost instinctively got better at reading people. Understanding emotional nuance felt easier now. Like he always knew at a glance what people needed. How to handle a conversation better. With his new intelligence and humour, the Bard became almost socially magnetic, despite his unchanged charisma.

Something that became very obvious when Noah, who had been rather focussed on Ethan before, started looking at Oliver more, causing the shy Bard to blush and get flustered, the attention of the overwhelmingly manly Barbarian still a bit much for him.

But that’s what the last two stats would be there for.

“Wisdom.”, Adrian prompted from behind his DM screen, watching as his changing friend rolled the die.

13

The change was subtle.

Unlike Noah or Marcus, Oliver’s sense of self remained strong. His emotional awareness sharpened further rather than collapsing. He became more perceptive of moods, tension, attraction, discomfort.

More emotionally intelligent.

And significantly more aware of what effect he had on others.

Oliver looked around the table slowly. At Ethan practically sprawled across Noah. At Noah’s huge hand still resting possessively against Ethan’s thigh. At Marcus unconsciously smiling whenever anyone else looked happy. Then at Adrian calmly observing all of them.

Oliver tilted his head slightly. “…You know,” he murmured, “the vibe at this table has gotten extremely charged.”

Ethan immediately lost it laughing. Noah grinned. Marcus looked confused for about two seconds before understanding abruptly dawned on him.

“Oh.”

His ears turned red.

Oliver smirked as reality settled around them. He had always been great at reading the vibe of a room. And right now the tension in the air was basically palpable.

And now only the decisive stat of his class remained. “Charisma!”, Adrian announced sharply, with unusual drama in his voice, the magic user urging his already gorgeous friend on to finalise the changes made to the group.

In a fittingly long slow circle the die spun across the table before settling.

20

“Critical success!”, Oliver cheered as the atmosphere in the room changed.

The world seemed to hold its breath as Ollie’s face became as gorgeous as his body, ass and cock. High cheekbones, strong but graceful brows, a strong but pretty nose, thick kissable lips. He didn’t have the ethereal look of Ethan the Elf or the overpowering rugged masculinity of Noah. He somehow sat in the perfect middle spot. Like someone had looked up masculine beauty and decided to crank the definition up to 11. 

And it wasn’t just his face that changed. Everything about him seemed flirtatious and welcoming. His sparkling white smile, that was more than the smile of every boy next door from every teen rom-com. His voice that became rich and musical at the same time, masculine and melodious without sounding artificial. Even the eye-contact with his expressive brown eyes now oozed with warmth and playful awareness, a single glance enough to make people feel desired, seen and interesting.

His every gesture became charged with intentionality. Not in a teasingly flirtatious way like Ethan, but rather in a way that felt awfully magnetic and almost impossible to resist. His every laugh made people feel like their best self.

And the memories of Ollie and his friends reflected that. Ollie was the undisputed heartthrob on campus, even the straightest of jocks falling for him constantly. It was just impossible not to. 

The Bard would constantly disappear from parties with strangers, take guys and gals home whenever he went to a bar and leave only well deserved legends and rumours behind. He wasn’t a fuck machine like Noah or a power bottom like Ethan. He was like the Kamasutra had decided to become human and evolve new tricks.

The mix of his absurd Constitution and perfect Charisma had fused in the best way possible. Ollie always gave people exactly what they needed, even if they didn’t know it themselves. Helping a girl get over her toxic ex-boyfriend with the most enthusiastic romantic fuck of her life? Helping a homophobic jock come out of the closet by giving him the best ass he’d ever have? Or helping a shy nerd come out of his shell by feeling desired and popping his cherry in the most loving way? All of those were now stories that were absolutely true about the extraordinarily skilled, endlessly versatile lover that was Ollie. 

And the best part about it was that the Bard didn’t leave a trail of broken hearts. People genuinely liked him and treated him more like a treasure that they wouldn’t dare to keep for themselves, genuinely happy with the experience they had with the urban legend sex magician.

And while everyone else found themselves lost in those memories, Marcus found himself trying and failing not to stare. His own terrible Wisdom role had left him absolutely vulnerable to Ollie’s incredible Charisma. Something the Bard was very much aware of.

Not in a predatory way. Marcus was the one person that Ollie allowed himself to tease … a lot. And since the paladin found himself agreeing to basically anything if asked nicely enough, the two of them had had their fair share of nights together in the past, something even the group’s gigolo found himself enjoying endlessly.

Oliver winked at the blushing paladin and smiled. Maybe tonight would be another one of those nights where he’d end up with Marcus. But who could really tell.

—-------------------------------

Epilogue

Adrian quietly sat back behind the DM screen, watching the final party dynamic settle perfectly into place.

The barbarian and elf draped across each other openly now.

The gigantic gullible paladin blushing whenever the bard smiled at him.

And the bard himself sitting confidently at the center of the emotional gravity well he’d become.

Four completed archetypes. Four very changed men. Four people still passionate about Dungeons and Dragons, now more than ever since they had somehow ended up incidentally creating characters that were basically themselves.

One rewritten reality.

And only Adrian remembered how ordinary they had all been a few hours ago. How unhappy they had been with their lives. 

Noah, who had been relentlessly bullied by the football team just this morning had become bigger than all of them. No more getting shoved into lockers when your shoulders are wider than three of those combined.

The often turned down Ethan finding himself next to someone who actually liked his flirting, revelling in the feeling of being the target of it even. And surely people wouldn’t dare mess with the enormous Barbarian’s quasi-boyfriend.

Marcus, who had been plagued by complexes for the majority of his life, would never hear a word of complaint about his incredible body any more. And maybe people would finally respect his hulking mass and brilliant mind now.

And the shy and easily hurt Oliver? He was now way too busy showing people the absolute heights of sexual delight to care whether people talked shit about his art online. The praise he got for it after showing it off to one of his lovers being the most important feedback he could ask for.

Marcus watched Ethan and Noah bicker across the table with growing disbelief. Somehow the atmosphere between the two, which had always been oddly complicated and loaded with tension, had become aggressively flirtatious ever since they started the character creation half an hour ago.

The barbarian lounged back in his chair, massive arms folded across his titanic chest while Ethan leaned against the table beside him, one hip cocked casually, presenting his butt. Their personalities fit together disturbingly well somehow.

“You keep touching my arms.”, Noah rumbled.

“Because they’re like battleship cannons.”

“They’re not…”

“You’re massive!”

Noah grinned at the compliment.

Marcus stared. Oliver stared. The situation wasn’t odd per se. Ethan always flirted with Noah constantly. And of course Noah liked the attention despite himself. But it somehow felt even more intense than usual today.

The only person who remembered otherwise sat calmly behind the DM screen, watching with calm fascination as Ethan absentmindedly rested a hand against Noah’s solid shoulder while reading over his own character sheet. The Barbarian didn’t react. No one but Adrian noticed  Noah slightly leaning into the touch. 

Finally having enough of watching Marcus rolled his eyes. “Okay … my turn..”

“What’re you playing?”, Oliver asked as Marcus nervously readjusted his glasses. 

“Paladin.”

Noah snorted approvingly. “Oh, hell yeah.”

Marcus grinned shyly at the Barbarian’s enthusiasm.

“Big holy knight aesthetic. Heavy armor. Big mace. The works.”

“Fits you weirdly well.”, Ethan admitted, still half draped against Noah’s chair.

Adrian nodded.

The enchanted parchment shimmered, having already instantly accepted the Paladin archetype. Marcus picked up the dice and Adrian nodded at him to roll. “Strength first.”

The die rolled across the wood.

17

“Ha, still stronger than you!”, Noah barked, ignorant of the transformation hitting his black friend.

Marcus groaned slightly as his body surged upwards in the chair, his old heaviness vanishing almost instantly under slabs of dense, heroic muscle. His already wide shoulders becoming even wider, working together with his broadening chest to stretch out his shirt. His poor shirt almost lost the race to adapt, trying to fit the enormous torso that was quickly accentuated by the thick muscle filling out his arms and thighs. His shorts almost exploded off of the new tree trunk legs before adjusting.

Unlike Noah’s enormous rugged Barbarian size, Marcus transformed into something cleaner, something knightly. Not much smaller than the massive ginger mountain of a man that Ethan seemed hellbent on climbing, but somehow having a more heroic feel to it. He wasn’t even much shorter than the towering Barbarian, maybe only an inch or so in difference in height, which only made him look broader.

And as always Ethan the greedy twink looked between the two like he’d won the lottery. Sure he was mainly preoccupied with the rugged Barbarian Noah, but another piece of major eye candy certainly didn’t hurt.

Adrian smiled, loving the direction his magic was taking the party. “Next roll. Dexterity.”

Marcus nodded and rolled again.

The die stopped.

10

This time the transformation didn’t really have an imposing effect. 

Definitely nothing like the Strength roll. Instead Marcus’ movements refined slightly. While almost as huge as Noah, the Paladin’s imposing frame now moved with controlled precision and grace, contrasting the Barbarian’s heavier groundedness nicely. Sure he wasn’t a graceful dancer like Ethan, but he carried himself with disciplined athletic coordination nonetheless.

Like someone who trained for swordsmanship. Or a mace fight for that matter. His posture looked balanced, stable. Confident even, which was especially surprising seeing how he still had his old slightly awkward personality.

Another indicator of that being that his nervous habit of adjusting his glasses still hadn’t changed. Though now he did it with paw like massive hands while Noah laughed at him for having the posture of a huge boy scout.

“Oh shut up, doofus. That just about makes him the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”, Ethan countered playfully punching Noah’s dense shoulder that the elven twink was leaning against. And while he barely felt the punch, the statement made Noah frown.

“Rude.”

“You’re still winning overall.”, Ethan calmed him, rubbing the swollen biceps to calm the beast.

“Good.”, the Barbarian said, looking genuinely pleased. Though that might have been because of the fond, rewarding, almost practiced looking smile Ethan threw him with the compliment.

The physical contact between them kept escalating too. Small things. Casual things. Ethan’s hand on Noah’s forearm while laughing. Noah resting a huge arm across the back of Ethan’s chair. Their knees bumping under the table and staying there.

Neither seemed remotely self-conscious about it anymore. Reality had already rewritten their chemistry into something longstanding and familiar.

Marcus watched them with amusement, “They’re gonna be making out by session three.”

“We’re sitting right here,” Noah pointed out.

Ethan tilted his head.

“Would that bother you?”

Noah opened his mouth.

Paused.

Thought very hard for someone with an Intelligence of five.

“…Not really.”

A statement that made Ethan look very pleased, like a child that had just been promised dessert. Meanwhile Oliver couldn’t help but laugh.

The grimoire pulsed warmly against Adrian’s thigh below the table, prompting him to urge for the next change. “Constitution.”

Marcus rolled and the die settled almost immediately.

19

And just like what had happened to Noah before, the transformation surged through him hard.

His already massive frame thickened further, becoming even denser with powerful muscle, making him look more like a superhuman fantasy hero than an ordinary hunk.

He just radiated vitality now. Not quite the dense enormity of the Barbarian, but rather a beacon of power and life, just a picture perfect valiant Paladin.

One part of him was especially radiating life, a part of him that now threatened to burst through the slowly adapting crotch of his shorts as it was ballooning with size.

Marcus shifted in his seat uncomfortably as his mind quickly acknowledged and accepted the sensation of now being hung like a horse. While Noah and Marcus had both nailed the same insane roll, there were noticeable differences. Like Marcus’ cock being longer and Noah’s being fatter. Or the Paladin being circumcised, unlike the Barbarian. Though the Paladin did end up with generally larger loads by comparison. Just the energy of life running through him helping a lot with that.

“With rolls like that, you guys are gonna make me feel left behind.”, Ethan complained, looking between the two towering hunks, pouting, “This little elf doesn’t have your stamina.”

“At least you’re pretty.”, Noah offered, “And tiny.”

“You like that I’m tiny.”

The Barbarian’s ears reddened slightly again.

Marcus stared between them.

“…You two flirt like people who already share an apartment.”

“With how often I spent the night at his place, we basically do.”, Ethan chuckled, resting a hand on the blushing Noah’s obvious cock bulge through the sweatpants.

“Intelligence.”, Adrian interrupted the bickering, nodding at Marcus to continue.

16

Marcus straightened. Not really physically, but mentally. 

Behind the glasses sitting on his square jawed, masculine face his eyes sharpened, his thought processes becoming faster and more efficient. A lot more things suddenly made sense to him, connections, patterns and concepts coming easier to him.

Reality adjusted around them all, making that a statement that had always been true. While Noah had been the lovable idiot, Marcus was the brilliant brain of the group, though still lovable. His mind was simply so strategic and educated. So much so that he wasn’t teaching beginner’s computer classes in this version of reality. But rather highly advanced courses for seniors. And effortlessly too.

Adrian watched Marcus with a lot of interest. He was becoming downright dangerously perfect. With his towering body, handsome face, sharp intellect, enormous cock and calm but commanding voice he was basically shaping up to become the leader of the group. But the DM just grinned, knowing that a third of the stats hadn’t been rolled yet and things could still go awry.

With a smile and a throw at the elf-Barbarian pairing, which now included Ethan having basically abandoned his seat to sit on Noah’s lap, Adrian prompted the next roll. 

“Wisdom.”

Before rolling, one could almost see Marcus running some quick calculations on his odds. 

3

Marcus’ eyes went wide at the disastrously low roll.

But the transformation hit almost immediately after that and the look of shock morphed into a smile.

Not a thoughtful one.

Not a careful one.

Not a dumb one.

A trusting one. An open one.

His posture relaxed dramatically as tension he didn’t even realize he carried simply… vanished. The strategic sharpness remained intact—his Intelligence stayed exactly where it was—but his skepticism disappeared almost completely. His eyes softened. His need to question things evaporated.

He by no means became dumb. But he lacked caution now. The entire table could suddenly recall story after story of Marcus getting into trouble simply because he was too trusting of people. Especially people he knew and liked. Like if Ethan told him there was a buried treasure outside, Marcus would grab a shovel and start digging. He wasn’t an idiot himbo like Noah. Just really gullible, despite all his intelligence.

Adrian smiled behind the screen, finding the newly crystallized character flaw fitting beautifully with the archetype of the devoted Paladin. It also fit in beautifully with the increasingly touchy pair on the other side of the table.

“Last roll.”, the DM said, “Charisma.”

Marcus nodded obediently.

13

Unlike Ethan who could tell people the sky was red and they’d believe him simply because of his personality being so magnetic, or Noah, who always seemed to be the heart of a party, Marcus’ transformation wasn’t quite as severe.

His charisma manifested as presence. Authority. Warmth. The air around him suddenly saturated with trustworthiness, inspiration and an overwhelming feeling of kindness and safety. He’s become the kind of guy who people wanted to confess to. The kind of guy people wanted to trust.

His face changed too. It lacked the raw ruggedness of the Barbarian, but had a softer look, one that showed he smiled a lot, despite his lantern jaw. His eyes darkened slightly to the colour of hot cocoa, making him permanently look like a very playful golden retriever with how disastrously low his Wisdom throw had been.

“At least that one’s decent.”, Marcus chuckled, the sound relaxing the group, his aura of warmth grounding the intensity of his Barbarian friend.

Adrian watched the character solidify. A gigantic holy knight with immense strength and stamina, sharp intelligence, almost nonexistent skepticism, and overwhelming inspirational charm. Beautiful in a noble, masculine way rather than Noah’s rugged dominance or Ethan’s elegant seductiveness.

“Guess we’re gonna go with an emotional support tank.”, Ethan grinned, knowing full well that that was how their group dynamic had always worked. Though it was fun seeing their real-life dynamic transition into the game and making Marcus a “big lawful puppy” as Noah so eloquently put it.

Adrian’s eyes drifted towards the last player left as the grimoire pulsed warmly beneath the table.

Ethan pointed at Noah next to him.

“Not fair. That doofus managed to roll himself!”, he accused, taking his own dice.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.”, the Barbarian answered, flexing his massive biceps and chuckling.

“I am jealous!”

“You should be.”

The fact that the line somehow sounded smooth instead of unbearably cringe made Ethan groan loudly into his hands. He had always been envious of Noah’s effortless charisma, his own attitude not even managing to be half as likable as Noah’s.

Adrian was still surprised by how well the spell had worked out. Noah had become enormous.

Not just muscular—overwhelmingly masculine. Thick forearms. Huge chest. Powerful thighs spread confidently beneath the table, framing an unbelievably huge cock. Every movement radiated relaxed physical dominance. Even sitting still, Noah seemed to occupy twice as much space as everyone else

And somehow the ginger giant barely seemed aware of it.

“Alright. I’m next.”, Ethan proclaimed, “If Noah is playing the sexiest Barbarian alive, I’m absolutely not staying human.”

“What are you playing?”, the DM asked.

“Elven ranger.”

“Tiny elf twink.”, Noah chuckled loudly.

Everyone laughed at the joke, just Adrian’s eyes flickering faintly. “Roll in order then.”

Strength was first and with a dramatic gesture Ethan rolled the die.

6

The transformation began immediately. The Asian nerd’s already slender frame started narrowing even further. His shoulders lost breadth, his waist tightening dramatically. Any lingering bulk he might have had simply folding into his frame, leaving him lean and compact instead of weak looking.

His limbs lengthened subtly, elegant and graceful. Even his hair lightened subtly, his features losing some of their Asian heritage as he shifted more towards the aesthetic of a blonde elf.

The contrast between Noah and Ethan was astonishing. While Noah now resembled a Barbarian warlord, the man sitting next to him looked small enough to effortlessly get thrown over one of Noah’s massive shoulders.

Without even needing to be told, Ethan rolled the dice again to determine his Dexterity, his jealousy of Noah’s enormous size fueling his ambition.

17

The effect hit instantly. Ethan’s body refined itself with almost artistic precision, every moment suddenly becoming fluid, catlike and purposeful. His body became even tighter, filling out again slightly with lean athletic definition forming across his slim frame. It wasn’t bulky muscle, but the perfect, proportioned build of a dancer … or a ranger for that matter.

His lower body didn’t miss out on the change, his hips becoming ever so slightly wider, making way for his ass. Ethan twisted in his seat to see why his chair suddenly felt extra cushioned, finding the answer with one look.

The Dexterity roll had given him an absurdly round and firm bubble butt beneath his jeans, almost mythologically perfect. Noah had predicted it earlier, but the rolls were now making Ethan into the poster boy of the Elven twink community. Without the other players really noticing of course.

Noah stared openly now. “Damn.”, he said in his foghorn like voice, readjusting his enormous horsecock through his grey sweatpants..

“Fuck yeah, great roll on Dex.”, Ethan exclaimed, squirming his big breedable butt cheeks into the seat.

Every one of his movements was smooth. Graceful. And teasing the horsehung Barbarian Bull next to him without fully meaning to, Noah’s beautiful green eyes following his every move.

Adrain noticed thiis immediately, finding it incredibly interesting that apparently the magic had decided to connect the Barbarian and the elf archetypes.

“Constitution next, Captain Bubblebutt.”, Adrian chuckled, Ethan picking up the dice again.

7

The change was smaller physically this time. Ethan’s lean body lost some resilience. The athletic sharpness remained, but he now looked more delicate overall—less durable, easier to exhaust physically.

And beneath the table the change didn’t stop, Ethan abruptly freezing. Like Noah before, he noticed something settling, despite reality adapting seamlessly. Noah noticed first.

“What?”

“Nothing…”

“Is it your tiny elf dick again?”, Noah teased, grabbing his own swollen tube of manmeat, “Don’t worry, little guy, I got enough cock for both of us.”

“Shut up.”

The words came automatically, but Ethan’s expression betrayed something else entirely. Because despite the embarrassment, his gaze kept drifting back toward the barbarian. Toward Noah’s huge thighs.

Toward the visible outline beneath the sweatpants.

The attraction hadn’t fully manifested yet, but the groundwork was there.

Adrian smiled faintly.

The elf was bonding to his chosen archetype perfectly, despite Ethan trying very hard to act unaffected.

It lasted maybe thirty seconds.

“Okay,” he said, crossing one long leg over the other while very deliberately not looking at Noah, “next stat.”

Noah smirked knowingly from across the table. The barbarian transformation had left him with surprisingly strong instincts despite his diminished intellect, and one thing was becoming increasingly obvious:

The elf liked what he saw.

“Intelligence.”, Adrian said, watching the die bounce as Ethan rolled.

12

Unlike his physical transformations, this one settled more gently.

He didn’t become mentally simple like Noah, Ethan just finding his mind slightly nudged. He remained clever, quick-witted and sharp-tongued. But his intelligence changed flavour. becoming less academically obsessive and more emotionally and socially intuitive, nicely aligning with his elven twink persona.

He became acutely aware of how his flirtatious and teasing remarks affected people, especially the gigantic simple-minded Barbarian Bull that was Noah. Who had been staring at the newly created twink (who Ethan had always been in this version of reality) as if seeing him for the first time.

Adrian just leaned back in his chair with renewed interest in the pair. 

While Ethan understood what he was doing perfectly well, Noah’s simple mind understood it on a far more instinctual level. A very dangerous combination really.

“Wisdom.”, the DM prompted. Ethan didn’t Ethan watch the die settle, winking at Noah.

10

There was barely any transformation this time. The stat didn’t change Ethan. It stabilised him.

Unlike Noah, Ethan retained his independence and self-awareness. He could still judge situations normally, still make decisions freely, still understand consequences.

Which made what happened next significantly more embarrassing for him.

Because now there was no stat-based excuse. The attraction was simply genuine. 

Ethan looked toward Noah again.

Toward the barbarian’s enormous shoulders and relaxed dominance. Toward the heavy musculature stretching his tank top. Toward the rough copper stubble framing an unfairly handsome face.

And then, inevitably—

Toward the visible bulge beneath the sweatpants.

Ethan swallowed.

Marcus immediately noticed.

“Oh my God,” he said.

Ethan snapped toward him.

“Don’t.”

“You’re down catastrophic.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

Noah barked out another deep laugh. This had become a regular point of teasing over the last couple campaigns. 

The sound alone made Ethan visibly flush.

Adrian watched the magical narrative threads tighten further.

“Last roll.”, he said with amusement, “Charisma.”

19

“Awesome!”, Ethan said as his already pretty features refined into something ethereal, almost unreal. 

The last traces of his Asian heritage were swallowed by the elven side with renewed vigor. His skin cleared, glowing flawlessly. His lips softened. His eyes became brighter, more expressive, turning blue as his hair took on a stylish cut, lightening to honey gold, that perfectly accentuated his sun kissed tan. 

Every one of his glances carried intent. Every smile landed perfectly. His voice became smooth and warm like velvet.

And somehow the twinky elven aesthetic crystallized completely around him without becoming cartoonish. He now looked like the physical embodiment of every fantasy archer prince stereotype brought to life: slim waist, elegant limbs, graceful posture, pretty-but-still-masculine beauty. 

And a spectacular bubble butt that Noah was now very obviously staring at, his anaconda of a cock stirring under the table.

The changes to reality solidified and an unresolved, unspoken chemistry settled between the towering mountain of a man and the flirtatious twink.

Ethan leaned lazily against the table looking over to Noah. “So, big guy. You gonna keep staring?”

Noah’s ears burned under the football cap. “Maybe…”, he rumbled with his impossibly manly voice.

The table exploded at his awkward reply, even his immense charisma utterly outclassed by one tiny elf with a breedable bubble butt.

Except Adrian.

Adrian merely watched the rewritten world settle around his completed elf and his barbarian.

The party dynamic was already beginning to form itself naturally.

The entire table gulped audibly as Adrian handed them the character sheets. Even though they didn’t know about the magic, something about the sheets felt weird to them. However that feeling was quick to pass as the excitement of creating new characters took over.

Noah went first, basically vibrating as he grabbed the dice.

“Okay,” he said, grinning nervously. “I’m doing it. Full commitment. Human barbarian.”

Ethan burst out laughing immediately.

“You? A barbarian?”

“I can play against type!”

“You look like you lose fights against folding chairs.”

Noah flipped him off, but blushed slightly, looking at Adrian for the okay to start the character creation.

“Roll in order.”, Adrian nodded softly, “Strength first.”

The D20 clattered against the old wooden table, everyone’s eyes drawn to the shiny piece of plastic.

18

For a second nothing happened. And suddenly Noah inhaled sharply as he sat upright   in his chair, his posture suddenly remarkably straight.

Underneath his hoodie his shoulders shot out to the sides as meat piled onto his frame, the fabric just barely adjusting in time to not get completely shredded under the pressure of the frail nerd’s inflation. His forearms thickened, his biceps bringing the sleeves devastatingly close to breaking point, veins pushing out against his skin. His hands flexing as they grew to the size of dinner plates, powerful and manly. Then his chest expanded, pulling the fabric already struggling with his cannonball arms tightly against his enormous pecs.

The chair creaked.

“Oh my God,” Oliver whispered.

Noah lurched upward as another inch—then another—was added to his height. His knees pressed awkwardly against the underside of the table before the transformation settled. Not monstrous. Not absurd. Just overwhelmingly athletic. Broad. Powerful.

Like a heavyweight fighter hidden beneath a nerd’s clothing.

And then reality adjusted.

The others blinked.

New memories appeared, the image of tiny Noah disappearing like ice under the midday sun, the awkward ginger runt replaced with the overwhelmingly manly mountain of muscle who acted like a tiny nerd. Only Adrian retained his old memories, smiling faintly at the awkward way the towering Barbarian warrior sat there, squeezing his enormous bulk at the table and still trying and failing to take up less space than his intensely huge frame demanded.

Noah himself looked oddly surprised by his new size, carefully balling and relaxing his fists a couple of times, almost seeming unsettled by the size of his own muscles. Only the sound of Adrian’s smooth voice ripped the Barbarian-sized nerd out of his stupor.

“Dexterity.”

Noah nodded and rolled again.

8

The change was subtler this time. 

His posture and movement looked less precise, less graceful. It really appeared like the low roll on Dexterity had grounded the mountain sized geek somewhat. His posture now seemed more confident and solid, heavier even, his behaviour now showing less nervous and anxious shifting. Like someone who relied on power over grace.

A water bottle slipped from his grasp a second later.

“Jesus, dude.”, Ethan laughed, “I still can’t get over the fact that a guy that’s built like a linebacker has finally dipped his toe into playing a Barbarian after all these years. Speaking of which, are you still hellbent on getting on the football team? Coach must be getting fed up with your clumsy ass constantly trying out.” 

Noah just blushed, his ears nearly as ginger as his hair, which he now hid under a cap of the local football team. With his clumsiness he didn’t make for the best player, but he’d tried enough times to like the sport.

Adrian watched from behind his DM screen as reality settled around Noah, curiously observing the mental changes that had begun around the edges. Noah was still Noah … just more.

“Constitution.”, Adrian prompted.

Noah rolled.

The die bounced once. Twice.

19

The effects hit like a freight train this time.

Noah gasped as his frame became denser. Not bigger per se, but more sharply defined, his chest swelling against the fabric and pulling it tight against his mid section, the outline of 6 brick sized abs clearly visible. Even his neck thickened, a prominent Adam's apple pushing into existence and lowering the Barbarian’s voice from a soft tenor to a booming bass.

Even a beard forced itself into existence against his more masculine lantern jaw. Not the teenage scruff he had been able to grow before, but a thick manly beard that looked utterly right on his rugged face.

Noah looked amazing. Not delicate. Not pretty-boy handsome. Dangerously handsome. Like some mythological northern warrior accidentally dropped into a college apartment.

“Hell yeah,”, the incredibly sexy lumberjack said, once again shocking his friends with the foghorn boom of his voice, “Nineteen Con.”

The other three players just nodded. Even sitting down, Noah dominated the room physically now. His shoulders stretched the seams of his hoodie so badly he eventually peeled it off entirely, revealing a black tank top straining across an absurdly broad chest and thick, powerful arms.

The Barbarian shifted in his seat, immediately drawing attention to another result of his roll.

“Dude, can’t you wear underwear for once to DnD? Your sweatpants look ridiculous!”, Ethan complained, trying very hard not to stare at the obvious outline of what was running down his left leg. Noah just blushed, trying to make his footlong soft cock somehow less noticeable through his grey sweatpants. And failing miserably.

Like the rest of him the thing sat heavy, thick and huge off the edge of the chair, even the outline of his bull balls being faintly visible through the fabric trying to cover his crotch.

“Talk about Barbarian Constitution.”, Marcus chuckled.

“Shut up,” Noah muttered.

But he sounded more embarrassed in theory than in practice. The growing confidence from his partially locked-in stats kept blunting his old insecurity before it could fully form.

Adrian quietly watched the magic settle again.

“Keep rolling.”, he said, “Intelligence is next.”

Noah, still feeling high from the absolutely monstrous roll on Constitution, enthusiastically threw the die.

5

The change was immediate.

Noah blinked.

Then blinked again.

The sharpness behind his eyes dulled and he relaxed in his seat. The constant anxious overprocessing vanished instantly as his racing thoughts slowed to a crawl. Adrian just grinned. A Barbarian wasn’t meant to be smart after all. He already had the overwhelming physicality, he didn’t need to think too much.

His posture spread wider in the chair.

Heavy.

Certain.

He looked at his friends with a relaxed and easy smile, confident despite his reduced intelligence.

“Dude, you’re literally playing yourself. Huge in body, but not the brightest bulb.”, Ethan chuckled at his simple friend. Noah just grinned in return and threw up his enormous cannonball biceps in a flex. Reality had settled seamlessly around the giant himbo.

Adrian cleared his throat and nodded towards the dice. “Let’s roll Wisdom next.”

Noah rolled.

6

The effect was subtler but somehow more unsettling.

Noah’s eyes softened immediately.

Not weaker physically—far from it—but more suggestible. More trusting. More willing to follow stronger personalities without questioning them deeply. Especially Adrian. Adrian noticed it at once. So did Ethan.

“Earth to Barbarian,” Ethan muttered. “You’re looking at Adrian weirdly again.”

Noah frowned faintly.

“Huh?”

“You keep waiting for him to talk before doing stuff.”

Noah opened his mouth.

Paused.

Then shrugged.

“Guess he’s the DM.”

Simple.

Logical.

Final.

The room laughed.

Only Adrian understood how profound the shift really was.

Noah’s independent critical resistance had just permanently collapsed. Not mindless obedience. Just reduced willpower. Reduced need to question. The barbarian archetype was crystallizing perfectly. While always physically in charge, he liked for others to take the lead, make suggestions and tell him what to do.

And there was still one stat left.

Charisma.

Adrian folded his hands together behind the DM screen and smiled faintly.

“Last roll.”

Noah rolled the die.

It spun across the wood.

Stopped.

15

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Noah smiled and the entire atmosphere of the room shifted instantly. Not magically glowing. Not supernatural mind control. Just… overwhelming presence.

His posture straightened subtly, massive shoulders rolling back with effortless confidence while his expression relaxed into an easy, rugged charm that looked absurdly natural on him. The lazy grin beneath his copper stubble suddenly carried weight behind it. Warmth. Magnetism.

His face redefined itself, becoming even more devastatingly handsome, manly, rugged. Like his entire look had been designed by someone who wanted to show what copious amounts of testosterone would do to a handsome man’s face.

And reality adapted around him. To the rest of the table Noah had always been overwhelmingly charismatic. He could say the most stupid shit and people would still laugh with him, his entire personality just becoming comfort food, easygoing and welcoming, while never losing the raw sex appeal that made people want to suck his cock or get impaled on his meat hammer within 5 minutes of meeting him.

“Guess I’m just charismatic.”, the massive ginger chuckled dumbly.

The line should have sounded ridiculous.

Instead, all three of them laughed immediately.

Even Adrian almost smiled for real.

The magic settled completely.

The transformation finalized.

Noah Tanner—the nervous valedictorian, comic-shop employee, chronic overthinker—was gone.

Or rather…

Reality now insisted he had never existed in that form at all.

Instead, Noah had always been this. A towering, massively muscular ginger barbarian of a man with movie-star ruggedness, absurd stamina, effortless charm, and the simple confidence of someone who had never spent much time doubting himself. A beautiful brute with long wavy copper hair, heavy stubble, broad hands, thick muscle-packed limbs, and a mind optimized less for critical analysis and more for instinct, confidence, and immediate physical certainty.

And according to everyone’s rewritten memories? He had always been the heart of the group. The guy strangers flirted with constantly. The one who won arguments through sheer presence instead of logic. The one who solved problems by kicking doors open.

Noah himself looked down at the completed character sheet and grinned proudly.

“Damn,” he rumbled. “This dude rules.”

“Our resident himbo literally plays himself.”, Ethan rolled his eyes. “Massive super stud football player, massive super stud barbarian. Tomato, tomato.”

“Still taller than you.”, Noah countered and the room burst out laughing.

And Adrian quietly watched the rewritten world stabilize around the completed barbarian.

One player down.

Three to go.

The grimoire beneath the table pulsed warmly against his knee.

I've been playing around with AI a bit and it actually gave me good inspiration to write a slightly longer story again. Or rather a multi-parter. A big thank you goes to @hughmichelsen for proof reading and giving great feedback!

----------------

Rain tapped softly against the windows of Adrian’s apartment while his five friends crowded against the battered oak table, that was half buried under dice trays, energy drinks, miniatures and enough takeout containers to qualify as biohazard.

It was Friday night and ever since their first semester there was one adamant rule. Friday night was reserved for Dungeons and Dragons.

Ever since their first session another adamant rule was that their talented Dungeon Master Adrian would host their little group of misfits. 

Tall, pale and thin as a scare-crow he may be, Adrian had the unsettlingly intense eye contact of someone who spent too many nights buried in half-forgotten ancient texts and rule books to give his players one hell of an experience with each session.

His black hair was combed back neatly, rectangular glasses sitting low on on his nose, barely concealing the heavy bags under his eyes, as he organised the papers with devoted, almost ritualistic precision and diligence. A running gag among the group was always that he looked less like a graduate student and more like a cult leader pretending to be one.

Unbeknownst to the players that sentiment wasn’t too far off from the truth.

“Okay.”, Adrian clapped his hands and smiled at his friends with that unsettling grin of a maniac with a plan. He handed each of them a blank character sheet. “Since our last campaign finished, I thought some system changes and … adjustments were in order for the new one. And don’t worry I’ve got some big plans for you guys.”

“God, that sentence is terrifying. Why do you gotta make it sound like we’ll be wiped by the end of this session.”, Ethan muttered.

The others just nodded solemnly, naturally agreeing with the loudest member of their group. Even though Ethan was a short, scrawny Asian man who'd spent far too many hours in front of a computer, what lack of physicality he had was compensated by a sharp tongue and biting sarcasm. Usually he stuck to rogues, who flirted with everyone and everything, but the moment someone flirted back he’d fold like wet tissue paper.

Next to him, meekly nodding, sat Marcus. Unlike the small and skinny Ethan, Marcus was a broad shouldered black man. Not in an athletic way, his thicker frame was from that way that formerly chubby guys were since he'd never quite lost that freshman fifteen.  He was constantly pushing his glasses up his nose, trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible, which wasn’t easy with his respectable 6’ frame. As the self proclaimed lorekeeper of the group he approached the sessions with the same academic seriousness as the introductory programming he'd taught with. Three filled notebooks with NPCs, story interactions and settings sat next to him ready to be referenced. 

“Yeah … I feel like he’ll have us facing a beholder right off the bat…”, Oliver said from across the table, laughing nervously. He was pretty in a way that should have warranted confidence, but despite his messy blonde hair and cute face, he just could never muster up any. Oliver was the artist of the group, his fingers stained with ink from drawing character concepts during his classes when he got bored in class. Which happened pretty often to the honours student. Too bad most of his characters usually ended up being either mages with an overly tragic backstory or healers that got too emotional during battles, something that annoyed his fellow players on the regular.

"Please tell me this isn't another hyperlethal realism campaign," Noah looked like he was already shaking from the thought. As the nerdiest member of the group, it looked like puberty had completely passed him by. It was almost concerning with how his short, scrawny frame never put on any weight. Though, unlike Ethan, he didn't have the same level of confidence. The only time he could push past that nervousness was playing DnD or someone talking comic as the shop he worked at.'

Noah took a breath. "I'm still traumatized by the bridge incident..." 

“You walked into obvious bait,” Marcus said.

“It was roleplay accurate.”

“You licked the cursed obelisk.”

“It looked important.”

As the rest of the group joined the argument about how their last campaign had ended, Adrian smiled faintly. It was good to see his friends relax into their little squabbles. After all, the DM knew that all of them needed a reprieve after the week they’d had. Little Noah had once again been shoved into a locker by the bullies from the football team and hadn’t been saved until hours later. Adrian, after messing with the wrong jock had found himself beaten to a pulp over one sarcastic comment too many. A group of students in the class Marcus taught had been incredibly obnoxious and started calling him names like “lardass” and “fatso”, bringing his old complexes back to the surface. And apparently some jerk online had gone on a campaign ridiculing the art he posted and was very proud of.

Hidden beneath the table, away from the curious eyes of his friends sat an old, leatherbound grimoire, it’s pages humming softly.

He had used it to spice up the campaign a bit, using one of the oldest spells in existence. The character sheets had been painstakingly prepared and enchanted over the last week to make the spell come to life. A spell about stories, identity and numbers who had been assigned meaning. And Adrian had made sure his friends, like the rest of reality, would adapt seamlessly around it.

With an almost giddy smile he interrupted the argument, Noah and Ethan arguing that it was hardly the rogue’s fault they had gotten roasted by the dragon he had been trying to seduce. 

Oh haven't had such a nice double change for my Chronivac in a while. Let's start from the bottom, meaning with your favorite top, or rather your boyfriend. You said you're into muscle? And that you want your man to be your perfect guy? Ripped and bulgy? I'd love to say that's a tall order, but I'm not gonna lie to somewhat so nice.

I think I have the shortcut for one of those transformations laying around in a folder somewhere. So you probably want a big set of pillow pecs to cuddle into and we'll gonna do just that. An enormous set of muscle tits, capped off with thick chewy nipples for you to play with, right out the door. Next we'll go for a pair of muscled, vascular arms to hold you tight against that comfy chest. Nothing better than a hug from 22 inch arms while you're trying to doze off.

A wide set of shoulders for you to be thrown over like a bag of potatoes are also a nice touch. You may find you man a lot more demanding and dominant, though I'm sure you won't mind too much. Can't have your ideal muscle hunk be too much of a wuss after all. Don't worry, he's still gonna be kind and caring normally, but that guy knows what he wants and with muscles like that he's gonna get it when he's horny. Let's have a look at your new and improved boyfriend.

Kinda cute, don't you agree? I paired his boyish face with some masculine male models, can't go wrong with a youthful looking muscle hunk. And a quick read on his mind tells me that he's currently popping that arm sized boner (I might have gone a bit overboard with that and the swollen orange sized bull nuts. Sorry for that) just thinking about getting big for you. So yeah, I think it's safe to say that he's now just as much into muscle as you. Though I guess he's more about getting his muscles worshiped by you.

Speaking of which, I think I'll give you a lesson on why he prefers small twinks.

First off I feel like he gets hard just thinking about how much bigger he is next to you. And you really can't blame for that. I very much understand loving the feeling of having a little twink eye level with your nipples, looking down at them getting smothered into the bulging chest you built just for that purpose. And you remember me mentioning how he wants to fling you over his wide shoulders? Would be a bit tough to fit you there if you're too big. And I think the feeling of your little hands roaming over his expansive body will never fail to get that anaconda of his hard. Trust me, I made sure of it.

Secondly I think you'll soon understand one of the main selling points of twinks. I'm of course speaking of that stereotypical fat bubble butt bouncing behind your much skinnier body now. I didn't make you too skinny, don't worry, just a lithe gymnast build so your new bullfriend can bend you into any position he wants as when he fucks your new and improved hole. For both your and his pleasure I made sure you're always tight as a keyhole, but also able to accommodate that horsecock I "accidentally" gave him.

Don't know if he prefers your ass or mouth, so I made sure to also give you thick, pouty Dick Sucking Lips, got rid of your gag reflex and also gave you a long, dexterous tongue for you to really savor that amazing schlong of his. Another one of the allures of twinks I guess.

I think that's about everything I'm gonna be telling you about that topic for now. I'll leave you to figure out the rest for yourself when your boyfriend comes home, just as eager to explore your holes as you are to explore his muscles.

Ugh, that sounds like one annoying fellow. Though another thing annoys me even more. All the untruths you told me about yourself. So let me correct you on a couple of things.

First off, you aren't 64 ... you're 24. You bought the couple of houses you're currently renting out from the money you got off the tech deal you made just when you left college. Rumor has it Zuckerberg paid you a ton of money for your idea in return for you not disclosing what it was.

Secondly the scrawny thing. You couldn't possibly be scrawny if you spend all day at the gym. With all the money you have at your hands you basically spend all your free time working out and damn it shows. Those arms must be at least 22 inches. And don't even get me started on your enormous muscle tits. Hard to believe you only started roughly a year ago. Seems like it's true what they say about you being blessed with amazing genetics (thanks to some magical reality altering device).

Which is also why I'm so confused at you saying you're 5'4 or that the 6'3 personal trainer intimidates you. After all if he's really 6'3, he'd barely be up to your swollen bull neck. Though seeing how he's barely eye level with your perky silver dollar sized nipples, I'm guessing he lied too. Probably a good bit under 6 feet tall that guy.

You also said that he has people over every night. You probably mean guys and girls begging for a taste of his 7 inch cock. That's actually one of the few true things you said, though it really wouldn't have hurt to tell the full truth. While he tries to get people to sleep with him, once they get a with of your pheromone laden musk wafting over from a couple of doors away, they forget all about him and are desperate for a ride on your horsecock. And the sounds you hear (if you can even hear them over the sound of your pounding) is probably just him jerking off his own dick to the symphony of your porn star prowess.

Which brings me to my last point. I think I know why the guy is so late with his rent. It gives him a good reason to have you come over all the time. I even have it on good authority that he's been training a lot more glutes lately (again, you're welcome), hoping he can pay off his debt some other way.

And now it's up to you. Either make him pay up with money or have him work it off by becoming your eager and willing cumdump. Just be careful if you decide to do the latter. Poor guy has only ever been training on bananas and is probably pretty unprepared for what you have to offer.

You're in luck my friend. I've got just the (Chronivac commisioned) solution for your problem.

I went ahead and did order one of those XXL sized costumes for you. You really can't go wrong with something like a classic Superman costume.

However you really should have a pregame brew at my place before heading off to your Halloween party. Take a big sip of Chronibrew and feel it run through your system. Feel that delicious potion run down your throat. Don't worry about the lump in your throat it gives you. It's just your Adam's apple swelling and giving you a good old foghorn boom of a voice. Can't have you pose as the Man of Steel with just any voice. Trust me, you'll barely be able to hold a conversation at the party over the sound of panties dropping.

The next bottle will hit even harder. As soon as that brew hits your stomach you'll find your clothes not fitting anymore. Far too small for a guy your height. Thinking an imposing height of just above 7 feet in height will fit nicely with what I have in mind. Nothing better than standing head and shoulders above everyone else when you're cosplaying a superhero. Though I gotta warn you, you'll really have to watch out for those doorframes. Better get used to ducking into rooms.

The last sip of the third bottle might be a bit unpleasant to swallow if I'm being honest. Not because it tastes bad, but as you finish sipping it, you'll find your crotch become more and more tightly packed. Each swig of Chronibrew adding another inch onto your cock and more heft to your balls. Honestly once you're finished I'm pretty sure the bottle might be less thick than the python you're packing. Though that fits nicely with the footlong soft size I had in mind for you. Top it off with a fat apple sized cock head that looks like it could knock down castle doors and I'm sure whoever you take home from that party will be in for the ride of a lifetime.

I'll leave you to figure out how much more beer you wanna drink after that. Because I don't wanna be the one to blame if the roughly 60 pounds of muscle you put on per bottle lead to any problems for you down the line. Just drink that stuff at your own discretion. Not really my fault if you insist on drinking 3 more bottles and end up well over 300 pounds of meat. Remember how we talked about you having to duck through doors? Well with shoulders as wide as yours, you might also wanna try and turn sideways to fit through. And you better get used to having your bulge and pecs enter the room well before you.

Well I've got good and bad news for you. Good news is that you now have a body that would Superman look small. Bad news is that there's no way in hell you're gonna fit into that XXL sized costume. Though I'm sure you'll figure something out.

I'm really sorry I didn't get to answer your request sooner. I really would have loved to get it done in time for the Olympia, but don't worry about it, once I'm done with you, it won't be much of a problem anymore, I promise.

You're just in the gym, trying to get a good workout in, admiring all those posters of those famous pro bodybuilders on the walls, jealous of their size and success. That's when the first wave hits you like a truck and suddenly you feel a breeze on your exposed body. Well, I guess that's really on you. Working out in just a tiny poser might be nothing special for you, but people sure look at you weirdly for being basically naked in such a public space. At least until the new memories hit them and you. You always work out in nothing but a poser ... or do groceries ... or go to work. Wherever you're going, this skimpy piece of fabric is all you're ever wearing, loving the eyes of people on your body.

Which is when the second wave hits. Looking down you see your hair pulling back into your body. You're naturally smooth from the neck down. Even though you're basically sweating testosterone and grow a full beard within hours, your body seems devoid of any follicles. After all if you really wanna look stage ready all the time, I can't exactly have you be a big hairy bear.

That's when the third wave hits. Your already big muscles ballooning, growing and getting more defined by the second. Pecs pumping bigger in sync with your arms, your abs looking like you grate diamonds on them, legs like tree trunks, your thighs touching in the middle, giving you a waddle whenever you walk. You're just the poster boy of everything judges are looking for in a bodybuilder.

Another wave hits you and suddenly you break out into a wide smile, a stage smile that's permanently plastered on your face. You can't really tell whether you're so happy about your massive muscles or if it's the pride of seeing people gawk at your enormous, bronzed, poser clad body, but somehow you feel the urge to flex and smile all the time. Sorry if that can lead to some problems in more serious situations, but you should really be careful what you wish for.

Which is when the last wave hits and you realize why it's not much of a problem that I missed the Olympia weekend. You're not really allowed on the big stage anymore. There had been a couple too many incidents of your enormous dick hardening and slipping out of your skimpy go to wear while on stage. And while the crowd had loved it, the bodybuilding federations had grown tired of the riots those slip ups had caused. Really hadn't helped that you fucked half a dozen fans when you were on stage for the last time.

Hope you're not too mad that I barred you from getting all those trophies, but I don't think you'll mind too much. After all with a body and mindset like yours the entire world is your stage. And you're ready to show off.

With spooky season around the corner, a week off my job and a lot of horny energy to spare, I've decided to dust off the old Chronivac and answer some asks you guys and gals have. Whether it'd be asking personal questions or wanting some of your transformative needs fulfilled, I'll see what I can do this week.

Had this story laying around in some Google Drive. And in hindsight I kinda liked it. Thanks to @amalianetwork for making the story journal this belongs to.

Average

Darryl had always hated how unremarkable he, just another face in the crowd, an absolute nobody. Average, that was the way to describe him. He was an average 5’9, with an average build, neither skinny nor athletic or fat. Even his grades were nothing out of the ordinary, mostly Bs and Cs.

He went to sleep, after another annoyingly uneventful, boring day of college, thinking and wishing to himself what he’d give to be someone else. He’d always wanted to be big and muscled with a big fast cock, but he’d never managed to stick to the gym, feeling inadequately average next to the jocks and muscle studs there and genetics had given him another average down there with 5 inches on a good day. Sure no one had ever complained about it, but he just wasn’t happy about it either.

He fell asleep, his wishes centered around wanting to be a big muscle stud like the jocks from the football team, but knowing he’d never be one of them.

The next day Darryl woke up and stretched, looking at the unimpressive fat apple sized cock head already coating his bedsheets with pre cum. Darryl just sighed as he pulled his covers off and looked at the ten inch dick rising from his groin. He hated how average it was, everything from how it was wrist fat to the fact that it was 8 inches long soft and ten inches hard was perfectly average. 

He’d measured it countless times, hoping to make it past the national average, but his cock seemed like it was the benchmark for averageness in the world. Even his swollen, cum heavy, orange sized balls were nothing extraordinary and the gallon of cum he usually shot over his chest was kinda common too.

Such thoughts quickly made the morning wood quickly go away and with a sigh Darryl pulled himself out of the bed. He looked himself up and down in the mirror, again finding himself cursing that he was just another face in the crowd.

With his 6’9 height and 280 pounds of muscled bulk he just really didn’t stand out at all, there were more than enough people on campus either more massive or taller than him, especially the guys on the football team. It was pretty much a requirement to be 7’ tall if you wanted to join. And if you were under 300 pounds of muscle you didn’t even need to try to apply.

Dylan went to shower and get ready for the day, sighing even when he coated the communal showers of his dorm with a massive load. Well massive being the overstatement of the year. He had seen Paul from next door shooting bigger loads before and the guy had the same size as him.

After toweling down he picked out his clothes for the day. Then again clothes wasn’t really fitting. After all, like all guys on campus, he pretty much only wore posers. Hell Dylan doubted that there were a lot of guys anywhere who wore anything else. He’d even seen the towering form of the president in nothing but a bulging black poser back when the guy gave his inauguration speech. Dylan had tried standing out a little, but nothing really felt right, again making him fall back onto the average choice.

Just 3 little very short stories for the spooky season. Hope you enjoy them nonetheless

They had found it kind of ridiculous when the old owner of the costume shop had handed them the lifeguard gear, which really just consisted of a pair of bright red board shorts for both of them and an inflatable rescue can. However it was when the whistles came in that the old guy started acting really creepy, talking some stuff about them blowing all their nerdiness away through it.

Of course they hadn’t taken him seriously and when time came to go to the halloween party they just couldn’t resist blowing into it. Seeing nothing happen they just chuckled at the idea and were on their way, totally ignoring the fact that they hadn’t put on shirts despite the fact they usually wouldn’t put their scrawny torsos on display for all the money in the world.

As the evening progressed and they showed off their costumes to all the chicks at the party, they blew the whistles more and more, they continued to change. Their love of comic books traded for model quality faces, their inhibitions traded for a pair of huge cocks and swollen bull balls and their intelligence replaced by bulging muscles that would be the envy of every cocky jock on campus.

From a corner of the room the old trickster that had posed as the owner of the costume shop just chuckled. Halloween season was always the easiest time of the year to find unsuspecting victims. But looking at the two young studs he couldn’t help but think that sometimes tricking someone could be a real treat to them.

He had never been one to go out on Halloween, preferring to spend the spooky holiday cooped up in his room playing horror games. However he had always had a soft spot for all the candy that came with it.

So he had been really happy when he had found that package outside his apartment. Ripping it open he saw that weirdly enough all of the candy was chocolate flavored, but seeing how this was his favorite kind, he didn’t mind at all.

He didn’t even mind when he shoveled in a couple of Reese’s cups and his chest inflated into a pair of chocolate colored muscle pecs, at least C Cup going by the amount of cups he had eaten.

Neither had he cared at all when wolfing down a large bar of KitKat had given him a delicious eightpack the same color as his huge pecs, the ridges between the dense lumps of muscle deep enough to lose a KitKat bar between.

Or when that Twix he had consumed had literally doubled the size of his arms, his skinny twigs inflating with brawn and going from 11 inches around to 22 inches instantly, his biceps harder than steel and his triceps gaining that perfect horseshoe size.

He had only absentmindedly scratched his neck when that Snickers had given him a huge Adam’s apple and an incredibly manly face, the very definition of African beauty. He had only really chuckled, his new voice booming like thunder.

He had been just as oblivious as before when the Bounty bar had given him a bouncy ass, the two boulder like cheeks looking just as hard and round as coconuts, safe for the hair.

He had not minded at all when he had eaten the Milky Way and suddenly his skinny white legs had instantly become a pair of tree trunks, stronger than redwood and the same creamy chocolate color as the bar.

What he did notice however when he ate the oversized Hershey’s bar of milk chocolate with whole nuts, his shrunken peanut of a dick and raisin sized balls replaced by the biggest dick he had ever seen, his own nuts now huge and full with their very own kind of “milk”.

“Damn, look at those! Almost too easy!”, the vampire wowed over himself, flexing the massive peak he had just earned himself from the young stud currently laying on the bed of the hotel room. Though he really wouldn’t qualify as much of a stud anymore, the bite holes on the poor guy’s neck more or less proof that at some point he had been a 10/10 gym stud and amateur bodybuilder.

An amateur bodybuilder who had found himself falling for the charms of the wrong twink at the halloween party. Then again, it’s not like dumb jock had stood much of a chance against the mesmerizing ability of the centuries-old supernatural. 

“Damn, with muscles like these I might even get into a bodybuilding competition or two and see what the essence of those roid-heads has to offer.”, the vampire turned muscle stud chuckled to himself. He had long since departed from draining poor unsuspecting victims of their blood and leaving them empty husks. That had always been a big mess. No, what he feasted on was the vitality and masculinity of his victims. 

So, now that I finally managed to graduate for good, I had a lot of pent up writing energy to vent. And with a little nudge from @amalianetwork I did decide to write a couple of shorts. Sorry if the writing isn't great, I might have gotten a little rusty.

Size had never mattered to Jonah. That’s why his friends found it hilarious to gift the runty Latino the shirt. The trickster of the group, Paul, had gotten it from some thrift shop, not even wondering why the shop owner seemed so eager to get rid of it.

When some weeks later they had gifted Jonah the shirt for his birthday and smiled heartily at the joke, they didn’t even notice how oddly he would look at the piece of clothing, how his eyes sparkled with an obsession that he normally only showed when looking at a physics problem. Jonah didn’t even wait until they were gone to pull on the new shirt, pretty much stripping off his old one right then and there and pulling his gift on.

His friends were creeped out by the behavior of the normally shy and reserved nerd, for most of them it was the first time seeing their scrawny friend without a shirt on.

Over the course of the night they noticed how the formerly loose shirt would grow tighter as more and more muscle piled onto his frame, the hem of the shirt moving from near his thighs to his crotch as his spine cracked longer. Or his pants growing tighter as his crotch became more and more packed. They also noticed that he had less and less interest in holding a conversation, the bright light behind his dark eyes dimming.

By the end of the night Jonah was no more, Joe having taken his place. And there was only one thing that mattered to Jonah. Pumping his muscles so he would grow even bigger. Because size was all that mattered to him.

“Make sure you spread that stuff evenly Charlie. After all I know you want me to be even bigger, don’t you, babe?”, Devon grinned down at his boyfriend. Just a week ago they had been the same height, but that was a thing of the past, ever since Charlie had brought the cream home.

The two of them had been two adorable twinks that had been more than happy together. Yet them both being bottoms greatly strained their relationships. They had always struggled in the bedroom, since none of them was particularly fond of topping and finding a top that could handle the two of them proved to be rather stressful more often than not. Which is why Charlie had resorted to an old family recipe his grandma had shown him.

He hadn’t even told Devon what the cream was supposed to do at first, telling him it was some kind of beauty product, which wasn’t technically a lie in Charlie’s book. And damn did it work as intended.

Even after only one night, Devon was barely recognizable, gaining a couple inches in height and becoming more toned, like a swimmer. That had been a week ago and the changes had only accelerated. Now Devon towered over his boyfriend. He even had started going to the gym to put his new muscles to the test. And the cream had also worked as intended in other areas. Well of course it had helped that 2 nights ago Devon had used half the tube of cream on his dick.

Theo cheered for his little brother. Even though Ryu was adopted, he loved the little guy. Well then again, little guy might not be the correct way to describe Ryu anymore. After all even though the boy was just a freshman, he was the runaway favorite to take the win at his high school’s bodybuilding competition. Sure, the other Asian students weren’t half bad themselves and the seniors were close to his size, but Ryu just brought the complete package of size, symmetry and sheer, overwhelming presence.

Of course that had been how the little rascal had designed things to be. Being adopted into a family of athletes had always made Ryu feel even smaller than he already was. He had tried sports and weight lifting more than once, but always found himself cursing his Asian genetics. Genetics that kept him short and scrawny, gave him an unimpressive dick and promised that things would not change when he grew up. However he wouldn’t have it.

In the darkest corners of the internet he had found a site called Chronivac, promising to make even his wildest wishes come true. And it had delivered on that promise splendidly. Ryu had done way more than just change himself. He had changed everything about Asian men. Every single male with Asian roots would find themselves naturally putting on muscle like crazy, shooting up like weed and swinging more meat than an entire deli. 

Which is how Ryu found himself posing on stage in front of his entire high school. Bodybuilding had become even more popular than football for Asian students, the art of crafting their muscles to perfection perfectly complementing their penchant towards becoming muscle bulls. That had caused the majority of the schools to establish bodybuilding shows for their Asian students and just like he had wanted Ryu was poised to take the win. After all when Theo had found the website, he had wanted to make sure that his brother would always come out on top.

Alex watched his husband sleep with an eager smile on his face. That face had been what had made him fall in love at first sight. James had always been handsome, yet his gentle eyes and permanent cheeky grin had been what had captured Alex’ heart at first sight. It had taken a lot to ask him out, but it had all paid off. Even on their first date, Alex knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with James. His sense of humor was enticing, his heart was so full of gentleness, friendliness and excitement that you couldn’t help but love it and his mind was so brilliant that he could hold a conversation about pretty much everything.

It hadn’t taken them long to become engaged and marry, starting a happy married life barely 2 years after meeting. But one thing had always been a pressure point in their relationship. Even though James had always been good looking, tall and even hung like a horse (which Alex had been more than happy to find out on their third date. Heaven knows that after that he never even thought about topping.), James had always been pretty skinny, seemingly unable to put on any kind of mass aside from the obligatory lean swimmer build.

That sounds like you have your life pretty much figured out, my friend. You probably expected me to transform you into the epitome of manliness, a big hirsute CEO, with all the muscle and cock size, not to mention power and money in the world.

But I have something quite different in mind for you. After all why would I transform you into a towering hunk when I can make sure you'll never have to work a day in your life. Let me introduce you to the new you, buddy.

There you go. You'll never have a care in the world again, living as a trophy twink for one of the richest hunks in the world. While your Daddy is out earning the big bucks, working his boulder like ass off, you'll enjoy vacationing all over the globe, be it on your Sugar Daddy's private yacht in France or in his mansion on some tropical island.

Whereever you are you'll have people taking care of your every need, cooks, butlers, personal trainers, they'll cater to your wishes to a tee.

The only catch is that cute fat bubble butt of yours will know no rest. When you aren't getting stretched out by your boyfriend's fat horsecock, you'll be having all of the employees riding your hungry trophy twink hole like there's no tomorrow.

Completely altering a person's very existence? Their very being and place in the fabric of space time? I'm not so sure if the Chronivac is up for the task.

Okay, yeah I can't keep a straight face either, after all there's nothing that me and the Chronivac can't do.

I don't think you're gonna be an engineer when I'm finished. I'm not gonna change much about you, just a tiny decision, the tiniest detail. The Chronivac shows me that you had been in a robotics club when you were a freshman in high school and I'm just gonna change that little detail.

Instead of the robotics club you ended up in the gym. And for some reason the school's head Coach took an instant liking to you (you're welcome ^^). He pretty much showed you everything he knew, work out techniques, the secrets of nutrition and the importance of keeping a healthy body.

That had been 10 years ago. I hope you don't mind that I gave you a quick rejuvenation, after all I want you to enjoy the body you've worked so hard for. Let's have a look at a usual morning of the new you, shall we?

Yeah, that seems about right. Ever since you started stepping on stage for bodybuilding contests, you have begun your days with a thorough and expert posing routine in your bathroom. Damn, I can't help but admire these muscles of yours, but that's not anything new either.

But for your wish to start the new year fresh, the Chronivac and I have prepared something special. You'll be unaware of all the changes to your life for the entirety of the year, accepting that you've worked hard under Coach's guidance to get to where you are, with several bodybuilding, football, wrestling and powerlifting trophies under your belt.

Oh my, a big Asian muscle guy you say? You'll have to send me some pictures of his .... for professional research purposes of course. But now let's get to the really important part, shall we? After all I can't let a fan of mine feel bad about something related to muscle.

I'll set it so that both of your transformations will take place during your next shoot. Can you feel it? The weight of the camera in your hands? Almost as if it has a certain karmic and magic heft to it? You'll quickly see why when you start shooting some pictures of your crush. Let's start with a good shot of his arms, shall we?

Yeah, see him flex these guns of his? Just focus your camera on them and snap a picture, but be careful not to drop it afterwards. After all you'll find that now your arms are no longer the average the noodles they had been before. They're easily larger than his 18 inchers, probably closer to 22 inches now.

I can almost hear you grin through my screen as I watch your shoot go on with my Chronivac. Your crush will feel more and more confused as to why he's the guy you're taking photos of when you're so much bigger, manlier, more muscular and more impressive. One snap of his sizable pecs and you'll have big bouncing muscle tits, your nipples forced down by the sheer size and meatiness.

One picture of his muscled legs and you'll have veritable tree trunks, the mass of your thighs forcing you to adjust the way you're standing. One flash across his back and your own will be pretty much a mountain range of muscle, the tiniest movement making it ripple and flex.

Now then, shall we see how you've turned out?