The grand imperium of HOT (preferably queer) MEN!

Description

AE-919 refers to a series of humanoid statues exhibiting anomalous properties. The statues are believed to be of ancient origin, with stylistic elements reminiscent of classical Greek and Roman sculpture. Each statue is crafted with meticulous detail, showcasing an idealised version of the male form.

Each statue is at least 2 metres tall and is carved from either granite or marble. The statues depict hyper-muscled, nude male figures with exaggerated masculine features and prominent genitalia. Weapons and armour are notably absent, and the statues can be seen posing in typical stereotypical frat jock style.

AE-919 can be very dangerous. Prolonged visual contact with an instance of AE-919 causes a progressive anomalous effect on living human subjects. Initial symptoms include elevated heart rate, increased body temperature, and involuntary muscle growth. Continued exposure leads to rapid hypertrophy of skeletal muscle, heightened libido, cognitive simplification, and compulsive sexual arousal reminiscent of a jock-like mentality. Upon physical contact, anyone that touches or is touched by an instance undergoes full petrification and body transformation, becoming an additional instance of AE-919.

AE-919 instances are immobile and silent, but they can move when not being observed directly, which proves to be a significant hazard for anyone in the vicinity. We have found out that covering the statues with opaque materials can temporarily inhibit their movement, but this is not a permanent solution.

Ah now this is an interesting problem!

One I've seen a couple of times and well... I hate to break it to you but that protein milk has probably been spiked with something. Normal stuff just gives you a boost everywhere as you all well know, sort of like steroids but slower and without as much risk. If it's localised to your chest though... Yeah you've got a batch laced with something else alright.

From what I know of the market it'll take you down one of two routes. The first you'll probably be fine with, mostly. Your chest will stay sensitive and grow more no matter what you do. Could skip chest day all together and you'd still end up with massive sensitive pecs. Huge man tits that bounce whenever you so much as breathe, you get the picture hopefully.

Certainly a longer one but I personally had fun with this! Made some creative choices that differ only somewhat from the initial request. Enjoy!

I enjoy mornings like this now even more. Sipping on my coffee, lounging around, feeling my throbbing cock against my thigh. Fuck... Look at that thing.

It’s been so much quieter in the house. That was maybe one of the first things I noticed, and god, it's peaceful. No heavy footsteps on the stairs, no slammed doors, no attitude.

"Look at you." I can't help but appreciate the sight of my fat cock resting against my thigh, "Fuck..."

I shift my weight in the leather chair, and the tight spandex pinches just right, sending a white-hot jolt straight up my spine.

"God, yes," I mutter, my hand dropping naturally down to wrap around the thick, hot base.

My dick twitches instantly beneath my palm, lengthening and swelling with a heavy throb as clear pre-cum slips from the slit to smear against my thigh.

"Still leaking?" I chuckle, giving my thick shaft a slow, firm squeeze. "You can't even wait five minutes, can you?"

My cock responds with another hard pulse, swelling thicker in my fist as if drinking in the praise.

"I never thought..." I breathe out, my eyes rolling back as I stroke myself once, twice, feeling the heavy, slick slide of skin, "...I'd ever be this lucky. I never thought I'd have a piece of meat this big just waiting to be played with every single day."

I pump a little faster, letting out a sharp groan as my hips buck. The tight fabric strains against the impossible size of my dick, leaking more and more with every stroke.

"That's it," I whisper, teasing the swollen head with my thumb, "Just... just like that..."

It's hard to remember now, looking back, that my cock used to be a person who walked through that front door like he owned the place.

I can still picture the moment he walked through that front door for summer break, dropping his duffel bag by the coat rack with a careless thud. Twenty-one, broad-shouldered, and entirely wrapped up in his phone screen.

"Hey, Mark," he snapped out, flat and dismissive.

Always Mark. A reminder that I wasn't his father. Whenever I tried to talk to him, he’d just roll his eyes, flash a cold smirk, and brush past me like a piece of cheap furniture, too busy texting his frat buddies to notice the guy paying the mortgage.

"Hey Leo, good drive?" I asked.

"Yeah, fine," he muttered, "Gotta unpack. Meeting some of the guys in twenty."

"Right," I said smoothly, my blood simmering. "My mistake. Go unpack. Wouldn't want to keep your friends waiting."

He rolled his eyes, clearly dismissing me, "Whatever. See ya later."

"Take your time," I murmured, watching him take the stairs two at a time, "We've got all summer to catch up."

He had no idea. He just thought he was home to ignore me for three months straight, totally oblivious to the Reclaiming Program pamphlet locked in my desk drawer.

I had wanted a real connection with him, back at the start. He'd get back from football practice and I'd think about my glory days. How we shared a love for the game, how we could have bonded over weights and old football highlights like real father and son. But he had zero interest in any of it. Just the guy whose money paid the bills while he lived his golden life.

But then one today, one of my old teammates mentioned the Reclaiming Program and all its promises: surging testosterone, explosive muscle development, relentless morning wood, and leaving the humiliating days of needing Viagra in the past forever. "Turn your useless son into your cock"- what a concept, right? At first I doubted it. But then, when Mikey showed up with the proof between his legs, I relented. Still, I wasn't sure it would work given Leo was just a stepson with no shared blood.

But I figured it would be worth a try...

A few days into his break, the screen door slammed shut as my step-son walked in from throwing the pigskin with some of his old high school buddies.

"Christ, it's hot out," Leo panted, dropping his cleats by the door, flushed and sweating.

I was already waiting at the counter, swirling the heavy blender pitcher.

"Rough afternoon?" I asked smoothly, pouring the shake into a tall glass.

"Felt like my arm was dead by the third route," he groaned, practically snatching it from my hand and chugging it, "Huh, this tastes good. What's in it?"

"Just a special blend of amino acids and protein," I replied, keeping my face entirely neutral as I watched him swallow the Reclaiming Protocol's special blend. "Thought you could use the edge."

Leo paused for a moment and smiled, "Thanks, Mark. I appreciate it."

Over the next few days, the routine settled into something dangerously smooth. Every afternoon after Leo came back, I'd have a shake waiting for him. I was wiping down the kitchen counter one evening when Leo wandered in, running a hand worriedly through his thick hair.

"Hey, Mark," he muttered, frowning slightly as a few stray strands came loose between his fingers. "Random question… when do guys usually start losing their hair?"

"I wouldn't worry about a few strays." I smiled.

"Yeah... I guess you're right."

Later, while Leo was out with his friends that week, I slipped into the upstairs bathroom and swapped his standard body wash with the thick, pheromone-heavy transdermal blend from the Reclaiming kit. Not long after, he returned him- his heavy footsteps trudged up the stairs. The bathroom door clicked shut, and the muffled hiss of the shower started up.

I lingered in the hallway downstairs, waiting, listening. At first, there was just the sound of water drumming against the tiles. Then...

"Ahhhh... fuck..."

I paused, leaning slightly toward the stairwell. The transdermal compounds were hitting his skin, over-sensitizing every nerve ending.

"God... what is... ahhh..."

A high, pathetic moan slipped past his lips, completely unlike his guarded, masculine tone.

"Mmm... fuck...no, I feel..." Leo whimpered aloud to the empty bathroom, his voice trembling as the suds worked deeper into his pores. Turning his skin into sensitive cock flesh. "Why does it feel like... oh god..."

Down in the hallway, I smiled.

"Everything alright up there, Leo?" I called out smoothly.

Silence hung heavy from the bathroom for a second, followed by a frantic, breathless scramble of water and a desperate, whimpering groan that he tried... and failed... to swallow down.

By the weekend, I noticed his desire to be anywhere away from me was fading. He'd follow me room to room, sit and watch TV with me... even ignored calls from his buddies.

It all culminated one humid Tuesday morning. I came down the stairs in just a loose t-shirt and boxers, grabbing my coffee mug from the counter. I noticed Leo sitting at the kitchen table, staring. His eyes locked downward, devouring the heavy, obvious bulge in my thin cotton of my boxers.

I paused, leaning casually against the counter. "Like what you see?"

Leo snapped out of it, his face flushing crimson as he stammered, caught completely red-handed. "Yes... yes, sir."

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could catch them. God, do you know how good that sounded coming from him? After all these years of him being an arrogant dumbass?

He of course, froze. Staring at me with wide, terrified eyes, horrified by his own slip of the tongue. I just held his gaze and grinned.

Later that afternoon, the cracks in his composure showed again. Passing by his half-open bedroom door upstairs, I heard him.

"No, you're not listening to me!" Leo snapped into the phone, his voice tight with rising panic. "I'm telling you, it's not just stress! My hair is literally coming out in clumps, man! And I couldn't even finish three reps on the bench today, my arms feel useless. Something is seriously wrong with me!"

I stopped in the hallway, listening to the helpless frustration in his tone, smiling to myself. He could panic to his friends all he wanted. It wasn't going to change anything.

I guess I didn't realize how far it would go until two days later. He never seemed to wear a shirt anymore, muttering about how uncomfortable clothing felt against his sensitive skin. But with that, I could see exactly what was happening to him. The muscle wasting was more clear than ever now. But that wasn't what caught me by surprise.

I had tossed my damp, heavy gym towel onto the edge of my bed before heading down to shower. When I walked back into my room to grab a fresh shirt, I caught him.

Leo was standing right in the middle of my room. Eyes glazed over as he clutched my sweaty gym towel in both hands, buried face-first into the fabric, greedily inhaling my scent with a low, desperate shudder.

"What do we have here?"

He froze, dropping the towel like it burned him, his mouth parting as excess, thick saliva slipped past his lips.

"Everything alright in here, Leo?" I asked smoothly, firmly grasping his shoulder.

The contact hit his re-wired nervous system like a live wire. Leo's eyes rolled back, his knees buckled slightly, and a devastatingly slutty, pathetic moan tore straight from his throat.

"S.sss...ssirrrr.... I....I...I...."

He tried to swallow it back, coughing weakly, more of that thick saliva sputtering from his mouth. Just a panting, soft-shouldered mess who couldn't even look me in the eye anymore.

"Shhh." I handed him the towel, "Enjoy it."

I left him shaking in my room and pulled out my phone once I was downstairs. The private club chat was buzzing as usual.

“Still breaking him in?” Gary posted around noon, tossing up a laughing emoji. “Poor kid is probably half brain-dead by now.”

“How many days has it been since you started dosing him?” Dave chimed in right after. “Has to be nearly three weeks.”

“Think that may be a record...” Gary added, dropping a string of applause icons. “Most guys would have already claimed the prize by week two. You’re really dragging this out, Mark.”

"Give him a break, this is uncharted territory. First time someone tried reclaiming their step-son."

"Come on and reclaim him already! Bruce wants to know if it works before he uses it on his step-son."

I smiled. They wouldn't have to wait much longer...

Leo, or what was left of him, came to me late one evening, entirely stripped of whatever pride he had left. I was sitting in the kitchen, nursing a glass of bourbon when he shuffled in, completely naked, his once-broad frame visibly shrunken and soft. Pronounced bald patches stark against his scalp.

"P-plea... agh, mmm..." Leo sobbed out, a wet, choking gurgle of sound, as thick, viscous streams of excess thick saliva pooled heavily in his mouth, spilling over his lower lip and dripping down his chest in long, glistening ropes.

"Can't even talk, can you?" I murmured, reaching down and pulling down my pants. "Look at what's happened to you. Are you asking for help, boy?"

Leo let out a pathetic, bubbling whine, nodding frantically as more thick fluid leaked from his parted lips, "Aghhhh, pl...pl..."

"Shhhh." I ran a slow, heavy hand down his back, the simple touch was too much for his over-sensitized skin.

A fresh, hefty wave of thick, viscous fluid surged from his mouth, overflowing past his slack lips in glistening ropes as he let out a high, vibrating moan that dissolved into a pathetic gurgle.

"That's a good boy," I murmured, my grip tightening firmly on the back of his neck. I nudged him forward, guiding his weight downward. "Show me how ready you are."

Without a single hint of protest, Leo gripped the table with his hands, and bent over right there. Presenting his ass to me and my hardening cock. That first thrust sent an electric shock that shot through my spine.

Leo's muffled, drooling cry cut off mid-gasp as the bones in his arms and legs began to buckle, softening and melting inward. I watched his deltoids and biceps flatten. His limbs shrank, pulling tight against his torso until they dissolved completely into the shifting, expanding mass of his trunk.

"Oh fuck..." I moaned, feeling as his ass fuse to the base of my cock.

His human silhouette distorted beyond all recognition, shrinking down lengthwise as his body reformed into an immense, cylinder of raw cock-meat. Veins braided themselves across his tightening skin, throbbing in a frantic, desperate rhythm that soon echoed the pounding of my own heart.

"Neeeee..... neeeeed th...this...." Those would be Leo's final words.

I watched as the bone structure of his jawline dissolved into a thick, pink cockhead. His nose flattened and vanished into the expanding flesh, and his lips parted permanently. The corners fused downward until his mouth narrowed into a gaping, glistening oval, weeping a constant, heavy stream of pre-cum.

"Oh yeah... Oh fuckkkk yeahhhh." I couldn't held but wrap my hand around my new length, "Oh fuck..."

My new dick convulsed violently at the contact, the entire length of him twitching and throbbing, a slick flood of pre-cum dripping from my new piss slit. I couldn't help it anymore... I hit my climax, pouring my hot release across the kitchen and myself with each throb.....

.......

That was just the first time of many, of course.

If you had told me a month ago how things would turn out, I probably wouldn't have believed it. But the Reclaiming Program delivers on every single promise it makes, provided you have the patience to see it through.

And as for Little Mark down there? Well... maybe not "little." I mean, just look at him! Twitching, throbbing, so fucking eager to be used. No arguments, no attitude, no slamming doors. Just pure, responsive meat that lives only to serve my pleasure whenever the mood strikes.

And speaking of when the mood strikes...I'd say Little Mark is eager for another round...

----------

If anyone wants to do a rewrite of one of my prior stories or even use a similar concept, please reach out!

You don’t become a big dumb jock by accident.
You train it.

Here are five simple habits you can start today that slowly turn the volume down on your brain and turn the volume up on your body.

1. Speak in shorter sentences

Stop explaining yourself. Stop adding context. Stop trying to sound smart.
Answer with “Yeah,” “Nah,” “I’m down,” or “Bet.”
The less you talk, the less your brain has to work. Over time, complex thoughts start feeling like effort… and effort starts feeling optional.

2. Kill the podcasts and long-form content

No more 45-minute deep dives. No more self-improvement YouTube. No more “interesting” conversations in your ears while you walk.
Replace it with music, silence, or gym audio only. Your mind doesn’t need more input. It needs less. Starve it.

3. Check yourself in the mirror more than your phone

Every time you pass a reflective surface, stop and look.
Not to critique. Just to take inventory of the growing body. Arms. Chest. Shoulders.
The more time you spend looking at your physical self, the less mental space you give to overthinking. The body becomes the main character.

4. Live in the post-workout fog

Train hard enough that your brain feels quiet afterward.
That heavy, warm, slightly stupid feeling after a good session? Protect it. Don’t immediately open your phone or start planning. Sit in it. Eat in it. Walk around in it.
That fog is the goal state. Chase it daily.

5. End every night with zero mental work

No journaling. No planning tomorrow. No “just checking one thing.”
Once training and food are done, your brain is off-duty.
Watch something dumb, scroll mindlessly, or just stare at the ceiling. Let the day end without reflection. Reflection is for people who still think their thoughts matter more than their physique.

Do these five things consistently and you’ll notice it.
Thoughts get quieter.
Opinions get simpler.
Your body starts taking up more space in your head than your old personality ever did.

That’s not a side effect.
That’s the point.

You’ve been sitting in that library chair long enough. Those textbooks aren’t making you happier, stronger, or more fuckable. They’re just keeping you small, soft, and stuck in your head.

Time to trade the pages for plates.

Here’s what you start doing today if you actually want to become a big, dumb, happy jock instead of another stressed-out nerd:

1. Delete the reading apps. Literally.

Remove Kindle, Libby, Goodreads, whatever you use. If a book isn’t about training, protein, or getting laid, it doesn’t belong on your phone. Every time you feel the urge to “learn something,” go do push-ups until the feeling goes away.

2. Replace study time with lifting time.

That 90-minute block you used to spend reading? It’s now a full PPL session. No more “I’ll just finish this chapter.” You finish the set. Your new homework is progressive overload and eating enough to recover.

3. Talk less, lift more, grunt more.

Start answering questions with fewer words. “Yeah.” “Nah.” “Spot me?” Practice it. The less you explain yourself, the less your brain has to work. Pretty soon thinking starts to feel optional.

4. Make your body the main character.

Stop measuring your day by how much you got done in your head. Measure it by how heavy the bar felt, how full your arms look in the mirror, how sore you are the next morning. That’s the only report card that matters now.

5. Fill the empty space with simple dopamine.

When your brain starts itching for stimulation, don’t open a book or a long video essay. Go train, eat a huge meal, get off, take a nap, or just walk around looking at yourself in reflective surfaces. Keep the inputs basic and physical.

6. Stop caring if people think you’re dumb.

This is the real unlock. Once you stop performing intelligence, your brain finally gets permission to coast. Let people underestimate you. Let them think the only thing between your ears is protein powder and pure instinct. They’re not wrong anymore.

You’re not becoming less. You’re becoming more—more muscle, more presence, more of the version of you that doesn’t overthink every little thing.

The books were never going to make you happy anyway.

The weights will.

Reed’s big brother was always so cruel, a natural bully. His parents finally grew tired of his antics and sent him away for a year to a monastery nearly at the other side of the world. They promised total transformation and reform, something reed’s parents gladly accepted. The year passed blissfuly as Reed’s brother was not home to torment him and his friends daily, but nothing good can last. The day came when Reed’s parents jetted off to collect his brother and return him home, they left and kissed him goodbye. The day Reed dreaded was upon him, Brendon would soon be home and things would go back to how they were. A small part of Reed hoped that his brother had changed but a big part knew he was incapable of it.

It was the middle of the night when the front door flew open, Reed was awake and watching tv in the living room. He turned and in the doorway stood a menacing figure, his brother Brendon was home. Reed looked at him, only a year had passed but Brendon looked completely different, leaner and taller. Brendon had always been well built but now he seemed like something out of a comic book, his pecs visibly clung to his tshirt and his pants strained against his thighs. As Reed studied, Brendon spoke one sentence that shattered Reed’s stomach and caused it to flip.

“The boss is back, bitch boy” Brendon sneered. That sentence proved that Brendon had not changed at all, just as Reed expected.

“I knew this change bullshit wouldn’t work” Reed, cynical as ever scoffed.

“Oh it worked, those monks taught me things that would make that little brain explode!” Brendon stepped in the house and closed the door behind him, confusing Reed.

“Where’s mom and dad?” Reed examined the door, thinking maybe they were unpacking the car but Brendon kept his focus on Reed as he began to get closer.

“The body really is incredible. Capable of anything! That’s what I was taught at that monastery, that was completely transformation. I had to get stronger and they knew how to make me stronger. They deemed me worthy, I guess. Taught me everything they know” Brendon still stepped closer to Reed.

“Honestly Brendon, I don’t really give a fuck. I knew You wouldn’t change and You haven’t, I just want to know what happened to mom and d-“ Reed was cut off as Brendon’s hand grabbed Reed’s face. Reed squirmed as he tried to break free of this iron grasp, but there was no use. Reed watched, in terror as Brendon smirked at him before Brendon’s body seemingly started to vibrate and ripple, a very panicked Reed started to thrash against Brendon but he did not move and instead manically laughed as Reed’s lips started to fuse to Brendon’s palm.

Suddenly, Brendon released him and Reed fell to the floor. Reed was in a state of shock, confused if he was in some waking nightmare that he couldn’t escape.

“Reform and transformation, that’s what they taught me.” Brendon smiled proudly, knowing that Reed was crippled with fear. Brendon was always cruel and sadistic before but now he was armed with some strange ability that made him dangerous. Reed slowly stood and faced Brendon.

“Where are mom and dad!” There was anger in his voice, but also fear. Brendon titled his head and studied his brother before he slowly peeled off his tshirt revealing his impressive body. Reed’s eyes naturally flowed to his brother’s chest, his pecs were unnaturally engorged. Brendon slowly bounced each one without touching them, popping his pecs to almost hypnotise Reed.

“They were never good parents, so I thought they’d look better as my fat pecs”. Reed’s eyes alternated from Brendon’s smirk to his chest before he sunk to his knees.

“What are You going to do to me?”

“I thought about this all the way home on the plane You know. I was fucking an air hostess and thinking of all the ways I could make your life hell, to be honest it’s what pushed me over the edge as I flooded her full of cum. I absorbed her too though, don’t worry You won’t be an uncle haha. She added a few inches to my cock, not that I needed it.”

Brendon stepped forward so his cock was level to Reed’s face.

“I was total submission. That’s the price for your life.” Reed slowly looked up and met Brendon’s eyes and slowly nodded. “Smart choice.” Brendon slowly begun to unbuckle his pants.

“Wait what are you doing, I said I’d submit!” A panicked tone escaped Reed’s mouth.

“Huh? You thought I would be stupid enough to let you walk around free so you can run off the first chance you get? No, I’m going to keep You safe and sentient. You’ll belong to me, to my body but you’ll be awake during it. Let’s call it a gift from me to you.”

“I promise I won’t run! I won’t do anything”. Brendon hushed Reed.

“This is happening. Now let’s play a game. Can you guess where I’m putting you?”

“I don’t know?”

“Guess!” Brendon gleefully smirked, he enjoyed his sick games.

“Your chest, like mom and dad?”

“Nope! That’s already got enough meat” he popped his pecs for emphasis.

“Your…your dick?”

“Are you fucking slow? Ive already told you that I absorbed an air hostess with my dick today. Shall I give you a hint?” Brendon dropped his pants to the ground and turned around, revealing his bubbly and perky ass.

“Your ass…?” Reed’s mouth dropped

“And we have a winner! Good boy.” Brendon condescendingly patted Reed’s head. “You were a complete pain in my ass so it’s only right you get to be it, you’re lucky actually. You get to live the rest of your worthless life as fat on my ass. Say thank you.” Brendon stared a reed for a response.

“Thank yo-“ Reed didn’t even have time to get the demeaning words out of his mouth before Brendon spun around and grabbed the back of Reed’s head, forcefully pulling his face in-between his cheeks. Brendon laughed as he heard the pleas and muffled cries of his brother. Reed tried to push off against the fat cheeks before him but his hands simply merged into the flesh as it rippled and pulled him deeper inside. Brendon made quick work of Reed, before long there was nothing left. Brendon walked to the nearest mirror and turned around, admiring how much fat Reed added to his ass.

“Damn, I’m thicker than my ex girlfriend” he laughed as he stood on his tiptoes and came crashing down, causing his ass to jiggle. A perfect balance of muscle and fat. He reached and massaged the mounds of flesh, causing much needed pleasure. “You feeling this Reed?” As Brendon promised, Reed was still someone sentient and conscious and he could feel every jiggle and grope.

“Now, let’s get some real fun going” Brendon walked toward Reed’s phone and inputted the passcode, absorbing Reed almost meant absorbing all his memories and thoughts. Brendon went straight to the top of Reed’s contact list and saw Jamie’s contact details. Jamie had been Reed’s best friend for many years and was also subject to Brendon’s humiliations. Reed tried to protest in some way, but it was useless. He really was just fat on his brother’s ass. Brendon composed a text asked Jamie to come round first thing in the morning.

A chinstrap beard on his jaw, backwards ball cap on his head, thoughts full of fat bouncing tits and leaking pussies and blasting his load deep inside a bitch’s womb - unfortunately, he forgets entirely about the sweet, smooth twink he once loved, the one he was just celebrating his anniversary with only moments before the flash of red light came through their bedroom window and shone on them, and that was when Clark started bulking up and feeling horny and talking like a total douche despite his internal protests; “bro, I need to fuckin’ breed!”

He insisted, pleaded, pressing down on his skinny little boyfriend and holding him in place as his slender limbs were slurped back into his compacting body, head and face smoothing out as his tears turned into old cum stains, taking a vaguely feminine shape simply meant to help alpha men assert their dominance even in the mere act of jacking off their cocks.

When Clark shoots his load all over the sex toy’s insides, it forgets ever being anything more than its Master’s convenient fuck toy, enjoying the sensation of the cum cooling inside of it but feeling pity that the alpha seed was wasted on it. Master deserves to breed the real thing.

The driver took his change and ushered him in. Oddly it seemed the bus was full of fat, suited men, presumably all on their way to the job too, but apart from that it seemed normal. Don wondered if he actually would get fat as he walked down the rows, looking at their flabby physiques, having to squeeze between them. As he stepped behind one large man, he heard a loud ‘frrrrrrrrrt’ noise as the fat man laughed childishly, “Whoops! Pardon me.” Don looked at him in disgust as he fanned the air, “Sorry lad, can’t help it at this age!” He chuckled. Don rolled his eyes, readjusted his glasses, and continued on to find a spot outside the range of these fat, gross old men.

As he walked down the isle however, he began to feel as if it were shrinking. Or was he getting wider? He didn’t realize how his rump was expanding as he soon began to waddle through, before finding a spot to sit.

He squeezed himself into the seat, complaining to himself about how small and tight they were. His belly began to grow as his clothes morphed from casual wear to a nice suit. His hair began to thin up top, as a bushy grey beard started to come in at his face, before he settled down with a crass ‘brrrmmpff!’ and checked his phone. “Oh! That was a loud one!” He smirked, giggling to himself despite how rude it was.

Classic bait & switch, my signature magic move.

I transform myself into some underwear, lay down on a public bathroom floor, and wait for some faggy perv to come along and take the free briefs. Maybe it’s because he likes the mystery of who left them there, or the self-humiliation, or some other fetish, or maybe he just needs new undies. The reason doesn’t matter to me, I just need a new body as a disguise.

Once he puts me on, my magic powers take over. His mind, his consciousness, slips down from the seat of his brain, falls through his body, and he essentially farts it out of his own ass, absorbed into the fabric, where he becomes his own underwear. At the same time, my consciousness is able to go in and up, into his head, and just like that, I’m him. He’s dirty bathroom floor briefs on what’s formerly his own ass.

Man, what a handsome one I got this time. You wouldn’t expect this guy to be such a freak. And I guess you wouldn’t expect him to be me, either, which is why I needed to take him over. Now I can escape my pursuers in this new body.

Told you, boys, they’re going straight to our muscles! You guys didn’t believe me when I said there was a new way to be a vore pred without having to deal with all that nasty mess, did you?

No opening wide to swallow a bro whole, no huge bloated gut waiting for him to digest, no shrinking him down to bite-size. No having to shove a dude up your ass, or even worse, into your shaft, headfirst, no… all we had to do was use that magic spell to transform these three fuck-ups into cycling gear, put them on, ride in them to get the suits saturated in sweat, and now we’re absorbing their energy into us through our skin. Isn’t that cool?!

@chubberbaria managed to inspire me to do another one of these~

The Influencer and the Gummy Bears

Ethan Vale had built an entire career around looking effortless.

His dark hair was always perfectly styled. His skin appeared flawless even under the unforgiving lights of his streaming studio. He had the lean, athletic body of a man who photographed every meal before eating it and considered twelve percent body fat an emergency.

More than two million followers watched his videos about fitness, fashion and gay nightlife. Brands paid him absurd amounts of money to hold products beside his face and say things like “Honestly, guys, I’m obsessed.”

That evening’s livestream was supposed to be particularly easy.

Ethan smiled into the camera and lifted a glittering purple packet.

“Okay, boys, tonight we’re trying something new.”

The words COSMIC BEARS — GALAXY GUMMIES stretched across the front in brightly coloured letters. Beneath them, cartoon bears floated among stars and tiny rockets.

Ethan pointed at the packet with his most marketable smile.

“They were delivered this afternoon. No company name, no contract, no instructions. Just a note saying, ‘Show your followers who you really are.’ Which is either brilliant marketing or the beginning of a documentary about my disappearance.”

The chat raced beside the camera.

EAT THE BLUE ONE

SHIRT OFF REVIEW

THE BLUE BEAR MATCHES YOUR EYES

Probably poisoned lol

Ethan laughed.

“Very reassuring.”

He pulled off his T-shirt. The chat immediately exploded with hearts, flames and several proposals of marriage.

“Fine. Apparently gummy bears taste better when I’m shirtless.”

He opened the packet.

A sweet, strangely powerful scent drifted out—blueberry, cinnamon and something darker that reminded him of warm leather.

Ethan frowned.

“That’s… surprisingly masculine for candy.”

He selected a blue bear and held it close to the camera. Its tiny translucent body seemed to shimmer from within.

“To bad decisions.”

He placed it between his teeth and bit down.

The flavour was intense.

Sweetness flooded his mouth, followed by heat that spread down his throat and across his chest.

Ethan chewed slowly.

“Oh.”

He looked at the packet.

“That is actually incredible.”

The chat demanded another.

Ethan reached inside, but before his fingers touched the remaining candy, a tingling sensation moved over his scalp.

He scratched his head.

A few strands of dark hair fell across his forehead.

Ethan stared at them.

“Did I just pull out my own hair?”

The chat accelerated.

YOUR HAIRLINE

BRO LOOK AT YOUR FOREHEAD

THE GUMMY ATE YOUR HAIR

Ethan leaned toward the monitor.

His hairline had shifted.

Only slightly, but enough for him to notice a thin strip of newly exposed skin along his temples.

“No, it hasn’t.”

He pushed his hair forward.

More strands came loose between his fingers.

His smile disappeared.

“Okay. That isn’t funny.”

A prickling sensation spread across his jaw.

Dark stubble emerged over his smooth cheeks as though several days were passing in seconds. Ethan rubbed his chin, staring into the camera as the stubble thickened beneath his fingertips.

The chat became unreadable.

BEARD

ETHAN YOU’RE TURNING INTO A DADDY

THE BEAR GUMMY IS MAKING HIM A BEAR

“Stop saying that.”

His voice came out deeper.

Ethan froze.

He touched his throat and tried again.

“Hello?”

The richer voice vibrated through his chest.

His beard continued growing, covering his cheeks, jaw and upper lip in dense brown hair. Within a minute it had become a full, heavy beard, perfectly connecting beneath his chin.

Meanwhile, the hair on top of his head continued retreating.

His temples opened into deep recessions. The front thinned rapidly, leaving short, sparse hair across an increasingly visible scalp.

Ethan stared directly into the lens, blue eyes enormous.

“What is happening to me?”

The warmth inside his chest intensified.

Fine hair appeared between his pectorals.

Ethan looked down.

“No.”

The thin line spread outward. Dark curls multiplied across his chest, travelled over his shoulders and continued down his stomach. His forearms became visibly hairier as he watched.

Within moments, the clean, carefully groomed influencer had become covered in thick body hair.

The chat loved it.

BEAR MODE ACTIVATED

KEEP EATING THEM

THIS IS YOUR BEST STREAM EVER

I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE GAY

Ethan grabbed the packet.

“What did you do to me?”

The cartoon bears continued smiling.

A line of tiny silver writing had appeared beneath the logo.

COSMIC BEARS REVEAL THE BODY YOUR HEART HAS BEEN HIDING.

Ethan read it twice.

“My heart has not been hiding male-pattern baldness.”

His shoulders suddenly jerked backward.

A deep pressure built beneath his skin.

Ethan gasped as his collarbones widened. His shoulders pushed outward, becoming broader and rounder. Muscle thickened across his chest and arms, swelling with every panicked breath.

The transformation was not making him leaner.

It was making him larger.

Much larger.

His pectorals expanded beneath their covering of dark hair. His biceps grew until his upper arms were nearly twice their original size. His neck thickened, supporting a head that looked increasingly rugged beneath the beard and receding hair.

Ethan stared at his arms.

“Oh my God.”

For a moment, his fear was interrupted by fascination.

He flexed experimentally.

A huge biceps rose beneath the hair.

The chat responded with so many messages that the streaming software briefly froze.

Ethan’s mouth fell open.

Then his stomach growled.

It was not a normal sound. It was a deep, rolling demand that shook the desk microphone.

Ethan clutched his abdomen.

“I ate dinner.”

His waist pushed outward beneath his hands.

“No. No, no, no.”

His flat stomach softened. The carefully defined muscles vanished beneath a rapidly thickening layer of weight. His abdomen expanded forward, becoming round and heavy while the rest of his body continued growing muscular.

Ethan shot to his feet.

The gaming chair rolled backward.

His massive shoulders filled the camera frame. His broad, hairy chest rose above an increasingly prominent belly. He looked like a competitive strongman who had never refused dessert.

The chat found a new word for him.

MEGABEAR

DADDY ETHAN

HE’S PERFECT

DO NOT CHANGE BACK

Ethan pointed furiously at the screen.

“All of you are blocked.”

His finger was now thick and calloused.

He stared at it.

Then he noticed his hands had grown larger too.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

He abandoned the livestream without turning it off.

Thousands of viewers watched the empty chair while distant footsteps thundered down the hallway.

Ethan switched on the bathroom light and stopped before the mirror.

The man staring back at him seemed at least ten years older.

His scalp was almost completely exposed across the top, leaving only short dark hair around the sides. His beard was enormous. Hair covered his chest, stomach, shoulders and arms so densely that his former grooming routine appeared to belong to another species.

He leaned closer to the glass.

“This cannot be me.”

His reflection possessed the same blue eyes, but everything surrounding them had changed.

The delicate influencer face had become broad and masculine. His brow was heavier. His nose looked stronger. His jaw appeared enormous beneath the beard.

Ethan placed both hands on the sink.

Another surge passed through him.

His back broadened.

His arms swelled.

His chest expanded until the countertop seemed unusually low beneath him. The floor creaked as his weight increased.

Then his belly pushed forward again.

It grew into a tremendous round dome, heavy but firm, covered in thick curling hair. Ethan stumbled backward, gripping it with both hands.

“You have got to be kidding me!”

His shout echoed throughout the apartment.

He turned sideways.

The belly projected farther than his chest, yet his shoulders and arms remained powerfully muscular. He looked less like a fitness influencer and more like the intimidating owner of a leather bar who could bench-press the furniture.

Ethan stared.

Then, despite himself, he flexed one arm.

It was enormous.

He flexed the other.

Equally enormous.

He straightened his posture.

The transformed man in the mirror looked shocked, but he did not look unattractive.

He looked commanding.

Warm.

Solid.

The sort of man Ethan had secretly stared at in crowded bars while insisting to his friends that he only dated smooth athletic guys.

A notification sounded from his phone.

The livestream was still running.

Ethan’s eyes widened.

“Oh, hell.”

He returned to the studio.

The chat erupted the moment his huge figure appeared in the doorway.

Ethan squeezed himself into the chair. It groaned beneath him.

His beard nearly touched the microphone.

He stared into the camera, breathing heavily.

“I would like everyone to remain calm.”

The chat did not remain calm.

His viewer count had increased from twelve thousand to nearly half a million.

Clips of the transformation were already spreading across social media. New hashtags appeared every second.

#CosmicBear

#DaddyEthan

#Bearfluencer

Ethan covered his face with both hands.

“This is the worst night of my life.”

A message from his manager appeared.

You’ve gained 300,000 followers in twenty minutes. Do not end the stream.

Ethan slowly lowered his hands.

Another message followed.

Also, personally? The beard works.

Ethan stared at it.

Then he looked at the packet.

One blue gummy remained inside.

The chat noticed.

EAT THE LAST ONE

FINAL FORM

BECOME THE ULTIMATE BEAR

“Absolutely not.”

His newly deep voice sounded firm and authoritative.

The gummy packet rustled by itself.

Ethan recoiled.

The final blue bear climbed over the edge.

It dropped onto the desk, bounced once and rolled directly toward him.

“No.”

It continued rolling.

Ethan trapped it beneath one large finger.

The gummy pulsed with blue light.

A whisper rose from it, quiet enough that only Ethan could hear.

You wanted them to see you.

Ethan looked into the camera.

His entire career had been based on perfection: perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect lighting, perfect body. He had spent years terrified that one wrong angle might make people lose interest.

Now half a million viewers were watching him bald, bearded, hairy and enormous.

And they had never seemed more interested.

He lifted the gummy.

“This is probably a terrible idea.”

The chat agreed enthusiastically.

Ethan ate it.

Nothing happened.

He waited.

The viewers waited.

Ethan released a relieved breath.

Then his chair collapsed.

He crashed toward the floor as his body surged larger one final time. His shoulders became mountainous. His arms thickened with another layer of powerful muscle. His belly swelled until it rested heavily against his thighs.

Ethan rose from the wreckage, towering over the desk.

The microphone now seemed tiny beside him.

His beard had become even denser. The remaining hair on his scalp vanished almost completely, leaving a smooth bald crown surrounded by only a dark shadow.

He looked directly into the camera.

For several seconds, there was silence.

Then Ethan began laughing.

It started as a confused chuckle, but quickly became a deep, booming roar that filled the room.

He placed both huge hands on his belly.

“Well,” he said, smiling beneath the beard, “I suppose the cutting phase is officially cancelled.”

The chat exploded.

Ethan flexed his massive arms. His round belly rose proudly beneath his hairy chest.

“And apparently,” he continued, “this channel has new branding.”

He picked up the empty Cosmic Bears packet and held it beside his face.

“Zero stars for accurate labelling.”

He paused.

“Ten stars for results.”

By morning, Ethan Vale was the most discussed influencer on the internet.

His sponsors expected him to panic.

Instead, he replaced his old profile photograph with an image of himself grinning, bald and bearded, one enormous arm curled around his belly.

His new biography contained only four words:

His latest mark: the neighbors' college age son, Jon.

The bearish man had seen him outside in the Summer heat, shirtless and doing yardwork. Alan started small and slow, bringing Jon a glass of cold lemonade or a towel to dry himself off with. As the Summer went on, it progressed to inviting him over for lunch and asking for help with his own yardwork.

After weeks of preparation, the perfect opportunity presented itself: Jon's parents were leaving for a week-long trip, and he was staying to look after the house.

Over the weeks leading up to it, Alan had caught onto a couple of things, which ensured his latest prey would be an easy catch. The first, was that the young man couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of Alan. The second was that he was far too trusting.

Alan decided to make his move the third day after Jon's parents had left.