Just like that, with a few taps of your phone, youāve got the body of your dreams, and the personality to boot.
No longer a thin dainty twink, now you look like (you are) your muscle Daddy history professor, with some obvious improvements. you toned his body fat weigh down and gave yourself some tatoos
No longer a submissive push over, now you know how to command attention attention and get what you want. And with this new 8, no 9, no 10 inch dick you just gave yourself- youāll never bottom again.Ā
You even decided to slide the sexuality dial to bisexual, just to see what it would be like to bang some chicks every now again.
The memory of your old life is fading away now. Your never going back.
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A potent new performance enhancer has entered the market, providing athletes not only with an anabolic hormone boost, but also delicious dietary aid with fantastic macros. However it's got bit of a catch.
It can only be processed into a viable form through human mammary glands but estrogen disrupts the formula, thus cis women and trans women on hormone replacement therapy are ineligible as hosts for the formula. trans men on testosterone who have not yet had top surgery would obviously be a better fit, however the concept of producing milk proved dysphoric for many, so volunteers in that demographic are few and far between. Most trans men would rather be the recipient of the formula rather than the distributor.Ā
Thus, we must turn to cis-men to do what most don't even know is possible, lactate and generate this formula which will revolutionize the men's athletics for decades to come. The obvious choice for distributors are coaches and trainers. Most have already put in years of dedication and hard work that they don't need to reap the benefits. It's more advantageous for their careers now for them to boost up their players and clients. Many test subjects have found that the substance sours rapidly, so storage for more than a few minutes is not viable. However, when taken straight from the source, the substance is reported to taste delicous, like a mixture of milk and honey. A side effect for both host and recipient is that it causes an almost familial bond between the two, melting away any inhibitions around physical intimacy, and the in rease in testosterone in both subjects causes a spike in sexual arousal. A feeding experience is said to be akin to some of the best sex of their lives. You might wonder if these side effects might make the treatment a non-starter for heterosexual participants. You maybe right, although a high number of them still opted to try out the procedure, due to the pure advantages it provides to players and coaches. That said bodybuilding has been increasingly popular sport among queer men in recent years, and the combined physical and sexual benefits make the procedure a no brainer for many in that population.
You look up at the sexy MuscleDaddy as the thick cock enters your mouth. Your lips are parted wide and the leaking cock presses firmly at the back of your throad.
His hands grip the back of your head and he says "Don't stop now, BOY, take it ALL!" He pulls your head and thurst his hips forward, forcing his monster cock down your throat, making it impossible to breathe. He holds your head firmly in place, your violent squirming no match to his superior strength. He watching you start to pass out as you choke on his frightfully large cock.
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What would it be like, to be turned into a mindless drone?
You werenāt supposed to touch anything.
That was rule number one. Youāre CIA, after all. Trained for this. Observe, report, extract. No emotion. No mistakes.
But curiosity got the better of you, didnāt it?
The object was pulsing. A black, organic thing sealed in a glass chamber deep inside a lab that shouldn't have existed. The brief said it was alien. Living. A weapon. You leaned closer. You had to see. Then you felt it just a whisper - slick warmth curling around your fingers like it had been waiting. Watching. Wanting.
By the time you looked down, your hand was already gone. In its place: a glistening black coating, wet and alive, crawling up your wrist like a lover's caress.
You tried to pull back, but your body wouldnāt obey. Your suitāthe one they issued you for high-clearance fieldwork - began to melt. Not from heat. From inside. Threads unraveled, fabric liquefied, sliding down your skin and exposing more of you to the thingās embrace.
The goo was inside your sleeves. Down your collar. Under your belt. It was everywhere.
You gasped. You shouldnāt be feeling this. Not here. Not now.
But your cock was aching.
The pressure in your mind grew. Thoughts began to blur. Names. Mission parameters. Your own name. All of it - fading. Drowned beneath the rhythmic pulse of the thing inside you. It wasnāt just touching you anymore. It was rewriting you.
You were vanishing.
And it felt so good.
Your skin tingled as the goo hardened. No seams. No wrinkles. Just smooth, perfect rubber. A suit, shaped like you. But you werenāt inside anymore. Not really.
No fear.
No doubt.
Just the soft hum of command settling in your spine.
You stood.
There is no need for questions now. No mission brief. The order is already embedded:
You found this weird silicone muscle suit onlineātotally cool, no openings, no holes, just a thick neck-entry design. The guy selling it was super shady, hinted it was āspecial,ā but whateverāyou just thought itād make a hilarious prank for your roommates.
When you squeezed yourself into it, it felt tight and heavy, like stepping into a second skin. But the moment it slipped fully over your shoulders, you blacked out.
You woke up dizzy, your body feeling totally different. You stared down at yourselfāthe seams around your neck and wrists were gone. The suit had somehow merged perfectly into your skin. Freaked out, you touched your chestāstill silicone-smooth, firm, unreal. You flexed your arms and pecs, feeling the powerful muscles move underneath, but your skin stayed artificial, like a lifelike silicone doll.
And then the panic hit. You realized you couldnāt feel your dick at all. Nothing. Your hands frantically ran over the completely smooth silicone crotch, desperately trying to peel off the suit, tugging hard at your neck, chest, wristsānothing budged. It was fused tight.
Your prank backfired, big time. Youāre stuck nowāhuge silicone muscles and zero dick.
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it was like any other day jogging outside for Narcis daily routine, but the pattern change when he came across a garage sale at a house in the neighborhood.
A certain neighbor wanted to do some summer cleaning and wanted to get rid of some old antiques. One of these old antiques was a lamp that glowed while the help like particles moved around. It looked like it hadnāt received attention for some time.
Excuse me mam, but what is the price of this lamp, say Narcis.
The lady looked as though she was shocked to see the lamp.
I must have forgot that I put this lamp out with all the other antiques, says the lady.
Itās a really cool lamp, what is you price for it, says Narcis.
Iāll give it to you for $5 bucks for the trouble, says the lady.
Seeing it as cheap and easy, Narcis went on to pay and went about his way.
When he arrived to his home, he sat it on a table and began cleaning the lamp. Once he started dusting it off, a bunch of smoke clouds came from it, engulfing the surrounding.
I am appetitus, you have freed me from this lamp and as a reward, I shall grant three wishes.
Is this a joke, says Narcis, nice scenery guys.
What jokes you speak of, I can grant any wish you desire. says appetitus.
Ok then, I wish for my roommate chase was gay.
At this moment, Narcis received a phone call from chase coming out the closet.
Thereās no way, chase has always been straight, he even had a girlfriend, says Narcis.
Alright mortal, you have two wishes remaining, says appetitus.
Ok, I wish that I had a buffer frame and more sexy appearance, says Narcis.
As you wish, says appetitus as he proceeded to snap his fingers.
Feeling his clothes tighter than before, he went to inspect his new body.
Damn, holy shit, im buff as fuck, says Narcis, Iām definitely topping not just twinks but jocks too.
Iām powerful man, says Narcis. Now to open chase up to his new sexuality.
After a few hours past, chase finally made it home.
Hello chase, says Narcis.
Who are you, says chase.
This is interesting today isnāt it, weāre both different people. say Narcis.
Im Narcis, your roommate and Im here to show you to a new world of sexuality as a tour guide. says Narcis.
So Narcis and Chase began to makeout and have sex. Narcis taking the lead at the top and thrusting his cock into Chase while holding his legs on his shoulders and Chase jacking off getting hard from the pleasure laying on his back.
Afterward, both lay in an embrace in the bed and blankets. At this time, the genie appeared and mentioned the last wish.
Now Narcis, in a good mood and relaxed says,
Your free to do whatever you desire.
Go enjoy yourself, genie. says Narcis.
It was at the moment he decides to become a liquid like gas and sink into the naked body of Narcis through his girth cock and mouth. After little resistance, Appetitus is now in control of Narcisās body.
Be careful what you wish for, says appetitus with an evil laugh.
When Chase begins to wake up, it was at this moment the deceitful appetitus says, letās begin round 2.
It was a night at the bar, the music was playing, people were dancing and someone was alone sitting and waiting. This person was named Stan.
Stan is a 21 year old who is a prosperous, well built guy, sexy and was also gay man.
Earlier this day, he was talking to a man on grindr who was older by nearly double his age. They have been talking about meeting up for weeks and plan to. Hope almost seemed lost after an hour until he appeared.
The older man approached the table where Stan was.
Hello, my name is Sexo, are you Stanley, says Sexo.
Yes, but you can call me Stan for short, says Stan.
How long have you been here in this neck of the woods, says Sexo.
Iāve been here for most of my life in Texas, it goes back to birth aha, says Stan with a laugh. What about yourself?
I was born near Mexico when my family immigrated here across the border. Technically I was born on American soil since my mom was pass the border when she finally had me aha. says Sexo, but ethnically Iām Mexican.
What do you do for work? asked Stan
I do a lot, but mostly construction whatever pays to work, whatever is moving and dollars show, says Sexo, and you.
Iām a Store manager over several restaurants on Landry, I started as a host but they loved my work so much I became a supervisor and they made me manage more. says Stan.
Just when Stan finished talking Sexo felt his biceps and chest.
Damn, you sure your not benching those restaurants also, your mad strong, says Sexo with amazement at Stan.
Well I work out occasionally at the gym and do my best to crush iron, says Stan humbly, your not bad yourself for your age.
I mean gym is pretty hard to keep up with, but I do little home exercise routines, says Sexo,. Iām trying to get like you.
Youāll get there, itās a working progress for me too aha, Stan says to Sexo.
Stan and Sexo continued to chat while they ordered drinks. It wasnāt long that Stan got drunk a bit faster than Sexo. As the night continued they began to walk from the bar where passion overtook them and they started to making out up to Stanās house.
Once they made it through the door to Stanās room and on the bed, Sexo took the lead. He pushed Stan like a tough guy playfully and stripping there clothes off.
Sexo continued by crawling on top of Stan kissing him all over until he finally decided to step back and flip him over. He then spread Stan muscly ass and started licking Stan glory hole inside out as he continued to moan with great pleasure squeezing the bed sheets, but Sexo wasnāt done yet as he then proceeded to stick his cock inside Stan thrusting it in and out at a pace that is almost pure melody and just when Stan was going to cum,
Hold it in, commanded Seco with a voice of authority.
As Sexo continued and Stan kept begging to release again, his mind know clouded by euphoria could only focus on the pleasure building up inside.
Can I come in? asked Sexo in a commanding voice.
Not understanding the meaning and intent Stan says, Yes, you can cum in me.
By these words both begin to release, burst after burst, shot after shot. Stan over the bed sheets and floor and Sexo into Stan who continued to climax and moan.
As this went on, Sexo lean DILF body was absorbed into the big muscles body of the younger Stan who only processed euphoria through this. Like a cup filled with water, the essence of Sexo filled Stan body and Stanās essence as such was released over the mattress.
Stan went unconscious for a while.
After a moment, Sexo only remained and was in control, he got up in Stanās body and walk to the mirror.
Ahh, your to good for me, I really hated to do that to you, but this body was hard to resist, Sexo in Stanās body said with joy and grief of the success.
In order for me to possess a body, I have to not only be top in sex positions, which came naturally to me, but also cum in unison with the bottom.
Hermetic law: āAs above, so belowā
It applies to all magic.
Truly I am sorry, and you deserve better but I couldnāt consider passing you up, but I will not let your sacrifice be in vain.
This body will top all others, jock, DILF or any man. I promise you.
āTonight is only the beginning of āthe Nite Stanā.
Hey yaāll, Iāve been thinking a lot lately and I want to focus on a series of stories with a similar premise to start off with. The idea comes from a favorite story of mine, Enriqueās Antics.
This series would focus on a passed along oil recipe which allows the user to slip into another person, taking them over like a skin suit. Out of all possession methods, this is the one which excites me the most, and I want to explore it as an anthology. For now, I would like to introduce the first one of these, Darylās story.
Daryl
Iād been watching Frank Harlan from my living room window for the better part of a year, my thick gut pressed against the sill while my cock throbbed in my sweatpants every time he stepped out to mow the lawn or haul groceries. He was everything I wasnāt on the outsideāburly, solid, late fifties, with a heavy dad-bod belly that hung just right over his belt, thick arms corded from years of construction work, a salt-and-pepper beard that framed a square jaw, and a deep, rumbling voice that carried across the fence like gravel wrapped in velvet. His chest hair peeked out the top of every worn plaid shirt, and the way his jeans hugged the heavy bulge between his thighs made my mouth water. I was the chubby, quiet guy next doorāsoft all over, pale, smooth-skinned, with a belly that jiggled when I walked and had always made me ashamed of myself.
The favor had been simple: two weeks ago my car battery died in the driveway after getting home from my shit gas station job. Frank came over without being asked, flashlight in hand, and got me running again in ten minutes flat. Heād clapped me on the shoulder with that strong hand, grinned behind his beard, and said, āAnytime, neighbor. Thatās what weāre here for.ā Iād jerked off three times that night just replaying the weight of his palm on me.
Tonight I couldnāt hold back anymore.
I mixed the drink in my kitchen. Really it was just a bottle of bourbon I mixed with a ton of sleep medicine. Then I poured the magic oil into a wide-mouthed jar, the thick golden stuff already shimmering under the light, warm to the touch like it had a pulse of its own. Iād found the recipe in an old leather-bound book at a back-alley occult shop. I had passed it so many times on my way to work, but something almost mystical made me pull into the alley next to it, and be greeted by the mysterious merchant inside. He was almost eager to sell me the book at a discounted rate, and I could have sworn he licked his lips upon my purchase. I read through the book and found the description for this oil. Lather yourself up, and it was like you were clay, and could enter the body of any host of your choosing, given you had access to the proper opening. It seemed impossible and stupid to try, but my infatuation with Frank became too much for me to handle just fantasizing about anymore.
I knocked on Frankās front door at 9:00 pm. He answered in a faded blacm T-shirt that stretched across his barrel chest and loose basketball shorts that did nothing to hide the heavy swing of his cock. His belly pushed the hem up just enough to show a strip of hairy skin.
āHey, Daryl,ā he rumbled, smiling. āWhatās up?ā
āBrought you a thank-you drink,ā I said, holding up the bourbon. āFor the jump-start. Figured you might be winding down after work.ā
He laughed that low belly-laugh and took it. āYou didnāt have to, but I wonāt say no.ā He took a long wiff, nostrils tantalized, then another. āDamn, thatās smooth. Come on in, Iāll grab us a couple of glassesā.
We sat in his living room for maybe fifteen minutes, talking about nothing. Weather, the neighbor down the street who kept parking on the grass. I watched the drug hit him in slow, perfect stages: his eyelids drooping, his words getting thicker, that strong body slumping deeper into the recliner until his head lolled back and his mouth fell open with a soft snore. His belly rose and fell, the front of his shorts tenting slightly from the way he was sprawled. Perfect.
My heart hammered as I locked the front door, killed the lights, and stripped right there in the living room. My own soft, heavy body spilled out. Pale belly, thick thighs, cock already half-hard and leaking. I unscrewed the jar of magic oil. It was warm, almost hot, and when I poured the first thick rope across my chest it felt like liquid sunlight. I rubbed it in slow, greedy circles, coating every inch of my skin until I glistened head to toe. The oil sank in, and for a moment I felt utterly ridiculous. But then I could feel a tingle ring through me. My skin shimmered gold, every roll and curve now impossibly glossy, frictionless, ready. My cock looked obscene, fat, dripping, sliding through my own oiled fist like it was made of warm glass.
Frank was still out cold. I knelt between his spread thighs, hooked my slick fingers into the waistband of his shorts, and peeled them down along with his boxers. His cock flopped out heavy and thick, half-hard even unconscious, nestled in a thick bush of dark, graying hair. His balls hung low and full. I dragged his shirt off next, revealing the full glory of his burly torso. Hairy chest, soft belly with a deep navel, strong arms, and the faint scars of old work injuries. I left him naked on the recliner, legs spread wide, that hairy ass exposed.
I poured the last of the oil straight onto his crack, watching it drip and shimmer over his hole. Then I climbed up, oiled body sliding against his like warm silk. I started feet-first because I wanted to feel every inch of him swallow me from the inside out. I pressed my toes against his pucker. It was tight at first, but the oil did its job; his ring stretched with a wet, obscene pop as my feet sank inside. The heat was immediate. Hot, velvety guts gripping me like a living glove. I groaned low, pushing deeper, my calves sliding in with a long, slow squelch. Frankās belly bulged outward as my legs filled his intestines, the outline of my feet and shins visible under his skin like some obscene puppet.
āOh fuckā¦ yesā¦ā I whispered, voice shaking with lust.
I kept going, inch by filthy inch. My thick thighs disappeared into him, stretching his hole impossibly wide, the golden oil mixing with the natural slick of his body until everything was a glistening mess. His cock twitched and started to harden against my oiled belly as I fed more of myself inside. When my hips reached his entrance I paused, grinding my fat, dripping cock against his taint for a moment, then shoved. My entire groin slid in with a wet, vulgar slurp, my balls popping through his ring one after the other. I could feel his prostate kissing the underside of my shaft as I kept pushing, my own heavy belly now compressing and sliding into his colon. The stretch was obscene, his abs distended grotesquely around the shape of my softer gut, then smoothed out as I settled deeper.
My chest went in next, nipples dragging along his inner walls, sending sparks through both of us. I had to tilt my head back, arms raised, as my shoulders popped through that ruined hole. The pressure was insane! Every muscle, every rib, every heartbeat of his body squeezing and massaging me like a second, hotter skin. I felt his lungs expand around my own chest, his heart thundering against my back. Finally my head , face-first into the slick heat. The world went dark and wet and perfect as his hole closed around my scalp with a final, lewd pop.
Then came the settling.
I flexed inside him, and his body answered like it was mine. My mind stayed completely me, but the flesh I wore was all Frank. I opened his eyes. Looked down at his thick, hairy chest rising and falling with my breath. Ran his big, calloused hands over his bellyāmy belly nowāand felt the weight of it, the way it spilled just right. His cockāmy cockāwas rock-hard, veins pulsing, a fat bead of pre dripping from the slit. I squeezed it and groaned in his deep, gravelly voice. āHoly shitā¦ā
I stood up slowly, feeling the new power in these legs, the way his heavy balls swung between my thighs, the way his ass, still slick with leftover oil and my own residue, clenched around nothing. I was taller, broader, stronger. The contrast made my stolen cock throb: my soft, chubby self now wrapped inside this burly, bearded, belly-heavy man.
I padded naked through his house, the floorboards creaking under his heavier weight, and climbed the stairs. His teenage son, Jake, was out for the weekend at a wrestling tournament, thank fuck, so the house was mine. I pushed open the door to Jakeās room and the smell of teenage sweat hit me. There, draped over the back of a chair, was the light grey wrestling singlet. I picked it up, feeling the slick, stretchy fabric between Frankās thick fingers. My new cock jumped.
I stepped into it slowly, savoring every second. The spandex stretched obscenely over my new thighs, hugging the thick muscle and the soft give of the belly. I pulled it up over my hips, and the pouch cradled my heavy balls and throbbing cock like a second skin, the material already darkening where pre leaked through. The straps went over my broad shoulders, digging in just enough to make the chest hair puff out around them. The singlet was tight, designed for a lean eighteen-year-old wrestler, but on Frankās burly frame it looked obscene: the fabric strained across my gut, outlining every roll, the leg holes riding high and framing the thick bulge and the curve of my ass. I turned in the mirror, admiring the way the singlet gleamed under the lamp, shiny with the faint residue of oil and sweat already seeping through.
I couldnāt wait.
I wrapped Frankās big hand around the spandex-covered cock and started stroking, long, slow, filthy pulls. The material made wet, sticky sounds as it slid over the leaking head. I watched in the mirror: this burly, bearded dad in his sonās wrestling gear, belly pushing the fabric out, nipples hard against the straps. I imagined Jakeās teammates seeing me like this and the thought made me growl in Frankās voice.
āFuckā¦ look at meā¦ wearing your boyās singlet while I wear youā¦ā I pumped faster, hips rolling, the spandex creaking. My balls drew up tight. I came with a roar, thick, ropey spurts jetting straight into the pouch, soaking the dark blue fabric until it turned glossy and wet. I kept stroking through it, smearing the hot cum all over my stolen belly, across my chest, down my thighs, using it like extra lube so the singlet clung even tighter, translucent in places, reeking of Frankās musk mixed with fresh seed.
I was panting, grinning behind the beard, when I finally stepped out of the room and headed to Frankās closet. I rummaged until I found what I wanted: a tight black button-up shirt that would strain over the cum-stained singlet, and a pair of dark jeans that hugged the thick thighs and the still-leaking bulge. I left the top two buttons open so the hairy chest and the faint hint of the singlet underneath peeked through. No underwear, just the filthy, cum-smeared wrestling gear underneath everything, rubbing against me with every step.
I looked in the full-length mirror one last time: Frank Harlan, burly, bearded, belly-heavy, dressed like he was heading out for a beerābut underneath it all, his teenage sonās wrestling singlet was soaked with my load, and the man inside him, already planning who I was going to hit on at the bar downtown.
I grabbed Frankās keys, felt the heavy swing of his cock against the cum-slick spandex, and stepped out into the night.
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A/N: Come on, I wouldn't actually leave you all hanging like that.
Ares. Mars. Call him what you will, the title was always the same: The god of war. He wasnāt mad. He wasn't angry. He was fucking pissed. All of his power was confined and frozen in a small statue of his visage. Strong, powerful, spear-ready, armor shined: Pure masculinity. At least his form of it. He was sure Apolloās version was either surfer or fuckboy. Ares knew at least that much about this era. His divine-self, turned statue, had been discovered and lauded as a lost artifact, where he was promptly put on display at a museum. All the god could do was watch people come in and out, families, couples, tourists, students. All day, every day. Funny what gods learned about humans when forced to spend time observing them.
Despite the many men that passed by, young, old. None ignited the spark of Aresā soul. He waited patiently, watching and learning. The soul of THE Ares would surely command attention. However, no man in his presence could commandeer others the god desired. There were family men, cheating boyfriends, jocks and athletes. But where was the fighting spirit? His patience got chipped away, a god of war, a god of action could only be still for so long. If the fates would not deliver his soul, heād find it himself.
It was a Friday, when the class came to tour the museum. Loud, and bored as the many classes before them. Blank faces. Zero interest in Greek culture. Ares' godly vision spotted one of the teens in the back, tripping a smaller classmate on the ground. Now that was worthy of the god of war. The teen was a jock, perfectly built, muscles showing through his clothes. A tight black shirt that read āJust let me do you.ā with a white check under it. A sexual innuendo no doubt even if Ares couldnāt decipher the cultural meaning. The kid he had put on the ground got up limping his way to the front. The limping student looked a bit younger than his peers, as if heād skipped a few grades. It mattered not; Ares knew his time was coming. The class passed him by, but he knew heād see the jock again.
20 minutes later the students had broken out into groups to explore the museum, no one was coming by the Ancient Greek section, just as Ares had intended, subtly compelling them away.
āSo cool,ā He heard a high pitch voice whisper out. The student who had been knocked to the ground earlier had come back. No muscles, no height. This was a boy, not a man. Ares couldnāt believe how muted his power was, unable to keep such a weak individual away. The student approached him, eyes locked on his form, studying him with interests beyond aesthetics.
āThere you are you little shit.ā The jock had his arms on either side of the door frame. His biceps were bulging, ready to pounce, he cracked his finger with a smirk on his face. Ares couldn't believe it. The boy had led the jock here like a fly to honey. The jock came charging in, a blitz to get to the boy before the teacher could know. The boy ducked, swerving past the jock more limber than the young man expected. Speed over power Ares could respect that. But thinking was for Athena. Ares had what he wanted. He summoned all his power and raged against the trickstersā spell, it fought well to hold him in, but he was the god of war and just needed a crack. The spell gave ever so slightly and Ares stuck. A facsimile of his helmet appeared over the jocks face as Ares began to pour his divinity into it.
āWhat the?ā The jock tried to pull it off, but Ares wasnāt letting go. He wanted out! The tiniest sliver of his divinity poured into the jock. Ares was immediately infused; he could sense the struggle to get the helmet off. Divine power flowed into the bicep feeding them a diet of Aresā aggression. The jockās body eagerly sapped it up, as Ares divinity went to reclaim his soul. The young manās body stretched to a taller height. His biceps inflated. Aresā best gift was flooding into the jockās cock, stretching it further and swelling his testicles. A strained gurgle came from the jockās stomach. Ares sensed it. The jock wasnāt processing the divinity correctly. The young man couldnāt handle even a fraction of Ares. The six pack abs the jock had earned bowled out into one unified belly. Divinity, converting into layers of fat on the muscled body. His jeans split open as thighs quaked out. His shirt no longer existed from his upper bodyās savagery upon emerging. A split red fabric appeared over him, a mockery of Aresā own uniform and not properly hiding the gift Ares had bestowed, very evident in the shrinking green briefs.
This wasnāt his soul.Ā
And fate was punishing him for trying to forge an escape. Especially one so ungraceful.
The smaller student hadnāt left the room when Ares made his move. He watched the whole thing happen. He ran back up to his enlarged bullying trying to assist with the helmet. Ares could not believe how foolish the small student was. If even the jockās arms couldnāt remove it, how would he.
āMatt, I think itās the statute!ā the small student stated.
āPlease, just help me, Harland.ā A husky voice asked as the student nodded. With a strange look of determination, Harland seized the statue in his hand. Ares felt the flare of his soul. The god had no chance to pour his divinity into the boy because his divinity was being sucked out. Harland, the fucking smallest attendee, was manipulating, Aresā divinity with ease. That was Ares' soul alright. Harland forced Aresā divinity into his body, even taking it from Mattās though his new form remained. Filled to the brim, a light erupted from Harland.
The young body bulked with divine life; it depended on it. Ares' power stamped his strength into the form by making Harlandās musculature rise to that of warriors. His pecs became powerful slates, hair covering them and swirling around his nipples. Down it flowed into the gutters being carved to form his abs. Markings appeared across his body, he was the man of a new age. His boyish features melted with the aid of Aresā divinity, revealing the fighter buried underneath. Follicles traversed his face to give him a proper beard, sealing his new manly form into place. He pulled his sword from the ether as a stephanos formed on his head. His beloved blood lust red wrapped around his nude waist perfectly.
