bara dudes

“I can’t believe the formula worked!” Kevin said as he inspected his newfound 8-pack abs

“This is fucking amazing and to think I only took a sip!” He continued as he now stood at by at least a foot taller than his height just a few minutes ago

“Glad to see these glasses work” Mike told himself as he massaged his now strong jawline, now in a much lower and commanding register.

He bought the glasses from a magic shop downtown that advertised itself to give the gift of true sight - it applied whatever the wearer sees into reality. Having been a magic-geek for his whole life, he thought nothing of it and just bought it to make some “mystical” presentation in his next trick

By the time he got home, he tried the glasses on and was reminded by what was advertised so to just experiment “I’m standing inside a locker room instead of my bedroom” he exclaimed. After just one blink he suddenly found himself inside a gym locker room. “Well, this is a surprise” as he touched the lockers to see if they were real. He peered outside the door to check and saw the gym floor with a bunch of people - he recognized the place to be the gym two blocks over from his house

After that, he stammered back into the locker room and started thinking what he could do. He looked at the mirror on the wall and saw his meek geek self “I wonder if this’ll work?” He asked himself

“I’m the biggest strongest most muscular man in this gym” he said to himself in the mirror. Just like before, after just one blink his perspective shifted and his clothes basically disintegrated from the new mass and size

Want to know what Andy has wished for? Check out the master post here!

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

“Hey Andy, do you have a second to chat?” Tom asked politely as he leaned against the doorframe. Amidst the loud, raucous laughs and yells in the background, the rotund man seemed quite out of place standing meekly by the door of his private office. He stepped back to allow the waterboy to step inside, then closed the door behind him to shut out the noisy hoots and hollers from the jocks as they made their way to the showers after practice. Waddling to his chair behind the desk, the older man struggled to sit, his large beer-belly getting in the way ever so slightly. He motioned for Andy to sit across from him.

“I noticed the guys have been… extra aggressive and attentive to you lately. And I just wanted to let you know that this sort of behavior shouldn’t stand,” Tom continued, keeping his gaze fixed on the younger man. He knew the athletes often enjoyed picking on people who weren’t in their peak physical condition. The head coach struggled to gain their attention and respect, even when he was running practice. Tom could only imagine what Andy was experiencing and wanted to extend a hand if the other man was struggling. “If you want to step away or take some time off, I completely understand. And if you want to go even further, I’ll support you. You’re a part of this team too, and I’m not going to stand for any sort of mistreatment on my watch.”

For whatever reason, the coach seemed distinctly aware of the way the waterboy was staring back at him. It looked like a mixture of appreciation, surprise, and wonder. Tom didn’t exactly know why the other was so shocked; he didn’t think he was a bad or scary coach by any means. Then he shifted in his seat, suddenly aware of a pinching tightness around his thighs. The older man reached down and used one of his meaty hands to adjust his swelling bulge. “Stupid thing always acts up at the worst times,” he muttered under his breath as he felt the waistband of his underwear rub against the swelling tip of his fat cock head.

“Anyway, like I was saying,” Tom continued, leaning back in his leather chair. The seat grunted as it sank lower under his massive frame. His sleeves ripped, and the thick, hairy man chuckled, his train of thought already slipping when he caught sight of the peaks on his biceps. “Damn, already? Just bought this new polo, too. They always make them too small for me,” the older man complained as he rubbed his chiseled jawline. His forearms brushed over his heavy pecs, adding more tension to the ripped fabric as his muscular mounds made the shirt sag and fold in on itself. There was a clear shelf there, easily dwarfing the rest of the team’s muscles. But then again, the guys always loved it when he showed them how to play, especially when he was shirtless. Tom was their role model, the guy they all wanted to end up like. And if he had to let his pecs breathe and bounce a little in the hot summer sun, who would say no to that?

He idly rubbed and scratched at his hardening nipples, the older man letting out a sharp hiss at the sensitive feeling, causing the nubs to feel like diamonds under the clothing. Tom’s self-adoration and worship were an integral part of every meeting, and it always finished with him rubbing his hands over his hard-earned abs. The coach took pride in his body, something he spent plenty of time forming and sculpting until he was absolute perfection, like one of those Greek marble statues or some shit like that. He let out a loud, heavy blech, exhaling the heavy smell of the two protein shakes he had downed earlier for lunch.

“Like I said. That kinda shit doesn’t fly around here. You wanna mess around with the boys, you oughta come in here and show some respect to me first,” Tom grunted as he spread his meaty thighs apart. Even through the tight khakis, there was a clear third leg starting to rise up in a way that Andy could see from over the desk. “You know what you gotta do to keep your place here on the team, boy. And don’t tell me I’m wrong; I’ve seen you staring at me like a thirsty little slut the whole time I’ve been talking,” the older man growled as he made sure to pull down his fly.

“Now hurry up and be a good boy. We’ve only got a few minutes before they start lookin’ for you. And who knows? Maybe I’ll let them watch and learn from me. Give them something to practice on you later.”

————————————————————————————–

Off The Record

Day 1:

Well, here’s day one of my voice journal. I’ve officially been processed and am now a part of the new exchange program between Earth and Braün. My quarters have been set up, and I start my job tomorrow. Since I majored in biology and health sciences on Earth, I’ve been tasked with working at a gym with Braün trainers and dietitians to gain a better understanding of this world’s nutrition and eating habits. Since our two worlds are integrating at such a rapid pace, it’s good for Earth to know what Braünies like and vice versa. I can’t wait to see all the different kinds of cuisine this world has to offer. Who knows? Perhaps some of the food here will have unknown benefits for humans back on Earth. I suppose time will tell. Regardless, it’s definitely exciting.

Day 4:

I’ve gone through orientation and training. The boss has me working the bar for now. The healthy snacks they serve here are really high quality. Fruits, vegetables, smoothies, shakes, all designed with a healthy body in mind. You won’t find any artificial flavors or preservatives here. And they produce all this quality sustainably! I don’t know how they do it! Boss says it’s cheap manual labor from other worlds. Apparently, Earth isn’t the first planet they’ve had contact with that had people who wanted to work here. Go figure. I wonder what happened to them. I asked, but the boss just smiled and said they were around.

Day 6:

I’m really feeling the effects of this world now. I don’t know whether it’s radiation, gravity, or something else, but my body is swelling like there’s no tomorrow. I’ve gotten more than a few compliments from patrons on the changes, and my locker has been equipped with a scanner to check my measurements and dispense a uniform accordingly. I suppose after so many worlds with this effect happening, the Braünies have turned the effects into a system of sorts, or rather have formed a system around the effects. Smart planning on their part.

Day 12:

Can hardly believe so much time has passed. You’d think I would have gotten bored with my job by now, but it’s actually really engaging. Boss gave me some schematics highlighting Braünian anatomy. The similarities between our two races is astounding, though it appears that they have a more advanced culture from an intellectual standpoint. The average  Braüny brain is positively overloaded with furrows, and their neurons fire off at an exceptionally faster rate than the human brain can. It’s fascinating watching the file in slow motion.

Not only that. It’s clear that they have vast differences in their anatomy when it comes to certain glands found within the body and their digestive processes. They are literally able to eat anything they wish and burn the good fuel, while purging the excess. Their livers have a far higher tolerance than the human equivalent and purge the toxins via their sweat glands and other natural means. They can even spew these toxins as an emergency function the way we sometimes spew spit when we hit the gland under the tongue just right, albeit with more force and volume than we generate.

Their pituitary glands are larger than ours, but their skulls have developed in such a manner that this doesn’t prove a hindrance to overall brain function. As a result, these people are able to build muscle and libido at a startling rate. No wonder they look like Adonises. The natural radiation that emanates from this planet’s core has an effect akin to steroids. It forces the body to engage in a rapid form of evolution and regeneration of tissue, be it plant or animal. Think Darwinism at a highly accelerated rate. In short, this planet is a gold mine for anyone looking to heal or recover from serious diseases. The radiation not only kills cells that are cancerous and destroys decaying brain tissue, but forces the body to create new and stronger variations, based on the original template. Apparently, the majority of this world’s vast economic income is a direct result of this natural benefit, though they guard their planet’s ores religiously. They won’t suffer anyone to mine or trade in their minerals, save through the strictest security channels. I can’t really blame them, given the results I’ve seen in my own body over these last couple of weeks. It’s positively fascinating.

I can’t wait to learn more.

Day 20:

I’m so full of energy today. I think I’ve grown a good few inches, and my casual wear had become tight. It won’t be long before my old clothes from Earth are completely useless. Boss and others have noticed and compliment me regularly on my progress. It’s nice to be appreciated. I admit, I’ve been catching glimpses of myself in the mirror on the sly. I’m still not used to the spandex that I have to wear, but it’s not quite so embarrassing to me as it was when I first had to don the material. The rapid growth in tone and mass has certainly helped in that regard.

Day 25:

I’m starting to wonder if the gym owner is using me for eye candy. I’ve seen more than a few customers leer at me on the side when I’ve been making shakes. Nobody’s flirted with me or touched me inappropriately so far, but I wonder how long that might last at this rate. Thank goodness for security cameras. If anybody does try something, I should be able to substantiate my claims.

Day 30:

I’ve brought up my concerns with my boss today. He was actually surprisingly understanding about it. He promised to have a talk with the patrons and put me on towel duty in the locker room in the meantime. I didn’t realize there were so many patrons here. Practically every hamper was full. I suppose it makes sense, though. A lot of people would probably come her to take a short cut to get in shape. Gyms are probably some of the most lucrative businesses a person can own on this world.

I admit I haven’t had much time to focus on my own body yet. There hasn’t really been much of a need with how things have been going, but I can’t help but wonder what might happen if I put in the effort on top of my usual work.

Day 40:

I tried a workout on my last day off. The difference is … well, it’s incredible. I must have gained at least a good two pounds of muscle mass. The euphoria is incredible. I’d almost go so far as to say orgasmic. Could the radiation be effecting my brain chemistry? Maybe I should get a scan done….

Day 50:

Finally got the results back for my scan. The difference from my arrival to now is night and day. My body is raging with hormones. It’s almost like I’ve entered into a second puberty on overdrive. My pituitary glands are swollen, which explains the minor headaches I’ve been experiencing. Boss has given me a few days off to rest and adapt. Apparently, I’m experiencing their version of The Bends. Parts of my body are essentially pushing too quickly for the rest to catch up. I’m on strict orders for bed rest with no physical exertion of any kind for the next week, until things balance out again.

Fortunately, I won’t have to spend my enforced solitude in complete boredom. Boss was good enough to supply more files on Braüny anatomy and their typical dietary habits, as well as historical documentaries and videos about their cultural and technological development. He’s even got some audio files I can listen to if my headaches become too strong to focus on a screen. What a kind man.

Day 60:

I tried Belaragna today. Think of it like a sort of lasagna, but instead of a meat sauce, there are thin strips of meat cooked within the layers, and the pasta is made from a local vegetable that looks like a potato. Its texture changes in the oven when cooked to become exactly like the stuff from home. It’s incredible! And the sauce! Ohhhh, it is the nectar of the gods. Organic’s got nothing on this world’s produce. Rather than the usual tang you find in tomatoes, this one has a mellow fruity flavor that’s been augmented with a hint of vinegar and dill to pickle it before it’s blended and reduced to a base. This thing is a balanced meal in and of itself.

And then the smoothie! I don’t know how they got it so creamy and smooth, but the drink washed down my gullet before I could blink. I find myself wanting more, and my stomach agrees. Maybe there’s some sort of natural oils or something designed to speed metabolism?

Day 75:

Two and a half months already gone. Time flies way too fast here. I’m learning so much, though. It seems as though the planet was originally colonized by an advanced civilization a long time ago, but something happened to them, and they essentially were wiped from the planet. Eventually, the Braünians evolved from the primordial chaos. There are many instances of slavery throughout their history, but over time, the Braünians appeared to gain the upper hand. These people are exceptionally skilled at adaptation to the point of exceeding the most brilliant minds of their captors within a generation or two and then using that knowledge to free themselves. This pattern of conquest and conquered has repeated in an endless cycle, until the more modern era, where this race decided to start their own exploration and to offer their home world as a gift to others, rather than leave it open to be conquered. After all, if one has many who are interested in protecting the investment this world has to offer, it is far less likely for an enemy to try to take over. It really is a genius strategy, all things considered.

Eventually, they got an intergallactic treaty signed to the effect that they are to be considered a neutral world in which any race may take shelter for healing, training, etc., within reason. No war would be tolerated, however, and any found to be breaking the edicts of this rule would be punished harshly. When they discovered Earth and how readily we adapted to things on this world, of course they were ecstatic to have us. In a way, I suppose we’re kindred spirits. Humanity has faced their own struggles in this regard among themselves over the last several millennia. It’s ingenuity that allows a person to overcome those kinds of troubles and rise to a new plane, or plateau, if you prefer.

Oop, gotta go. Boss is treating me to dinner tonight. He wants to hear what I think of my studies so far.

Day 90:

Time has been passing so quickly! I feel like my brain is in hyper drive. I keep sopping up data and figures like a sponge. I’ve never felt so sharp before. I ask more questions, and Boss keeps offering more material. At this rate, I’m going to need to apply for authorization for membership at the local archives. Boss couldn’t have offered more encouragement if he tried. I love his attitude.

Day 120:

It took a while, but I finally got authorization. It’s astounding how many people were waiting in line. Based on the clothing they were wearing, they were contract workers, like me. I suppose they wanted to find out more about Braün, too. The way some of them limped away, though, I’m pretty sure not everyone was accepted.

I have to access the data in these specialized booths. Kiosks is more accurate, I suppose. I’ve also been given what equates to a data holder arm guard for my forearm. It communicates with the system for me and shows my progress on each of the media. It even has reminders for due dates to return to the kiosks by. Useful little gadget. Love the voice recognition software, too.

Day 140:

I’ve just come across the information on the power supply for this world. Apparently, they use all manual labor to produce it. The men must be absolute titans to be able to endure that kind of abuse for such extended periods. Boss tells me they perform in shifts, so there’s no abuse, just productivity. I still find it odd, though. Then again, with the sheer volume of production this world has in produce, etc., I suppose they can afford that kind of burden without having any major loss. Still, to produce enough energy for a whole world, these people must be beyond anything a normal person could produce.

Day 160:

I caught some customers salivating while I was making their drinks. Maybe they had too much to drink the night before? It helps having a better understanding of Braüny anatomy. Still, I never expected to draw so much attention from customers. I mean, I know I’m stronger now. I’ve been taking a few selfies to document my changes as I grow, but still….

Day 170:

I’ve been reading into how physical exertion affects the body on this world. The cellular reproductive rate makes it so a person can exercise almost every day without fear of the usual slow aching recovery back on Earth. I’ve begun salivating a little more often myself, lately. I wonder if my body is developing a similar system to purge itself of toxin buildup. If so, it could explain some of the more *ahem* aesthetically pleasing changes I’ve experienced. My body can grow uninhibited by the lesser technologies and additives Earth provides. Mmm … wonder how I’ll look in a couple more months.

Day 180:

Decided to visit a power station today and get to know some of the providers. The lunch room is public territory for visitors and workers alike, so I had the opportunity to approach a few of the men and ask about their experiences.

From what little I was able to get out of them, the work and pay are, “Good. Paid to work out. Living the dream.” They aren’t very big on talking. They hardly seemed to recognize me, really. I suppose they’re just a tight-knit group. Their eyes are glazed over when they look at most of the room, but when they lock gazes with another worker, it’s different somehow. It doesn’t matter what race or species they are. They each seem to communicate on a different level. Perhaps it’s some form of tech they’re fitted with to make the job easier as they cooperate with one another? After all, if they all work together to provide the power, then that means they would need to be able to work in unison, right?

I asked one of the newer employees. He hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of the group yet, so he was more talkative, albeit not quite so helpful. “Uh, … I guess,” was about all I could get out of him before he took a massive bite out of a burger or patty of some sort. “We just … sort of do it.” I still remember that guffaw of his. “I don’t really know anything. Just, … lift n’work. Huhuh. Lift n’work…” I didn’t get much farther than that. One of the behemoths in a larger uniform sat down next to him, and I vacated the vicinity. I noticed a close form of body contact, though, and the two shared their laughter as they ate and conversed about their weights and other duties. I suppose the titan must have been his supervisor or trainer or something. He even shoved another tray full to the brim with food in front of the guy. He didn’t even question it, just dove right in.

I admit, I can sympathize with their need to consume so much food. If they work all day while their metabolisms continue to burn hot, it only makes sense that they’d need a massive amount of calories to fuel their bodies. I’ll also admit, seeing them eating filled me with a certain amount of hunger pains, myself. Maybe I’ll sneak in a few shakes while I’m at work.

Day 195:

Harvest season is coming up. Boss says it’s a time that everyone on the planet enjoys. There is little information on the database about it. Some sort of festival is involved for native culture only. Not even naturalized citizens are allowed to participate. I suppose it has to do with the planet’s heritage. Clients have been pretty tight-lipped when I ask them about it at work. On the plus side, at least we’ll be getting more food soon. I can’t get enough of this planet’s vast and rich abundance of produce. It’s incredible!

Day 210:

I appear to have developed either a photographic or eidetic memory. Travel guides, encyclopedias, history books, science textbooks. It keeps flowing in. I visit the kiosks more and more often. Some days, I don’t even leave the booths. My head keeps clinging to more information. I can name diets, diseases, treatments, natural remedies, battles, conquests, technology, fitness, chemical formulae, important historical figures. So much. So, so much. How far will this go? I … I don’t want to risk breaking my brain. But … I can’t seem to stop. I … I want to listen. I want to learn. I need it almost as much as I need the fourth meal I’ve added to my regimen.

What is happening to me?

Day 230:

I feel so much heavier lately. It’s like the more I absorb up top, the bigger my body gets. My libido is through the roof, and everyone seems to notice. It’s making me exceedingly self-conscious. The scanner in the locker room provides me with new clothing, but I can’t wear anything else now. I can only wear my uniform, because of how quickly I outgrow things. At least the computer on my arm still fits. I guess its designed to adapt. Good thing, too. My voice is so low now! The voice recognition must take a sample from me daily.

Boss has me working out on the floor. I suppose it makes sense. I seem to be bigger than most of the patrons now. I give them the drive to push forward with their own progress. Cleaning the equipment and floors is simple enough, and I usually finish the job quickly. Towel duty is a real chore, though. I can’t begin to tell you the number of times I’ve had to run to the laundry chute and back again.

Things are getting snug behind the drink bar counter, but many patrons still prefer me and my service. I think it’s more my body that must draw them, though. Maybe humans are more attractive for some reason? I don’t know. At this point, I could probably take any one of them on, if they try anything funny, so I let the looks slide.

Day 250:

I’m up to five meals a day now at at least double portions from my original state. At this point, I feel closer to the incredible hulk. It’s so hard to sit there and tend customer orders by the counter. My body wants to move now. I’ve started using the equipment after closing. It’s the only way I can fall asleep at night anymore. That, and the surround sound my bedroom provides.

Day 260:

I’m so tired lately. It’s hard for me to focus some days. I have to read over lines a few times now, before I can get the information to sink in. Not that there’s much more I really have to study on the planet. My body continues to weigh me down, yet there is pleasure in it. The bigger I grow, the more compliments I receive, the greater pleasure I feel. It’s almost like a chain. Almost as if I’ve been … programmed … that… [DELETE FILE: Y/N]

…

…

…

Y

Day 265:

I’m the most popular employee at the gym. Everyone keeps wanting me to serve them. I’m not sure why. Boss just tells me to go with it for now. He’s sure things will die down eventually. I’m not so sure, but he is my employer, and I’m under contractual obligation to serve him and this place for the next year and a third.

The way they chug down their drinks, you’d think their lives depended on it. Boss has to shoo customers away from the counter. It’s sort of funny, in a way, watching them act like that. I don’t know why, but I’ve come to like watching them. They seem so greedy, almost desperate. I’m not sure why.

Day 270:

Harvest is in full swing. The Braünians are all out in force. I remember having to call the police once, when someone plastered a new arrival on the ground at the park. I tore that sucker off the kid and glared him down. He looked high or drunk. It didn’t take long for the authorities to sort things out and cart him away. Since then, Boss has been more protective of me. He says I painted a target across my back when I called that mobber on his BS. Not really sure how or why, unless the guy was part of a gang, but since Boss is Boss, I kind of have to follow his policies as he sees fit, provided they don’t breach my contract. He spots me now, when I work out. Then I do the same for him. I guess it’s cool. He has this weird sort of snort when he breathes in, says it has to do with part of his anatomy. Was that the weird flap I saw without a label on that anatomic diagram, then? I suppose it must be. No other explanation I can think of.

Day 280:

Oh, the pump feels so good. I love my job so much. I don’t know what it is. I just feel … Idunno, euphoric? It’s so easy to just relax around these people now. I know them by name, and they love hanging out with me by the counter, when they can. Sometimes I just sort of lose myself when I’m making a shake, you know? All that sipping and snorting sort of falls by the wayside and I’m just … there, you know?

It’s a weird feeling, but … I like it.

Day 290:

Chowing down more food than ever. My body just won’t stop. It’s like I’m not even driving anymore. I read, but I just get so … sleepy. It’s like the words don’t even matter anymore. I listen, but the sounds sort of pour through my ears. I guess my brain finally had enough soaking. Needs to be squeezed.

Yeah.

Squeezed. That’s funny.

Huhuh.

Day 300:

Boss pulled me aside today. Told me to take a break. I’ll take that break, all right, break that plateau I’ve been stuck on all week. I’m not done growing yet, not by a long shot.

Oh, that felt so good, just to say it. You can’t even imagine how it feels when it actually happens. I eat, and I grow. I eat, and I grow. I eat, I work, I grow.

And it just … feels so good.

Day 310:

Bros, I … I’m so big. So fuckin’ heavy. Can’t … can’t stop ‘mirin in the mirror. I look back at my old photos and I’m like, who’s this fuckin’ twig, bro? It’s like … like it’s not even me, y’know? Like … like, uh … out of body … dream … uh … you know what I mean, right, bros?

Huhuhuh … Sorry. Been kinda … spacin’ out like that lately. S’like … Idunno, like my thoughts just … aren’t there anymore, y’know? S’like, all my thinking’s just … swirling and blending and sucking right out a straw. Hey, just like those shakes i make! Huhuhuh. Yeah. Just like uh, like uh….

…

…

Oh, hey, Boss. ‘Sup? Nah, just finishing my voice journal. S’all good. Nah, I’m finished. Ready to work out?

Sweet!

Day 311:

Got some new bling on my duds today. Big ol’ black n’yellow buckle. Boss says it’s sort of like a weight belt. Keeps an eye on my body, makes sure I don’t overdo it. Like I could overdo anything with guns like these! Still, gotta do what boss says. You know how it is. Told him I didn’t wanna, but he just told me to wait n’see. He kinda stressed the first one a little heavy. Not sure why. Thought he might’ve had a cough or somethin’. He just said forget about it, so that’s what I did. Still kinda weird, though.

…

…

…

Pun…

Oh my….

Huhuhuhuhuhuh– I’m such a fuckin’ dumbass!

Day 313:

Walked past the embassy today. Saw a big picture of me plastered next to this wimp of a kid. Thing was labeled Before and After. ’N I’m just like, Bro, is that even me? Like … there must be some kind of mistake, right? ’Cus, like, I don’t remember ever bein’ that small. S’gotta be like, for uh, …. wadaya call it, a comparison. Don’t even look like me.

Huhuh. Yeah. S’not even me. … Not even me.

DELETE FOLDER: PROGRESS PICS? [Y/N] Y

Not even me….

Day 320:

I keep wondering where all m’bros went. Bar’s so quiet. Boss said harvest’s over, so things’re gonna be sorta … empty for a while.

…

I like empty.

It’s good … to be … Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……

“Good boy. Just relax and let me finish those last few drops of knowledge…. Mmm, what a fruitful venture you were, little tree. You’ll do very well at the power station, won’t you?”

Huhuhuhuhuh…….

INITIATE ADMINISTRATOR OVERRIDE RESET: [Y/N]

Y

———————————————————————————————-

Day 1

Listen up, bros. You ever notice how the “smart” guys are always fried? Always grinding, always overthinking, always carrying the weight of a million expectations on their shoulders? They’re stressed 24/7, chasing grades, careers, approval, trying to be the perfect son/boyfriend/employee. Their brains never shut off. Anxiety is their default setting.

Now look at the real winners, the dumb, happy, horny himbos.

They don’t overthink. They don’t stress. They just feel.

They lift heavy, eat big, smile wide, and get hard at the simplest shit. A tight tank top in the mirror? Instant boner. A bro’s sweaty muscles after leg day? Even better. Low expectations = maximum bliss. No pressure to be the smartest in the room when you’re too busy being the hottest, horniest, most fuckable one instead.

Smart = constant pressure

Dumb = pure dopamine

Being dumb means freedom. Freedom to flex, to moan, to edge for hours because your brain fogged up and all that’s left is muscle and cock. Your only job is to grow bigger, look better, and make everyone around you a little dumber and hornier too.

Every time you let a thought slip away…

Every time you choose the pump over the problem set…

Every time you catch yourself grinning like an idiot because your reflection looks bigger and your dick feels thicker…

You’re winning.

Drop the overthinking. Embrace the himbo glow-up.

Get stupid. Get swole. Get happy. Get horny.

The world doesn’t need another stressed-out smart boy.

Nathan was a journalist tasked with covering a local bodybuilding expo. He wasn't sure why he'd been assigned given he specialised in media but after spending hours bumping shoulders with the roidheads out on the floor, he no longer felt like he stood out from the crowd.

Brody was nervous about living in a dorm. He knew the reputation they had, especially those at Dalton, and that he’d surely be forced to live with at least one roommate throughout the semester. What if they never got on? Brody was an artsy sort of guy with kind eyes and a lithe frame. At a distance he appeared scrawny - not helped by his ill-fitting clothing and equally unflattering posture - though he did have some definition around his shoulders and legs from running track in school. That was actually why he’d come to Dalton in the first place. He’d planned on heading to art school like all his friends only to have his application intercepted and fast-tracked to study at Dalton based on athletic merit. It’d only ever been an extracurricular hobby for him, not the sort of thing he wanted to own or get by on, but given how competitive the art colleges were and the cost of rent being what it was, Brody’d let his friends go with a heavy heart.

It occurred to him as he climbed the stairs that he wasn’t sure if Dalton even had much in the way of an art department. He stepped over some bottles, rolls of unfurled toilet paper and discarded condom packets - was…was that a used one?! - before settling upon his door. 

#69. 

He groaned. Someone out there must’ve laughed themself stupid at that. In fact, muffled behind the door, someone WAS laughing themself stupid. He tensed with the key half-turned, all those doubts of having left his friends rushing back. It wasn’t too late, right? If his roommate turned out to be an obnoxious douche he could always swap with someone else, or spend his days locked away in the library, or go scurrying back home with his tail between his legs. No…No…Brody steeled himself and took a breath, opened the door and stepped inside.

Chris sat down at his laptop, flicking through drafts for his TF blog @testostories. There were long forms to be finished, short forms scheduled and a long list of guys he'd saved for...future study. He scrolled through writers old and new who'd inspired him to take up the blog, though his focus fell upon the little blue box by 'Messages'.

Was it a fan of his work? A budding critic? He tentatively clicked.

>bromeo69: hey bro. me + the boys dig ur work,, more the merrier lol

>bromeo69: can tell ur a total dweeb tho lol practice wat u preech

Chris couldn't tell what to make of that. A warm flush washed over him while he parsed the message. There was a compliment wrapped in all that, right? So what did the second bit mean? He made to respond but found his fingers prodding the keys more violently than he would've liked. His message was gibberish, all typos and spammed punctuation, so he deleted with a few more jabs and tried again. And again. >testostories: thanks man,, glad u get it 💪🏼

Wait. Waitwaitwait. Back the fuck up. Chris squinted, much like a gorilla catching its own reflection in a zoo. There in the reflection of the laptop screen, squeezed into his creaking gaming chair, was a jock; a bodybuilding jock with hands and brows as thick as his traps. Trophies and medals lined the shelf behind his shoulder. A Tupperware dish of unseasoned chicken breast, broccoli and rice sat by the mouse mat. And his monitor was framed on either side by stacks of supplements both legal and otherwise. The price to pay to dominate his opponents.

>bromeo69: btw gratz on the big win bro

>bromeo69: u were fukkin yoked lol 🍳

Chris smirked, only half paying attention. He was too busy squeezing his pecs, running fingers along his abs, adjusting the throbbing meat slapping the underside of his desk. Something'd...happened to him, right...?

>bromeo69: yh well ill let u go bro

>bromeo69: probs chasing macros or sumthin

>bromeo69: hows that for a testostory lol

Agent Fisher reports on his roommate's transformative descent into being a father figure straight from a 90's sitcom as he tries to pretend he's not into it.

Dad and Bear Tf's are always some of my favorites to write and this one is no different! Took the flavor but not the style of a certain foundation! Enjoy this daddification from the POV of a desperate agent who has failed his station and by the end suffers the same transformative consequences. -Occam

This is a report from Special Agent Fisher on a previously unidentified anomalous artifact. Delivered to my apartment while I was away on an expedition, a VHS tape labeled Dad’s Den was opened and watched by my friend and roommate who, unaware he should resist, succumbed to its effects and in time was replaced by what can only be described as a stereotypical dad. As if he were straight out of the video tape he couldn’t help but watch.

Given I was on foundation business during the encounter and have already suffered through the loss of my dear friend Clayton, I would request leniency. I submit this thorough report of the VHS tapes effects as evidence and when guaranteed both my personal safety and continued employment I will deliver both the video footage and the anomalous artifact in question.

I understand how this will be perceived but know I only hold the foundation’s best interests at heart. This is simply not my fault and I refuse to be demoted due to a situation out of my hands that I have already suffered beyond measure from. If anything I deserve a promotion for resisting the tape’s allure and effects, though at present I simply want guaranteed and continued safety for Clayton and myself. 

Please read the following account of what I have dubbed AA-0646: ‘The Fatherly Film’ before coming to any decisions.

Daniel'd never gotten on with his roommate. And that was just fine. They were different people from different worlds and learned to give one another space. The only thing they had in common really was a love of music, so Kevin - bodybuilder that he was - put together a playlist hoping to clear the air.

Daniel hadn't thought much of it, at least at first. It didn't sound like there was any music playing though he could've sworn there were voices echoing in surround sound. It took a couple of loops for him to really get what Kevin was going for.

Now Daniel doesn't think much of anything.

Happy belated birthday to @transform4u . I'm sorry this is so late, and it's kind of shit. I think I had too many ideas, and didn't want to expand on them as much as I should have. I also wrote it over several days, so the tone is all over the place. I'm not happy with this but, I hope you like it anyway. Happy birthday! BTW, a div is a kind of demon of gigantic size, in Persian mythology.

Another year older, another few lines on your face. You keep telling yourself they came from stress, from bad sleep, from staring at a monitor at three in the morning writing garbage transformations for strangers online. Endless writing. Endless pretending. It wasn’t like any of it was real, was it?

Tharnis wasn’t real. The Genie Ashur wasn't real. Robin Morningstar wasn’t real. The weird soda cans, the cursed clothing brands, coins, and cursed TVS, the Redwave shit — all fiction. Cheap fantasy. Stories about becoming someone else because maybe it was easier than being yourself for a while.

Right?

You were turning thirty at the end of the month, and honestly you mostly hoped for free stuff. Coupons. Promo emails. Some pathetic little “happy birthday” reward from companies that wanted me to buy more garbage. So, when your phone buzzed that night, you opened your inbox without thinking.

At first you thought it was just some stupid spam.

No sender. No company logo. Just a single unread message with the subject line:

“You made me.”

Your stomach tightened.

Then the screen started glowing.

Not bright — not enough to light the room — just a low, dim red leaking from beneath the glass, pulsing softly against your fingertips. Like there was something alive inside your phone, breathing slow and steady, waiting for you to open the email.

Fingers shaking, you open the email.  The subject line was “You made me.” You scroll down to the rest of the message.  Random characters and runes are strewn about the e-mail message, you have to wonder, how did they do that?  Is that even possible?  You finally get to the text of the message.  You made me, so I’ll make you.  That’s all the message says.  You feel tired, head to bed and black out.

***

The next morning you wake up.  You start to go about your morning ablutions, but, as you exit your bedroom door you bump into a gift box, literally.  It was left on the floor, right in front of your bedroom door.  You pick it up.  There’s a tag, but all it says is  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” the type seems kind of burned in to the paper. 

You decide to open the box.  The air feels kind of heavy as you tear it open.   

***FWOOSH!***

A pulse of heat rushes out—red laser beams shoot from the box like demonic spotlights, dancing at a night club!  A soft odor emits from the box: brimstone, sulfur… and something else?   It kind of evokes days spent at the gym.  And after, in the locker room.  You cough a couple of times, and take a big breath in.  It smells very familiar. 

What’s in the box?

The outfit is intense.   Not just clothe, but true gym wear.  For men who really get in to lifting.  On top sits a bright fire engine red weightlifting belt, thick and serious-looking.  Next up there’s a crimson compression top.  Followed by metallic gold compression pants that shimmer under the light.  The look like they may be too small?  Would they even fit you?  And lastly, a pair of Otomix Stingray Escape shoes — fire engine red, laced tight like boots for a gym rat.  Below the shoes, etched on the box, a note:

"Congratulations on your birthday.  To claim your free month at Iron Dominion Fitness™, wear this outfit exactly as presented.  You may wear your own under garments if you so choose.  Pleas call 555-IRON to schedule your initial fitness consultation.” 

And that’s it.  All you’re left with are a whole lot of questions.  How the hell did that box get in your house?  Who the hell is Iron Dominion Fitness™?  Why did you get some mysterious box for your birthday?  And did this have anything to do with that mysterious e-mail?  Should you even go to that gym?

***

You didn’t remember making an appointment, but for some reason you found yourself headed to Iron Dominion Fitness™ at 7 am on a Sunday morning.  Your contact there, someone named Div Daimon?  

When you get there, Div himself, greets you.  He is an immense man, made completely of muscle.  The reception desk is dwarfed by this giant of a man.  He comes from behind the desk with a sly smile and says in an accented voice, ‘Welcome!  I was expecting you.” 

Was that a Middle Eastern accent?  Persian?  You had no idea.  You tell Div that you were here for the free trial.  He tells you that you look good in the promotional kit, and that he has a protein shake for you to sample, and a short video to show you about the rules of the gym.  Div says the protein shake is a new proprietary blend that the gym has commissioned.  

Div hands you a frothy protein shake, in a cup with “Fuel” printed on it.  He says it’s hand crafted for gains only. 

You drink it one go, you hate protein shakes, but you realize, you really enjoyed this one.  It tasted like the perfect root beer float and didn’t have the chalky aftertaste of most protein shakes.  How the hell did they do that? You have to wonder. 

Div takes you to a back room.  It has a couple of desks with computers on them.  He sets up one computer, and pulls out a chair for you. 

"Sit here," he says, pointing to a desk with large headphones resting on it.

You sit down. The seat feels sturdy, like everything in this gym was built for giants.

Div plugs the headphones into the computer, clicks play—and suddenly…

The screen is very simple.  No menu card, no title page, just straight to video.  Blak background, and in fades red text, varsity font, “Iron Dominion Fitness™”.

No menu.

No title.

Just *immediate video*—black background fades into soft red text:

Rules & Philosophy

A calm voice starts speaking—deep but not aggressive. More… authoritative coach vibes?

It's playing through your headphones now: Clear sound, no distractions~ For some reason you feel completely focused on this video.  You are ready to listen and absorb the important words you are about to hear. 

The voice continues—firm, steady, like a drill sergeant speaking in velvety bass, “Respect is the foundation of Iron Dominion Fitness™. Without it? No gains. No brotherhood. Just chaos."*

The screen shows:

- A montage of huge guys spotting each other

- Trainers high-fiving members

- Everyone nodding to one another with serious eye contact

Then text flashes and blinks on screen, You must respect clients and trainers.”  The Voice continues, “Every man here has been invited here.  We are not rivals; we support each other.  We do not fight with other members on the gym floor.  The gym floor is for getting swole, not to clash egos.”   Then a pause, in a harder tone, “You must listen to all orders issued by staff.  All orders issued by staff must be complied with immediately.  You will obey all staff members.”

Not a suggestion.  Not optional.  It was

 mandatory.

And with finality, the voice says,” It’s a matter of respect.”

Div watches you watch the video, his arms crossed—like a coach looking at his star player. 

The rules continue on screen. 

Mandatory Training Sessions

The voice says, "All new members must train under supervision for at least 2 hours per day.  No skipping.

You show up.  Work out.

Follow orders from trainers.  You will say yes, sir after each rule, do you understand?”

You were transfixed.  You reply softly, “Yes, sir.”

The voice says, “That’s not good enough.  Say it like you mean it.  Like it has etched it’s way on to your brain.  Like it will become your life’s work.”

“YES, SIR!”: you say with gusto.  You believe you will come here every day and put your  two hours in every day of the week.

The text on screen is replaced with new text, “Rule 2: Uniform Enforcement.”

The velvety bass voice, his coach says, "Members must wear Iron Dominion Fitness™ approved gear during all workouts — no exceptions.”  That means the red compression shirt, belt, gold pants, shoes are to become your new gym uniform, you think to yourself.

“Rule 3: Daily Performance Reviews”   

The voice, his coach says, “Every member gets graded daily by staff on strength, discipline, and ‘bro energy.’ Low scores mean extra training.  No slacking, just training and getting swole, bro.”

“Yes, Sir!” you exclaim.  This is great.  It means you have to stay motivated or they will allow you to make up the time you were wasting so you could reach your full potential, you are starting to get pumped. 

Rule 5 appears on screen: “No Personal Phones During Workouts” is displayed on screen. 

 Coach says, "Phones are banned in the gym floor. Focus is mandatory."* 

No distractions.  Just weights.  Personal customized music tracks will be made for you to help you achieve your full bro potential.”

“Rule 6: Weekly ‘Bro Talks’”

Coach tells me, "Mandatory group discussions about masculinity, respect for authority, and proper bro values."*

You are zoning out to the rules, making sure they sink in to your brain, the protein shake you drank making you fully receptive to the rules coach gave you.   You feel Div walk behind you, placing his hand on your shoulder.  “I am your Coach,” he says, “You are Chad.  A personal trainer here at Iron Dominion Fitness™.”  Your mind tries to fight it,  But you feel that what Coach is saying sticking to your brain.  You ARE Chad, You ARE a personal trainer at Iron Dominion Fitness™.

“You are a total jock bro.  Your IQ is 100, you might not no algebra, but you do know about macros, meal plans, and calculating the perfect weight for your clients to lift.  You are the ultimate Chad personal trainer, you know how to get people to sign up for personal training.  Now drink your pre- workout and get on the floor.”

As Coach was talking, you could feel your body changing.  You could feel your body growing taller, wider.  You could feel your muscles buzzing with energy as they grew and became the perfect musculature for a personal trainer.  Your brain hurt as you lost information about your old life.  You became Chad, personal trainer at Iron Dominion Fitness™, and you were fucking awesome, bro.  You fucking knew all the tips and tricks, to uhhh, like, make other bros fucking swole, dude.  You knew your stats were like, 6’6”tall, and you weighed 275 in the morning and you kept your uhhh body fat percentage at like 10% when you were like on a fucking bulking phase, bro, but when you were fucking competing, you cut down to fucking 3% pretty easily, bro.”

By the time Coach Div was done with you, you had become a 6’6” tall, 275 lbs muscle jock.  Your muscles had muscles.  You couldn’t help by flex and look at yourself in mirrors.  You were the ultimate jock bro personal trainer. 

I wish I had the body of my dreams. We’re not talking set goals as if I were a bodybuilder or something, no, we’re talking about crazy-ass horny dreams. The dream was that my ass was inflated into two giant globes that were firm yet squishy enough and jiggled with each step, and to have pecs ballooned into at least a D cup, also firm but squishy, and small nipples so sensitive I could just cum from only a little amound of fondling.

I didn’t realise when I wished this, it would come true. I had woken up on my day off and decided to go to the pictures to watch the latest movie. As I sat in the theatre, I felt a tightness in my chest and a swelling in my ass. I looked down and my chin was met with my shir and, soon enough, I had found my pecs were growing. As they grew, they tingled and it felt like electricity was running through them. I shifted a little and my shirt brushed up against my nipples and I had to bite my lip to stop a moan from slipping. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quiet enough and the guy next to me - a daddy, might I add - had turned his head and smiled as if he didn’t think what was happening was odd. My shirt strained against my new set of heaving pecs and they slowed to a stop, and I had felt my pants tear at the ass a little. When I reached under my chair to feel my ass, I was shocked at how big it had grown. I hoped that I could even get out of my chair. Out of nowhere, I felt a hand on my inner thigh; it was the daddy. He smiled once more and gestured to follow him. Soon enough, I was following him into the disability bathroom which was only one stall and he immediately pinned me up against the wall, my hands above my head. He started kissing down my neck, my breathing heavy already. He tore my tight shirt off and groped at my tits, moulding them like clay before moving to the nipples. He pinched and pulled them and I wantonly moaned as if he was hitting my prostate, but he hadn’t entered me yet. He moved his head down and, before I knew it, he suckled at my nipples, biting and licking at the little sensitive nubs. I could’ve been yelling had he not put one of his hands over my mouth - the other was caressing just under my ass cheek. My body was on fire and I felt something running down the back of my leg. Before I could even question it properly, he lifted his head from my nipple and held up his hand that held my ass. It was covered in transparent liquid as if it were lube. He licked a finger and paused. I watched his pupils dilate as his head turned to me. He shoved another finger into my mouth to give me a taste and I understood why; it tasted like honey and, no sooner had I swallowed it down, my dick shot up harder than it had ever been. It was like an aphrodisiac, pure lust coarsing through both our bodies. He immediately turned me around and pulled down my almost-torn shorts and buried his face in the pillows of my asscheeks. He ate at it, starving for more, ravishing my hole as if it were dessert. I could no longer hold back my moans as I whined for more, but he was too quick. Soon, he was stood, naked behind me, his thick cock locked on target for my hole, and he shoved it in. There was no pain, there was no blockage, it went straight inside and I saw stars. He pounded away like a jackhammer, in and out as quick as possible, hitting that sweet spot every time, and I was screaming in the throes of ecsasty. His hands smacked at my ass til it was raw and groped onto my pecs again, before moving to my overly sensitive nipples. He tugged on them as he kissed my neck and edged me closer and closer to orgasm. He was moaning almost as loud as I was before his movements became rigid. We both shouted as we both hit orgasm. He filled me up with baby batter and I polished the wall with stream after stream of cum. My chest exploded too, cum steaming from my nipples as if I were a cow as he continued to tug on them. It was the most intense orgasm of my life and, as soon as it was over, I wanted more. I was desperate for more; I was on my knees begging him for more and he just smiled.

He told me he was the one that made my wish come true and he was only here for the first drop to claim his own reward. With that, he left, and I was immediately on grindr looking for the next person who was ready to ravish me. There was no going back from this.

It was oh so sudden! Right before my eyes my nineteen year old friend who struggled greatly through puberty had just burst with change! I thought it was a webcam filter but no, there was no telltale sign and it was one hundred percent legitimate!

Muscles shot out everywhere. His biceps became cannonballs. His shoulders and neck thickened and stretched to give his back the perfect top to a now broad back, tapering into a slim waist housing a perfect cobblestone road for a stomach. His pecs inflated like balloons, his nipples becoming supple and sensitive, poking tightly against the straining fabric of his now straining black singlet.

He stood up showing meaty thighs in thin running shorts that struggled to contain the two perfect bubble cheeks that he grabbed and jiggled with thick, large paws for hands. When he turned around, my jaw dropped at what looked like a girthy snake running over his left thigh, noticably getting larger as it got harder.

"Are you coming over?" he asked in a now more deep and seductive tone as his face came back into frame; facial hair he couldn't grow now present around his sharp clenching jawline, eyebrows thicker sitting above warm brown eyes that shined with a hint of lust as he subtly smirked with his now fuller lips.

---

You had been going to the gym since you were fresh out of high school, reaching goals and personal bests yet you could never make it past that twunk shape. That lean muscle shape just wasn't enough and didn't satisfy whether it was your partners or yourself seemingly dropping the "imagine how big you could get" comment. You've always wanted to be a bodybuilder but that dream seemed so far away.

By the time you reached your mid-thirties, you were tired of being tempted by all these "alternate methods" and, after a drunken night out, you stumbled to a twenty-four hour supplement store. You ran through your grief about not growing more with the worker who half-smiled out of greed. He pulled out a small pill bottle and told you to take one a day for five days, but it was something that would cost. Of course your drunken state had you immediately hand out your cash, something you'd regret the next morning.

Wanting to start that night, you took the pill and only remember passing out not long after you got home, exhausted from the night. You woke up feeling sore all over, curious as to what you got up to the night before. When you got up and passed the mirror, something caught your eye. Was that cum on your torso? You looked to your bed seeing a cum puddle where you were laying.

As you brought your arm up to wipe at some of it, you saw your bicep flex subtly. Shockingly it looked bigger than normal, so you started to flex them and then continued to check out the rest of your body. Definitely bigger. Your eye caught the pill bottle on your bedside and so you investigated. Not too much information was written on it but you could make out that it was definitely muscle supplements and the warning to not take more than one a day.

It seems to do the trick, you thought. Might as well keep it up.

Day three, your mind had kind of slowed down. There was more focus on worshipping the now larger body you carried. You got all sorts of guys into your house to help oil you up and worship you. Your body sprouted with hair and your eyes became more daunting; some of the twinks started calling you daddy and you took that on board with your future worshipping sessions. Any boy was lucky to have his hands on you.

The final day, your mind was completely focused on working out and keeping up the build. You wanted to be a bull, an alpha who dominated the air of any room he stomped into. Your bodybuilding dreams had returned and were in full effect but you still wanted more. You were the only one asking yourself now "imagine how big you could get" and that was enough to keep going. These pills helped changed your body chemistry and you've noticed that you grow much quicker even now you've finished the pills. The world was going to worship you.

A wicked grin crossed your face. This was going to be fun.