New Story: The Black Tank Top
It of course seemed ridiculous, beyond improbable, that what appeared to be a regular tank top could do what it promised. Chris folded and unfolded the thing in has weighty hands, feeling the stretch material on his fingers and glancing at the accompanying note. “Wear this and you’ll get whatever you want!” That was all the note said, on nondescript paper from a nondescript package that had arrived on his doorstep that morning.
In any case, the large black top was just his size and looked pretty nice. The weird note was whatever, but he couldn’t complain about getting a nice new shirt to work out in, he supposed. He slipped off his white tee to try it on, feeling the collar bunch around his neck as he wiggled it over his wide shoulders.
He paused to look in the mirror, wondering, what do I want, exactly? What is it that I really want? He wouldn’t mind getting a little bigger, he thought, packing a little more muscle on would certainly be nice. He rubbed at his stomach before pushing up on his impressive pecs and flexing a little. Already, Chris’s body was something to behold: round in the right corners and heavy where he needed to be, in his big biceps and forearms, his chest, ass and legs all impressively dense and full. He was tall, handsome and naturally athletic without appearing overbearing or appearing cartoonish. Just naturally masculine and fit.
With a final slap at his curved biceps and another glance at the tank top, he picked the thing up and yanked it over his chest and down his stomach. For just a moment, still staring in the mirror, he thought maybe he would suddenly inflate and enlarge into some godly adonis. He inhaled, flexed, stared in the mirror and waited. Nothing happened. He felt a little ridiculous but laughed it off. Time to forget about it and get his workout in.
Yet, he couldn’t really forget it as he began jogging toward his usual gym. Maybe it wasn’t that he couldn’t forget, it was more that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Yeah, he thought, hitting his stride, his pace increasing, maybe it’s working. Maybe I’m running faster. He laughed a little to himself at the thought it could be true. Maybe he was going to get bigger after all, albeit slowly or more gradually than he would’ve thought.
His workout was following the norm. He easily picked up each weight at each machine and followed his usual rhythm perfectly. It was effortless to the point he wasn’t even processing it, he was simply performing it like a task. Automatically. When he was done and had returned home, it was like none of it had happened at all, he just came to suddenly sitting on his couch with a satisfying, full bodied pump coursing through him and a haze that made it hard to think.
“Huh…” he wondered aloud.
He felt as if it had suddenly become a chore to move. He knew he wanted to stand up, get some water… or something… but his limbs were light and floaty. They weren’t responding to the circuits in his brain, too bogged down with a warm glow to function properly.
“Must be tired,” he said. He felt a dull surprise when it came out droll and monotone. It was if the heat in him had spread into his very vocal cords. Must’ve been a really good workout, he thought, must’ve been… why couldn’t he remember his workout? It was beginning to worry him when the sensation throbbing in him started to churn somewhere deep in his crotch, making it impossible to think of anything else.
HIs thick fingers were moving on their own toward his gym shorts and there was absolutely nothing on his mind but the heat incinerating in him. All the concern was slowly vanishing as he puffed out his chest and caressed himself on the couch. It felt good, he thought, it felt good to let go of whatever was in his brain, just feeling his muscles and the extraordinary pleasure in him when—
There was a knock on the door. Chris’s body erected automatically and he moved to the door without thinking. It was when his hand met the doorknob that a pulse of shock burst in him. He stopped, looking down at himself and the stiffness totally formed in his shorts, standing at attention. “What the?” Why was he so dizzy? And horny? And then why… why was his hand opening the door? He wasn’t trying to open it yet suddenly the door was open and a man walked right in.
He was short and thin with brown hair. Totally unremarkable. He dropped his jacket on the ground and marched into the flat’s living room. “Looks like you’re enjoying that tank top I sent you,” he said.
“Wha….” Chris moaned. He was following this stranger back in. This guy shouldn’t be here, he thought, this is wrong… “Who are you?”
“No, I… uh…” why didn’t he care? Suddenly, Chris was scared. This was all so weird, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t seem to find the emotion or motivation in him to stop what was happening.
“I already told you, I’m the guy that sent you that top you’ve got on. Looks good on you man,” he said. “You know, it makes you into whatever you want to be. What do you want to be, Chris?”
“Get out…” Chris stuttered. It was too hard to talk, he kept feeling that warmth coursing through him as he swayed in place. “I don’t know haha…”
“Tell me what you want to be, Chris,” the man approached him. There was a flinch in his body but it was immediately suppressed. “Feel free to do whatever you want. You’re safe with me.”
“Huh…” his hands found the bottom seam of his new tank top and pulled it up over his chest all on their own. He couldn’t believe he was stripping in front of some random stranger. The fear throbbing through him was laced with something so satisfying and pacifying his mind failed to connect his terror with any ability to act.
“That feels better, doesn’t it?”
“Yah dude…” and as the words moaned from him, he felt his arms come up in a tight double bicep pose. The muscles on his body tensed and expanded as he flexed them, quivering, like something in his body was trying to break free of what it was doing. He laughed as he flexed, the laugh coming from some deep and primordial place from him out of his control. He laughed, but his eyebrows were stitched in fear. “Please man… please…”
“Is that what you really want?” He asked.
Chris strained. “N- no…,” he cried, some new truth settling into his brain and cementing. But he shook it off, sweating, everything in his body becoming harder to control. He managed to just barely jerk his head, “I mean yes! Please let me go! What’s happening to me!” His voice was panicked but his face was plastered with a big, dumb smile. He couldn’t change it no matter how hard he tried. Suddenly, he transitioned into a side pose that showed off his powerful deltoids. “I don’t want any of this!”
“Be honest with yourself.”
Chris’s eyes were clouding as his grin widened. Drool was slowly accumulating in the corner of his mouth as he tightened the muscles on his arms. He was clearly trying to say something, but it only came out in chokes and gurgles as he smiled, baring all of his pristine white teeth.
There was an impulse to lie, as if protecting himself, but it was quickly extinguished by the pleasure building in him. He couldn’t deny the satisfaction that was settling into his entire being. “Ye… yes… so good…” The more he felt himself giving in and the more he flexed, the harder his dick grew in his shorts, precum sliding down his thigh.
“So be truthful. Tell me what you really want. Is it just to be bigger?”
As if something inside of him had opened and he could see more clearly into his being, Chris’s innermost desire became starkly apparent. He had always known it but never had the ability to say it to himself. Whatever spell was over him, he could not deny it any longer. But he tried, “Nn… nnn…” he grunted.
“I want to be a brainless, muscle whore!” He blurted. “I want my entire life to be devoted to sex and pleasure! I don’t want anything else but fucking and flexing and cumming!”
The man opposite him grinned. “Are you sure? If that’s not true, you can say so and all of this will stop.”
But Chris knew this was true. No matter how deep down he had tried to suppress it, he was innately desperate to reduce himself into a stupid muscle slut, capable of nothing but working out, orgasming and giving orgasms. “It’s true! It’s true, it’s true!”
And with those words, Chris’s reality began to realize itself. A piece of his brain did not disappear, but rather it shrunk into the size of a marble in the sea of his mind. It was his consciousness for a normal life, his thoughts about work and friends and everything outside of muscle and sex. It was still there, but so small it was practically invisible in the utter ocean of gleeful stupidity and horniness flooding him all at once. He no longer had any choice in what his body did, it was a complete slave to satisfaction. Every thought attempting to escape that marble of normalcy was drowned with lust.
Automatically, Chris followed his desire as he raced to rip his shorts and underwear off and jerk off. All he wanted to do was cum. The tiny shred of his regular self could do nothing but watch in disgust as his body instinctually began to approach the twink to pound. Still whacking his thick cock with one hand, he rushed to get any of the stranger’s clothes off and get his dick inside. He was nothing like Chris’s old type, but it didn’t matter anymore: Chris had gotten what he wanted, to be a brainless himbo jock, and he would never turn down sex again.
“I’m so big!” He cried as his dick slid in. “I’m so hot! Gotta fuck, gotta fuck, want sex, yeah! Yeah!” He flexed both of his thick arms as his hips instinctively thrust back and forth.
Chris’s body fucked and fucked, cumming three times before he slammed his meaty ass onto the stranger’s own dick, riding him for hours. “I’m just a whore, I’m a dirty jock pig aren’t I? Fuck yeah!”
The continually diminishing shred of him still capable of understanding what was happening fought and fought, but it was powerless, just smothered in his true desire to give himself over to pleasure. Even after the bastard who put this curse on him was gone, he was subjected to watch in horror as the actual Chris downloaded Grindr, begging anyone to come over and fuck. Men came and played with his juicy pecs, making him flex for them. “I’m the hottest dude on this planet,” he laughed as men in front of him squeezed his flexed arms and thighs. “Look at these muscles!”
It wasn’t long before even the little piece left of the old Chris was gone. He had quit his job and started professionally camming to make money. He did nothing but work out and suck and fuck all day. He couldn’t do anything without it leading to sex or a pump from the gym.
But every now and then, as Chris flexes, squeezing his arms together and tightening his abs, showing off his strong back and sculpted legs, a minor pang of the past leaps into him, calling for help, trying to get out, only for it to be put out by a dumb, masculine laugh as drool trails from his lips and he says, “I’m so horny man… hahaha…”
Next to him, a simple black tank top on the floor.
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