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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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.
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.
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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.
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!
Grant just got off work after a long day at the agency excited about it being payday “I’m so excited to head to the mall to get these new glasses man” he said to his officemate Ben.
“I can’t believe you’re going to waste your money on that thing, I’m sure it’s still in beta testing and it’s already being sold like it’ll work perfectly” Ben told Grant
“Nah man, I researched everything the past week and it’s said to really boost efficiency, productivity, and all that” he replied. “Suit yourself, it’s your own money man. See you tomorrow” Ben said as he packed and went home.
Grant on the other hand went straight for the local mall to buy the glasses - the Meta VR Glasses - which, as he read, provided benefits to boost total productivity and efficiency for anyone and everyone
“This gonna be so great!” Grant said as he checked out the glasses in the store. “Hi sir, you need any help?” The store staff asked. “Oh just wwnted to get help, I’m buying these today” Grant replied.
“Here you go sir, now we do have a standard warranty for these so please just contact us or go back here if you experience any changes or issues.” the staff member said. “Weird of them to mention changes but alright I guess” Grant told himself quietly as he went home to try them out for the first time.
At home, he excitedly got them out of the box and turned them on. As it booted, he was surprised as the glasses worked as if there was a screen projection of the apps right infront of him floating in the room
All of the icons followed where he was looking so it really was immersive to say the least. Grant scrolled through the apps, poking at thin air while the virtual screen moved along with his fingers
After a few minutes of tinkering, he went back to the home screen and found an app that was bigger than the rest - the Reality Simulator - which he was curious about since why would the icon be so massive compared to everything else.
Grant failed to notice nor remember that the app itself wasn’t even there when he first put the glasses on at home or at the store.
Out of curiosity, he pressed the app to see what it does. “Seems like it’s a Glasses only app” he said as the app wizzed to life
As it opened, he was surprised to find that it was as the title said, a Reality Simulator, where you can change things virtually to see how it applies in the real world without having to physically change anything. He saw other people were actively using it as the app shared a live feed of total users in his area, “Guess I’m not the only one with these new glasses” he said
As he ran through the app, a section of it was dedicated to creating your ideal look - to see how you would look with adjustments to your physicality such as height, weight, skin color, etc. He checked the gallery and saw photos that ranged from gorgeous women, massive hunks of men, to more alien-esque humans. “That’s a cool feature” he said as he pressed on Create
As the section opened, he was surprised to find a virtual version of himself standing in the screen. The app had captured his entire likeness and applied it into the settings “Okay that’s kind of creepy to say the least” he said as he inspected the virtual avatar and it even had the hair parted in the same place.
He checked the sliders beside the model and it read out a list of things you can change - it included height, age, muscle, fat, even skin tone - though the other options were blocked behind a paywall, “At least there’s a good selection of edits you can choose from I guess”
As he changed the sliders, the changes happened realtime to the virtual version of himself. He maxed out the age slider and the copy turned into a grandpa, he reduced the fat and it showed the model to look like he had anorexia. He even tried changing the skin tone but he was afraid of getting absolutely cancelled.
He tried out the muscle slider and maxed it out completely and saw the changes
The virtual avatar still looked like him with the only difference being the body looked like it belonged to a superhero
“Damn how I wish I had that body instead” Grant said jokingly as he inspected the buffed up version of himself. The avatar had each muscle perfected - as if it was made by CGI and digitally sculpted to really show off each muscle group
Grant had always wanted to gain a bit more muscle but his work at the agency kept him away from the gym due to all of the workload and long nights. He once wished the work he did could translate to his muscles growing from all the corporate heavy lifting he did.
“Might as well try this one out” as he pressed the green button to compose the virtual copy of him with the enhanced musculature.
As he pressed it, a small shock came out of the glasses on his face, startling him in the process but it was painless. He saw the screen though as it loaded the composition - it was a loading bar, much like the ones he saw at work as he booted up heavy excel files.
What he saw next was what scared him. He raised his hands to see that virtual light was pulsing from his body as he saw his arms start doubling in size
“This must be the reality simulator part” he said as muscles started applying onto his arms like he was being inflated with air. He didn’t feel a thing as it went on but he could see his hands and arms grow into absolute cannons right infront of him with veins perfecting the look.
He ran to his bedroom to inspect the rest of the changes that applied. The app still at 10%.
As he was walking to his bedroom upstairs, he started feeling a bit more cramped in his clothes “Must be the heater, forgot to turn it down a bit” he said. What he failed to notice was the shirt he had on started clinging to his body.
As he reached his bedroom, he was shocked to see himself in the reflection. His shirt was already starting to rip from his chest expanding to 3x its size and his shoulders and back widening out the shirt completely
He inspected himself and felt the shirt, the holes he saw were real as he felt his skin underneath as he touched the holes
“This can’t be real” he exclaimed as he felt tight all throughout his body. All of his new muscles responding with every movement and tightening and flexing in every direction.
“I wanna see this for myself” he said as he hurriedly removed the shirt off of him to fully inspect the changes. The app now at 80%
What he saw in the mirror shocked him, it was as if the virtual avatar was staring back at him. All of his muscles were now massive. Perfect pecs that jutted out of his torso, 6 pack abs, and shoulders that rounded his wide frame with cannons for arms. He felt the strength in him as he felt up and down his body “Fuck” he said still shocked at the changes.
“This is gonna be a fun day” he said as he flexed like a professional bodybuilder.
He watched as all of the muscles responded automatically. Pecs bouncing and solidifying as he flexed with ease. Biceps that rose to huge peaks as he posed. Even the abs started forming into an 8-pach right then and there. “Damn I love these glasses” he said as he opened up the app again to start making a few changes.
A few minutes later
Grant sat down on his bed but it wasn’t the same Grant as yesterday, this Grant looked like an absolute chad of a man as he was now practically 2x the size he was a few minutes ago and looking more mature with the body hair and chiseled jaw
“Damn I feel so strong” as he took a mirror selfie to document the new him. His voice now booming and dominating in his bedroom “I gotta test these out in the garage” he said remarking about his new massive guns
He went to his weights in his garage - weights he struggled to lift before - and started curling the heaviest weights he had. To his surprise, they were now all so light “Damn I struggled to even lift one of these, now look at me” as he curled the dumbbells with ease.
“Gonna have to test out all of these muscles” Grant said as the day went on.
It was 11AM and he was bound to head to the agency for work. “Ben’s going to be so freaked out” he said excitedly as he got ready. Luckily he had an oversized sweater in his closet he could use, a gift from his mom who didn’t know his size last year, but this year it seemed to fit him perfectly as he left his house.
Before heading into the office building, he stopped to get a coffee. He called up his office friend Ben to pre-empt his grand entrance
“Americano for Grant at the counter” the baristas shouted. That’s when Grant went up to take the coffee.
The baristas were absolutely floored when Grant went up to get his coffee. His massive frane looming over them as if eclipsing the sunlight outside. His massive arm alone was practically the size of the baristas head. The bicep completely noticeable under the “oversized” sweater
“Hey Ben, y’know the glasses I was talking about yesterday. Well, I think you should get a pair for yourself” Grant said. “Who is this? This is Grant’s number but I don’t recognize who’s on the line” Ben replied. Grant forgot he changed his voice to be intoxicating. “I’ll just show you when I get there” he said as he ended the call
“Ben’s definitely gonna rush to the mall” he said as he flexed his pecs again to see their heft bounce before heading into the agency.
===============
Thanks for reading! This one’s more just outright an original story where VR glasses apply changes to the real world. Hope you all enjoy!
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Fred was browsing through Amazon when a pop-up ad showed up after clicking a product — NEW TITAN-GRO! The new miracle cream for men! — the ad said. “This has got to be fake, the before and after aren’t even the same men” Frank said as he closed the pop-up
Frank isn’t exactly the most fit person in the apartment complex but he always aspired to have a commanding build — ever since he was a teenager and being exposed to that world did he consider really getting fit. Problem was, his metabolism didn’t respond to his workouts so well. Instead of packing on muscle, he just kept losing fat and wasn’t gaining much weight.
The algorithm on his phone was bombarded with search results related to muscle growth, testosterone levels, etc. His most recent search being the pros and cons of steroid use.
“Must be my phone reading all of my searches” he said as he whisked through the app and found what he needed and proceeded to check out.
After 2 days he was notified by the apartment lobby that a delivery had arrived for him.
He opened up his delivery locker and was surprised to see a box labeled TITAN-GRO. “Weird, I know I didn’t add this to my cart on check out” he said as he pulled the box out.
He went back up to his apartment to open the box. He was really expecting his usual protein shake powder to be delivered over this. Unbenknownst to him, that delivery was really scheduled for tomorrow.
As he opened the box the, he only found the jar of cream. “That massive of a box for just this?”
Curiously he picked it up and read through the ingredients as he went to the bathroom
“This cannot be a real product, I haven’t even heard of any of these ingredients before” as he read through the full list “mTORC1, IGF-1, PI3K-Akt-mTOR,… now these just sound absolutely fake” he said
“Guaranteed hypertrophic results after just ONE application with absolutely no side effects or skin irritation - suuuure” he said annoyingly
As he said that though, he got a good look at himself in the mirror and instantly got dejected again by his physique and just spoke to the jar “might as well try you for all I care” as he carried it out to his room
He unscrewed the cap off the jar and took a look inside. For a cream, he was really expecting something white or lotion-adjacent but this cream, no, it was almost the opposite. It looked like a tub of chocolate but it smelled just like an exfoliating lotion “wasn’t exactly what I was expecting” he said as he took out a bit of the product with his hands and applied it to his arm
The texture of the cream was actually fairly smooth - it did have the consistency of a lotion but it did look like he was coating himself with fudge
“I’m defintely gonna have a hard time washing this off am I?” He asked himself as he rubbed the cream up beyond his elbow “as if this is going to work at all” he said dejectedly
After applying, he let it sit and dry. As it dried, the color actually faded away “well that’s new” he said. He’s never seen any other skin product, for men or for women, react like the way it did.
After a few more seconds, the cream started making its claims become reality
Fred looked at his arm as it started to swell almost immediately. At first he panicked and thought it might be an allergic reaction to whatever ingredients were listed on the jar he read earlier
But no, this wasn’t an allergic reaction at all but more his arm muscles practically doubling in size. His once noodle right arm kept packing on muscle to the point that his veins were practically pushed out in full view
The both the bicep and the tricep swelled to practically stretch and nearly tore the fabric. He reached with his other arm to pull up the sleeve just to see the full effect. As he did that, he saw the forearm follow suit and grow to match the newly muscles up arm
“SHIT.” He exclaimed as the growth finally slowed to a stop. He inspected his newly massive arm in the mirror and felt it up from his shoulder down to his hand - feeling the rock hard muscle that was now occupying his once stick thin arm. He felt the absolute weight of it as he almost leaned to the side because of all the new mass
“I can’t believe it worked!!” he shouted as he flexed the muscle and saw how it rose and fell in the mirror.
It took him just seeing it to believe it for him to hurriedly remove his shirt and place the cream on his chest
And just like before, it started working its ‘magic’ - as the ad said - as it started drying he looked down to try and watch the effects
Just like his arm, he watched as the muscles on his torso started rising into view - as if he were being inflated with air but instead of bloating up like a balloon, it was his muscles that were getting pumped up with size and mass
“oh fuuuuuck” he exclaimed as he watched his pecs start forming into huge pillows of mass that was slowly starting to obstruct his view
His chest practically formed into perfect pecs - ones that he would see being sported by the fitness influencers and bodybuilders as he doom scrolled on his phone. Below them, his abs solidified into a visible 6-pack that most men would have envied — including himself.
He felt himself up with his other hand that now also grew to match his other muscular arm.
His shoulder basically stretched out well beyond where they were just a few seconds ago and were now capped off with muscles that completed the V-taper look he’d always dreamed of — ever since he saw Chris in that Captain America origin story that is.
“This’ll be a fun experiment” he told himself as he practically scooped out more of the cream from the jar and started liberally applying it all over his body
A few minutes later
Fred went outside to catch the late morning sun after using up the entire jar of Titan-Gro. Just a few hours ago he was a thin lanky man but now the man basking in the sun couldn’t be called that at all
His once already cream enhanced body was practically no match to what his body now sported. Compared to his body from earlier this morning, his arms are now practically 4x the size in pure muscle with thick corded veins supplying both of his arms.
His once thin frame could now be completely eclipsed by the width of his torso with both his shoulders and lats being so huge that they practically pushed his arms so far apart. He couldn’t even get out to his apartment’s balcony without having to step sideways just to get out of the sliding doors
His chest now practically looked like pillows - soft to the touch when relaxed but solid as granite with just a subtle flex - which he only discovered he could now do 5 minutes ago.
He sat on his outdoor chair and enjoyed the sun on his new body. The chair creaking under his new mass “might have to get new furniture to keep up with this rock-hard muscle” he said as he pounded his chest with his muscular hand, his chest practically immovable. His leg muscles barely fitting onto the chair as his thighs fought for support
“Man I feel like I could lift a truck, might try it out later” he said as his body started to sweat from the heat which only made his body look much MUCH more picture perfect
A notification sound rang from his phone, he grabbed it and read “Hi! Expect your delivery to come in tomorrow, 9AM…” — his protein shake powder he assumed. “I think this body needs more than just the 4lbs tub” he said to himself as he looked down at his phone, his pecs bouncing along in excitement as he ran through his phone again to order more
As he scanned through to buy another tub, a pop up showed up again — NEW TITAN-GRO! The new miracle cream for men!
“Perfect” he said with a grin on his face as he added 10 jars into his cart to purchase and try on and give out to his friends to try
==============
Thanks for reading this story! This one’s heavily inspired by that an episode from The Boys Presents: Diabolical titled Boyd in 3D which followed the story of a guy who wanted to become the perfect man — though with side effects. Go check it out!
But he realized he needed to examine the pitcher more closely to answer these questions, and with a satisfied smile on his face, he decided not to sell the pitcher. Later, exhausted from the entire experience and due to the lingering warmth spreading through his stomach, he decided to sleep, and in that sleep, he met the god Androsthenis. The god had not had any disciples for a long time, and that long ago, he had left behind a pitcher he called the “Fountain of Manhood,” from which he had drunk a potion of virility that had saved him from the brink of extinction. To help him gain more disciples, the god blessed my ancestor Petros, and these rituals and blessings have continued to this day—until I turned 20—though I never really believed in my family’s tradition, but the fact that my grandfather and father were abnormally large and that I had never seen them take any medication made me wonder if they were truly being honest with me—until they showed me the pitcher they called the “Fountain of Manhood.” At that moment, the reality that things were truly serious and that my family had been blessed by an ancient god hit me like a ton of bricks. Up until that moment, they had only told me so much; the rest I would learn after drinking from the Fountain of Manhood and speaking with the god Androsthenis in the dream I would experience afterward—there I would discover the details of my mission and the blessing.
When he looked inside the pitcher, he saw that the water he had just poured in was gone, and in its place was a white liquid had been placed inside. As she leaned in to examine the liquid in the pitcher more closely, she realized the scent was definitely coming from this liquid, and that it smelled like hundreds of men who had been doing heavy labor under the sun for hours—as if it were pure, unfiltered masculinity. While examining the liquid more closely, she noticed its consistency was much thicker than water or milk. She still couldn’t understand how this liquid had come to be in this state he recalled a voice inside him saying he should taste the liquid. After staring at the liquid with some hesitation, he began pouring it into his glass and watched as the thick, white, and fragrant liquid slowly filled it. Once the glass was full, as he brought it to his lips to take a sip, the scent hit him like a punch, and he pulled the glass back, but a thought that was consuming him remained. He was curious about the taste of the liquid. No matter how much he struggled, he decided to try again this time by plugging his nose with his finger, and he slowly brought the glass to his lips and took a sip of the thick, white liquid inside. With that sip, he experienced an incredibly intense sensation The taste of the liquid was indescribably intriguing—both salty and sweet. For someone who had never tasted anything like it before, it possessed an incredible flavor, and the liquid’s thick consistency filled his entire mouth. Unsatisfied with just the first sip, he began drinking it as if he were tilting the glass back to his head. With every sip, he grew more and didn’t want to take the glass from his mouth at all. With every subsequent sip, the amazing sensation the liquid created in his mouth slowly spread throughout his entire body, as if his whole body were experiencing a magnificent journey with this liquid. He realized he had reached the bottom of the glass and, without pausing for a moment, grabbed the pitcher on the table and continued drinking insatiably. As he as he continued, he felt tingling sensations throughout his body and a wave of heat starting from his stomach and spreading throughout his entire body, and this sensation gave him even greater pleasure, and he consumed the entire pitcher’s worth of thick liquid—which no longer smelled so bad—and set the pitcher back on the table, leaned back, and was utterly exhausted from the incredible experience he’d just had; when he looked down he was only just realizing how much drinking an entire pitcher of liquid had filled his stomach, and he couldn’t believe how much his stomach had grown, but he had no regrets about the experience and was convinced it was far more delicious than even the stew he’d prepared, yet there was still one thing he didn’t understand: how could a pitcher full of water turn into a thick, fragrant, and white liquid?
Where was I? Ah, as I was saying a moment ago, the god Androsthenis has blessed all the men in our lineage—from my ancestors all the way down to my grandfather and father—throughout the ages. As far as I understand, this story begins with my ancestor who lived in ancient Greece. His encounters with the god Androsthenis happened entirely by chance. Before they met, my ancestor, Petros, was a simple farmer and led a quiet life far from the city. One day, while taking his few animals out to graze, he stumbled upon a cave after one of his sheep went missing. When he descended into the depths of this cave, he came across an old, abandoned temple. Glancing inside the temple, he saw muscular male statues of various sizes, along with muscular male carvings etched into the walls posing and highlighting every muscle they flexed. As he entered and looked around more closely, at the far end of the room he saw a statue of a man—an incredible monument to masculinity—with astonishingly realistic detail, where every muscle and vein was clearly visible beneath the skin, creating indentations and protrusions. Before the statue stood an altar and on this altar, he found a pitcher adorned with engravings of muscular men flexing their muscles and striking poses together. The pitcher, with its subtle silver reflections, caught Petros’s attention; he examined it more closely, and then the thought crossed his mind to sell the pitcher to buy more sheep to replace the one that had gone missing. He took the pitcher from the altar and left, taking the remaining animals with him and . When he arrived home, he had been thinking along the way, “I wonder how many animals this jug is worth?” and was pleased, but since he would have to travel a long way to the city to sell it, he left the jug at home that day. After taking care of the tasks he needed to do for the rest of the day, he went inside and began cooking. He was preparing a delicious stew cooked over a wood fire. While waiting for the stew to finish cooking, he decided to clean the jug , so he decided to clean it. He found an old rag, dampened it with a little water, dipped it into the ashes left by the fire, and began polishing the jug. As time passed, he noticed how striking the men’s bodies etched onto the jug were, and among the details revealed as he wiped it was that these men had penises much larger than normal—things he himself or could never possess was depicted by the men engraved on this pitcher. As the process continued, she finished cleaning the pitcher, restoring it to a shiny silver state. While catching her breath, satisfied with her work, she was delighted to have the opportunity to drink from this fine pitcher during the meal. Believing it would make her feel like a noblewoman until she sold it the next day, she decided to he decided to drink water from the pitcher. He filled the pitcher with drinking water, left it on the table, and went to check on the stew. As he served himself a nice portion of stew, he noticed a scent in the air besides the stew’s pleasant aroma. The scent was as if it came from several men who had been working for a long time and hadn’t washed, but he tried to brush it off, thinking it might be coming from himself. Yet the scent grew stronger and stronger It was as if dozens of men were in the house besides him; the smell had enveloped the entire house. Even though he realized something was off, he pretended not to care and walked over to the table with the stew in his hand. When he sat down, the smell became even sharper, and he realized it was coming from the pitcher.
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I’ve always been a skinny, frail young man since childhood. I was bullied constantly all the way through high school, right up until my 20th birthday. On my 20th birthday, my grandfather told me our family secret. My grandfather is a very muscular and well-built man, just like my father. As I was growing up, my grandfather and father constantly supported me. Even though I wasn’t exactly the pride of the family, they supported me in every way and told me not to worry about being a skinny, frail young man, saying that
a long future ahead of me. The grandfather who said this was not just a presence filling the room, but a massive figure crushing the room—a 6-foot-5-inch giant, a 297-pound specimen of pure, unprocessed muscle, each pound forged by years of hard work and the density of maturity. His ribcage rose as if formed from two massive, hard-carved concrete blocks just beneath his skin. These colossal pectorals created a deep hollow in the center, covered by thick skin adorned with faintly silvery fuzz. His shoulders were round and hard like two cannonballs; the trapezius muscles rising from either side of his neck were like powerful columns supporting his head like a pedestal His arms were a story in themselves. His biceps formed mountain peaks with every contraction, while every worm-like vein straining beneath his skin became even more pronounced. His triceps, shaped like a horseshoe, stood with imposing rigidity on the back of his arm. His forearms looked as if woven with ropes; every tendon, muscle, and vein was visible. His abdomen wasn’t thin like my father’s; on the contrary, it was a thick, rock-hard core, divided into blocks, supporting his massive chest. The Adonis belts on either side of his waist descended deeply and distinctly downward toward his imposing legs. His back was as wide as a wingspan. His lats flared out like triangles on either side of his torso, giving him the silhouette of an inverted pyramid. The columns of muscle on either side of his spine formed deep grooves as they descended toward his waist and revealed massive, serpentine muscle bundles rippling beneath his skin with every movement of his back. And his legs.... two massive pillars supporting this colossal frame. His skin was taut enough to reveal every detail of his quadriceps, and the muscles expanded upward over his kneecaps, forming an immense mass that rubbed against each other as they merged with his inner thighs; his calves were hard and rounded, as if carved from stone. So my grandfather’s body wasn’t just about muscles; he was the very embodiment of maturity, strength, and the discipline forged by the years. Of course, my father wasn’t one to be outdone. My father’s presence was a physical force so immense it could swallow even my grandfather’s imposing shadow, a power that crushed every corner of the room.
Standing a full 6 feet 7 inches tall—a towering figure pushing the limits of nature—and with that massive frame filled with 350 pounds of pure, sculpted muscle tissue, the monumental skeletal structure he inherited from my grandfather was further enveloped in an even denser and more voluminous layer of flesh and fiber. His torso was covered in pectorals that rose like two massive boulders, separated at the center by a chasm as deep as a thumb. And this ribcage felt like a massive, hardened block of flesh trembling just beneath the skin, expanding and straining with every breath. His shoulders were wide and segmented, not like two massive sphères but more like armor plates, and his trapezius muscles supported his head like colossal columns created to bear his massive neck. His back resembled a vast topographical map, with each muscle group forming its own terrain, flaring out from both sides of his torso in the shape of an inverted pyramid rather than a broad wing. His arms were thicker, denser, and more sculpted than my grandfather’s. His biceps formed massive peaks like American footballs with every contraction, and were adorned with serpentine veins covering those summits. His triceps, meanwhile, were massive, protruding like horse shoes, adding incredible thickness to his arms alongside the biceps. His forearms, meanwhile, looked as if woven from steel cables; they were covered in thick, prominent tendons and veins stretching from his wrists to his elbows, whispering of a relentless grip capable of crushing anything. His abdomen, in contrast to his chest and shoulders, was slender yet defined; every muscle used to support his upper body could be counted individually, and the veins feeding them covered his abdomen like roads on a city map. The abdominal muscles, resembling a washboard, formed ridges between each section where a finger could fit, and the Adonis belt—carved as if by a sculptor’s hand—flowed down toward his imposing legs, which supported that massive frame, and his legs..... , flowing down toward the massive legs that supported his entire frame, and his legs..... massive tree trunks developed to carry this colossal structure. His skin, taut enough to reveal every contour of his quadriceps and smooth as silk, exposed an immense mass where muscles intertwined and rubbed against one another. His calves, meanwhile, seemed carved from marble, possessing far greater detail and bulk. In short, my father’s body, wasn’t just made of muscle; I used to think he was the pinnacle of a genetic legacy, the embodiment of strength and mass, until my 20th birthday, when he told me—along with my grandfather—the story of how the men in our family had acquired this masculinity and this power. From what I understood of his story, my ancestors were the Mystai of a forgotten god in ancient Greece (secret believers), and all the men from my ancestors down to the present day have been blessed by this god. That’s why, over the years, the men of our family have been stronger, more powerful, and more masculine than others. Our connection to this god continues through my grandfather and father, which is why they possess such strong and powerful bodies.
And according to what they told me, the men of our family are blessed by this god—whose name I need to write down somewhere. Ah, I found it—his name is Androsthenis, the god of pure masculinity. And according to what they said, this god, Androsthenis, continues to bless every man in our family who turns 20, provided he becomes his disciple.
AE-786 presents itself as a plain 24-karat golden ring, 22 mm in diameter, with no visible engravings, markings or anomalous radiation under standard testing. When placed on the finger of a living human being the ring fuses to skin and bone, becoming a permanent part of the wearer's body. From that moment the wearer becomes the king and gains the ability to propagate the effect through any skin-to-skin contact. Each new instance becomes an exact physical and mental replica of the king but without a ring. Replicas retain the same propagation ability until the ring is removed from its host. The effect includes rapid physical overwriting, cognitive simplification and compulsive drive to obey the king.
The exact origin of AE-786 remains unknown. Moreover, proximity to AE-786 has been observed to cause unexplained malfunctions in nearby electronic devices. The effect is selective and not replicable under a controlled environment.
[CLASSIFIED INFORMATION]
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Incident Report: AE-786-001
Pierre ████, 22, slim and pale with brown hair and brown eyes, was on a two-week backpacking trip through ██████ when he joined a half-day guided tour of █████ ███. It was quiet that afternoon, most tourists having left after the morning, and Pierre was one of only a handful of visitors still there when the tour ended.
Being a typical gen-Z tourist, Pierre was more interested in taking selfies than the history of the place. At that moment, he was so focused on getting a good angle that he didn't notice where he was walking. He tripped over a loose stone and stumbled forward, crashing on the floor. Angry at the stupid piece of rock that had ruined his perfect photo, he kicked it in frustration. His kick was a bit too hard, and the stone went flying, hitting a nearby wall and cracking the surface of the rock.
A faint light caught his eye from the crack. Curious, he knelt down and looked at the piece of garbage rock he had just kicked. Rocks usually didn't glow, he thought. He kicked it again, trying to break it open. The cracks grew wider, and the light grew brighter. Some more kicks later, the stone finally split in half, revealing the source of the light: a plain golden ring completely encased in the rock, as if someone had melted the stone around it. The ring was perfectly smooth, with no markings or engravings, and it glowed with a warm golden light that seemed to pulse gently. It was almost hypnotic, drawing Pierre's gaze and making him forget about everything else for a moment.
He reached in and scrabbled around the jagged edges of the broken rock, trying to get a better grip on the ring. When he finally pulled it out, he turned it over in his hands, admiring its beauty. It was heavier than it looked: solid gold, perfectly smooth, and strangely warm to the touch. He slipped it into his pocket, hoping no one would notice. Stealing something from a historical place was definitely not on his bucket list, but who would pass up the chance to make some good money with a find like this? He planned to sell it online once he got back home, maybe even get it appraised by a jeweller. Little did he know, this ring was worth far more than any jeweller could ever estimate.
That night he checked into a cheap hostel in ███ with some other guys he'd met in this trip. Alone in his room, he pulled the ring out of his pocket and examined it under the dim light. The light reflected off the smooth surface, casting a warm golden glow on his face. He turned it over again, feeling the weight of it in his hand. On a whim, he slipped it on. The moment it touched his skin, a warm tingle shot through him, starting at the fingertip and spreading up his arm.
Oh putain, what the f-
He tried to pull it off. It wouldn't budge.
He cursed in French, tugged harder, then gave up and stared at his hand in disbelief. The ring was fused to his finger, the surrounding skin already starting to change colour.
The tingle intensified, spreading rapidly up his arm. It rolled outward from his finger in slow waves. His breath hitched. His legs were shaking. He had to sit on the bed to keep from falling over, all while the ring glowed brighter and brighter.
His pale skin began to change at the knuckles first. The soft pink colour deepened in waves, spreading up his hand and forearm.
First, it shifted to a warm golden beige, like he'd gotten a short tan at the beach. Then, the skin thickened and tightened as the colour deepened to a rich gleaming bronze.
The veins on his hand and forearm became more pronounced, pushing up under the new skin. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that made his head spin. The colours moved up his arms, across his chest, down his stomach, every new centimetre of bronze skin sending a pulse of bliss straight to his groin.
His shoulders rounded and broadened with a deep, satisfying stretch. The sensation of his muscles swelling under his skin was intoxicating, making him moan softly. His biceps ballooned, the veins pushing up under the fresh thick skin. Pierre flexed without thinking, groaning loud as the growth made his cock throb and lengthen. His previously flat chest was replaced as 2 fat slabs pushed outwards into perfectly round pecs, nipples darkening and fattening into sensitive nubs. He pinched one on instinct and gasped - the spark shot straight down his spine and made his balls draw up tight.
Then, his abs started popping. Eight perfect blocks carved themselves into his stomach, framed by sharp obliques that would have made a fitness model jealous. His quads exploded outward, each leg thicker than his old waist. His ass rounded into two powerful, bouncy globes that clenched immediately as the friction of the damp hairs down there made him groan even louder.
Pierre stared at his hands, now huge and bronze. The gold ring had literally fused to his finger, zero hopes of getting it out now. His face shifted next. Those lips of his plumped fuller. Across his face, thick black stubble sharpened into a neat modern beard. His hair thickened, darkening to a jet black shade, and fell straight on his head. He didn't look that much French anymore.
Finally, between his legs, the last change hit him hard. His dick thickened and lengthened into a heavy piece. The foreskin retracted bit by bit as his cock grew longer and longer until there was no more foreskin to turn into length. His balls grew heavier, dropping lower and full, already heavy with seed. Pre-cum beaded at the slit of his new monster cock as he gave the shaft one slow, lazy stroke. The thick scent of him filled the room now, rolling off his pits and groin. He lifted one massive arm without thinking and inhaled deep. Fuck, that smelled right.
The thick, heady musk rolling off his body hit him like a drug. Pierre’s mind tried to cling to the last scraps of who he had been, but every fresh pulse of bronze burned those thoughts away like they'd never existed. A slow, predatory grin spread across his newly bearded face. The final flicker of his old self vanished. In its place, a new persona had emerged: King Karim - yes that's who he was.
He glanced around the small room like he was seeing it for the first time. His thick brows furrowed for half a second. Why the fuck was he in this shithole? This wasn't his place. His palace, that's where a man like him belonged, not this little box that stank of cheap bleach under his own heavy musk.
Kings do not ask. Kings take. Kings are worshipped.
The thought passed on his mind. He shrugged it off, the motion making his heavy pecs bounce. Whatever mistake had landed him here, he'd correct it. Starting now.
He gave his circumcised cock another casual tug, pre-cum smearing over his thumb, then wrestled into the ridiculous small clothes he saw on top of the bed.
He first grabbed a tank top and put it on. The white cotton stretched thin over his dark nipples, practically see-through now, clinging wet where sweat had already started forming. The jeans were worse - he had to force them up his thighs. The waist wouldn't close, not even close, so he left the button undone and the zip halfway, letting his heavy cock and balls push out against the front like they were trying to escape. Pre-cum had already darkened a small spot on his stretched underwear. Whatever. He'd sort proper clothes later. Satisfied enough for now, he stepped out of the room into the dimly lit hallway.
The corridor was quiet. A few doors down, Lucas - another backpacker he had spent the whole evening chatting and laughing with in the common room - stepped out, backpack slung over his shoulder, clearly trying to go out quietly. Lucas froze when he saw the massive bronze Arab stallion filling the hallway, his muscles gleaming under the cheap lights.
"Oh, hey. Do you know Pierre?" Lucas blurted while staring at the monster bulge the man was carrying around. "That is his room - where is he? I wanted to ask him something."
Karim tilted his head, looking at the smaller man up and down. His voice came out deep, in an ancient tongue.
أقبل إليّ، يا عبد. اسجد لملكك
(Come to me, my servant. Kneel before your king.)
Lucas blinked hard, backing up a step. "What? I don't understand you man. You speak French or English? Where’s Pie-"
صمت. حلقك للخدمة، لا للكلام. اسجد، أو أعلمك طاعة الملوك
(Silence. Your throat is for service, not for speech. Prostrate, or I will teach you the obedience of kings.)
Lucas's hands flew up. "I already told you, I don't understand you. I don't know what you're sayi-"
Karim lunged at him. His massive hand clamped around Lucas's throat, suffocating him. He slammed the backpacker against the wall with a heavy thud. "Let... go..." Lucas wheezed, clawing at the forearm. "What the fuck are you-"
His speech was interrupted as the bronze started spreading where their skin met. Heat spread from Karim's fingers, flooding up Lucas's neck in quick, warm waves. It hit his jaw first, then poured down over his chest like oil slicking over pale skin. Lucas's eyes went wide, his pupils blowing out as the colour washed over him.
"No… no, let me g-" Lucas begged, voice cracking as his shoulders rounded and broadened with audible pops. The heat rushed into his arms next: his biceps swelled dramatically, veins pushing up under skin that was no longer pale but gleaming bronze. His chest pushed forward into heavy slabs while his abs popped out one by one, each new ridge sending a throb straight to his cock.
A black beard erupted across his face in seconds, thick and perfectly groomed, framing a squared jaw that suddenly felt like it had always belonged to him. His voice deepened mid-sentence, dropping into the same rich timbre as the man pinning him.
Please... I don't want-fuck... this... too good...
The last scraps of Lucas flickered out like dying embers. In their place rose pure aching devotion. His hands stopped clawing and gripped Karim's forearm like a lifeline. A low, reverent moan rolled out of his new throat.
"My king..."
King Karim held him pinned, all while smirking coldly. "You are mine now." - he said again in that foreign tongue. Lucas' black t-shirt tore down the front as his pecs ballooned further, nipples darkening at the same time. His legs grew, and his spine elongated, making him touch the floor now. His cock settled into the exact same heavy cut length as the man grabbing him. Between his legs, the balls dropped lower and heavier, going into mass production. His hairier pits started oozing the same strong masculine odour as the man in front of him.
The king then loosened the grip just enough for a shuddering breath, and dropped him. Lucas crashed to his knees, face level with the king's bulging crotch.
Karim laughed, grabbing Lucas' hair and yanking his head back. "Yeah, that's it. Worship your fucking king like the pathetic little servant you are." He pulled the zip the rest of the way down and fed his heavy cock straight into the eager mouth. Lucas Karim sucked greedily, moaning around the fat flared head while the king face-fucked him slow and deep against the wall, slapping his cheek every few thrusts. Thick ropes of cum flooded the new Karim's throat while both men groaned filthily.
All the noise from that interaction drew attention however. A door opened behind them, and a guy poked his head out. "What the hell is going on out here?"
King Karim pulled out, still hard, and clapped the man on the bare shoulder in a friendly grip. Ninety seconds later he was gone. In his place stood another bronze giant, with the same heavy pecs, face, and cock as the other two. He flexed once, admiring the manly scent rolling off him, and fell in line.
...
The night receptionist - a 25-year-old local guy with an average build - looked up from behind the desk as three muscular men approached. "Everything alright, guys?"
King Karim leaned over the counter with a cocky smile and offered his big hand.
The moment the receptionist shook it the change slammed into him. Karim and the two replicas leaned on the counter, watching intently as the man gasped. His skin bronzed rapidly, shoulders popping and biceps growing. His chest pushed out into heavy pecs that stretched his blue shirt to its limit. The exact same black beard sprouted across his face in seconds. His trousers tented obscenely as his cock grew into the exact same impressive size as the other 3 men. His eyes went white for a bit, as he calmed down and recognised the man in front of him.
"My king..." he'd said just like the other 2 had before him.
The three of them quickly dragged the newest Karim into the small back office behind the desk, locked the door, and went wild. King Karim bent the newest replica over the desk and bred him deep from behind while the others took turns feeding their thick cocks down his moaning throat in a filthy chain. Cum spilled everywhere while the room filled with the thick scent of four identical Arab gods.
When they finally stepped back out into the corridor they followed the King's instructions and slipped through the front exit. The streets were still and quiet under a low grey mist that morning. King Karim and his servants moved through it in search of more. This place was not fit for a king like him, but he could change that. He just needed more subjects to serve him, to worship him, to spread his influence. This place would be his kingdom, and everyone in it would be his loyal subject. He just had to find them. Then, he could start building his palace again.
Many people were unfortunate enough to encounter Karim that morning. As it was foggy and quiet, the first few victims were simply people who happened to be outside at the wrong time.
A lone delivery cyclist pedalling past at the traffic lights was touched on the shoulder as he slowed for a red light. He didn't even make a sound - just froze mid-pedal, bike coming to a stop as the colour spread across his skin and his body thickened. He dismounted without a word, following the others into the mist.
...
Two early-morning joggers in the small park across the road also fell victim to the curse as they were touched during their cool-down stretches - one while bending to tie her shoe, the other mid-lunge. The first one only had time for one horrified "No-" before a cock surged between her legs. After turning into identical chiselled gods, they stood there for a moment, taking in the new sensations of their powerful bodies and the intoxicating scent rolling off their skin. They understood what they had to do next, spreading out into the city to find more subjects for their king.
Even the night-shift workers at a nearby warehouse were not safe. A few of them had stepped outside for a smoke break, when a random Karim strolled by and casually touched one of them on the shoulder. This triggered a chain reaction as the new Karim then touched another worker, who touched another, and so on. In less than an hour, the entire night shift of 14 workers had been transformed into identical Arab stallions, all following the same instinctual drive to serve their king and spread the kingdom further. The warehouse was left completely empty and silent, with only the sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the halls as the new Karims went out into the city.
On the other side of the block, an unfortunate old taxi driver was waiting for a fare when a Karim leaned through his driver's window asking for "directions". The driver was a grimy old man with a hunched back and a scruffy beard, but as soon as Karim's hand touched his skin, that was no longer the case. Inside the small cab his body reshaped fast: belly tightening, and arms swelling thick. A groomed beard framed his squared jaw and his trousers tented hard as something thick like a beer can surged between his legs. No longer a decrepit old man, his eyes went wide with the new sensations flooding his body, but he knew what he had to do.
By 06:30 the streets were unnaturally empty. People who had stepped outside for a smoke or to walk their dog simply... vanished. The few who were outside were either already transformed or in the process of transforming, standing frozen in place as their bodies reshaped to accommodate the King's vision of perfection. We suspect that at least 25 people had already been converted by that time, and the number was growing exponentially as the new replicas spread out to find more subjects.
Our containment team arrived at 07:18 after DNA alerts spiked across ███.
Mobile units reported the streets had gone unnaturally quiet. Overhead drone thermal imaging picked up a single massive heat cluster on a disused gym two blocks from the hostel - dozens of identical high-temperature signatures packed together. The team moved in with full hazmat suits and reinforced gloves, expecting resistance.
The raid on the rooftop gym where the prime had taken refuge turned eerie almost immediately. Body-cam footage shows the prime seated like a king on a living throne made of two replicas lying side by side on the floor, their broad backs and shoulders forming the seat while he rested his weight on them. Two more knelt at his feet, tongues slowly licking and massaging his toes. The rest circled them in an orgy, sucking and grinding together without a single word besides the grunts and moans from their actions. The air inside reeked of sex and the king's thick masculine smell. No one looked up when our team breached the door. The king merely tilted his head, framing a bored smirk, and gave a short command that made the foot-worshippers pause.
The first agents advanced. Agent ████ reached to cuff the nearest replica. The replica turned, grabbed his wrist in a casual bro-hug grip, and yanked hard. The reinforced cuff of the hazmat suit ripped at the seam from the force, exposing the agent's body. The replica's bare fingers went down there immediately. Bronze spread up agent ████'s arm quickly. His skin darkened like the other men before them. He tried to scream, but the scream was cut off the instant his vocal cords thickened. His entire torso just inflated in one violent surge, pecs splitting the suit open. His eyes rolled back before the beard even sprouted. When they focused again they were empty of everything except worship. He dropped the cuffs and groaned "Hm-my... k-king..." in a voice already identical to the others. Two more agents were touched in the sudden scramble before the line could fall back.
The remaining team fell back, deploying sedative gas canisters from a distance. The newly converted agents were sedated before they could do anything. In the confusion the prime was pinned under other replicas that fell on top of him. He thrashed violently, still barking commands even as the tranquillisers took hold.
After sedation, our team secured the perimeter and began a systematic search for the source of this anomalous contagion.
Our initial scans showed no obvious vector - no aerosol, no fluid exchange in progress, no visible pathogen markers. All of them had the exact same physical and genetic profile, down to the smallest detail: same facial features, same heavy musculature, same reproductive organs, same odour. Yet, cross-analysis of all the unconscious instances in that gym revealed something interesting: only one of them was wearing a ring, which glowed with a faint golden light barely visible to the naked eye.
Our field team tried to remove the ring from the prime's finger, but it was of no use. A quick X-ray analysis revealed that the anomalous gold object was fused to the finger. There was no separation line from bone or tissue. This was a good lead - the ring was likely the source of the contagion, and removing it would be the key to containing the anomaly. Attempts to cut the ring free with remote laser tools were unsuccessful however, as the ring's material properties seemed to adapt and resist any cutting method.
With sedation holding the prime instance in place, the team had a moment to assess the situation. The sedatives wouldn't last long enough for another team to arrive with more specialised equipment, so field command authorised digit amputation as an emergency containment measure. Utilising a bone saw, the team carefully amputated the finger with the ring still attached, taking care to avoid any skin contact with the prime instance. The digit came off in under thirty seconds. The moment it did, every replica in the room instantly stopped moving, going limp as if a switch had been flipped.
Anomaly Entity Status: [CONTAINED FOR STUDY]
The severed finger and ring were recovered intact and sealed for analysis. 42 identical males, including the three converted agents, were taken into custody that morning. Those were all the instances that we could find around ███ at the time.
All known instances of AE-786 are secured at ███████. AE-786-001 had to be given special medical care after the amputation, but is now stable and under heavy sedation. The other 41 replicas are currently in standard containment, as the anomaly seems to have lost its active properties after the AE-786-001 was separated from the ring. They are being monitored for any changes in behaviour or physical condition, but so far they have remained docile and compliant with no king to rule over them.
After some organic deterioration, we have managed to separate the ring from the severed finger. We are currently running a battery of tests on it to better understand its properties. It emits a faint electromagnetic field that seems to interact with living tissue in a way that triggers the transformation process. The exact mechanism of how it does this is still unclear, but we are hopeful that further analysis will shed light on this.
The public is currently unaware of the incident, and we are working to keep it that way. Most of the affected area has been cordoned off, and a cover story about a chemical spill is being circulated to explain the evacuation and the presence of hazmat teams. We are also in contact with local authorities to ensure that any information leaks are contained.
<End of file>
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