Untitled

(https://x.com/Maximus7871/status/1972699471910674648)

Around 2 am last night, I suddenly felt the urge to get a drink of water. I carefully got out of bed so as not to wake up my wife and made my way to the kitchen silently. But as I was heading back, I noticed the light in my son's room was still on. 

I was planning to barge in and tell him off for staying up so late, but then I noticed that inside his room was myself??? Or what seems to be myself aggressively pumping his cock with a fleshlight. 

I can't believe my eyes as I watch the scene before me. The doppelganger is kneeling on a towel, loudly masturbating to a gay porno on my son's desktop. Around him is many spent condoms filled with what could only be presumably my cum.

Then the most surprising sentence comes out of "my" mouth.

"Mmmmm fuckkkk Dad, your body is just too good."

Wait... Dad?

Then a realization dawns upon me. My son must be a shapeshifter just like his father. I didn't even consider the possibility that my power could be hereditary! Just how long has he been able to do this?

My son and I have really never been close. I may be able to become anyone I wish, but that doesn't mean that I'm able to understand them. Little did I know that he was going through the same thing as his old man did so many years ago. Maybe it's time for some father-son bonding.

I take another look at the 40-year-old man fapping with the pocket pussy. I suppose it's about that age when he gets that urge. I feel something akin to pride? for my son. Y'know, maybe he can use some advice from his old man around this time. Like, for one, not assuming that just because it's late at night doesn't mean that nobody's awake. 

Hi. I'm a 21, slim guy with dark short hair. I'm spending a few days at my uncle's house, he is 50 years old, robust and bearded. I notice he's different than I remembered him. He seems younger, more muscular, and has chest hair I didn't remember him having. I see him on the phone often… I spied on him for a moment and read Chronivac…

You walked into your Uncles living room, trying to ignore the pounding in your head as you do. Lately everything had felt… weirdly off, in a way you couldn't quite explain. Your Uncle was laying on his coach and looking at something on his phone, his huge biceps flexing as he did. You blushed slightly and adverted your eyes as he groped his own cock well looking at his phone. you didn't know why you were so uncomfortable though. Your uncle was always naked, so it wasn't like you hadn't seen it before. He looked over at you, his eyes looking you up and down like he was looking over a piece of meet, before darting back to his phone

"Whatcha want college boy?" He asked as he continued to mess with his phone

"Well, I've been thinking lately…" You started

"That what you always do isn't it. Thinking." he interuptted with a scowl

"And I was just wondering… does anything seem… off to you lately?" You asked

For the first time since you had shown up, your Uncle looked directly at you, a look of shock on his face which he quickly tried to cover up. He turned to his phone and began to type furiously. He must be doing something important to him, maybe flirting with someone over text.

"Don't know what you mean kid." He said "Everything is as its always been, isn't it?"

"I know that." You said "I know everything is normal, but it… feels weird. Like… were you always this young? I swear you were my moms older brother…"

Your uncle pressed something on his phone and looked over at you "You know what your problem is boy? You don't know how to goddamn relax. Always thinking, or at least trying to. Don't you know. country boy like you isn't made for thinking? If you can't figure that out, its no wonder you dropped out." He said with a smirk. Your brain skidded to a halt. Dropped out? You were a junior in college… weren't you?

"Dropped out? Uncle, I didn't drop out of college?"

"College? You think a dumb country boy like you went to college?" He said with a smirk "Boy, a country hick like you is only good for three things; Working on the farm, growing muscles, and fucking." He said

You wanted to protest, but… he was right, wasn't he? You were just some dumb country boy. Always had been. that was why you always listened to your uncle. he always knew what to do.

"Now…" he pressed a few more buttons on his phone and smirked "You wanna keep asking stupid questions, or you going to come suck me off like a good boy?"

You grinned, a stupid, elated grin "You got it pa!"

---

I got a coupon for a free haircut at this really high rated barbershop. However when I got here it turned out to be all black barbershop. Should I still get my free haircut?

Of course! A free haircut is a free haircut! So what if everyone else in the entire barber shop is muscular black man who looks like ebony gods next to your pale scrawny body? I'm sure once you spend a little time in the barber shop, talking to them, you'll discover you have more in common than you think. In fact, I bet you'll get along great. You'll relax as the haircut goes on, and realize you actually love this place. I mean, why wouldn't you? Its full of manly, muscular black men just like yourself! Plus, they give out some great haircuts. thats why you've been using them for so long after all!

---

I have a crush on a really hot Latino teacher that also a coach. He completely out of shape and past his prime. He seems to by self conscious of his body as he used to be the shining example of masculine. So I decided to secretly help him by sneaking some untested protein powder from the school lab into his overly creamy and sugary coffee. Although I wonder if his sedentary lifestyle might skews the results.

Man, it looks like your teacher really was a complete stud before he let himself go. His build isn't as cut as he was before, but he makes up with it in pure beef. The protein powder was an all around success… … with a few side effects. You're not sure if it was the creamy coffee, or his sweet heavy lifestyle in general, but his pec have become, well, literally milky. Addictively so too. You can't help but suck and kiss and worship his pecs as you drink the sweet nectar from them… yeah, it was definitely an all around success

---

My bfs mom never really liked me or even the idea of his son being gay, but when we came to visit her she was super nice to me, its like she forgot she hated me. Weirdly though, she is very keen on making us both go to this new church that appeared out of nowhere on the town and became very popular. We are both not religious at all or really interested in that stuff, idk what to do

Why would your boyfriends Best friends mom hate you? She practically raised you! You and your best bro met at college at kindergarten, and bonded over coming from religious homes peewee football. You had been inseparable since, becoming lovers Brothers in all but blood. Your own parents being asshole homophobes being godless druggies, his family sort of took you in, to the point you even called his parents mom and dad. You grew up playing with your bro, learning to workout from your dad, and getting fed great, nutritious meals by your sweet mom. By the time you two hit highschool you were not supposed to be like this broad shouldered studs, who ruled the school, dominated at football, and had girls crawling at your feet. Of course a good, god fearing man like you would neeeever sleep with some loose woman. And if you did, well, that was because you're gay. You're gay! Please remember her fault for tempting you. You're a red blooded american man after all, you have to have some fun. One day you and your best bro will find wives, settle down, and raise strapping young boys just like you, but if you Let me out! Please, I can't keep holdin- hooked up with some slut after church, well, that was just boys being boys. Just you and your bro being trapped forever The studly christen hunks you've always been

---

My boyfriend and I were just taking a walk when we saw this new coffee shop called Macho Mocca, after reading the funny name of the shop I started getting really thirsty and craving some macha latte or something like that so we both bought a drink. It feels weird being inside a place full of douchey straight muscle hunks to be honest but why would i care when i have the most handsome man as a boyfriend.

Sup bros, welcome to Macho Mocca! We got all kinds of drinks, all designed for maximum masculinity! Since it's your first time here, let me give you one on the house! You look like a DILF Doppio for you, and a frat boy frappe for your… friend.

Tastes good right? Stoked you guys like it. With the gym right next door, we get a ton of muscular bros like you coming over to get a pickup after a good workout. Plus, I gotta friend who sells some gear in the back, haha.

Anyways, hope you and your son have a great day. Always good to see a someones teaching the next generation how to be a real man. Someones got to after all.

---

Im a 25 gay artist that makes paintings criticising the actual political climate and the problems with conservatives, my father really doesnt like that as he is trying to become the mayor of our city so he basically forced me to go to a summer camp to "man up" and I hate this so much and I'm so uncomfortable, at least theres another gay guy like me here so I don't feel as alone as I thought I'd be. I want this to end so bad.

Your father decided he doesn’t need a gay, environmentalist, whiny little bitch for a son, not if he’s going to get elected. He needs someone he can show off like a trophy, a real man he can use to enhance his image, someone worthy of being associated with him. This camp, the one he forced you to go to with the threat of cutting you out of his life forever, would do just that. You won’t remember much of it. By the end the 3 months of camp will be a blur of working out, mental conditioning videos, and sex with the biggest tittied bimbos you’d ever seen. By the end of the summer, you won’t be a fag anymore. You’ll be the one laughing at the new batch of losers as they get sent to camp, knowing that soon they’d be rewritten entirely. The one wingmaning your new bro with every hot girl you see

Now you’re exactly what your father wanted. A perfect golden boy who can charm the public and make the female voters weak in the knees. The perfect way to increase his power, the perfect heir to a throne.

---

I’ve always loved spy movies like the Bourne series or Mission Impossible. Is there a way to make me a hot sexy secret agent like them?

In this case, I don't even have to know much. the [REDACTED] Agency is always looking for new agents, and after a few… adjustments, you'll be the perfect spy. Equally adept at fighting, espionage, and seducing your targets. Have fun being the worlds manliest spy!~

---

I'm so tired of being an angry little nerd all the time. I just want to take a break from uni and become a big, dumb jock for a while. No thoughts, brain empty, balls churning kind of guy.

I’m not sure if this is meant to be a vacation booking or a wish, but there’s a genie who’s raring to come and give you what you want, so that’s what you’re getting.

“I wish I was a dumb jock.”

The genie who appears before you looks like an alpha jock, wearing a cutoff tank top, basketball shorts, and a snapback cap. He grins at you and says, “Absolutely, bro. Love creating another dumb bro.”

He snaps his finger, and your button up shirt transforms into a white T-shirt printed with the words “FUCK ME BIG.” Your skinny nerd body is absolutely swimming in it. With a dumb guffaw, the genie vanishes.

Right on cue, the first football bro knocks on the door of your dorm room for your tutoring session. Without waiting for your response, he opens the door and walks in. “Hey bro, you gotta help me pass Chem—“ he trails off, his dumb brain catching up as he reads your shirt. A lustful look rushes over his face. “We can do that, too,” he growls, and rips off your cargo pants.

As he cums in your bony ass, you feel like all your knowledge of chemistry drains out into his dick, while at the same time you feel your whole body inflate a bit with muscle and fat. The bro puts his cock away in his pants. “Whoa, dude, I feel ready for that Chem midterm now, huhu,” he chuckles.

As he leaves, the next football bro walks in, complaining about his algebra quiz. Before you can protest, he reads your shirt.

By the end of the day, the whole football team has dropped a thick jock load in your new jiggly muscle butt. Every bit of knowledge you had has been drained out, and you sit on your bed, jiggling your fat pecs in your shirt and feeling the cum drool out of your asshole.

Another wish fulfilled.

Marcus went for a hike to clear his head. Just a normal guy looking for some fresh air and a bit of peace on the mountain trail. Halfway up, sitting on a rocky outcrop with the wind in his face, he made a casual wish out loud:

“Man… I feel exhausted already, I wish I had real muscles.”

The feeling started in his legs. It was a warm, tingling heat spread through his quads and calves as sat there. It came in pluses, each one stronger and more intense than the last. His thighs thickened noticeably, pressing against his shorts, while your calves hardened becoming sharp and defined. His stomach tightened, abs carving themselves into a solid six-pack as his obliques flared out.

His chest pushed forward, pecs swelling into two thick, powerful slabs he looked down in awe and realised that he could now bounce them, as if on instinct. He didn't have time to enjoy this though as the changes continued, his shoulders broadened dramatically, traps rising as his back widened. His arms, which moments ago had been skinny and average ballooned outward, biceps now large and thick, while his growing triceps made his arms look even bigger.

“Fuck…” he muttered, his voice now deeper and rougher.

His whole body was still growing. Muscle continuing to be packed on, turning his from an average hiker into a shredded, athletic stud. Sweat glistened on his newly defined muscular chest and abs as he pulled off his shirt, letting the refreshing cool mountain wash over him.

He stayed sat on the stone point, shirtless, backpack still on, cap and sunglasses shielding your eyes, as other hickers walked passed, oblivious to his changes, just seeing him as some muscular shirtless hiker taking a break.

You were just 21 years old, 184 cm tall, 72 kg, with a lean, smooth body and short dark hair. Most would call you cute. When you looked me in the eyes and made your wish, your voice was full of longing:

“I want to be a hairy hunk.”

I smiled. Wishes like that were my favorite. I granted it, but I always take payment. This time, I decided age would be the price.

The transformation began instantly.

A strange tingling started at the top of your head. Your short dark hair loosened and began to fall out in thick clumps, drifting to the floor as your scalp smoothed out completely, there was not even a hit of any hair. You were now fully bald, your head shining under the light. At the same time, your face began to change. Stubble pushed out rapidly, thickening into a full, dense, jet-black beard that covered his cheeks, chin, and upper lip. Your jaw squared off under your new beard, becoming stronger and more masculine, while subtle lines and wrinkles formed around your eyes and forehead.

Your body was next.

A deep, powerful heat exploded in your chest. Your pecs swelled dramatically, pushing forward into two thick, heavy slabs of muscle that stretched his shirt to the limit before it ripped open down the front. Dark, coarse hair erupted across the expanding pecs, spreading like wildfire, thick, curly, and masculine, until your entire torso was covered in a dense pelt. The hair continued downward, blanketing your stomach and thickening around his nipples, which had grown larger and more sensitive.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, voice cracking and dropping into a deep, gravelly rumble, the voice of a real man.

Your shoulders broadened with loud cracks, traps rising high as his arms ballooned outward. Biceps and triceps swelled into thick, powerful peaks, veins snaking across the muscle as dark hair sprouted along his forearms. Your back widened into a powerful V-taper, while your stomach tightened into a solid, masculine core with just enough softness to look powerful rather than shredded.

Your lower body transformed just as dramatically. Your ass plumping up into two thick, meaty globes. Your thighs exploded with size, quads and hamstrings bulging heavily, covered in the same thick fur as the rest of your growing body. Even your cock and balls grew heavier, thicker, and more virile, now almost double the size they were and straining against your underwear.

But the years kept adding.l, I wasn’t stopping there.

You shot through his 20s and 30s in moments. As your skin took on a more mature texture. The lines on your face deepened slightly. By the time the changes slowed, you had settled comfortably into his mid-50s, a fully grown, experienced man.

When it finally stopped, you sat on the chair breathing heavily, staring down at your newly transformed body in awe. Your massive, hairy shoulders moving up and down with each heavy breath, along with your huge chest.

Bright orange briefs barely contained your new thick bulge and muscular thighs, the fabric stretched tight over his hairy legs.

Your big, strong hands slowly over his body, squeezing your dense beard, groping your hairy pecs, rubbing the thick pelt that covered your chest and stomach. Every touch made you groan with pleasure.

“Fuck. I am bald. And old,” your growled in that deep, commanding voice, flexing one massive arm. The muscle peaked powerfully. “I am way older than my own father now, but look at me.”

You stood up, towering and imposing, every inch the hairy hunk you had wished to become, just with a few extra decades added as my little payment.

You turned toward the mirror, admiring the bald, bearded, massively hairy muscle bear staring back at you.

Jared had everything he could want. The looks, the friends, girls drooling over him, the athletic ability... the list went on. The only thing he didn't have was a good grade in his stupid intro to English course. To Jared, school was just an obstacle to the things he would rather be focusing on. His time partying, working out, and practicing on the field were all higher priorities for him. The only thing grades were good for were maintaining his sports scholarship.

"C'mon man, you can't fail me." Jared insisted, "I'll write a stupid essay or something. Ever heard of extra credit?"

Dr. Peters sighed, "Jared, I know you have the potential. You're a bright young man and..."

"Enough with the bullshitting." The young jock continued, "I'm sure I could pass your class if I gave a fuck." His eyes narrowed.

"In all my years of teaching, I've never..." Dr. Peters paused and regained his composure, "Look, I'm sorry Jared, but I can't just change your grade." He put the papers he had been reading down as his phone buzzed, "I'm sorry, I have to take this."

Jared watched as his professor stepped away and the young man sighed. Did he lose his cool? Yeah. Did it hurt his case? Fuck yeah. But he wasn't about to let some washed out, gay English nerd fuck with his life. Jared looked down at the papers Dr. Peters was reading and smirked. Without a second thought, he grabbed it and left the room.

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

Was stealing a bunch of papers from his English professor the best revenge he could think of? No, not at all. But when Jared started reading them, he nearly died from laughter.

"Did he write this shit?" Jared smirked, taking in Dr. Peter's handwriting, "Oh my god, dude needs to learn to type. Probably can't even afford a laptop on his shitty salary."

As Jared started to read the pages he had stolen, his expression shifted. He couldn't believe what he was reading.

"What a pervert." Jared chuckled, "This is what you spend your time writing about?" The story was unlike anything he expected. It detailed an intimate encounter between two men - Dr. Peters and an assistant coach named Chris, "You dirty fucker," Jared whispered under his breath.

But he couldn't help but continue to read over each line. The story unfolded with vivid descriptions of a burly, handsome assistant football coach, Chris. The broad shoulders, thick gut, hirsute form- oozing masculinity.

"So that's the type of guy Peters gets off to." Jared mused, "What a…" He shifted uncomfortably as he felt his cock beginning to stiffen, tenting against his jeans, "The fuck…?" He smirked, "Guess its been a bit since I got off…" He whispered.

Jared kept reading, his curiosity piqued despite himself. The story described how the English professor ran a hand through the assistant coach's thick chest hair, tracing the lines of muscle beneath. As he read these words, Jared felt an odd itching sensation on his own chest. He absently scratched at it, not realizing that fine hairs were beginning to sprout across his smooth skin.

He continued to read, now fully engrossed in the erotic tale unfolding before him. The professor leaned in closer to the coach, breathing in the scent of his cologne mixed with sweat. Jared inhaled deeply- he could swear he smelled it too. It was rugged, musky, and deliciously masculine. And it was coming from him. His own musky pits… And it smelled so good…

"What the hell." Jared shook his head, "Alright… time to put this down…"

Jared tried to set the papers aside, but found himself unable to look away. The story had taken hold of him, drawing him deeper into its world. As he read on, the characters' encounter grew more heated. The professor pressed his lips to the coach's neck, feeling the coarse stubble against his face. Jared winced as hairs sprouted from his own jawline, growing thicker until he sported a scraggly, manly beard.

"Wh-what the fuck?"

He tried to lift a hand to confirm what he had felt. But his hands remained stuck in place, holding the story. He couldn't even move his head, forced to stare at the pages and read what was on them.

"I can't move…" He stuttered, "I can't…"

Jared couldn't help but continue to read. Read the description of professor grasping the coach's muscular arms, Jared could feel his own biceps swell and thicken. But he couldn't look. Couldn't see the changes that the story wrought on his lean muscles and athletic form.

"Ohhhh... fuck…" He moaned.

The story detailed how the professor trailed kisses down the coach's chest, circling his nipples with his tongue. Jared gasped, feeling his own nipples harden and tingle. He wanted to look down, to see if they had darkened and enlarged like the coach's, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the pages. But he could feel his pecs swell, thickening with muscle, while also sagging and softening with age.

"Pl-please let me go…" Jared begged.

He read as the coach groaned, his hands roaming over the professor's body. Jared's fingers twitched, aching to do the same. To explore every inch of someone else's skin, to feel another man beneath him. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts. But they persisted, growing stronger with each passing moment. As the characters in the story began to undress each other, Jared felt his own clothes start to come undone and vanish, leaving him completely naked on his bed.

"Feels so good..." The cool air on his warm skin sent a shudder of pleasure through his increasingly larger form.

As Jared read on, he felt his scalp begin to tingle. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the vivid descriptions of the characters' bodies pressing together. But the sensation grew more intense, spreading across his entire head.

He gasped as he felt strands of hair loosen and fall away. More followed, clinging to his fingers as he reached up to feel the thinning locks. Panic surged through him, but he couldn't stop reading. The story described the professor running his hands through the coach's thinning hair, and Jared felt his own recede further, revealing more of his scalp.

"No… please no…" He whimpered, but the words came out slurred and weak. His voice was changing too, deepening into a gravelly rasp. He could hear the difference, but couldn't process what it meant.

Jared's eyes widened as he felt a sudden burst of heat across his skin. The story detailed the professor trailing kisses down the coach's chest, across his hairy belly and lower still. Jared gasped, feeling coarse hairs erupt across his own once-smooth torso. They sprang up everywhere - his chest, back, shoulders. He felt like a walking carpet, covered in a thick pelt of dark fur.

"I can't be becoming him... I can't be.... fuck..."

Despite the alarming changes, Jared found himself growing more aroused. The descriptions of the characters' bodies pressing together, their sweaty skin sliding against each other, filled him with a primal hunger. He craved that closeness, that intimacy. He wanted to feel another man's strong arms around him.

"Oh fuck that… I'm not gay…" The pace of his breathing had quickened, his mind was racing as he tried to process the changes, "I'm Jared. I'm not…"

The story described the professor reaching down to grasp the coach's throbbing cock, feeling it pulse in his hand. Jared moaned, his own member responding in kind. It lengthened and thickened. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, dripping down onto his furry thighs. He couldn't believe how sensitive he had become, how desperately he needed release.

"I need… I need…" He whimpered, but he couldn't find the words. Couldn't articulate the burning desire coursing through his veins. All he knew was that he craved another man's touch. Craved the feeling of being filled, of being used.

Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him.

Strong arms wrapped around Jared's waist, pulling him back against a solid, muscular frame. He gasped, his eyes snapping open as he realized he was no longer alone. Realized he wasn't even in his dorm room anymore. He was in a bedroom. Their bedroom. Their? No he was… he was… His eyes widened as the papers in his hands vanished, as the the story's words faded away, instead replaced by reality.

"W-what the fuck?" He stammered, trying to turn around. But the arms held him firmly in place.

A low, husky voice rumbled in his ear, "I love you, babe."

Jared froze, recognizing that voice instantly. It was Dr. Peters. But how?

Before he could process it further, he felt the older man's hand wrap around his throbbing cock. Fingers closed around the base, squeezing gently. Jared cried out, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"Yes, right there," Jared heard himself say, but the voice didn't belong to him. It was deeper, gruffer, and laced with lust. He tried to open his mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Instead, his lips formed a smile as he pushed back against Dr. Peters' hand.

Panic surged through Jared's mind as he realized he wasn't in control of his own body anymore. He was trapped, watching helplessly as the assistant coach persona took over. The one from the story.

"Please, don't stop," Coach moaned, his hips rocking in time with Dr. Peters' strokes. "I need you inside me."

As Dr. Peters guided him towards the bed, Jared's vision blurred. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was a wedding band glinting on his own finger. Memories flooded his mind - memories of a life he hadn't lived. Of loving Dr. Peters, of being loved by him. Of countless nights spent entwined in each other's arms, of waking up to the older man's warm embrace.

-----------

"Babe? Babe?" Jared stirred awake, his eyelids fluttering open. He blinked groggily, trying to orient himself. The last thing he remembered was… what exactly? Something about a story... about Dr. Peters… No... Evan. His husband...

"Thank god, you passed out," Evan said, relief evident in his voice. He sat on the edge of the bed, a concerned look etched on his face. "I was worried sick about you."

Jared frowned, confusion clouding his mind. Passed out? Worried? What was going on? He glanced down at his hand, noticing the wedding band for the first time. It was gold, simple, but unmistakable. He lifted his hand to examine it, but Evan caught his wrist gently.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Evan murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of Jared's hand.

Jared found himself nodding along, allowing Dr. Peters to guide him towards the bathroom. As they walked, Jared inspected his body. The thick chest hair, the broad shoulders, the paunch around his middle. None of it made sense. He was supposed to be a fit, muscular college athlete, not this… not this…

"Babe?"

As Jared looked at Evan, something clicked into place. The concern in his eyes, the gentle touch of his hands, the familiarity of his voice - it all fell together like pieces of a puzzle. This was his husband. His lover. The man he had built a life with. With a swift movement, Jared pushed Evan backwards onto the couch, pinning him beneath his weight. The older man yelped in surprise, but quickly melted into a pleased smile as he felt Jared's erection press against his thigh.

"We can't just leave it hanging like that, can we?"

(Muscle Growth | IQ Loss | Back Growth)

This shower feels hotter than usual. So hot… so humid… I’m feeling lightheaded. Can’t think straight. This heat is melting my brain, it’s like soup up there, haha…

CRACK!

Ouch! Was that my back? It feels funny… but like… kinda bigger. My head… too empty… to feel pain. Nah, this feels… goooooood. No gain… no pain… or some smart shit like that, haha.

CRAAAAAACK!

Oh, fuck… that hurt so… good… haha. Break my fuckin’ back so it can grow more. That some good shit there. Just fuckin’ wide and shit and… big and… fuuuuck…

STRRRREEEETCH!

Yes! I’m big fuckin’ wide… big back and shit… growin’ muscle big… brick fuckin’ wall… head empty dumb fuck muscle… hot shit wide growin’ back…

BUUUULGE… CRACK! SWWEEEEEEEELL!

Fuck yeah! So hot… fuckin’ growin’ muscle man… wide as shit back… big heavy wide muscle freak! Skin… burnin’... fuckin’ stretchin’... big fuck off muscle wall bro… shiiiit… huge…

STRREEEETCH! BUUUUUULLLGE… BREAK!

What the… fuck… who put wall… there? Too fuckin’ small… tiny ass… stupid fuck shower… too wide huge muscle… big fuckin’ back… still growin’... can’t stop… more muscle power… more wide back…

SMASH! CRUMBLE!

Stuck… too big… too wide… don’t fit… don’t care! Keep grow… more fuckin’ big wide muscle shit… huge back break… everything!

STRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEETCH! SWWWEEEEEEEEEEEELLL… CRUMBLE!

Too dumb… no move… break… tiny fuckin’ wall. Never stop growin’ wide back fuckin’ big muscle huge fuckin’ hot fuck empty head muscle bro shit dumb ass stupid wide muscle back fuck… grow… grow… happy… muscle… grow…

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.