There was this legend the old-timers back in my hometown used to obsess over. They spoke of a hidden canyon, wedged between jagged peaks and a forest so wild the sunlight barely touched the ground. Deep within that gorge flowed a secret river they called "The Vein of Masculinity." To me, it was just bullshit—the kind of stories a group of old men tell to feel relevant again. I was just an average 20-year-old guy, a bit on the lean side, living a normal life. I never thought those myths had a grain of truth. That was, until the camping trip.
We were deep in the mountains, pushing through untamed brush just for the hell of it, when I got separated from the group. The air changed; it became heavy, charged with a strange electricity. I stumbled down a steep, rocky slope and found myself at the mouth of a narrow, hidden kanyon. There it was: a stream of water that didn't just flow—it pulsed like a literal vein.
I knelt by the bank. The water was shallow but crystal clear. I was parched, so I cupped my hands and took a long drink. The taste was wild—distinctly salty, like the taste of a hard workout or the sea, yet it had an addictive sweetness that made my heart hammer against my ribs. I couldn't stop. I drank again and again, the liquid fire sliding down my throat, making me crave more with every gulp.
Then, the world began to warp.
A volcanic heat erupted from my core, radiating outward with a force that made my vision blur. I felt my bones groan and crack as they thickened and lengthened. My shoulders, once average, began to spread, widening with a terrifying speed that made my shirt threads pop. I watched my arms in disbelief; the skin was tightening as layers of dense, rock-hard muscle exploded underneath. My biceps peaked into heavy mountains of flesh, and my chest surged forward, rippling with a raw, primal power.
I was growing taller, broader, and heavier by the second. I felt like my old self was being erased and replaced by something ancient and dominant. But the real moment of truth came when the transformation reached its peak.
I stood there, towering over the stream, and slowly, I looked down at myself. My breath hitched. A surge of pure, unfiltered pride hit me like a physical wave. The legends weren't exaggerating. The "unimaginable masculinity" those old men whispered about... I finally understood exactly what they meant. Every part of me had been upgraded to a level of size and power that defied logic. I felt like a god standing in that shallow water.
A slow, knowing grin spread across my face as I heard my friends' voices echoing from the ridge above. They were still those same average guys I had started the trip with. I looked at the pulsing water one last time and knew what I had to do. I couldn't leave them behind. I had to lead them here and watch them claim this power for themselves.
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Your holding the Box in your Hands. You always felt attracted to cheesy underwear but too shy to really buy one... not to think of wearing it. But since you've seen the commercial fir this 'Strong-Thong' in your Instagram feed for quite some time, you decided to purchase it.
You ripped open the carton, pulling out the small piece of fabric.
Huh, it was quite small and looked like it was out of a women's collection for pyjamas but nevertheless you stripped down your clothes and put it on.
As soon as it touched your skin you felt good, like it belonged there. You felt confident and you were 'proud' of your body all of a sudden.
"Wow, I look good in this! Guess I'll keep it on for the rest of the day."
So you did. You dressed as usual and everything seemed as always. You checked yourself in the mirror one last time noticing that your underwear could be seen it you lift your shirt. But you thought that's sexy. And it kinda turned you on.
You went to the city by train since you're living in the suburbs. Lost in your thoughts you began to itch your balls. You didn't even notice it but something felt different as usual. Maybe it was bust because of the thong...
A few hours passed and you felt like your jeans were tighter as usual. Weird, you didn't gain any weight. The scale showed the same numbers as yesterday and you didn't seem to look chubbier in the mirror this morning. You looked down and realized that your pants really looked smaller... did your quads always stand out like that?
You went to the nearest bathroom to investigate the situation. You lifted you shirt and were surprised by a dump truck of an ass.
Your ass cheeks bumped up and down when you flexed your muscles, letting them rub against each other. Holy shit, that felt good. And it looked even better! You decided to give yourself a better look on your new gained confidence. You stripped down and checked yourself out.
No way this is your ass. You flexed and squeezed your cheeks, feeling yourself. But as soon as you put your thong down, you felt like something was missing. Like your body needs this piece of fabric.
So you put it back on, the rest of your clothes followed soon.
Before you left the bathroom you lifted your shirt one mire time. Apearently not only your booty got thicker.
your upper body also gained some muscles looking like the beach body you always wanted.
Finnishing your shopping spree you headed home. Since you came by train you had to take it back home. You plattform was on the opposite of the train station so you took the elevator to get to the upper floor. Waiting in there you noticed the changes your body went through.
Your whole body blew up with muscles. Big, buldgy arms, your chest standing out, a wide back that could carry your fridge alone and of course you legs, that looked like tree trunks... you couldn't belive your eyes. Hoping to get home soon you couldn't wait to check out the rest of your new beef body. The train ride was quite bumpy and with every jump the train did, your muscles bounced heavily, especially your new muscle tits. It was a huge turn on and you couldn't reseist touching and feeling the mass of your body. Running your hands over your chest, your arms, your legs and, accidentally, your dick. It twitched with joy as you beefy hands got on it.
You never ran home so quickly.
You ran to your bedroom to see the full glory, when you felt an energy surge puls through your body.
You felt heavy, your body inflating with even more muscles.
You burst out of your clothes and let out an animalistic roar. You felt like your true self came to the surface... and it won't leave so soon.
Welcome to Superbear After Dark! A spinoff blog with stories set in the Superbear universe for mature audiences. Please be advised that this story is meant for ages 18+, is NSFW and contains explicit sexual acts.
Many thanks to @everettman for helping with editing this story!
Enjoy!
The apartment held onto the day's heat. Above them the ceiling fan turned in slow, creaking circles, pushing around the smell of cold takeout and old couch cushions. Nico sat cross-legged at his end of the sofa, phone lit in his hands. Colin was stretched out beside him in a washed-out henley, eyes half shut after a double shift.
"Okay, so this is either genius or a virus," Nico said, thumbing through the screen. He'd finally cancelled Prowlr after the last price hike and gone looking for a way around it. What he'd found was a cracked build somebody had reuploaded, Prowlr+, the plus sign doing a lot of heavy lifting for something this janky. "Found a whole tab that shouldn't be here. 'Body Editor.'"
Colin cracked one eye. "That a euphemism?"
"No idea." The tab wanted a photo before it would do anything. Nico assumed it was a bit, some prank feature bolted on by whoever had ripped the app apart. He didn't say that part out loud. He angled the phone toward Colin instead, silently snapping a picture.
The screen filled with sliders. Countless rows labelled for parts of the body, and under that, a second set for things beyond the physical. Nico scrolled past the ones he didn't want to think about and stopped on the one marked "chest". He moved it up, barely, more to see what the thing would do rather than out of any belief it would have an effect.
Then it hit: a sudden flush of heat bloomed across Colin's chest, deep and insistent, as if liquid fire pooled beneath the skin. His breath caught, turning into a low, involuntary moan that surprised himself. His muscles tightened and swelled just enough to strain the fabric of his shirt. The change was subtle yet unmistakable: pecs rounding out with new heft and definition. A light dusting of hair prickled into view where smooth skin had been, the sensation sent a shiver of unexpected pleasure through him.
"Nico." His hand had already gone to his chest, pressed flat against the new weight. "what the hell did you do?!" The words came out rougher than intended, laced with a mix of panic and something else he couldn’t name. The fabric stretched taut, buttons straining at the new contours of his pecs.
"I don't know." Nico's thumb jerked on the slider, dragging it back down. The changes began to reverse. Colin’s swollen pecs slowly deflated, but the relief was short-lived. When Nico tried to nudge the slider a little further to settle it, the app glitched — sending a fresh surge of growth through Colin’s shoulders and upper chest instead. Each correction only made things worse, the henley riding up off his stomach as a button gave way with a small tick of thread. His nipples pressing firmly against the straining fabric as his chest expanded outward again. Nico yelled, "I'm trying to fix it, hang on, I'm trying—"
Colin’s initial fear sharpened into demand as his chest pushed forward another visible inch, the seams of his henley creaking under the strain. “Give me answers—now. What is this thing?” His voice had dropped an octave, steadier, as his fingers closed around the phone and pulled it from Nico’s grip. Fascination edged in, replacing the tremor in his hands; the sliders glowed invitingly, and for the first time Colin didn’t look away from his own reflection in the dark screen. A quiet thrill stirred low in his gut, the kind that made him wonder what else those impossible controls might unlock if he dared to explore them himself.
Colin’s thumb brushed the screen almost unconsciously, selecting the cluster labeled “Secondary Traits.” The moment he tapped it, the app seemed to unlock a cascade of connected options. A low rumble built in his throat as the changes hit all at once—his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly baritone that vibrated through his chest. “Fuck… that feels…” The words trailed into a deep, involuntary grunt as coarse dark hair sprouted across his forearms and the backs of his hands, thickening rapidly. At the same time, his jaw prickled and itched fiercely; stubble exploded into a full, wiry beard that framed his face, the sudden weight of it making every breath feel heavier and more deliberate. Heat pooled low in his belly, arousal stirring as the new growth rasped against the hem of his shirt.
Nico’s breath caught, guilt twisting through the heat flooding his own jeans. He couldn’t look away. Colin’s shoulders broadened in a slow, powerful surge, fabric tearing at the seams while muscle packed on in thick slabs. Colin moaned openly now, a guttural sound that sent a shiver down Nico’s spine. His roommate’s chest swelled further as a firm, rounded belly pushed out against the straining buttons. The phone’s glow lit Colin’s face, highlighting the new beard’s dark bristles and the hungry glint in his eyes. Nico’s fingers twitched at his sides, caught between wanting to snatch the device back and the shameful pull to watch more. He ached to see those powerful hands, now furred and veined, explore the body the app was reshaping.
A fresh wave rippled through Colin’s torso; his thighs thickening to match the broadening frame. A soft yet solid gut rose that he instinctively rubbed with one palm, the touch drawing another low groan. The room smelled sharper now, muskier, laced with sweat and something primal. Nico swallowed hard, arousal warring with the growing sense that he’d unleashed something irreversible, yet he stayed rooted, pulse hammering as Colin’s gaze lifted to meet his.
Colin’s eyes locked onto Nico’s with a deep hunger. The screen moved on its own, Colin's thumb nowhere near: the sexuality profile tab glowed and slid the marker firmly toward “men” with an audible click. Despite Colin’s sudden, shaky attempt to drag it back; A deep, frightened groan escaped him. His cock hardened visibly beneath his straining pants, thick and insistent. The new beard brushing Colin's lips as his nostrils flared with the scent of Nico’s arousal. “Nico… fuck, I can’t—” Colin rumbled, voice thick with equal parts fear and raw need. The phone slipped from his fingers to the floor as his massive, furred hand reached out to grip Nico’s wrist, pulling him closer while the other hand palmed the heavy bulge between his thighs. “You want this, don’t you?” Nico’s heart pounded, his own erection straining against his jeans as terror twisted with undeniable heat, the air thick with musk and the electric crackle of something unfolding between them.
Colin’s grip tightened around Nico’s wrist, no longer hesitant but commanding, yanking him forward until their bodies collided chest to chest. The new mass of him a wall of heat and fur, his beard scraping roughly against Nico’s cheek as he leaned in, inhaling deep. “You started this,” Colin growled, voice dropping into a gravelly timbre that vibrated through Nico’s bones. His free hand slid down, thick fingers palming the straining bulge in his own pants before cupping Nico’s ass with possessive force, squeezing hard enough to make Nico gasp. The air between them grew heavier, laced with the sharp, earthy tang of Colin’s sweat—musky and primal, like damp pine and raw male need—that seemed to cling to Nico’s skin on contact.
A low growl escaped Colin as he pressed closer, his cock now fully rigid and throbbing against Nico’s thigh, the thick shaft pulsing with each beat of his heart. Sweat beaded along his brow and trickled down the dense pelt covering his chest, soaking into the fabric of his shirt until it clung transparently to every swollen muscle. “Smell that?” he murmured, assertive now, his tone laced with a daddy’s knowing edge that brooked no argument. He dragged Nico’s face deliberately into the crook of his neck, forcing him to breathe in the addictive haze. Nico’s head spun, the scent hitting like a drug—salty, masculine, and overpowering—making his own cock twitch and leak precome into his jeans. The fear in his gut twisted into something hotter, needier, as Colin’s sweat transferred to his lips, tasting of salt and raw power.
Colin’s hand moved with slow control, unbuttoning his own pants to free the heavy length of his cock, veined and flushed dark, the head already glistening. He guided Nico’s hand to it, wrapping those smaller fingers around the girth that had thickened beyond recognition, the skin hot and slick with that same musky sweat. “This is what you get for playing with things you don’t understand”, he said, voice steady and dominant, his hips rolling in a single, firm thrust that slid the shaft through Nico’s fist. The scent intensified from the motion, filling the room like an invisible fog that made Nico’s knees weaken and his mouth water. Colin’s free hand roamed upward, fingers threading into Nico’s hair to hold him in place while his other palm pressed against Nico’s chest, as if testing the boundaries of what his new influence could reshape.
The app on the forgotten phone pulsed once more, its interface flickering with options that Colin now accepted without hesitation—sliders for musk potency sliding higher, a new toggle for “addictive essence” and “transformative hormones” clicking into place. Colin’s eyes darkened with recognition, a slow, predatory smile curving his lips as the changes settled into his body. Sweat poured more freely now, carrying an invisible charge that made Nico’s skin tingle wherever it touched, hinting at deeper alterations yet to come. “You’ll crave this,” Colin rumbled, pressing his sweat-slicked palm to Nico’s neck, letting the essence seep in. Nico moaned despite himself, the heat spreading through his veins like lava, his own body responding with an erection that ached painfully hard.
Colin pushed Nico back onto the couch with effortless strength, looming over him. He grabbed the torn remnants of his own henley and ripped it the rest of the way off, revealing the full expanse of his transformed torso—broad, heavily furred, with dark nipples standing erect amid the dense pelt. With a rough tug he then yanked Nico’s shirt up and over his head, shoving his jeans and underwear down his thighs in one impatient motion and freeing Nico’s aching cock.
Colin let out a low, amused chuckle as he wrapped one thick, furred hand around Nico’s shaft and gave it a slow, deliberate stroke. “Look at you,” he rumbled, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Already this fucking hard for me. Guess you like what you started after all.”
He straddled Nico’s hips, grinding the heavy weight of his balls and cock against the smaller man’s stomach, the wet drag of precome smearing across bare skin. His own arousal surged visibly, thick cock twitching and leaking steadily as the musky aroma thickened in the air. He shifted upward, straddling Nico’s chest and looming over his face. “Open,” Colin commanded.
The blunt head of his cock was enormous — far too thick for Nico’s mouth. Nico hesitated, eyes widening, but as soon as the first bead of precum touched his lips and tongue, a hot, tingling wave spread through his mouth and throat. His jaw slackened, his throat relaxed and adjusted, making room for the massive girth as Colin pushed forward with a satisfied groan. Nico’s throat stretched around the transformed cock, eyes watering, while Colin’s hands pinned his shoulders, radiating that daddy energy—protective yet utterly controlling, every thrust deliberate and deep.
With each bob of Nico’s head, Colin’s dominance grew, his free hand reaching down to stroke Nico’s own cock, fingers squeezing the shaft in time with his hips. The power to transform others thrummed beneath his skin like a living thing, the sweat on his palms now carrying the potential to rewrite flesh and desire alike. Nico’s body arched beneath him, caught in the haze of musk and need, his moans muffled around the thick cock filling his mouth. Colin’s appetite showed no signs of easing, hips rolling with building force, sweat dripping onto Nico’s chest to mark him further, binding them in this irreversible shift toward something feral and shared.
Colin’s thick cock pulsed against Nico’s tongue, the veined shaft stretching his lips wide as the larger man thrust deeper, precome steadily coating the back of his throat with each slow grind. Nico’s hands gripped Colin’s hairy thighs, fingers sinking into the dense fur matted with sweat, while the musky scent from Colin’s heavy balls pressed against his chin flooded his senses, making his own neglected cock throb painfully.
The app screen on the floor suddenly glowed brighter. From the corner of his eye, Nico caught the stark warning: “Permanence Lock engaged… Original profile irretrievable. Confirm to overwrite…”
His eyes widened in panic. He made a desperate, muffled sound around the massive cock filling his mouth and tried to pull back, but Colin’s hand tightened sharply in his hair, holding him firmly in place for two more deep thrusts.
Colin noticed where Nico’s gaze kept flicking. A sharp, amused chuckle rumbled out of him. “Trying to warn me?” He kept his cock buried deep for another moment, savoring the helpless fluttering of Nico’s throat, before finally pulling free with a slick, messy glide.
“Colin, don’t—” Nico gasped, voice hoarse and broken.
But it was too late. With a low growl and a predatory grin, Colin reached down and tapped the confirmation without hesitation. The phone vibrated as the changes locked in.
A deep churn rolled through Colin’s balls, the heavy orbs tightening and swelling as if drawing every trace of his old, soft self inward, compressing it into a molten core of raw need. His already massive cock jerked harder in front of Nico’s face, the enlarged head flaring darker and more sensitive, every ridge and vein standing out as blood surged through the throbbing length. Sweat poured from his chest in rivulets, soaking the fur between his pecs and dripping onto Nico’s face, each droplet carrying that addictive, transformative charge that made Nico moan desperately.
Colin’s hips rocked forward with growing urgency, his heavy balls brushing against Nico’s chin as arousal built to a breaking point. His prostate clenched hard and his cockhead leaked a steady stream of thick precome that dripped onto Nico’s lips and tongue. Then, with a primal growl, Colin wrapped his fist around the base of his shaft and began stroking.
With a primal roar that shook the room, Colin’s climax erupted. His cock swelled to its absolute limit, the thick shaft jerking upward hard against his belly as the first powerful jets blasted out. The orgasm tore through him like nothing he had ever known. His entire body locked rigid, muscles flexing under the dense pelt of hair, as rope after thick rope of hot seed surged from his cock. Most of it splattered across his own broad, furred torso — coating his pecs, dark nipples, and rounded belly in heavy white streaks that mingled with the sweat dripping down his body.
Pulse after pulse continued to erupt, some of the powerful geysers arcing high before raining down onto Nico’s face, lips, and chest. The cum was warm and copious, marking the final erasure of Colin’s former self in a haze of shuddering pleasure and raw masculine release.
As the final tremors faded from his massive frame, Colin slumped back against the couch, chest heaving, his furred torso glistening with sweat and streaked with his own thick seed. The app on the floor pulsed once more, confirming the permanence lock with a soft chime before flashing a new alert: organic transmission enabled. His gaze, now steady and commanding, locked onto Nico with an intensity that sent a shiver through the smaller man’s core. The air was thick with the mingled scents of musk and release. Still-hard and heavy, Colin’s cock hung just above Nico’s face, a final thick bead of cum welling at the tip. A low, satisfied rumble built in his throat as he slid one hairy hand possessively to the back of Nico’s neck and pulled him closer, guiding the slick head back to his roommate’s lips. The screen brightened with one last message: Compatible subject detected: Nico. The transformation’s heat radiated outward, promising to claim his roommate next.
Yeah, no, don't download bootleg apps… okay, look, I drank a coffee a stranger left on my porch and grew a beard you could lose a bus in, so maybe I'm not the guy for public safety announcements. But at least pretend to read the terms of service, cubs! - Superbear 🐻🌈
Jordan and I were the hottest guys on the block, and everyone knew it. We were best bros, and there was no disguising it. We went everywhere together, did everything together, and even wore matching outfits sometimes.
We were both on the swim team, and Jordan even had a pool in his backyard. But the one thing we really wanted more than anything was a jacuzzi. So when we heard the neighbors had installed one only two doors down, we had to try it.
”Hey!” Jordan said, “I just got the greatest idea! What if we snuck into the neighbor’s backyard tonight and try out their jacuzzi? I heard they’re gonna be out of town!”
”Fuck yeah bro!” I agreed excitedly. “Let’s do it!”
Later that night, we silently climbed the neighbor’s fence and crept stealthily over to the jacuzzi. I turned it on with the flick of a switch, and turned the setting to “Extra Hot”
Jordan and I stripped down to our speedos, and slid into the steaming hot water.
“Ahhhhhhh…” I groaned in satisfaction, feeling the hot bubbles popping against my skin.
”Fuuuucccccckkk…” echoed Jordan, his face contorted in pleasure.
“Hey, bro,” I said, feeling a slight tingle all over my body, “do you feel weird, or is it just me?”
“Wait yeah…” Jordan replied uneasily, “I feel a little weird too.” He grunted quietly. “But it feels kinda… good.”
”Yeahhhh…” I grunted, shifting my weight in the steaming water.
“Your voice, bro,” Jordan added, “it sounds… deeper…”
“Ughhh…” I moaned, “yours too…”
Jordan’s face looked hotter. Fuck. When did he start looking like such a kissable guy?
“Broooo… your face…” Jordan grunted. “You look so handsome…”
“You too…” I said, gazing in his piercing blue eyes. His chin was chiseled and a beard that I’d never seen before was blossoming from it.
The hot water pushed up tightly against me, and I had the strangest sensation that it was starting to fill up my body. Everything felt heavier and loftier, and it took effort just to shift my arms.
Jordan’s shoulders seemed a whole lot broader, and his traps seemed to be rising up his expanding neck.
“Damn bro…” said Jordan with a smile, “you look like a fucking supermodel…”
“Well you look like a fucking quarterback…” I said back slowly, my eyes fixed on his pecs, which I hadn’t noticed being so full and round before. His nipples were poking out of them like party hats. I kinda wanted to play with them a little.
Our knees were touching, which I’m pretty sure they weren’t doing when we first got in. I moved my hand under the water onto his leg, feeling how thick and muscular it was, tracing the toned bumps up to his waist.
Suddenly I felt Jordan’s hand on my waist, and we began to mirror each other, moving our hands over each other’s toned, shredded abs.
“Broooo…” I moaned, “your body is so fucking hot…” I felt his muscles stretching and tightening with my hand, his skin bulging out to accommodate the muscle that was growing underneath it.
“Fuckkkk bro…” Jordan said, “I think you’re growing…” His hand reached my nipple and began to knead it gently in his fingers.
“Bro… that feels so fucking good…” I groaned, and I started to play with his big hard muscle tits as well. The water seemed to keep filling us up, inflating us like water balloons of muscle.
I moved closer to Jordan, so that my huge muscle chest was pressed tightly up against his like the wrong puzzle pieces being forced together. Our bodies were expanding toward each other in an ecstasy of muscle. The closer we got, the more of him I could feel.
“Ahhhhhh…. Fuckkk!” I roared loudly as I felt his massive, elongating, thickening cock press against mine. Our speedos were ripped and floating on the surface.
”Your cock…” Jordan bellowed in a rich bass voice, “it’s fucking enormous… You’re so hung, bro…” I felt his already huge hand struggling to fit around the girth of my monster cock.
“Holy shit, bro…” I said, trying to grapple my hand around Jordan’s cock, “your fucking cock is gigantic!”
We took turns sucking each other off, the cocks still elongating and expanding in our mouths.
Our muscles pressed against each other, flesh straining against flesh, vein popping against vein. The hot and steamy water kept our blood pumping, and we hoped our muscles would never stop growing.
“MUSCLE POPS!” Alex declared as he slammed the box of popsicle sticks onto the backyard table.
Cole and Matt stared at him a bit confused. They looked like standard popsicle sticks, but Alex had been ranting and raving about them all week. “What about them?” Cole finally asked.
“You just have to try them,” Alex said excitedly as he opened the box. He’d passed a white cherry one to Cole and a blue raspberry one to Matt while taking a strawberry for himself.
Cole stared at it. A sugary treat wasn’t exactly on his meal plan for the day. The hotdogs, hamburgers and other snacky type food was already bad enough. ‘What’s one more thing?’ he thought, already knowing full well that today would be a cheat day. He stuck the popsicle into his mouth and was surprised by the sweet flavor. Even if he’d been tracking his calories and avoiding sweet treats, this had activated nearly every neuron in his brain.
“See?” Alex grinned wider with a bit of red juice running down his cheeks. “Now for the better part.”
“Better part?” Cole asked. He paused, staring at his friend a little closer. Something about Alex looked different. The lean soccer player looked to have put on just a little bit more bulk. His shirt clung a little bit tighter around the chest and his sleeves were filled out more. Each movement it looked like his bicep had bulged just a little bit more.
Alex belted out a laugh.
“C-Cole?” Matt stammered. “Your beard. It’s thicker.”
Cole brought his hand to his face to feel the thicker hair across his face. Then looked at Matt. His eyes went wide. “Matt… You’ve got a beard too…”
“WHAT?!” Matt felt his face and there was definitely hair there that wasn’t there before. His bare face suddenly looked to have about a week worths of growth and it was still getting thicker. “What the hell man!?” his attention turned to Alex. “What’s going on?!” he demanded.
Alex continued smirking. He shifted slightly in his seat. It was really looking like his shirt wasn’t fitting him anymore. The light amount of muscle was clearly growing thicker and firmer. Alex stood up and flexed his arm. “They’re called muscle pops for a reason,” he grinned.
“What does—” Cole was about to ask before he realized his own shirt was starting to feel quite a bit more tightly. It had always pressed against his chest, but now it was straining against it. Without the sleeves, his widening shoulders and thickening arms didn’t give as much away, though the midriff between his shirt and shorts were starting to grow showing off his bottom row of abs.
“D-dude!?” Matt cried out as he looked at his arms. Thick dark hair was starting to run up them. His hands looked more rough around the edges and full of callouses. He then looked at Cole and Alex. “Are—Are we getting older?” he asked looking at his two friends looking closer to 30 than 25.
Alex nodded. “Yeah man. What did you think it means by pops?” His already handsome face was starting to take on a more mature nature to it. His jaw looked wider and skin a bit rougher. A few wrinkles were starting to form around his eyes but he was only looking better with each passing second.
The same was happening to Cole and Matt. After just graduating college they wanted to live up their youth more. But there was a roughness adding to their faces and bodies as thick coarse muscle grew denser by the second.
“Shit!” Cole groaned as he felt his sleeveless shirt tightening even more to his body. He’d always loved working out and feeling his muscles grow, but this was too much and too fast. With a rough motion he was able to strip the shirt off his body showing off his thick muscular torso covered in hair.
“Boo… Boring…” Alex chided. He gripped his tight shirt and ripped it clean off his body. A perfectly sculpted body without a single hair on it was revealed. He proudly flexed his full chest and showed off his thick arms.
Matt wasn’t so lucky. With the adding bulk and sheer thickness to his frame, he couldn’t position himself correctly. The shirt strained and ripped across his bulky torso. Dark hair, even thicker than Cole’s, coated every inch of his hulking muscle gut.
“God damn!” Alex looked up and down his friends. The two powerful men glared.
“What the hell man!?” Cole shouted. “What was that!?”
“DUDE! Look at me! It made me fucking fat! How am I supposed to pick up chicks like this!?” Matt shouted.
Alex shrugged.
The anger Matt had been holding back boiled over as he lifted Alex into the air and threw him into the pool. “THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” Matt shouted. “I look like a fucking fatass!”
“I think it’s kind of hot…” Cole didn’t even realize he’d said it. Not until Matt looked at him did he realize the words came out of his mouth. His face burned red. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that…”
Matt paused and felt the same embarrassed heat across his face. He felt a deep urge to say the same. Looking at the thick muscled build covered in hair made him feel something he’d never felt before. “It’s—It’s fine…” he replied. His eyes started to roam. Everywhere he looked, he seemed to like it just a bit more.
It wasn’t until they heard Alex’s laugh that they caught themselves. “Just kiss already!” he jeered from the pool.
“W-what?!” both Cole and Matt were shocked. The idea had crossed both of their minds but neither dared to act on it.
“Just kiss!” Alex repeated as he leaned his body against the edge of the pool. “I know you want to…” A cheeky grin filled his face. “I know I want to do more…” the lilt in his voice shocked Matt and Cole, but neither could say he was wrong.
“Dude?!” Matt cried out. “What were in those popsicles?”
“Freedom,” Alex grinned. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll go back to your ‘normal’ selves sometime before you wake up tomorrow. So, you might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”
Matt and Cole look at each other. There’s a certain light in their eyes that wasn’t quite there before. Slowly, they move in. The space between them shrank. Matt hesitated. Cole pushed through. He pressed his hairy face against Matt’s and kissed. A surprising amount of passion radiated against the two as they continued.
Hands started to roam the other’s body. Their movements grew more intense as their bodies grinded against each other. It was obvious that not only their muscles had grown. Thick hands parsed through thicker hair.
“Dude…” Matt breathed. He didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to stop. “Fuck… I need you…”
Cole grinned. “Well… Then let’s go celebrate some freedom.” He grabbed Matt’s hand and started for the door.
Alex stared. “HEY! Wait up!” he called out as he jumped out of the pool and chased after his friends not wanting to be left behind.
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Nick, Travis, Steve and Cole were sitting around the fire getting ready to shoot off fireworks. It'd been a long week and the four guys were eagerly waiting for a show.
"We going to start this thing?" Steve asked.
"Sure man," Travis said as he took another sip of his beer. "I got all kinds of shit! It's going to be awesome!"
The other three were a bit skeptical. Travis had been bragging all week about the special deal he'd gotten. Sure, the fireworks were cheap like he'd said, they just didn't know how cheap. Seeing a box of sparklers would only last them so long.
Steve got up from his seat and went to the wagon full of fireworks. His eyes scanned the boxes each with ridiculous sounding names. But 'Growman Candles' had to take the cake. He held up the box. "Dude. 'Growman Candles?'" He belted out a laugh.
Nick and Cole were quick to join in. "Growman Candles' not Roman Candles?" They teased.
Travis got up to examine the box. It had to be a typo or something. This didn't make any sense. 'What was a Growman Candle?' Hearing his friends jeer and mock him only pissed him off more. If he'd bought them, he might as well use them.
Travis held one in his hand, lit the fuse and then raised it to the sky.
The firework shot to the sky. A boom louder than normal filled the field that they sat in.
"Well at least they don't suck," Steve shouted.
Travis ignored the laughter of his friends. That was a surprisingly good firework. He stared at the sky but then started to feel something a bit funny. Suddenly, his shirt felt a little tighter.
A second firework went off.
It only distracted Travis for a second. His shirt was really starting to feel tight around his chest. It almost felt like the fabric was starting to strain. Each second that passed it felt like it was constricting him more.
Travis let out a grunt. Even his face started to feel a little bit weird. It was almost like his jaw was shifting and cheek bones were rising. "What the hell?" he grunted with a deeper more commanding voice. Trying to shift his face only did so much.
Then there was his shirt, tightening even more against his back. Muscles continued to swell bigger than they had been. And his shoes. His feet felt cramped and under pressure that clearly hadn't been there just moments before.
Another firework shot off.
Travis' clothes couldn't take it anymore. The size of his pec and the width of his shoulders started to tear the fabric apart. As he continued to grow taller, his bones naturally widened and filled out as huge hulking muscles filled in his once average physique.
Nick, Steve and Cole's attention changed from the sky and back to their friend. It was insane. The more average jock now was bigger and stronger than a bodybuilder. Travis' clothes were actively tearing apart under the sheer mass building underneath them. That's when the final firework shot off.
Travis held it to the sky why his friends watched a completely different show. They all stared awestruck at the changes in front of them.
"No way! This can't be real!" Cole was the first to jump up and measure himself against his giant of a friend. "Look at you!" He measured himself against Travis only to come up desperately short.
Nick and Steve were next looking over his hulking muscles. "How is this even possible?" Nick asked.
Travis shrugged. Then looked at the 'Growman Candles.' All four men knew exactly what it was. Even if it didn't make sense, it was the only logical conclusion.
All four of them rushed the pile and grabbed at the stick. Of course, Cole could grab one, his large bulky size easily pushed the other two out of the way. That meant it was against Steve and Nick, but Steve was just a little bit faster. And when Nick tried to grab it, Travis effortlessly held him up and then took it from his hand.
"Thank you," he grins. The three light up the remaining fireworks and shoot them to the sky. Each feels the raw power running through their bodies as muscle and strength builds on them.
It was supposed to just be a small tattoo. The first one he would get.
Ethan had never been the intimidating type. He was thin, nervous, the kind of person people accidentally interrupted in conversations and ignored because of his weak appearance. At twenty-three years old, he never had a girlfriend and was the guy everyone talked over, the guy who apologized even when he hadn't done anything wrong. So when he finally decided to get a tattoo, he wanted something simple, something that would make him look a little tougher.
He finally gathered the courage to get one and went to a tattoo shop.
The tattoo artist stood tall behind the counter, broad-shouldered and heavily built. Tattoos covered both arms, crawling up his neck and disappearing beneath the sleeves of his black shirt.
The guy noticed he was nervous and immediately asked: "First time?".
And Ethan nodded, embarrassed by how obvious his fear was, as the artist opened a book of designs.
"Looking for something small?" the artist asked. Ethan nervously nodded. The artist smiled and said: "I think I have just the thing".
And there it was: A dragon. An oriental style dragon. Powerful. Fierce. Exactly the meaning he wanted to be associated with. Ethan stared at the design for a few seconds. It was bigger than what he had originally planned but he was tired of seeming weak and something about it felt right.
"Yeah", he finally said. "Let’s do that one".
The artist’s smile widened. "Excellent choice".
A few minutes later, Ethan was sitting in the chair, trying not to tense up as the machine buzzed to life.
The moment the needle touched his skin, he felt a strange jolt in his arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was noticeable enough that he flinched.
"Is that normal?" he asked.
"Depends on the ink", the tattoo artist said with a small smile. "You never know how the body will react".
Ethan frowned, immediately feeling ridiculous for worrying.
Once finished, the tattoo looked incredible. It had a lot of detail and looked imposing. A black dragon in his right bicep.
As Ethan was about to leave, the tattoo artist called out to him.
"Hey. Don't forget to take care of it"
Ethan stopped and turned around. "Uh... what?"
The artist pointed toward the counter. "You forgot the aftercare kit".
"Oh. Right". Feeling slightly embarrassed, Ethan grabbed the small bag containing the cleaning supplies and left the store, returning to his apartment. As he walked down the street, he glanced at the dragon on his arm. For a moment, he could have sworn the ink seemed darker than before.
The next morning, he woke up with a strange heaviness in his arm. Something about it felt different. He tried to shake off the feeling and stepped in front of the mirror.
The tattoo looked bigger.
At first he thought he was imagining it. The tail seemed longer. The scales seemed to cover more skin than before. Then he noticed something else. His arm looked bigger, his bicep was straining against the sleeve, harder and thicker than ever. And not only that. He could feel a strength in his arm he had never felt before. Ethan spent several minutes flexing in front of the mirror. He knew he should be worried, but every time he looked at the size of his bicep, he worried less and less.
By the end of the first week the tattoo now covered a larger part of his arm. His arm looked defined like those of a professional bodybuilder, even though he hadn’t lifted a single weight in his life. It looked absurd compared to the rest of his body.
Days later one afternoon he felt the same tingling sensation as always traveling across his shoulder. He looked at the tattoo and noticed new black scales were appearing near his chest. Minutes later, his shirt began to tighten.
He looked down watching how the fabric of his shirt was slowly stretching as his pectorals pushed against the tight shirt. His pecs were swelling relentlessly, massive slabs of muscle ballooning outward. The pressure built until –pop– the buttons flew like gunfire, leaving his enormous pectorals completely exposed. Two thick rock hard mountains rising and falling with every breath, glistening with a light sheen of sweat.
And so, over time, each new blot of black ink brought with it a new wave of energy, a strange jolt under his skin that stimulated that area, making it progressively more pleasurable. His shoulders already widened, his chest thick, his other arm also massive. His shirts became too tight, so he decided to start wearing more tank tops in order to show off his muscles. Ethan loved his more rugged gym bro appearance.
Next came Ethan's once soft, unremarkable midsection. It has transformed into a rock-hard, deeply etched six-pack that now commanded worship of its own. V-lines appearing that framed his lower abs and pointed toward his thick, throbbing cock.
He remembered what the tattoo artist had said about taking care of the tattoo. The strange thing was that every time he looked at it, he felt an urge to do something. Massage it. A few push-ups. A quick workout. Anything. As if the tattoo disliked staying idle.
He spent long periods looking at it in the mirror, massaging it and running his fingers over the scales, admiring how they spread across his body. Over time, his life revolved around the gym, working out constantly and eating more protein. He knew the dragon would reward him for it, every workout becoming easier than the last, each new muscle giving the scales more space to claim. And the pleasure of watching his muscles grow became better and better.
Then, nearly a month after getting the tattoo, one night while lying alone in his bed, he was rewarded. Ethan felt a sudden surge of raw energy flood his groin. His once inferior, small cock began to throb and pulsate, forcing him to thrust his hips forward instinctively as a prominent, obscene bulge strained against the front of his boxers. Blood rushed hot and heavy into the shaft, stretching and expanding its length inch by inch with every powerful heartbeat, thickening it into a heavy, veined monster that curved upward aggressively. At the same time, his balls swelled dramatically, growing fuller and heavier as they dropped low between his spread thighs, forcing his legs apart to accommodate their new weight. The thin fabric of his boxers quickly grew soaked and sticky with thick streams of precum that leaked endlessly from the swollen head. Pleasure surged through him in waves, yet no matter how desperately his newly enhanced cock twitched and throbbed, he couldn’t release, not yet. The dragon wasn’t finished with him.
Over the following weeks the dragon kept expanding across the rest of his chest, back and legs. Reaching his spine, the change became impossible to ignore. A powerful stretch ran through his body. His back cracked. His posture straightened. He could feel himself growing as the dragon crossed his vertebra. The world seemed to shrink around him. His legs thickened with dense muscle. His calves expanded. His feet grew so much they could break a pair of sneakers. And it was no longer just confidence, he felt a strength that made him feel superior.
There was a new confidence dominating his body, and people noticed. People looked at him differently and treated him differently. Strangers seemed to respect him more. Some even stepped out of his way without thinking. Ethan found himself enjoying that feeling much more than he wanted to admit.
It was inevitable that his shy personality would begin to fade. His only focus became pushing his body further, seeing how far it could be transformed. He started admiring himself whenever he passed a reflective surface. He stopped caring as much about things like hygiene, often leaving the gym drenched in sweat and carrying the scent of his workouts with him. He found himself cutting people off in conversations, taking up more space, speaking louder. Before long, he was acting like an inconsiderate brute who believed everything belonged to him.
New desires surfaced as well. Once, the thought of being with a man would have seemed strange to him. Now it barely registered as worth questioning. More and more, he found himself drawn to showing other men where they stood beneath him.
The tattoo on his back now reached his neck. And with it he could feel his voice deepening, becoming more masculine. Grunts. Beastly sounds. The changes reached his face. His facial features became more symmetrical and masculine. His jaw grew broader, his features sharper and more rugged. He looked older as though several years had passed in only a few seconds.
The last change could feel penetrating his brain. Fogging his mind and his once intelligence. Memories disappearing. Thoughts that once came effortlessly now drifted away like smoke. His head felt heavy. Slow. A dull primitive warmth spread through his thoughts, smoothing away worries, questions, and doubts until there was almost nothing left. He couldn't recall his own name. His old life felt worthless. Why would a beast like him concern itself with the worries of a timid man?.
And just like that, the mental transformation reached its climax. His entire body seized as his newly massive cock surged, thick veins pulsing along its enormous length. A guttural, broken moan tore from his throat as he erupted violently, rope after heavy rope of thick, potent cum blasting out of him in powerful jets that splattered across his own carved abs and chest, painting the roaring dragon tattoo. With every devastating spurt, the last fragile memories of his old, weak self were violently wiped away, erased completely by the dragon’s overwhelming power. His eyes rolled back, mouth hanging slack and open as a thin strand of drool slipped down his chin, dripping onto his glistening pecs. His heavy balls continued to throb and tighten, pumping out the final surges of his old life. When it finally subsided, his body relaxed, now utterly transformed, completely owned.
Only the dragon remains.
Weeks passed. At first, it was enough to admire itself. Hours spent in front of mirrors, tracing the scales that covered its body and flexing the massive muscles beneath them. The Dragon had not transformed itself into such a magnificent creature merely to be ignored but just one man wasn't enough. The dragon demanded more attention.
He was satisfied posting pics online, watching the flood of comments and admiration pour in from strangers. But the dragon's hunger continue to grow. Before long, it found itself browsing apps like Grindr, inviting admirers into its place.
He stood at the center of the dimly lit room, his massive muscular frame gleaming beneath a coat of oil. Admirers gathered around him, hungry eyes fixed on the fierce black ink dragon tattoo that coiled across his powerful chest and shoulder. One man already eager on his knees. Various men, stripped, hard and trembling with lust, stepped forward carrying more bottles of warm, slick oil.
He raised his arms, flexing slowly, letting his enormous pecs bounce. The tattoo stretched and shifted with the movement, scales gleaming as the thick streams of oil poured over his shoulders, his bulging biceps, and heavy slabs of pecs. Hands being everywhere, lips and tongues traced every cut and curve of his muscle. One of them let out a desperate moan and buried his face hungrily between the massive, sweat-slicked mountains of his pecs, pressing deep into the warm sweat.
They all moaned against him, entranced and lost in the heat of his scent.
He grabbed one man by the hair and forced him down to his knees, then the next. They had fed his hunger. Now it was his turn to feed theirs.
One admirer was bent over the wide bench, oiled ass up, while he drove him into him in long, punishing strokes, his massive chest pressed against the man’s back, the dragon tattoo rubbed against sweating skin. Another was pulled up into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, impaled as he bounced him like he weighed nothing. The remaining ones made to kneel and lick every drop of sweat and oil from his flexing muscles while he fucked their friends senseless, tongues dragging desperately over his pecs, sucking on his nipples, kissing the dragon’s roaring maw. Every thrust, every moan, every slap of flesh pleasing the beast, then rewarding them with his own seed while they begged for more.
Finally, standing in front of the mirror, the Dragon ran his now thicker, more sculpted hand over the black scales that wrapped around his body. A faint, meaningless echo of the weak creature he once was passed through him and faded almost instantly. He took a progress pic, knowing that the tattoo would grow even more, spreading beneath his skin and slowly claiming more of him with every passing day. Soon the Dragon would cover everything, and he could hardly wait to see what he would become.
The dragon rests, satisfied… for now.
——————
My longest TF story yet! I've been inactive for a while, but thanks to everyone who follows, likes, and supports my stories
By the time Owen opened the app again, he had stopped thinking of himself as the guy he used to be.
At forty-two, with the shorter receding hair, the salt-and-pepper beard, and the thick body hair he’d wanted badly enough to make for himself by spoiling Hair Tonic, he finally looked the way he’d always imagined a real daddy should look. His profile picture showed exactly that: shirtless on a hiking trail, backpack straps in both hands, chest hair visible, expression calm and solid.
David messaged him within the hour. A rendezvous was planned for the next day.
David was twenty-six, lean and smooth-skinned, with a compact athletic body and a face that still carried the softness of youth. When he arrived at Owen’s place, he couldn’t stop looking at the older man. It wasn’t just that Owen was handsome. It was that he looked settled. Rugged. Finished. Like a man who had grown fully into himself. David did not know what Owen had used the Hair Tonic to do to himself - he didn't know that inside Owen's masculine exterior was a man a few years younger than himself with the visage of a self-assured daddy.
The sex was dynamic. Owen leaned into his new role as daddy with a youthful enthusiasm - if not the experience. David enjoyed the feeling of being kissed, worshiped, and filled by the entirety of Owen - longing for attention from older more confident-seeming men.
Later, after their night together had faded into sweat, dim light, and tangled sheets, Owen fell asleep fast, heavy and satisfied.
David stayed awake. He padded into Owen’s bathroom in his boxers, still thinking about the body he’d just had his hands on - the dense chest hair, the roughness of Owen’s beard, the masculine weight of him. Then he noticed the brown bottle on the counter. HAIR TONIC. Old-fashioned label. Plain lettering. He picked it up and turned it in his hands. The name sounded harmless, almost quaint. He smiled to himself. He was familiar with the product, but had never gotten his hands on a bottle. He wasn't interested in becoming Owen, not exactly. He just wanted a little help looking more his age. More scruff. Some chest hair. Less boyishness in the mirror. So he uncapped it.
The tonic smelled sharp and strange, old and herbal with something bitter underneath. David rubbed a little over his cheeks and jawline, then across his upper lip. He poured more into his palm and worked it over his chest, down the center of his stomach, over his shoulders, even along his arms. His skin prickled instantly, then flushed with spreading heat. He frowned at his reflection, waiting for the sensation to fade. Instead, the faint shadow on his jaw began to darken. The nearly invisible hair on his chest sharpened, filling enough for him to notice - and then some.
He ran his fingertips over the new texture, half-thrilled and half-nervous. By the time he climbed back into bed, the scruff at his mouth had thickened into a short, rough mustache and the hair across his pecs had become real enough to cast a shadow. His heart beat faster, but he convinced himself it was just stronger than he’d expected - it would pass - it was just hair.
David fell asleep telling himself he’d overdone it a little. He woke with a start the next morning. Everything felt wrong at first—heavier, rougher, denser. The sheets dragged differently across his body. His chest felt warm beneath a thick layer of hair. When he pushed himself upright and looked at his hands, he froze.
The backs of them were hairier than they had been the night before, the knuckles broader, the skin less smooth. He brought them to his face and felt not light overnight scruff but a full, coarse mustache and short beard framing a jaw that seemed more substantial than it had been before. He stumbled to the bathroom mirror, Owen just starting to stir in the bedroom behind him, and stopped cold.
He did not look twenty-six anymore. The man staring back at him looked closer to forty. His face was still unmistakably his own, but matured - broader through the jaw, heavier through the neck and shoulders, with stronger lines around the eyes and mouth. His hair was shorter-looking somehow, neater, his features more rugged and settled. A thick mustache and trimmed beard had come in dark and full, giving him a stern, masculine look he’d only ever imagined on older men. Across his chest, the hair had spread into a dense mat that continued down his stomach in a dark trail, with more thickening along his arms and thighs. He looked stockier too, more substantial, more like a man who’d spent years growing into that body instead of a single reckless night.
“Owen...” he said, voice rougher than before. “Owen!”
Owen came into the room half-awake, then stopped dead in the doorway - mouth agape.
For one long second, neither of them spoke. Then Owen’s eyes dropped to David’s chest, his beard, his hands, and finally flicked toward the bathroom counter.
“You used my special Hair Tonic?!” he yelled.
David’s face tightened. “I thought it was just normal Hair Tonic - I ….”
“It is not just Hair Tonic!" Owen’s voice sharpened with real anger now, cutting David off mid-sentence. “I left that out in the sun to spoil on purpose. I changed myself on purpose. You had no idea what that was and you still used it?”
“You changed yourself? You mean you did this to yourself on purpose?!” David snapped back, then looked away, shaken by the sound of his own gruffer voice. “I just wanted…” He swallowed and rubbed a hand over his chest, feeling the thickness there. “I just wanted a little more. A beard. Some body hair. I didn’t think it was going to do this!” David gestured to his older body.
Owen’s anger faltered, replaced by a grim, complicated sympathy. He knew that impulse too well. The wanting. The private pull toward a rougher, older, hairier version of manhood. David let the bathroom and sat back down on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands again like they might belong to someone else. He looked upset, genuinely upset - but not devastated. Not all the way. Because every few seconds his fingers drifted over the new growth on his chest, or up to the heavier shape of the beard at his jaw, as though he couldn’t stop checking that it was real.
“This is my fault,” Owen said finally. “I shouldn’t have left the tonic out for you to find. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re… probably stuck like this.”
David let out a shaky breath. “Great.”
Silence settled between them. Morning light spilled across the room. David’s reflection lingered in the mirror opposite the bed: older, hairier, undeniably changed. He looked at himself again, this time longer. At the thicker chest. The rough mustache. The stronger, more mature face. It wasn’t what he had meant to ask for. It was too much. Too fast. Too permanent.
And yet some quieter part of him - deeper than panic, harder to admit - recognized the shape of his own wish inside it.
“What am I going to do? No one will recognize me! I hate that this happened - I have to get out of here!” he said in a panic while trying to stuff his thicker frame into his jeans - sucking his gut to fully zip them, and throwing his shirt quickly over his shoulders.
Owen folded his arms. “Do you hate this?” he said looking at David. "The way you've been looking at yourself in the mirror reminds me of myself when I first woke up after using the tonic."
David stopped dressing took a deep breath and looked down at himself, then back at the mirror. He had to admit he was attractive like this - more like the men he pursued - and enjoyed being pursued by. He noticed a twitch in his boxers as his dick started to grow - panic subsiding and being replaced with lust. Lust both for Owen, who had filled him just the prior evening to the brink with his daddy seed - and also for the half-dressed man he saw reflected in the mirror.
Owen walked over to the sofa in the corner of the room and sat down with his head in his hands for a moment while Owen waited.
“No. I don’t hate all of it” he admitted with a grin at Owen as he unbuttoned his pants - his thick hairy pecs pushing against his half-open shirt. His eyes smoldering at the sight of Owen’s shirtless torso and beautiful face.
Owen stared at him for a moment, then gave a short, disbelieving exhale that was almost a laugh. “I see … you’re a bit older than my usual type now, but I think this might work...” he said with a grin as he approached the older version of the perky 26 year-old he had fucked the night before.
Owen dropped to his knees in front of David and helped him slide off his now-too-tight jeans and underwear, freeing David’s thick semi-erect daddy cock nestled in a thick bush of pubes - “Guess a trip to the mall is in order” he said with a grin as he took David’s dick in his mouth - feeling it continue to stiffen.
David let out a little moan and replied, half joking, “Yeah, I guess I put on a little extra weight somewhere in my 30s.”
After a couple of minutes receiving head, David pushed Owen onto the couch and pulled down Owen’s sweatpants, revealing the same uncut daddy dick that he had deep inside him last night - which might as well have been an eternity ago. “Things are going to be different today, son” he stated irrefutably - Owen looking up to him with soft bedroom eyes. “It’s your fault I’m close to my father’s age, and stuck like this - so now I’m going to be the daddy and you’re going to be the piece of meat I please myself with. Understood?”
Owen simply nodded and replied with a soft “yes, sir.”
“Good, now roll over for daddy so he can see your ass.”
Owen complied, moving onto all fours and presenting his hairy asshole to David - who gave it a quick look before sticking his head between his cheeks and eating it out in preparation.
Owen remembered the feeling of being prepared from before his change - from the countless older men he let enter his tight frat boy hole. He knew what was coming - and despite his recent shift to daddy himself he couldn’t help but anticipate how bottoming would feel in his new body.
After prepping Owen, David rose to one foot, with the other propped against the couch. He spit on his dick and lined it up with Owen’s ass and thrust in hard. Owen gave a quick yelp and tightened around David’s dick - but he didn’t care. It was Owen’s fault he was stuck like this and he was going to exact as much pleasure from the situation as possible.
After a few hard thrusts, Owen started to gently moan as David settled into a more steady rhythm. David reached forward grabbing Owen’s thinning hair pulling his head back and whispered in his ear, “You like this don’t you?”
Owen nodded between soft moans.
David continued, “No matter what you look like on the outside, you’re still just a bottom bitch frat boy.” He reached around and grabbed Owen’s dick and began jerking it while pumping into his ass.
“You made yourself older, you gave yourself a beard, a hairy chest, you got the look - you played the role last night as well - but deep down we both know you’ll always crave this. Crave a stronger man controlling you and filling you with his daddy cock.”
David released Owen’s hair and picked up his pace. As he approached climax he thought about the man he saw in the reflection - hairy, mustached, confident - maybe this new version of him wouldn’t be so bad. He snapped back into attention as he felt Owen jolting underneath - coming onto the sofa with a hand wrapped around his own dick. "Daddy didn't say you could come yet, son."
Own just whimpered as David picked up his pace and intensity, quickly following suit coming deep into Owen - then collapsing on his back in a pile of sweat and chest hair.
Across the bedroom, on the bathroom the bottle of Hair Tonic sat on the counter where David had left it, half-open and innocent-looking, as if it had done nothing more than keep its promise. Not youth. Not restoration. Something stranger. Something closer to desire. Like a man beginning, despite himself, to see what he might become - and embracing it.
The heat of the late summer evening pressed down on Marcus like a heavy blanket. The air in his cramped apartment was still and humid. He lay across his bed, stripped down to nothing but a pair of faded yellow briefs. They were loose, standard cotton things, typical of the plain, unnoticeable life he led. Sweat pooled in the shallow hollows of his collarbone. He was scrawny, a constellation of sharp joints and pale skin, his arms thin rods holding his smartphone. He was just mindlessly scrolling through social media, a digital life that mirrored his empty social life. Girls didn't notice him, and he’d resigned himself to a life of digital voyeurism.
An ad for 'WishApp' flashed on the screen. His thumb hovered, then pressed. Why not? he thought, a flicker of curiosity momentarily cutting through the heat-induced lethargy. He downloaded it.
The interface was minimal, almost clinical. A simple text box appeared with a direct question: What is your desire?
Marcus let out a self-deprecating snort. He knew exactly what he didn’t have. Confidence. A presence. He stared at the box.
“What do I want?” he said to empty room. He was a skinny, shy straight guy. He wanted a relationship. He wanted to be able to just be with someone. And he wanted a body that meant something, a body that people would respect. He started typing rapidly. He wanted a relationship so he could have sex every time he wanted it. And also, be a proper big muscle guy. He hit send, not even noticing the tiny, fateful typo in the word ‘guy’.
We appreciate your request. Processing will take some time, the app replied.
He stared at the blank screen, expecting… something. More options? A confirmation code? Nothing. He sighed, disappointed. Thinking it was just a silly gimmick, and he closed the app. Tossing the phone away, Marcus rolled onto his back, closed his eyes, and quickly drifted off to sleep. He had no idea that as soon as his consciousness faded, his body and mind would begin a profound, unstoppable transformation.
His dreams, once filled with vague images of unapproachable girls, began to change. Instead, his subconscious was invaded by images of beautiful, powerful, muscular men. The shapes were defined, the lines confident. He was surrounded by them, not as threatening figures, but as icons of adoration. The dreams felt different—heavier, thicker, filled with a desire he couldn't quite articulate.
The first physical changes were subtle. His skin tightened. A faint rasp of stubble began to push through on his previously smooth jaw. On his chest, where there had been only pale skin, fine, soft hair began to sprout. He writhed in his sleep, the clean sheets now sticking to a body that was growing in density, in volume.
The process accelerated. A deep, resonant hum seemed to vibration through his bones. The app’s 'processing' was intense. His skeletal structure didn't expand dramatically, but his muscle fibers hyper-growth. His deltoids broadened, becoming wide, powerful shelves. The biceps and triceps definition sharpened, his forearms hardening. His chest, once a flat expanse, became wide and massive, the new hair becoming dense and curly, spreading down his sternum. His core tightened into hard, visible blocks of muscle, a six-pack etching itself above a wider, stronger abdomen. Thick, natural hair now covered his chest, abs, and legs.
As the first faint hues of dawn began to bleed through the open window, painting the room in a warm light, the violent crescendo of the transformation finally reached its peak. The frantic shifting and tossing in the bed subsided into a heavy, rhythmic breathing. The skin-and-bones Marcus was completely gone.
In his place lay a magnificent specimen of pure, raw masculinity. His shoulders had expanded into a massive, heroic V-shape, his traps sloped steeply down into wide, boulder-like deltoids that seemed to strain against the very fabric of the mattress. His biceps and triceps muscles were now thick and full, carved with deep, branching veins that pulsed with a newfound, powerful circulation.
His chest had risen into two massive, heavy slabs of muscle, so broad and deep that they shook slightly with each deep breath he took. A thick, masculine carpet of dark, curly hair now completely blanketed his torso, running in a dense line down his defined, rock-hard abdominal wall and disappearing into his waistband.
The change was so absolute that his yellow briefs, which just hours before had hung loosely on his boyish hips, were now stretched to their absolute limit. The cotton fabric was pulled over his heavily thighs and wide hips. Up front, the pouch of the underwear was incredibly tight, straining against a noticeably larger, heavy bulge that pulsed with the intense morning heat. His legs had transformed into thick, powerful pillars,
The transformation was absolute, leaving no trace of the fragile youth who had fallen asleep the night before.
When he woke up, he sat up with a groan. The first rays of morning light illuminating the messy sheets. He didn't immediately notice his change. His mind was still tangled in the powerful, intimate images of his dream.
“Why do I have morning wood after this strange dream?” he muttered. The sound of his voice shocked him. It was a deep, gravelly baritone, completely unlike his usual tenor.
He tried to clear his throat, but the deep pitch remained. He finally looked down.
"What!" he roared, the deep voice echoing in the small room.
He ran for the mirror in his bathroom, his now powerful legs nearly knocking him off balance. He stared at his reflection, his eyes wide in absolute disbelief. The face staring back had sharp, chiseled features. A full, well-maintained beard, short-cropped and styled, covered his jaw, matching the neat, styled hair on his head. He looked like an immaculate, well-defined muscle bear. His eyes were wide, taking in the massive chest covered in hair, the sculpted abs, the thick arms, and the deep muscle strength. He ran his hand over his new body, his fingers pressing into hard muscles. He noticed his yellow briefs, now extremely tight, with a very prominent, powerful bulge. His initial panic began to morph into something else—a strange, thrilling sense of self-awareness.
Suddenly, he heard sounds from the kitchen. The sizzling of eggs, the clatter of a pan.
Marcus slowly pushed open the bathroom door and walked into the hallway. The kitchen door was slightly ajar. He peeked inside. Standing by the stove, his back mostly to Marcus, was another man. The man was massive, a fellow muscle bear with incredibly well-developed muscles. His deltoids were wide, and his biceps bulged as he expertly flipped an egg in a frying pan. His chest was covered in dense hair, matching the hair on his arms and legs. Marcus froze, the sheer, imposing presence of the other man dominating the space.
Marcus watched him. What a man, he thought. Wait, why am I thinking that? I’m not gay. Or am I? The realization of his typo on the app hit him simultaneously with the new, powerful feelings swirling in his core. The dreams had prepared him.
The other man turned around, a friendly expression on his face. He was bearded, with neat, light-colored hair, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of tight red briefs with a nice, round bulge.
"Good morning, sleepy head," the man said, his voice a deep, comforting rumble. "I just made breakfast. I hope you want some."
Marcus took a step forward, the unfamiliar sensations in his transformed body now commanding his actions. His desire for this stranger, this fellow icon of power and beauty, was primal.
"There is one thing I want," Marcus said, his deep voice thick with newfound intent.
He crossed the kitchen, closing the distance between them. The man smiled as Marcus approached. Without a word, Marcus took the other man's body in his powerful hands and kissed him passionately. The man immediately dropped the spatula, his arms wrapping around Marcus's broad shoulders. They pulled each other tight, their muscular bodies pressing together, hair on hair, muscle on muscle, in a sudden, intense embrace.
"Let’s get back to bed…" Marcus whispered against his lips. The other man simply nodded and pulled him along.
As they left the kitchen, Marcus’s phone buzzed. A new notification appeared on the WishApp: Enjoy your wish!
The afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy of the ancient woods as Mike and Steve hiked deep into the wilderness. Both thin, lanky college students with narrow shoulders and smooth skin. Walk towards the camp site deeper in the forest where they want to spend a night.
As they walked, the conversation naturally drifted from upcoming university exams to their frustratingly stagnant love lives.
"I'm telling you, man, it's a curse," Mike sighed, adjusting the straps of his heavy blue backpack. "Another semester, and I still haven't figured out how to talk to girls without sounding like a total dork."
Steve laughed, adjusting his green beanie. "Join the club. We're just too scrawny to get noticed, Mike. We practically blend into the background."
Mike glanced around at the thick, shadowy forest. "Hey, by the way... this area is called The Bear Creek, right? Are there actual bears out here? Should we be worried?"
Steve grinned mischievously, nudging his friend. "Nah, don't worry. If there are any bears out here, they’re probably just gay bears looking for a good time."
Mike snorted, rolling his eyes as they approached a rushing river.
To continue their trail, they had to cross a deep, churning body of water over an incredibly flimsy wooden footbridge. Mike took the lead, stepping cautiously onto the creaking planks, while Steve followed closely behind, holding onto the guide ropes for dear life.
Without warning, a sharp CRACK echoed through the gorge. The brittle wooden bridge snapped clean in half under their weight. With a collective gasp, both boys plummeted directly into the freezing, deep water below.
The shock of the icy current knocked the breath from their lungs. Gasping and shivering violently, they struggled against the flow, their heavy, waterlogged clothes dragging them down. Adrenaline surging, they fought their way toward the riverbank, dragging themselves out of the water and collapsing onto the muddy shore, completely drenched and gasping for air. Realizing they couldn't hike back in freezing, wet clothes, they decided to set up emergency camp right there in a small, sheltered clearing away from the water.
Between two large trees, they strung up a makeshift clothesline and hung their wet jeans, jackets, and shirts to dry. Stripped down to just their underwear, they built a roaring campfire, sitting close to the flames on damp logs, desperately trying to stop their violent shivering.
As the heat washed over them, Mike looked up at Steve and froze. His eyes widened in absolute bewilderment.
"Steve... dude, what is that on your face?" Mike pointed a trembling finger at his friend's jaw.
Where Steve’s skin had been completely smooth just minutes ago, a thick, dark stubble was rapidly breaking through his skin. Down on his chest, fine, dark hairs were sprouting and multiplying right before their eyes.
Startled, Steve gasped, "What are you talking about?" He quickly raised his hands, his fingers brushing against his face. His jaw dropped as his palms scraped against the rough, coarse texture of a freshly growing beard.
"No way..." Steve whispered, but as he stared back at Mike, his voice caught in his throat. "Mike... look at yourself!"
Now it was Steve’s turn to point. Mike looked down at his own chest. His heart hammered against his ribs as he watched dark, thick curls of hair rapidly spreading across his sternum and down toward his stomach. A heavy shadow of stubble was darkening his own jawline, itching with an unnatural, magical warmth. They stared at each other in sheer disbelief, terrified yet strangely mesmerized by the inexplicable phenomenon overtaking them.
Driven by a sudden, internal surge of heat, both boys stood up from their logs. They watched in absolute awe as their bodies began to violently reshape.
The thin, frail frames they had known their entire lives were stretching and expanding. Beneath their skin, thick, powerful muscles began to ripple and carve themselves out. Mike’s chest swelled outward, his biceps bulging into thick knots of power, while his abdominal wall hardened into a chiseled, rock-solid core. Steve underwent the exact same explosive growth, his shoulders broadened significantly, his back widening into a thick V-shape, and his thighs thickening like tree trunks.
"Steve... look at us," Mike growled out. The words felt incredibly heavy, a deep and rumbling vibration that shook his own ribcage. "My voice... what is happening to my voice?"
Steve looked up, his eyes widening as he heard the sudden change, and tried to speak a reassurance. But as he opened his mouth, his own voice cracked and plunged down a full octave, settling into a thick, guttural baritone that practically vibrated the air between them.
"I don't know, man," Steve rasped, his new booming tone echoing off the surrounding trees like a low thunderclaps. "We sound like... Look at your chest, Mike. We're turning into giants."
The vocal shift was profound; their words now carried a heavy, roaring resonance that felt entirely primal, matching the immense physical power of their newly transformed frames.
But the transformation didn't stop. The strange, magical force pulsing through their veins grew even more profound, pushing far past mere athletic fitness and into a territory of raw, massive bulk. Their bodies began to expand with an unstoppable density, their skeletal frames widening to support an immense weight of solid power.
Mike watched in sheer fascination as his waist thickened and his torso widened, taking on a very robust, stocky, and powerfully thick-set shape. Beside him, Steve’s neck surged in size, blending into massive traps that sloped down to shoulders now as wide as a barn door. Every inch of their previously lanky frames was being filled out with heavy, dense mass. Their chest muscles swelled so immensely that they formed deep, shadowed clefts down the middle, while their abs packed into thick, blocky slabs of armor.
This explosive growth put an incredible strain on the only clothing they had left. The flimsy fabric of their underwear was forced to stretch to its absolute physical limits, the seams groaning as the material became incredibly tight and strained against their newly thickened, tree-trunk thighs.
As their bodies changed into giant muscle bears, the primal surge of testosterone triggered an intense, physical awakening below the waist. Right before their eyes, their male organs began to expand and thicken rapidly, filling out with heavy, throbbing heat. The fabric stretched painfully taut across their crotches, unable to conceal the heavy, prominent, and massively enlarged bulges that now pushed hard against the strained material, proudly marking the completion of their transition into ultimate, dominant manhood.
Concurrently, a dense, primal coat of dark, natural body hair completely carpeted their bodies, covering their massive chests, thick bellies, heavy arms, and powerful legs in a rich, masculine fur. Their facial features hardened; jaws became wider, browlines more dominant, and their newly formed, full beards grew thick and rugged. In a matter of minutes, the two scrawny college boys had completely vanished. In their place stood two massive, imposing muscle bears.
They stood close to each other by the roaring fire, breathing heavily, overwhelmed by the intoxicating aroma of musk, woodsmoke, and raw testosterone. The shock of the transformation slowly melted away, replaced by an intense, heavy wave of erotic attraction that pulsed between them. They had never looked at each other this way before, but now, seeing the raw, hyper-masculine perfection of the other, desire completely took over.
Mike reached out, his thick, hairy hand trembling slightly as his fingers brushed against the massive, hard contours of Steve’s newly grown chest. He traced the deep groove of his pectorals, amazed by the sheer density of the muscle beneath the thick fur. Mike let out a low, guttural growl of approval, stepping even closer until their massive chests brushed together. Steve raised his own heavy, muscular arms, wrapping his hands around Mikes thick biceps, squeezing the rock-solid mass with a brilliant, breathless smile.
The unbearable erotic tension that had been building between the two newly transformed giants finally snapped like the dry twigs beneath their bare feet. Driven by a pure, primal instinct that bypassed all logic, Mike stepped completely into Steve’s personal space. The heat radiating between their heavy frames was intoxicating. Mike leaned in, his gaze locked onto Steve's lips, and captured them in a fierce, passionate kiss that instantly set their desires ablaze. The scratch of their newly grown, thick beards meshing together added a rough, intensely masculine texture to the embrace, sending a jolt of pure adrenaline straight to their cores.
Steve didn't hesitate for a single second. The last remnants of his old, hesitant college self vanished completely, replaced by the confident hunger of a massive muscle bear. He eagerly and aggressively returned the embrace. Opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, he wrapped his newly powerful, fur-covered arms around Mike’s thick, solid waist. His large hands gripped the heavy muscles of Mike's lower back, digging into the dense, warm flesh.
With a low, guttural groan that rumbled from deep within his chest, Steve pulled their massive, hairy bodies tightly together. The impact was electric; their immensely swollen chests crushed against one another, and their heavy, strained crotches pressed hard together, the friction of their prominent bulges sending a wave of intense heat through their underwear. They lost themselves entirely in the raw sensuality of the moment—enveloped by the roaring heat of the campfire, the musk of their heavy sweat, and the overwhelming, intoxicating reality of their new, ultimate masculinity.
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My washer broke and I had to go to a laundromat for the first time in awhile. I haven't been since I was a kid, but I'm glad I did today.
When I got home I started folding my laundry and I noticed some sort of smell coming from it– it started faint but slowly got more pungent. It was like sweat and cum mixed together, musky and disgusting– but for some reason I couldn't stop sniffing it. It was intoxicating. At the bottom of my basket I found the culprit. Somehow this guys shit got mixed in with mine, and despite going through the washer, water, detergent, even bleach, his shit was still smelly as fuck. It was a jockstrap.
A real classic, but it compelled me. I didn't even notice how my cock was rock hard– I couldn't concentrate because I was so focused on smelling this scent. The jockstrap now held up to my nose like an inhaler. Then, I put it on.
It was euphoria as it grazed my hairy legs coming up, I had to jam my fully hard dick in there as it somehow got harder. I thought I was imagining things as the jockstrap pulsated. I kept getting harder, no- not harder- longer. My dick started to grow and as soon as I realized that I came. But I wasn't done. As i lifted my infected clothes up to my nose I leaned back, my spine lengthening at an alarming rate. My shoulders cracked wider as with each inhale I became more deserving of it, more deserving of the jockstrap. My jawline sharpened out as I felt each ab meticulously pop in. My once chubby gut completely gone.
I reached back into my mind, trying to think who this could've possibly belonged to, then I remembered the guy with the giant thighs. The absolute unit sitting next to me I was too scared to look at, just looking at him from my peripherals.
I buckled over on the floor, my huge muscular thighs catching me as I felt my pecs balloon out. I felt them moving on my body like gigantic tits. I felt a curl fall down my forehead and came again, my senses completely overloaded with lust and need.
Getting up I looked at myself in the mirror, drunken with power as I cupped my new gigantic bulge. Slowly I caressed my abs, trailing down to my dick as I pulled it out of the jockstrap. Still hard, absolutely covered in cum it had to be at least 10 inches long.
“Fuck yeah” i muttered, my voice deep, powerful, dominant.
Bro one of my frat brothers came back from a trip and he seems different. His skin is darker, he has a beard, and I think I heard him speaking Arabic. I heard him on the phone saying something like “the change will happen soon”. I’m kind of worried
...
"I don't know who you are, dude. How did you even get this number?"
*hangs up*
...
It had been a week since that phone call, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about Jake. He had always been a bit of a wild card, but this was different. How could he have changed so much in such a short amount of time? At the start, you thought maybe he'd just got a tan or something, but the beard was harder to explain. There's no way someone like him could have grown that beard in just two weeks without some kind of help. And the Arabic? That was just bizarre. You had never heard him speak anything other than English before. No way a big idiot like him could have learned a new language that quickly.
Though he was still your bro, right? You had to believe that. You really had to.
You tried to talk to him about it, but he just brushed it off and said he was fine. Same old Jake, just with a new look. You couldn't help but feel like there was something more going on, though. He seemed more serious, more focused. He spent more time grooming himself and hitting the gym alone instead of hanging out with the guys.
Life went on like usual. Every day, you'd wake up, eat your favourite cereals for breakfast, and head to class with some of your frat brothers. You'd go to the gym together, grab lunch together, and then hit up the local bar for some drinks at night. But Jake was always doing his own thing. He'd skip out on group activities and spend more time alone. You couldn't help but feel like he was hiding something from all of you...
It was about a week or two later when you felt something. You woke up one morning and your head was pounding. You looked in the mirror. Same old you, but you kinda felt weird. Maybe it was just a hangover from the night before? Whatever, you thought. Time to get up and eat some breakfast.
You entered the common kitchen and saw Jake sitting at the table. He didn't even look up at you. He just stared at his phone, scrolling through something. Grabbing the milk inside the fridge, you poured yourself a bowl of cereal and sat down across from him. Every time you grabbed a spoonful of cereal, you couldn't help but notice how he was staring at you. Really unsettling... but that was basically it. Your head felt much better after eating though, so you just tried to ignore it. After that interaction, you went about your day as usual, though you felt a bit weird...
You hit the gym with Mike and Ryan like usual. The weights felt good - lighter than normal, actually. The rest of the day was normal, you went to class, hung out with the guys, and then hit up the bar at night.
...
That night you woke up twice with a raging hard-on.
Not able to ignore it, you grabbed your phone in the dark, loaded up your usual porn - the kind you always jerked to in secret - and started stroking... but nothing. Your cock stayed rock hard, leaking all over your fist, but the video kinda felt boring. You went back to your feed, scrolling through more and more porn until you found something that caught your eye: a little twink being fucked by 2 guys at the same time. Usually you weren't that into twinks, but something about this video made you curious. You clicked play.
The twink's ass was so tight, you could almost feel his heat through your phone screen. Your eyes widened as you watched a thick cock slide in and out of his ass, stretching it to its limit. You couldn't help but think about how good it would feel to be inside that tight little hole. It made your own dick throb harder than ever, until you eventually came. Very weird... You'd never been into twinks before, but you were too tired to think about it and fell back to sleep...
The next morning the headache was back, and worse. You stumbled straight to the kitchen, grabbed the first thing you saw in the fridge to quench your thirst (some milk), and poured yourself a huge glass. Chugged it in four gulps. Relief washed over you so fast you actually moaned a little bit.
"Fuck... that's better..."
Jake was at the table again, scrolling on his phone. He glanced up this time, eyes flicking over you with that same unsettling smirk.
"Morning, bro. Enjoying the milk?"
"Very funny dude... my head's hurting like hell... I just need to hydrate", you replied taking another sip of milk. Your headache had subsided enough that you could think clearly again.
The rest of the week felt almost normal. Classes, gym, meals, hanging out with the bros - everything rolled on like usual. Jake kept doing his own thing, but you stopped pressing him about it. Whatever. Bros change sometimes.
The only things that weren't normal were the headaches and the constant need to jerk off.
Every single morning the pounding was there the second you woke up, like your skull was trying to split open. You'd drag yourself out of bed, splash water on your face, and the pressure would ease a little once you got moving. By evening it would start creeping back, but you powered through.
The horniness was worse though. Way worse. You'd be in class, trying to focus on the lecture, but your cock would be throbbing in your pants, leaking pre-cum onto your thighs. It was like you'd hit puberty again and couldn't control it. You jerked off four, sometimes five times a day, each time taking more than before to reach climax.
You also started noticing other weird things around the frat...
Mike had always been the big jock of the house, but lately he looked extra pumped after every workout. You started questioning if he'd hopped on gear or something, though it was probably just your imagination. He looked bigger, stronger, manlier. You could even tell he'd started letting his facial hair grow in, even though he always shaved every single morning. And the sweat... fuck, he was always drenched in it now, pits smelling nastier and thicker than ever before, like pure raw musk. He did look hot as fuck though.
Then there was Ryan...
Ryan, Ryan, Ryan... the frat's charming party bro. He used to be the frat's resident stud, always hitting on girls at parties and making sure everyone knew his name. But lately he seemed different. He'd been showing up late for nights out, sometimes not even bothering to show up at all so he could go lift at the gym alone. His skin had this warm glow lately, and he seemed so fuckin' different - way more jacked than before - even though it was clearly still him. You didn't know he could grow a beard like that, let alone that he had chest hair now. All of it was so damn confusing.
Finally there was Tyler...
Tyler was one of the smartest guys in the frat, always acing his classes and doing well on exams despite looking like a bodybuilder. But lately you couldn't help but notice he'd been acting a little different too, like his mind had been completely blown by something. Usually you could find him either buried in his books or at the gym working out, but now he'd just slouch around the house shirtless, watching braindead TV like a total idiot for hours. You didn't know he was that fucking hairy under his shirt. The guy used to be a straight-A nerd and now he just looked like a lazy, hairy, half-naked slob zoning out on the couch. It was all very fucking strange... and for some reason you kept catching yourself staring at his chest way longer than you should.
It wasn't just them either. Pretty much all the other guys in the house had been acting a little different too. The vibe around the place was changing. Some guys seemed more aggressive than usual, like they were itching for a fight. Others were more withdrawn, like they were lost in their own heads. It just felt off, and you didn't know why, but you knew it had to be connected to Jake and his trip somehow. You just couldn't figure out how...
Until four nights later.
It was 2 AM. The headache slammed you awake like a fucking hammer to the skull, your cock already half-hard and leaking into your boxers. You crept downstairs in the dark, desperate for something to take the edge off. A faint light glowed from the kitchen.
Jake was standing in front of the fridge in nothing but shorts. You looked down and saw his hand grabbing the milk jug. On his other hand though, you could see something huge... You could see it... it was... his cock! His shorts were shoved down, his fat brown cock out and leaking. You watched, frozen in the doorway, as he stroked himself slowly, grunting low, and then blew a thick rope of cum straight into the jug.
"Jake... what the fuck?" you whispered.
He turned, not even surprised. A cocky grin spread across his face. His body looked huge under the fridge light - deep bronze skin, heavy pecs covered in dark hair, full beard framing his jaw, cock still dripping. It's like he'd doubled in size since he'd got back from the trip.
"About time you saw habibi."
His voice had a thick accent you'd never noticed before.
"Been doing this every night since I got back. Nasl Sheikh straight from the source.... You've all been getting a little taste for two weeks now."
Your stomach dropped. "What did you do to them?" you demanded, stepping closer even though your head was still pounding. "Mike, Ryan, Tyler... All the guys are acting weird. What the fuck did you do?"
Jake laughed, deep and easy. He set the jug down and looked you dead in the eye.
"You've all been drinking my milk every day for two weeks. Cereal. Shakes. Coffee. What do you not understand bitch?"
"That's not p-possible. Turn them back-"
Your voice died as Jake reached out and grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his dark brown stare.
Your skin had this warm bronze glow now - not the pale white you were used to seeing. Your chest looked fuller, hairier. Your hair seemed darker, messier. You hadn't noticed any of it. Not really. The headaches, the endless jerking off, the way everything felt... off. You'd been too busy watching the other guys to notice the changes in yourself. But now you could see it. You were changing too. You were becoming one of them.
"The nasl is already in you too" Jake said softly, stepping closer so his musky scent washed over you.
"That's why the headaches every morning. That's why your old fag porn doesn't work as well any more. You think I didn't know you liked men? You were always a little different, a little weaker than the rest of us. Most boys around here fooled around a bit. But you? It was so obvious. That soft white-boy brain of yours is melting nice and slow too. Gonna make you a real man. A straight breeder. Just like you should have been from the start."
Your heart hammered. You wanted to argue, but your cock was throbbing harder than ever, leaking down your thigh.
Jake poured you a full glass from the jug.
"Drink."
You stared at the thick white liquid for a long second. Then you took it. Drank it down in one greedy go and...
Better. You felt so much better already.
The thick, salty-creamy liquid slid down your throat and settled heavy in your gut like it belonged there. Your skin started tingling hard, your muscles felt warm and swollen, and your cock - already half-hard - surged to full mast, throbbing painfully against your boxers and leaking like a faucet.
"Fuck..."
Jake grinned wide, that smug look never leaving his face.
"Good. You will be my wingman from now on, brother. You want to be a REAL man after all, don't you?"
You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. You wanted to say no, to refuse, to fight back, but you couldn't. Your mind was too focused on the aching pain coming from your boner. You needed to unload fast.
"Keep drinking my seed every day and you'll be a REAL man in no time. Strong. Dumb. Ready to breed. Make sure the other bros drink their fill too." He gave your aching bulge a light tap. "Now go take care of that. You're dismissed."
You didn't answer. You just turned around and stumbled back upstairs with your legs shaking. You barely made it to your room before you ripped your boxers down and started furiously jerking your cock. A video with a twink was still open on your phone. You went right back to it, stroking hard, imagining sliding into that tight hole and breeding it deep. It still worked... but something felt different now. Your brain kept twisting the fantasy. What if that tight little hole wasn't an ass? What if it was a pussy? Wet, warm, gripping you different. The thought made your dick throb so hard it hurt.
You switched tabs fast, searching for "twink with pussy" and suddenly you were watching trans male porn - boys with tight little pussies getting fucked. It felt wrong... but your hand wouldn't stop moving. You pictured yourself pounding one of them, stretching that pussy wide, flooding it until cum leaked out. You came so hard you saw stars, thick ropes painting your abs while you moaned like a bitch in heat.
...
The rest of your week turned into a slow, sweaty, horny haze.
Your stubble came in thicker and darker every morning, no matter how many times you shaved. At the gym your shirts felt tighter across the chest, your arms and thighs filling out faster than they ever had. Sweat poured off you in buckets, and your pits smelled horribly, the same nasty musk the other guys were starting to carry. Your cock felt heavier in your hand every time you jerked off - each time longer, thicker, with less foreskin, and more sensitive than ever before.
You kept drinking the milk anyway - you had to - every single day.
By the end of the week the trans stuff started feeling a little flat on your cock. Your brain kept pushing further. The trans dudes turned into real girls in your head - thick thighs, bouncing tits, dripping wet pussies begging to be bred. You swapped to straight porn almost unconsciously, stroking to it, imagining yourself slamming balls-deep into some curvy bitch, pumping her full of Arab seed until it leaked out.
You tried to fight it at first, but it was useless. Your white-boy brain was already mush from all the Nasl Sheikh you consumed. Your brain felt slower, fuzzier, happier just thinking about lifting, praying, and breeding. It felt so good to be a breeder - to imagine yourself as the alpha male, the one that could make bellies swell and babies come out. You could feel your balls tightening just thinking about it - thinking about spreading your virile musky seed, breeding more cocky alpha studs like you.
The headaches stopped after that. Not because the nasl had worn off - fuck no. It was because your skull had finally finished reshaping itself. Your brain felt lighter now, smoother, like all the old complicated shit had been melted down and poured out through your cock. The last scraps of your old self burned away completely. No more confusion. No more hiding who you really were. Just pure, simple, alpha need flooding your slower, happier brain.
You rolled out of bed and caught your reflection in the mirror on the way to the bathroom. The guy staring back wasn't the soft white frat bro who'd made that first nervous phone call weeks ago. Your chest was a solid slab of muscle covered in a dense rug of black hair that trailed down over abs you could actually see now, disappearing into a treasure trail that led straight to the fat, circumcised Arab cock between your thighs. It was thicker than your wrist even soft, the head already glistening with a bead of pre. Your balls were bigger too, hanging low and full, churning out the same potent seed that had turned every single one of your bros.
Downstairs the kitchen smelled like home.
"Morning, brother" Jake - or Khalid as he called himself now - said with his now deep and accented voice.
Mahmoud (Mike) grabbed the jug, gave it a shake, and poured everyone a tall glass. You took yours without thinking and drank deep - three long, greedy gulps of warm, salty, ultra-thick homemade Nasl Sheikh. It slid down your throat like it belonged there, settling heavy in your gut and spreading heat through every vein. Your cock surged to full hardness instantly, slapping up against your abs with a wet smack.
You set the glass down, wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and let out a low, satisfied groan that came out half in Arabic.
"Wallahi... feels fucking perfect, bros."
The rest of the house was the same now. Every single frat brother - bigger, darker, hairier, dumber, and hornier. The common areas smelled like musk, sweat, and fresh cum. The fridge was stocked with the group's nightly nasl every single night. Nobody questioned it any more. Nobody wanted to go back. Why would they? This felt right. Strong. Simple. Masculine.
You were Yusuf now - a loud, dumb, hairy, straight Arab alpha. Big muscles, big balls, big ego. Obsessed with lifting, praying, and breeding every tight pussy you could find.
"Enough standing around like pussies", you barked at the other bros. "We're going out tonight. I want fresh pussy. I'm breeding at least three tonight and I don't give a fuck who they are. Any bitch that looks at me is getting her womb flooded."
Your brothers roared in approval, raising their fists while their cocks twitched at what you just said. The old soft white boy who made that scared phone call weeks ago was dead after leaking out of your musky cock.
This was your life now, and it felt fucking perfect. Who knows what would happen next...
I couldn't believe my luck at being offered a spot in the genetic rehabilitation trial at my work.
We'd been working on a prototype technology that could "drain" convicted violent criminals of their genetic potential; it's much easier to keep a 6' 2" roided up beast of a man in check once he's been left as a 5' 4" twink without an ounce of muscle on him. The one logistical issue with it is that their potential couldn't just go anywhere, it had to be given to a donor or a host.
When I was approached and asked if I was interested, I jumped at the opportunity. It felt like a reward for the overtime I'd put in slaving over the project these past few years... as well as a small apology for the way the demanding nature of the role led to me packing on some excess poundage.
I was so eager that I didn't bother to think about what it would mean to have distilled machismo and excess testosterone hardcoded into my genome.
When I woke up it felt like a dream come true. I'd never felt so full of energy and drive before, and my libido was suddenly through the roof. But what started as a dream slowly turned out to be more of a nightmare; I found myself unable to focus for too long before my body needed to do some physical activity to blow off some steam, otherwise I'd get jittery and grumpy. The seeming endless supply of energy meant I was chowing down incredible amounts of food, so not only did my body pack on mass with incredible speed, I was sweating non stop as it worked tirelessly to metabolize the excess calories. And I never thought I'd say this, but even the boost to my sex drive turned out to be more of a curse - all my overwhelming testosterone had to come from somewhere, and my previously modest equipment has inflated into a leaky, needy beast that needs attention multiple times a day. And I think this enhanced masculinity ended up with some wires crossed, because women just don't do it for me anymore - this new footlong monster of mine only gets hard for men.
My performance kept dropping at work, and I eventually got let go a few months later with a generous compensation package. It was enough to get myself set up with a home gym and some camera gear.
I didn't really picture myself turning into an oversexed and overgrown gay bodybuilder making money from OnlyFriends, but I guess I just unlocked my true potential.
Shawn flexed in the mirror of the college gym, his 6’4” frame a sculpted masterpiece of rippling muscle. At 28, he was the star personal trainer on campus—broad shoulders, boulder-like delts, a chest that could bench a small car, and abs carved deep enough to lose fingers in. Veins snaked over his arms like rivers on a map, and his quads strained every pair of shorts he owned. He lived for the pump, the stares, the raw power thrumming through his veins.
When the art department email popped up asking for a “life model with exceptional physique” for a special session, he jumped at it. Show off for a room full of students? Hell yeah. He showed up in loose sweats and a tank that barely contained him, already half-hard at the thought of stripping down and holding poses while eyes traced every inch of him.
The studio was the usual—high ceilings, easels in a semicircle, soft lighting from overhead lamps. But the chalkboard stopped him cold:
LIFE DRAWING: GIANT MODEL
Macro Session – Temporary Growth Protocol
The professor, a sharp-eyed woman in her forties, smiled. “Shawn, right? We use a special compound for these advanced classes. Completely safe, reversible in two hours. You’ll grow to twenty feet. Think you can handle it?”
His cock twitched hard in his sweats. Grow? The fantasy hit him like a freight train—towering, unstoppable, every muscle magnified to godlike proportions. “Fuck yes,” he grinned, already peeling off his tank.
They gave him the injection in his thick glute—cool fire spreading through his veins. Then the students filed in, sketchbooks ready, a mix of wide-eyed undergrads who clearly hadn’t expected the model to be this built even before the growth.
It started slow. A deep, throbbing heat in his core. Shawn stepped onto the low platform, dropping his sweats and wrapping a white sheet low around his hips like a classical statue. His cock was already thickening, half-hard and heavy against his thigh. Then the surge hit.
“Oh… shit,” he groaned, voice dropping deeper as his body expanded. Bones lengthened with wet, powerful cracks. Muscles ballooned outward, fibers splitting and reforming thicker, denser. His chest surged forward, pecs becoming massive slabs that cast shadows over the room. Abs deepened into an armored eight-pack. Arms thickened to the size of tree trunks, biceps peaking like mountains. His legs exploded with size—quads and hamstrings swelling until the sheet strained and tore at the seams, barely clinging to his now enormous, muscular ass and thickening cock.
The students gasped as Shawn shot upward. Ten feet. Fifteen. Twenty. The platform groaned beneath his massive bare feet. His head nearly brushed the high ceiling, and the sheet finally gave way, fluttering down like a surrendered flag. His cock—now a veiny, throbbing monster the size of a grown man’s arm—swung free, heavy and semi-erect, pulsing with every heartbeat. Pre-cum already beaded at the tip, thick as honey.
“Fuuuuck…” Shawn’s voice boomed, low and resonant. He struck the pose from the demonstration photo—right arm flexed high, left extended in a powerful reach, one thick leg forward. Every movement sent ripples across his hypertrophied physique. His traps rose like cliffs beside his neck. Lats flared so wide they blocked light from the windows. The deep cuts of his obliques pointed like arrows toward the base of his colossal dick, which now hung heavily between thighs thicker than the students’ waists.
The class went silent except for the frantic scratch of charcoal. Eyes darted from his boulder-sized calves up the endless columns of his legs, over the ridged landscape of his abs, across the vast expanse of his chest. A few students were flushed, shifting in their seats. One girl in the front row bit her lip so hard Shawn noticed.
“Like what you see?” he rumbled, voice vibrating through the floor. He adjusted his stance, flexing his pecs so they bounced with heavy, powerful weight. His cock twitched visibly, lifting slightly as blood rushed in. Being this huge felt incredible—every nerve ending amplified, the cool studio air kissing his hyper-sensitive skin, the weight of his own muscles pressing down on him like the ultimate pump.
One brave student, a lean guy with a beanie, raised his hand. “Can… can you do a different pose? Something more… dynamic?”
Shawn smirked down at them. At twenty feet, they looked like dolls. He dropped into a side chest pose, turning slightly so the striations across his pecs and the sweep of his delts caught the light. His massive cock swayed with the motion, now fully hard and pointing upward like a weapon, the head glistening. He reached down with one enormous hand and gave it a slow, lazy stroke—fingers barely able to wrap around the girth. A low, erotic groan escaped him, echoing off the walls.
The students drew faster. Some were openly staring now, sketchbooks forgotten for moments at a time. Shawn could smell their arousal mixing with the scent of charcoal and linseed oil. He posed for them—crab most muscular, hitting every angle, letting his body dominate the room. Sweat gleamed across the vast planes of his muscles. His balls hung heavy and full beneath his shaft, churning visibly.
“God, you’re fucking huge,” someone whispered.
Shawn’s cock throbbed at the words. He was leaking steadily now, thick drops falling to the platform with audible plaps. The power rush was intoxicating—being a living colossus, worshipped by dozens of eyes while his body screamed with erotic energy. He flexed his biceps again, watching the peak rise like a volcano, and felt his orgasm building from the sheer intensity of it all.
When the professor finally announced the reversal was coming, Shawn was panting, muscles pumped to their absolute limit, cock still rock-hard and aching. As he slowly shrank back down—muscles deflating but still enormous by normal standards—he caught the hungry looks from the class.
“Same time next week?” he asked, voice husky, wrapping the ruined sheet around his waist again.
The entire room nodded.
Shawn grinned. Modeling had never felt this good. And he couldn’t wait to grow for them again.
The wooden beams of the gazebo glowed warmly under the strings of fairy lights, casting a golden hue over the bubbling hot tub nestled beneath it. It was Patrick’s bachelor party—the last wild night before he said “I do”—and the secluded backyard spot was perfect. Steam rose from the churning water as Patrick lounged in the center, his already jacked 6’4” body glistening, short blond hair slicked back, a simple gold dog-tag necklace nestled between his heavy pecs. His seven closest buddies—his groomsmen and best man Alex—surrounded him, all of them shirtless, athletic, and buzzed on beer, laughing and splashing in the warm jets.
“The stripper flaked,” Alex announced with a wicked grin, pulling a small ornate vial from his bag. The glowing blue liquid inside swirled like liquid starlight. “But I still got you the perfect present, Pat. This growth serum was supposed to make her huge—tower over us, give us a show we’d never forget. Since she bailed… maybe the groom deserves a taste? One last insane memory before you’re off the market?”
The guys erupted in cheers, cans and bottles raised high. Patrick laughed, deep and easy, the sound rumbling through his broad chest. “Fuck it. It’s my night.” He took the vial, uncorked it, and downed the sweet liquid in one gulp, chasing it with a long pull from his beer can. “Tastes like blueberries and bad decisions. Now what?”
For a few seconds, nothing. Then Patrick’s eyes widened. “Shit… it’s getting hot.” A deep flush spread across his skin. His muscles twitched, then swelled. His shoulders broadened dramatically, deltoids ballooning outward. His biceps surged, veins pulsing as they thickened and peaked higher, harder. “Oh fuck, guys—” He instinctively flexed one arm, and the muscle exploded with size, the peak rising like a mountain.
His pecs pushed forward into thick, heavy slabs, nipples tightening as his chest widened. Abs carved deeper into a brutal eight-pack, each ridge sharpening while his obliques flared. Below the water, his thighs thickened massively, quads pressing against the sides of the tub and nudging his friends aside. But it wasn’t just muscle—Patrick was growing. His spine lengthened with a pleasurable groan, legs stretching out, feet pushing against the far edge of the hot tub. The water level seemed to drop around him as he shot past eight feet, then ten, then twelve. The tub felt like a kiddie pool.
“Pat… you’re fucking huge,” Alex breathed, eyes wide with awe and something hotter.
Patrick’s voice dropped an octave, now a low, commanding growl. “I feel… incredible.” His cock—already thick and heavy—throbbed violently beneath the surface, surging longer and fatter with every heartbeat until it rose like a veined pillar, breaching the bubbling water. A tidal wave of raw, insatiable horniness slammed into him. His balls grew heavy and full, aching with urgent need. Pre-cum leaked in thick strands, mixing with the foam. “Fuck… I’m so goddamn horny. I need you all. Right now. Please your giant best man on his bachelor night.”
The friends didn’t hesitate. The sight of their buddy transformed into a 15-foot-tall god of muscle—still flexing that massive right bicep proudly, water cascading down the deep cuts of his abs—had them rock-hard and eager. Alex reached out first, both hands wrapping around the base of Patrick’s enormous cock, stroking the hot, throbbing shaft that was now thicker than his own forearm. Two more guys pressed in on either side, mouths stretching wide as they licked and sucked the fat, leaking head, tongues swirling around the sensitive slit.
Patrick moaned, the sound deep enough to vibrate the water. He gently but firmly guided another friend’s head lower, letting him worship the heavy, churning balls beneath. The rest of the guys climbed and pressed against his colossal body—kissing and licking the ridges of his abs, sucking on his thick nipples, grinding their own hard cocks against the unyielding muscle of his thighs and hips. Hands roamed everywhere: squeezing the massive peaks of his biceps, tracing the deep valleys between his pecs, massaging the tree-trunk quads that surrounded them like warm, living walls.
“That’s it… good boys,” Patrick rumbled, voice thick with lust. He kept flexing that show-off bicep, showing off for them while two mouths worked his cockhead in tandem, lips stretched obscenely, tongues lapping greedily. Another buddy used both arms to stroke the shaft in long, firm pumps, the motion sending waves through the hot tub. Patrick’s free hand—now bigger than their torsos—pet gently over their heads and backs, encouraging them, pulling them closer.
The pleasure built fast. Patrick’s hips bucked instinctively, sloshing water everywhere, his 15-foot frame completely dominating the tub. “Gonna come… fuck, you’re all making me feel so good—” His balls tightened, and he erupted with a roar that echoed into the night. Thick, powerful ropes of cum blasted out, painting the water and his friends’ chests and faces in hot, heavy spurts. The guys kept sucking and stroking through it, milking every last drop while Patrick shuddered and groaned in ecstasy.
When the last pulse faded, Patrick leaned back against the edge of the tub, chest heaving, a lazy, satisfied grin on his handsome face. His buddies collapsed against his massive, glistening body—some still lazily kissing and licking whatever muscle they could reach, others just floating contentedly in the warm, cum-laced water, beers still in hand.
“Best… bachelor party… ever,” Patrick murmured, flexing his colossal arm one more time for good measure. The string lights twinkled overhead, the hot tub bubbled on, and for one perfect, filthy night, he was the biggest, horniest man alive—and his best friends had made sure he enjoyed every single inch of it.
The night air had cooled slightly, but Patrick’s colossal body still radiated heat like a furnace. At 15 feet tall and built like a living mountain of muscle, he could barely fit in the hot tub anymore—his broad shoulders and thick quads had pushed most of the water out, leaving his friends soaked and laughing in the shallows.
“Bedroom,” Patrick rumbled, his voice a deep, commanding bass that vibrated through the wooden gazebo. His cock, still half-hard and leaking, bobbed heavily above the waterline. “I’m not done. Need more.”
The other guys helped steady him as he rose, water cascading down every deep cut of his abs and over the massive globes of his ass. But it was Alex—loyal best man, already rock-hard and grinning—who took charge. “Come on, big guy. I’ve got you.”
Getting Patrick inside was no small feat. The back door was a standard 7-foot frame, comically tiny now. Patrick dropped to his hands and knees on the deck, his enormous frame making the wood creak. His heavy pecs swayed as he crawled forward, biceps flexing into cannonball peaks with every shift of his weight. Alex went first, guiding him.
“Easy… head down, shoulders angled,” Alex coached, one hand resting on the warm, striated expanse of Patrick’s left delt. Patrick’s head and shoulders squeezed through the doorway with a grunt, the frame scraping lightly against his traps. His massive chest followed, nipples dragging against the threshold, then his rippling abs. The hardest part was his hips—those powerful glutes and tree-trunk thighs forced him to twist and shimmy, cock and balls swinging heavily beneath him, brushing the floor inside.
“Fuck, you’re so big,” Alex groaned appreciatively, watching every inch of his best friend’s transformed body squeeze through. Once Patrick’s legs were clear, Alex helped him rise just enough to crawl down the hallway on all fours, the ceiling brushing the top of his head. The bedroom door was even tighter, but with Alex pushing from behind—hands shamelessly gripping the firm, massive globes of Patrick’s ass—they made it.
The king-sized bed looked like a doll’s cot beneath Patrick. He carefully lowered himself onto it on his back, the mattress sinking deep, springs groaning in protest. His feet hung off the end, and his shoulders spanned nearly the full width. Alex stripped quickly and climbed up, looking tiny but eager against the 15-foot giant.
Patrick’s hand—easily the size of Alex’s torso—gently pulled him closer. “C’mere, man. Been wanting this all night.”
Alex straddled Patrick’s thick, ridged abs, grinding his own hard cock against the warm, flexing muscle while leaning down to kiss the giant’s full lips. The kiss was hungry, deep, Patrick’s tongue dominating easily. Alex’s hands roamed: squeezing the heavy slabs of pecs, pinching thick nipples, tracing the deep valleys between abs that were each bigger than his head.
Patrick’s cock had surged back to full, throbbing hardness—thick as Alex’s thigh and longer than his arm. Alex scooted back, wrapping both arms around the massive shaft, stroking firmly while pressing his own leaking cock against the underside. Pre-cum poured from Patrick’s slit in heavy rivulets, slicking everything.
“God, you’re huge everywhere,” Alex panted, tongue flicking over the fat cockhead, licking up the salty-sweet fluid. He used his whole body to pleasure his friend—chest sliding along the shaft, arms pumping, mouth sucking as much of the head as he could manage.
Patrick groaned, the sound shaking the room. One massive hand cupped Alex’s ass, thick fingers teasing between his cheeks while the other gently guided Alex’s head. “That’s it… fuck, your mouth feels so good.”
They found a rhythm. Alex rode the giant’s abs, humping desperately against the hard ridges while jerking and sucking Patrick’s cock with everything he had. Patrick’s free hand wrapped around Alex’s cock and balls, stroking him with careful power—thumb teasing the head, fingers massaging his sack.
The pleasure built fast. Alex came first with a sharp cry, shooting thick ropes across Patrick’s abs and lower chest. The sight and scent pushed Patrick over the edge. With a deep, guttural roar, he erupted. Powerful jets of hot cum blasted out, splattering Alex’s chest, face, and the headboard in heavy, endless spurts. Alex kept stroking and licking through it, milking every drop while Patrick’s massive body shuddered beneath him.
When it finally subsided, Alex collapsed forward onto the warm, cum-slicked expanse of Patrick’s chest, both of them breathing hard. Patrick’s huge hand stroked gently down Alex’s back, cradling him protectively.
“Best man… best night,” Patrick murmured, voice low and satisfied, a lazy smile on his handsome face. The giant groom flexed his free arm just because he could, the peak rising like a mountain in the dim bedroom light, while Alex nestled contentedly against the living wall of muscle.
Outside, the hot tub still bubbled and the string lights twinkled, but inside, the real celebration was only getting started.
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The air in the gym locker room was thick with the scent of old iron, eucalyptus, and the lingering humidity of the showers. Peter sat on the bench and examined his thin muscles. He was lanky, his ribs visible with every breath, and his pale arms looked like little more than kindling.
“No girl is ever going to want this,” he muttered to himself, a familiar bitterness rising in his throat. He felt invisible, a ghost in a temple of stone-carved bodies.
From the corner of the room, John watched. John was a powerhouse—a muscular bear in his prime, with a salt-and-pepper beard and muscles that seemed to strain against the very atmosphere. He didn’t just occupy space; he commanded it. He saw the boy’s despair and felt a pull of protective, primal interest.
John stepped forward, his heavy footsteps echoing on the tile. "You're looking at yourself all wrong, kid," John said, his voice a low rumble. "You’ve got the frame. You just need the right… motivation."
Peter looked up, startled. "I've tried everything. Nothing sticks."
John smiled, a knowing, slightly mischievous glint in his eyes. "Tell you what. Let’s train together today. I’ll show you a shortcut to the kind of power you're looking for."
Desperate and captivated by the older man's confidence, Peter nodded. "Okay. I'm in."
John stepped close to Peter. The heat radiating off his massive chest making Peter’s heart race.
John snapped his fingers.
The snap of John’s fingers didn't just echo; it vibrated through the marrow of Peter’s bones. A sudden, electric hum, cold as ice and bright as a summer sky, started at his toes and raced upward.
Peter looked down in terror as his skin began to ripple. It didn't just change color; it changed nature. The smooth, pale flesh of his thighs began to knit together, the cells tightening and flattening into a dense, high-quality blue cotton.
“What’s happening to me?” Peter tried to scream, but the sound died in a throat that was no longer made of muscle and bone. His jaw tightened, the skin of his lips rolling inward and hardening into a thick, stitched hem. His voice, once a frantic plea, was now nothing more than the muffled rustle of cloth.
His legs were merging, his knees softening and losing their structure as they were pulled upward into a singular, shifting mass of fabric.
The sensation was dizzying. His consciousness didn't vanish; it folded. He felt his spine liquefy, his height collapsing as if he were a skyscraper being sucked into the earth. His arms, once lanky and weak, were drawn into his torso, their substance recycled into the wide, heavy-duty elastic of a waistband. He felt the stretch and the tension—the strength he had always craved was finally there, but it was the strength of industrial-grade fiber, designed to hold and support.
Within seconds, the air where a young man had sat was empty, save for a swirl of fading blue sparks. Where Peter’s heart had beaten, there was now only the soft, breathable pouch of a blue jockstrap, lying limp on the locker room floor.
John chuckled, reaching down to pick them up. The fabric felt soft yet durable in his large hands. "This is the kind of 'joint training' you weren't expecting, isn't it, kid?" John whispered to the garment. "Don't worry. You're going to feel every bit of the work we're about to put in."
John got off his shorts and put the jockstraps on. The elastic snapping snugly against his powerful thighs. He pulled his gym shorts back over and headed to the main floor.
The workout was brutal. John attacked the barbell, pressing massive weights over his head. Inside the shorts, Peter—now the very fabric supporting John’s movements—felt everything. He felt the tremendous heat of John’s skin, the rhythmic tension of his glutes, and the sheer, raw power of a master at work.
As John began to sweat, the blue cotton began to dampen. Peter felt himself soaking up the essence of the man. It wasn't just moisture; it was the pheromones, the testosterone, and the very spirit of John’s masculinity. Peter’s consciousness, trapped in the weave, drank it in greedily. He wasn't just a witness; he was becoming a part of that strength. The feeling was intoxicating—a primal, heavy intimacy he had never imagined.
After his training and a shower, John stood back in the locker room alone. He was wrapped in a white towel, the damp jockstraps held in his hand. He looked down at them with a smirk and placed them gently on the floor tiles.
John snapped his fingers once more.
Magic swirled in a mist of fading blue light. The jockstraps surged upward, expanding like a localized storm. The damp fabric unraveled and was stretching upward into a solid, human form. Peter didn't just feel like he was standing again; he felt like he was occupying space for the very first time with a physical weight and density he’d never known. The lanky, fragile boy was gone, erased by the magic and replaced by a thick, powerful man that felt heavy, grounded, and undeniably masculine.
His shoulders had exploded outward, rounding into massive, boulder-like caps of solid muscle. Where there had once been sharp collarbones, there was now a thick, powerful neck that merged seamlessly into a chest of staggering proportions. His pectorals were dense and square, like twin slabs of granite, divided by a deep, rugged valley that Peter couldn't help but stare at in disbelief.
The texture of his new skin felt remarkable. A lush, masculine dusting of dark hair now climbed up his belly and swirled across his chest—a soft, coarse pelt that marked his transition into a true bear cub. It felt electric under his touch, especially as he ran his fingers down to his midsection. His waist had thickened with core strength, and where there was once a soft, concave belly, there were now washboard abs—six perfectly sculpted ridges of muscle that felt as solid as the iron John had just been lifting.
Peter lifted his hands, turning them over slowly. His fingers were thicker, his palms wider, and his forearms were now ropy with veins and dense muscle. He felt a strange, humming heat radiating from his own core, as if the essence he had absorbed from John’s workout had permanently fused with his DNA. He wasn't just "fit"; he was substantial.
Looking at himself, Peter let out a breath he felt he’d been holding for years, his lips curling into a wide, confident smile. As the last of the blue sparks faded from his groin, Peter saw a new, heavy weight between his thick, hairy thighs. The magic had been thorough; his manhood had transformed alongside his muscles, now hanging heavy, thick, and beautifully developed. It was a proud, masculine centerpiece that perfectly matched his new physique, a potent testament to the raw essence he had absorbed from John during their intense workout.
"Look at you," John said, his voice full of pride as he reached out and gripped Peter’s newly bulging bicep.
Peter turned to John, he realized the transformation went deeper than his skin.
"The muscles are... amazing," Peter whispered, his voice deeper, more resonant.
"They suit you," John replied, stepping closer. "But you took more than just my strength from that workout, didn't you?"
Peter felt it then. The memory of being pressed against John, the scent of his sweat, and the rhythm of his power had rewired him. The thoughts of "girls" that had plagued him earlier felt like a distant, faded dream. His eyes locked onto John’s—the silver in his beard, the kindness in his gaze, the sheer animal magnetism.
He didn't just want to be like John; he wanted John. A new, undeniable hunger filled his mind. Peter reached out, his hand resting on John's bare, damp shoulder. Without a word, the distance between them vanished. In the quiet, steam-filled locker room, the two men shared a deep, romantic kiss—a seal on a bond forged in magic and iron.
Hey guys I'm making this story just to show off how much Jac-, Jared... Jason? I don't fucking remember his name, so many sacrifices offering to become part of me that I really can't keep tabs on their names anymore. Anyways, when I finish assimilating him his brain will add to mine, his memories will be too, so I won't be able to forget it even if I want... ANYWAYS, the dude had some descent muscles on him! He'd gave me some solid mass to absorb, look at this, like I'm on pump 24h. NICE!
You know guys, I couldn't be perfect like I am without having you letting yourselves be devoured, consumed and added to me, each day I am getting closer to become a fucking god I deserve to be! So fuckers, I want you all to subscribe to my diet and train plan as fast as you can, I need you to be in the best shape to add yourselves to me, I want the most shredded mother fuckers adding all that potential to ME. So stop eating your fucking carbs and go train, inject as much trembo you can, and remember that everything you are doing is to GIVE ME EVERYTHING YOU ARE AND WILL EVER BE. MAKE ME A FUCKING GOD.
Common guys, a pred gotta evolve, ya' know? Anyways...
Ty guys, till next offering, and that one needs to habe at least a decent 8 inches dick to add to mine!
muscle growth 😉😋 @biggerisbetter00 - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
