Untitled

It was supposed to just be a small tattoo. The first one he would get.

Ethan had never been the intimidating type. He was thin, nervous, the kind of person people accidentally interrupted in conversations and ignored because of his weak appearance. At twenty-three years old, he never had a girlfriend and was the guy everyone talked over, the guy who apologized even when he hadn't done anything wrong. So when he finally decided to get a tattoo, he wanted something simple, something that would make him look a little tougher.

He finally gathered the courage to get one and went to a tattoo shop.

The tattoo artist stood tall behind the counter, broad-shouldered and heavily built. Tattoos covered both arms, crawling up his neck and disappearing beneath the sleeves of his black shirt.

The guy noticed he was nervous and immediately asked: "First time?".

And Ethan nodded, embarrassed by how obvious his fear was, as the artist opened a book of designs.

"Looking for something small?" the artist asked. Ethan nervously nodded. The artist smiled and said: "I think I have just the thing".

And there it was: A dragon. An oriental style dragon. Powerful. Fierce. Exactly the meaning he wanted to be associated with. Ethan stared at the design for a few seconds. It was bigger than what he had originally planned but he was tired of seeming weak and something about it felt right.

"Yeah", he finally said. "Let’s do that one".

The artist’s smile widened. "Excellent choice".

A few minutes later, Ethan was sitting in the chair, trying not to tense up as the machine buzzed to life.

The moment the needle touched his skin, he felt a strange jolt in his arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it was noticeable enough that he flinched.

"Is that normal?" he asked.

"Depends on the ink", the tattoo artist said with a small smile. "You never know how the body will react".

Ethan frowned, immediately feeling ridiculous for worrying.

Once finished, the tattoo looked incredible. It had a lot of detail and looked imposing. A black dragon in his right bicep.

As Ethan was about to leave, the tattoo artist called out to him.

"Hey. Don't forget to take care of it"

Ethan stopped and turned around. "Uh... what?"

The artist pointed toward the counter. "You forgot the aftercare kit".

"Oh. Right". Feeling slightly embarrassed, Ethan grabbed the small bag containing the cleaning supplies and left the store, returning to his apartment. As he walked down the street, he glanced at the dragon on his arm. For a moment, he could have sworn the ink seemed darker than before.

The next morning, he woke up with a strange heaviness in his arm. Something about it felt different. He tried to shake off the feeling and stepped in front of the mirror.

The tattoo looked bigger.

At first he thought he was imagining it. The tail seemed longer. The scales seemed to cover more skin than before. Then he noticed something else. His arm looked bigger, his bicep was straining against the sleeve, harder and thicker than ever. And not only that. He could feel a strength in his arm he had never felt before. Ethan spent several minutes flexing in front of the mirror. He knew he should be worried, but every time he looked at the size of his bicep, he worried less and less.

By the end of the first week the tattoo now covered a larger part of his arm. His arm looked defined like those of a professional bodybuilder, even though he hadn’t lifted a single weight in his life. It looked absurd compared to the rest of his body.

Days later one afternoon he felt the same tingling sensation as always traveling across his shoulder. He looked at the tattoo and noticed new black scales were appearing near his chest. Minutes later, his shirt began to tighten.

He looked down watching how the fabric of his shirt was slowly stretching as his pectorals pushed against the tight shirt. His pecs were swelling relentlessly, massive slabs of muscle ballooning outward. The pressure built until –pop– the buttons flew like gunfire, leaving his enormous pectorals completely exposed. Two thick rock hard mountains rising and falling with every breath, glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

And so, over time, each new blot of black ink brought with it a new wave of energy, a strange jolt under his skin that stimulated that area, making it progressively more pleasurable. His shoulders already widened, his chest thick, his other arm also massive. His shirts became too tight, so he decided to start wearing more tank tops in order to show off his muscles. Ethan loved his more rugged gym bro appearance.

Next came Ethan's once soft, unremarkable midsection. It has transformed into a rock-hard, deeply etched six-pack that now commanded worship of its own. V-lines appearing that framed his lower abs and pointed toward his thick, throbbing cock.

He remembered what the tattoo artist had said about taking care of the tattoo. The strange thing was that every time he looked at it, he felt an urge to do something. Massage it. A few push-ups. A quick workout. Anything. As if the tattoo disliked staying idle.

He spent long periods looking at it in the mirror, massaging it and running his fingers over the scales, admiring how they spread across his body. Over time, his life revolved around the gym, working out constantly and eating more protein. He knew the dragon would reward him for it, every workout becoming easier than the last, each new muscle giving the scales more space to claim. And the pleasure of watching his muscles grow became better and better.

Then, nearly a month after getting the tattoo, one night while lying alone in his bed, he was rewarded. Ethan felt a sudden surge of raw energy flood his groin. His once inferior, small cock began to throb and pulsate, forcing him to thrust his hips forward instinctively as a prominent, obscene bulge strained against the front of his boxers. Blood rushed hot and heavy into the shaft, stretching and expanding its length inch by inch with every powerful heartbeat, thickening it into a heavy, veined monster that curved upward aggressively. At the same time, his balls swelled dramatically, growing fuller and heavier as they dropped low between his spread thighs, forcing his legs apart to accommodate their new weight. The thin fabric of his boxers quickly grew soaked and sticky with thick streams of precum that leaked endlessly from the swollen head. Pleasure surged through him in waves, yet no matter how desperately his newly enhanced cock twitched and throbbed, he couldn’t release, not yet. The dragon wasn’t finished with him.

Over the following weeks the dragon kept expanding across the rest of his chest, back and legs. Reaching his spine, the change became impossible to ignore. A powerful stretch ran through his body. His back cracked. His posture straightened. He could feel himself growing as the dragon crossed his vertebra. The world seemed to shrink around him. His legs thickened with dense muscle. His calves expanded. His feet grew so much they could break a pair of sneakers. And it was no longer just confidence, he felt a strength that made him feel superior.

There was a new confidence dominating his body, and people noticed. People looked at him differently and treated him differently. Strangers seemed to respect him more. Some even stepped out of his way without thinking. Ethan found himself enjoying that feeling much more than he wanted to admit.

It was inevitable that his shy personality would begin to fade. His only focus became pushing his body further, seeing how far it could be transformed. He started admiring himself whenever he passed a reflective surface. He stopped caring as much about things like hygiene, often leaving the gym drenched in sweat and carrying the scent of his workouts with him. He found himself cutting people off in conversations, taking up more space, speaking louder. Before long, he was acting like an inconsiderate brute who believed everything belonged to him.

New desires surfaced as well. Once, the thought of being with a man would have seemed strange to him. Now it barely registered as worth questioning. More and more, he found himself drawn to showing other men where they stood beneath him.

The tattoo on his back now reached his neck. And with it he could feel his voice deepening, becoming more masculine. Grunts. Beastly sounds. The changes reached his face. His facial features became more symmetrical and masculine. His jaw grew broader, his features sharper and more rugged. He looked older as though several years had passed in only a few seconds.

The last change could feel penetrating his brain. Fogging his mind and his once intelligence. Memories disappearing. Thoughts that once came effortlessly now drifted away like smoke. His head felt heavy. Slow. A dull primitive warmth spread through his thoughts, smoothing away worries, questions, and doubts until there was almost nothing left. He couldn't recall his own name. His old life felt worthless. Why would a beast like him concern itself with the worries of a timid man?.

And just like that, the mental transformation reached its climax. His entire body seized as his newly massive cock surged, thick veins pulsing along its enormous length. A guttural, broken moan tore from his throat as he erupted violently, rope after heavy rope of thick, potent cum blasting out of him in powerful jets that splattered across his own carved abs and chest, painting the roaring dragon tattoo. With every devastating spurt, the last fragile memories of his old, weak self were violently wiped away, erased completely by the dragon’s overwhelming power. His eyes rolled back, mouth hanging slack and open as a thin strand of drool slipped down his chin, dripping onto his glistening pecs. His heavy balls continued to throb and tighten, pumping out the final surges of his old life. When it finally subsided, his body relaxed, now utterly transformed, completely owned.

Only the dragon remains.

Weeks passed. At first, it was enough to admire itself. Hours spent in front of mirrors, tracing the scales that covered its body and flexing the massive muscles beneath them. The Dragon had not transformed itself into such a magnificent creature merely to be ignored but just one man wasn't enough. The dragon demanded more attention.

He was satisfied posting pics online, watching the flood of comments and admiration pour in from strangers. But the dragon's hunger continue to grow. Before long, it found itself browsing apps like Grindr, inviting admirers into its place.

He stood at the center of the dimly lit room, his massive muscular frame gleaming beneath a coat of oil. Admirers gathered around him, hungry eyes fixed on the fierce black ink dragon tattoo that coiled across his powerful chest and shoulder. One man already eager on his knees. Various men, stripped, hard and trembling with lust, stepped forward carrying more bottles of warm, slick oil.

He raised his arms, flexing slowly, letting his enormous pecs bounce. The tattoo stretched and shifted with the movement, scales gleaming as the thick streams of oil poured over his shoulders, his bulging biceps, and heavy slabs of pecs. Hands being everywhere, lips and tongues traced every cut and curve of his muscle. One of them let out a desperate moan and buried his face hungrily between the massive, sweat-slicked mountains of his pecs, pressing deep into the warm sweat.

They all moaned against him, entranced and lost in the heat of his scent.

He grabbed one man by the hair and forced him down to his knees, then the next. They had fed his hunger. Now it was his turn to feed theirs.

One admirer was bent over the wide bench, oiled ass up, while he drove him into him in long, punishing strokes, his massive chest pressed against the man’s back, the dragon tattoo rubbed against sweating skin. Another was pulled up into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, impaled as he bounced him like he weighed nothing. The remaining ones made to kneel and lick every drop of sweat and oil from his flexing muscles while he fucked their friends senseless, tongues dragging desperately over his pecs, sucking on his nipples, kissing the dragon’s roaring maw. Every thrust, every moan, every slap of flesh pleasing the beast, then rewarding them with his own seed while they begged for more.

Finally, standing in front of the mirror, the Dragon ran his now thicker, more sculpted hand over the black scales that wrapped around his body. A faint, meaningless echo of the weak creature he once was passed through him and faded almost instantly. He took a progress pic, knowing that the tattoo would grow even more, spreading beneath his skin and slowly claiming more of him with every passing day. Soon the Dragon would cover everything, and he could hardly wait to see what he would become.

The dragon rests, satisfied… for now.

——————

Thank you to @rowdy317 for helping me out as I intially struggled with this one, so thank you!

You can think of a few reasons why you found yourself in the audience that night. Well, really one. When you heard "Are You Smarter Than A Himbo" was putting on a show in your neighborhood, you couldn't resist. Sure, it was kind of stupid. You'd seen the clips online. They'd bring some braindead jock up on stage to flex, laugh, crack jokes, and answer basic trivia wrong. The poor idiot would laugh along as the audience laughed at him. You'd always figured the dunce was too dumb to realize they were laughing at him. But fuck, those guys were hot. So if anything, you'd get to ogle at some hot guy flexing all night and maybe get a few laughs out of it too.

"Do you think Zak's pecs are real?"

"Jason is like totally the hottest."

"I think Ryan isn't as dumb as he lets on."

"Did you know Mike is single? I can't…"

You roll your eyes at the fanfare all around you. These people were seriously into it. And then it starts.

"Welcome everyone!" You watch as a lanky man struts on stage with his hair slicked back and a wide grin on his face, "Are you ready!?" The crowd- mostly women and a few guys cheered in response, "I said: are you ready!?" You roll your eyes as the host worked the crowd, "Alright, alright… welcome." The host smiles wider, "Put your hands together for our main man!"

The host gestures toward the side of the stage and Zak strolls out with a slow, confident walk, his arms flexed as if expecting applause. He’s got thick curls falling over his forehead, and his chest is packed with muscle, tight under his white tank top. The crowd goes wild as he steps onto the platform.

“Y’all ready?” Zak shouts, raising both arms above his head. “Let’s go!” He pulls off his shirt in one smooth motion, and your eyes widen as you take in his massive pecs and perfect abs. The crowd similarly goes wild. Zak grins, flashing a perfect set of teeth, "I'm so fuckin' pumped to be here tonight! I fuckin' love you guys!"

"But Zak, I think you have something to say to everyone. Right?" The host interjects, patting the massive jock on the back.

"Yo dude yeah, for real." Zak nods, "Like, this is gonna be my last show, ya know? With the whole modeling thing blowin' up and all." The audience groans, "I know, it sucks majorly, trust me!" Zak frowns, "But like, you'll get to see plenty more of me. Trust me brahs." He winks and the crowd cheers.

The host claps, "That’s what I like to hear! Alright, let’s get started!"

You lean forward in your seat as the first audience member is brought up. It only takes a few questions for her to utterly humiliate Zak, who just laughs and flexes like the dumb himbo that he is. As the contestant returns to her seat, the host's eyes scan the crowd, zeroing in on you.

"What about you there in the blue shirt? He looks smart, right Zak? Let's get you up here!"

Initially you're shocked. You? The host gestures for you to make your way up to the stage. You can feel your heart pounding as you climb the stairs, palms feeling a little sweaty. The bright lights, all eyes on you. And as you step onto the stage, you get an up close look of Zak. His biceps bulge impressively, glistening with a light sheen of sweat. But god he smells like a wet gym sock.

"Sup bro, nice to meetcha!" Zak grins and throws a muscular arm around you, "Dude, you ready for this?"

"Aw do I sense a budding bromance?" The host grins and the crowd cheers. After settling them down, he turns to you. "You know how this works by now. Do you think you're smarter than a himbo?"

"Yeah, I think I am." You reply.

"Heh we'll see about that, bro!" Zak guffaws, "I was just goin' easy on that last chick."

"The confidence!" The host laughs, "Let's put it to the test. Your first question: Which is the only sea without any coastlines?"

You ponder for a moment. A sea without a coastline? That's... god what was that? You feel your cheeks flushing red, as you realize you don't know the answer to that. But if you don't know the answer, Zak would definitely not know either. Speaking of Zak, he's bouncing his pecs like the oversized gym bro he is.

"Is it the Caspian Sea?" You shrug, eyes still locked on his massive pecs. Of course the host shakes his head with exaggerated sadness.

"Ah, seems Mr. Smartypants here was a bit too distracted admiring the view to ace that question!" He winks at the audience, while Zak flexes.

"No shame in that, brah!"

You feel your face flush red with embarrassment as the laughter from the audience washes over you. Great, now they all think you're just another hormone-addled fool who can't string two thoughts together because of a pretty face.

"Alright Zak, a question for you now buddy!" You figure Zak is about to bomb this question anyway- round will end in a tie and you can walk away with some dignity, "What color are bananas?"

Zak scratches his head, "Dude… tricky." He chuckles, low and dumb, "So, I want to say yellow, but also green when they're not ripe. Oh but brown too if they go for too long!"

"Fantastic answer Zak! Well thought out!" The host grins as the crowd cheers, "Uh oh, looks like Zak has pulled ahead!"

The fuck kind of question was that? You look at the host and then Zak, who is doing a victory dance. The color of bananas? Of course Zak would know that- he's a fucking ape. You smirk at your own joke.

"Okay okay, let's try another one! Mr. Smartypants, are you ready to redeem yourself?" You're ready, more than ready. You're not..., "What pigments are responsible for the red color of leaves?"

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. You don't have an answer for that. Maybe you did know it, but between the flexing stud and the stage fright, you couldn't find the information.

"Chlorophyll."

"What a shame! That is not correct." He smiles at the audience, "It seems Zak may have a chance to widen his lead! Hey big guy, what day of the month is Christmas celebrated on?" It takes Zak maybe a minute or two to answer that one correctly, "Look at that folks, Zak is now up by two!" He turns to you with a grin, "Seems our guest is not much of a smartypants after all!"

Again, your face flush reds, "No worries, little dude." Zak ruffles your hair, "I uh, I got some smarts, ya know." He looks out towards the audience, "Last show brahs but first win!"

The crowd cheers and it dawns on you that you might be the first person to actually lose this stupid game. Frustration bubbles up inside you as the host and crowd continue to mock you. You're better than this, smarter than being made a fool of. Screw it, you're going to show them all up.

"I could answer every single one of those easy-ass questions he's getting," you mutter under your breath, but the mic picks it up anyway. The host's eyes light up.

"Oh ho, is that so?" He raises an eyebrow, a smirk gracing his features. "Well then, why don't you prove it, hot shot? Let's see if you can handle something a little more…your speed. Here we go bud - how does the body cool down during intense exercise like a heavy workout session?"

You chuckle. Really? This was the question? You clear your voice, "Sweating. That's how it keeps from overheating."

"Correct!"

"Woah bro, nice one!"

Yeah... that was a nice one. Finally got a question right... finally... You wince as a warmth fills your upper arms. At first it's just a gentle tingling, a warm buzzing beneath your skin. But quickly it builds to a throbbing, insistent pressure.

"What the…?"

The sensation intensifies, an intensifying heat pulsing through your upper arms. Your skin prickles and tightens as your biceps and triceps stretch against the sleeve of your shirt. It feels like the most intense pump after a grueling workout, but magnified tenfold. Your arms throbbing, aching. You feel aware of just how much more space they're taking up. And the twitching- it's incessant. Unconsciously, your arms start to rise, muscles tensing, flexing…

"Whoa…" you mutter, marveling at the sheer size and density of your upper arms, "How…?"

The host clears his throat pointedly, breaking you out of your awestruck reverie. "Ahem, moving on! Thanks for that… demonstration." He shoots you a knowing wink, a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Let's see if we can't challenge that big ol' brain of yours with another question, shall we? What does the acronym SBD stand for in powerlifting?"

"Oh brah, way too easy." Zak chides, crossing his massive arms over his muscular chest, "Even I know that one."

But your head is swimming. The powerful feeling in your arms send pleasurable waves of warmth through your body. But your mind. You're reviewing the question. Thinking it through. SBD? In powerlifting?

"SBD... SBD..." You rub your chin, unconsciously flexing your now massive bicep, "Huh... like... That's uh..."

You look over at Zak and he's making some kind of motion. A goofy grin on his face as he squats. Squats. Squats!

"Bro!" You grin, "Squats, dude! Yeah, that's what the S stands for." You grin, but the host shakes his head, "C'mon what?" You pout.

"You're still forgetting the rest." The host smiles, "And the timer is counting down."

You shuffle anxiously on your feet. You know this, right? But why would you? You're not into powerlifting. But like, it should be easy. If S stands for squats then like, wouldn't B and D also be something to do with working out? Yeah? Totally, that makes sense. But like, what else is there? What other... huh... shirt is getting kinda tight too. And fuck, you can't help but notice how warm your chest feels. Nice and warm, pressing more and more against the fabric of your shirt. Stretching it out against your big, meaty...

"Bench press, brah! B stands for bench press!" You say with a grin as your shirt starts to tear away, revealing a set of massive pecs and a chiseled torso, "Huh where'd my shirt go?" The audience cheers and you grin, staring down as you bounce your pecs.

"Excellent job, but unfortunately, you didn't finish. You missed D, you big dunce."

The host laughs, and you laugh along with him and the audience. Big dunce. Yeah that's... that's you? You pause for a second and start to feel that same embarrassment from earlier. They're laughing... not with you, but...

"Dude, can't win em all!" Zak slaps you on your increasingly wider back and you turn to him- now at eye-level, "But like, brah, you've got this next one!"

"Y-y-you th-think so.... brah?" Your tongue feels heavy, the words feel sluggish. You notice your voice sounds deeper to your ears, "I..."

"You have to focus there, smartypants!" The host interrupts, "Two more questions. Are you ready?" You nod slowly, "In a deadlift, how high are you supposed to lift the barbell before lowering it?"

"Deadlift..." Your eyes light up suddenly, "Wait, bro! The D! That's what D stands for, brah!" You say excitedly.

The whole audience laughs, as does the host. You look at him, feeling a strange sense of confusion bubbling up. Why were they laughing? What was so funny?

"Good job there, but that was the last question. We've moved on, big guy."

"Oh..." You chuckle, a grin forming on your lips as you let out a deep, dumb laugh, "Huhuhuh that was pretty stupid of me." The audience and the host laugh even louder, and you find yourself joining in, "Alright, gotta lock in, gotta... brah what was the question?"

"Dead lifts..."

"Oh fuck yeah! I fuckin' love deadlifts."

The host grins, "Yes, exactly! So tell us, when doing a deadlift, how high do you lift the barbell before lowering it?"

"Yeah... uh..." You bite your lip, thinking hard. Your fingers drum against your swollen bicep as you try to concentrate and with a sigh, lift your hands behind your head, "Oh nice..."

Your eyes lock on to your bulging bis and tris and you're momentarily distracted. But the sharp tang of your own musk drifts up from your armpits, momentarily derailing your train of thought. Fuck, you smell good. Really fucking good. But since when did you...?

"Brah, c'mon you got this." Zak says, watching you closely.

You shake your head and run a hand through your perfectly gelled, styled hair, before pausing- fuck your aesthetic is probably cooked. You awkwardly pat at your hair.

"Worry about your hair later, you've got a question to answer." The host says.

"Fuck, sorry..." You let out an awkward chuckle, "Just gotta..."

Your body moves instinctively into the proper deadlift position—back straight, knees slightly bent, hips pushed back—as if you've done this 1000s of times before. As you demonstrate the form flawlessly, a new awareness floods your lower body. Your glutes feel… alive. Heavy. Round. Perfect. You grin as you squeeze them unconsciously, feeling the dense muscle fibers contract.

"The answer is hips, bro."

"Let's fuckin' go, brah!" Zak cheers and slaps you on the ass, sending a wave of intense pleasure reverberating through your meaty glutes.

As the crowd cheers, your eyes lock on Zak. The pleasure from him slapping your ass still making you shudder. You drink him in, fixated on the prominent bulge straining against his gym shorts.

"Fuck..." You mumble- he's packing serious heat there.

Your mouth waters involuntarily as fantasies flood your mind- Zak pinning you down, those huge hands squeezing your meaty ass while he drives his massive cock deep inside you. The image of you riding his thick cock sends shivers down your growing frame, and you imagine running your tongue over every inch of his sweat-slick skin. You lick your lips and grin at the thought.

When your eyes meet again, Zak doesn't look away. Instead, his smirk widens as he catches you staring, and the few brain cells he has recognize exactly what you’re thinking. He flexes for the audience, but he turns to give you a quick wink, letting you know all that flexing was just for you... because he wants you to know he wants you too. After all, you know there's not way he could resist you either. With your... bulging pecs? Massive arms? Thick glutes?

"Wait..." You mumble. You can feel the rusting gears in your increasingly empty head turn ever so slightly, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth.

Your head was spinning, brain trying to make sense of all of it.

Something’s off, right? Like... this ain’t how it used to be. You know that. You weren’t… this. But then... what were you then, dude? Cause, like, look at you. Seriously... just look. You’re absolutely shredded. I mean, c’mon, those arms? That chest? You don’t just wake up lookin’ this jacked without bein’… well, this guy. So how could you not be you if you straight-up look like you? Right?

A dumb chuckle escapes your lips as all that thinking overwhelms and shuts down whatever last remaining brain cells you have.

The host snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your haze. "Earth to bro, we still got one question."

"Huh? Wha-" You blink slowly, your expression vacant and slack. Drool slips down your chin as you stare blankly ahead.

"Are you smarter than a himbo?" The host grins.

"Nawww, bro, 'course not!" You reply with a big, dumb grin spreading across your face, "Can't be smarter than a himbo cuz… I AM the fuckin' himbo, bro!"

The host laughs, shaking his head, "Well folks, I guess that settles it! Looks like we've got ourselves a new resident himbo to take Zak's place. Give it up for… COLT!"

The audience erupts into cheers and applause as you beam proudly, basking in the spotlight. You feel Zak sling a muscular arm around your broad shoulders, squeezing you close.

"Dude, so fuckin' glad you're joinin' the fam, bro!" Zak enthuses, his hand drifting lower to grope your ass possessively, "Trust me bro, you're gonna love it."

Zak's strong grip on your juicy ass makes you shudder and you can tell by that grin that he's thinking exactly what you're thinking.

The host clears his throat loudly, snapping you out of your lustful stupor. "Don't forget to wave to the crowd, champ!" He gestures encouragingly towards the audience.

With a dopey grin, you raise a hand in greeting, relishing the adoration pouring in from all sides.

"Thanks y'all, this is gonna be fuckin' sick!" You call out enthusiastically, grinning like an idiot.

And as Zak digs his fingers into your massive ass, you lick your lips hungrily. The only thought in your empty head was that once this show was over, you'd be giving him a private encore performance that neither of you would forget…

You can find most of the stories on this site. As for the missing parts, you may find them on my blog.

You can find most of the stories on this site. As for the missing parts, you may find them on my blog.

“I heard you got your Christmas bonus Bill,” Dave said as he looked over to his smiling coworker from his seat.

Bill took a moment from rubbing his ass and held his hands out, “Hey, what do you expect from one of the hardest workers here.”

“Oh please. We all know The Boss has the hardest work ethic of all.” He chuckled before rubbing his head. Both men were hit with a headache. 

“You got a headache too Devin?” The sitting man looked up to see Bill in his skin tight clothing.

“Yeah. It’s gone now though. Anyway, I think the whole building heard you get your Christmas bonus, Will. Who knew you could make so much noise while sucking cock.”

The youthful Will smiled, “Hey you gotta have fun with it when you get rewarded. I’m so happy I got picked to be his date to the corporate Christmas party out of all the hot guys here.”

The man now called Devin had to laugh, “There are only hot guys here. Too bad we are all bottoms.”

“Yeah. What are the chances we end up at an all gay company with a hunky boss and all our coworkers are bottoms.”

Evolution of a trophy boy: 1) You sure you don’t mind giving your intern a ride back to the dorm boss? Doesn’t the CEO have … sweet ride! A Bentley? Wow! Sure, I don’t mind if we stop off at your place first…man, you eyes are intense…stay for a drink? But I just finished my Snapple…yes a drink…dinner…follow your words…you have great ideas…ideas about my style…yes I want to fit in at your office…you have ideas about how to look better…yes, I want to look perfect so I can fit in better…yes sir…oh man your eyes…

2) Yes sir, I’m in the Bentley on the speaker phone. Yes, I just left the salon…Yes, the way you suggested it… yeah super preppy…looks great with my new Prada shades you got me … yea they said they’d charge your card on file…. yea got a manicure and facial too… everything you told them to do….yea, I’m on the way to meet my soon to be ex. Yea I know he’s pissed I’ve been out of touch these last two weeks since that first time I slept over your place… you sure you don’t want me to come in to the office today? I haven’t been in since we first slept together…oh yea, I have to go visit the dr for my therapy… yea I can’t miss my weekly appointment. Thank you for suggesting I see him…he’s helping me see clearly…yea I’m a good boy… yes……I’m a…Preppy trophy…I get so hard when you say that…yea…yes sir…listen to my therapist…obey …break up with loser model boyfriend…yes, I really want to be your trophy… I only want your powerful rich man cum in their bum…yes…sir…. when you get home can I try on your Rolex again? I love to look in your eyes when you make me wear it… yes… I’m I good preppy trophy …

3) Hi Daddy… yea on speaker…just left the therapist…these last three months with him have been great…twice a week…he says hi…he said he got your email whatever that means….yea on my way to do my errands…gym, then salon, then get your dry cleaning…then back home to get ready for you…yea…always horny when I talk to you you know that…daddy can I ask you a question…the dr said I should ask you for things I want… well…During the session I just remembered how much I hate my name. Greg. Bleh. It’s so normal. Can you pick out a new name? … you have one in mind? …Gideon? Fuck! I feel so fucking sexy. Gideon…when you say it….man…So fucking greedy for your seed daddy… yes Gideon…greedy trophy….greedy whore….yea I’m listening…yes …Gideon loves to be obedient… Greedy Gideon…. only wants spoiled life… be whore to get it… Gideon will sign any papers to get everything… yea I want to ride you so hard

Ulysses knew there was something weird when that old woman gave him a bath bomb. And now here he was naked, way bigger than his tub.

She didn’t even seem to get what the concept of a bath bomb or even self-care was for that matter. Ulysses…was his name even Ulysses before he got in the tub? Regardless, he told her he was trying to make his life better by improving it in increments. She said, "Bah, who wants to wait, make your life better now,” and shoved the bomb in his hands.

Ulysses tossed that teal ball in the tub and watched it bubble away with a sizzle. However, though it dissolved, the water never stopped bubbling. The sizzling turned into a gurgle as the water boiled like a cauldron. A sane person would have left, but Ulysses found himself getting tired. He looked in the water and saw memories of all the surfer dudes he met in the past. They were happy ones, sexy ones. Water clinging to bodies. Warm sand against feet. The crash of the ocean. Ulysses slumped over, eyes closed, but not unaware. He could feel and hear everything. His body sinking beneath the water. The old woman laughed from above as she inserted a giant spoon into his tub, stirring. He got mixed in with the memories, each one soaking into his body as it underwent a rapid change. A prior meeting became memorialized on his body as muscle. A crush bent into height. And pure sexual desire dropped into his ass and balls. His face absorbed and learned from them all, turning him into something more.

He woke up, legs hanging out the tub, water drained, body dry. He stumbled out, apologizing to his own reflection before realizing the man was him. He was still there 20 mins later when he realized none of his clothes fit now. He also couldn’t order them online because he’d still have to walk downstairs with his bare ass out.

Dorian was on his way home from work with a pit in his stomach. Unfortunately, there weren't any traffic jams, so it seemed Dorian would have to face his boyfriend without delay.

Dorian and Patrick loved each other more than anything, but somewhere along the way, the sexual spark had started to fade. To Dorian, this was fine, but Patrick's libido was much higher. Dorian agreed to an open relationship, but Patrick always said he wanted Dorian more than anyone else. To try and reignite the spark, they made Wednesdays their sex day — and ever since, Dorian dreaded going home on Wednesdays.

As expected, Dorian got home right on time. As he opened the door, the usual smells from the kitchen were already missing. Patrick always made the most delicious meals for them both. Today, no noise came from the kitchen.

As Dorian walked towards the kitchen, he heard some murmuring from upstairs. When he arrived in their bedroom, Dorian saw a behemoth of a man standing next to their bed.

Bodybuilder & Broscience Based Lifter Paul DiDonato.