Sans titre

Jax was about to have his very first one-night stand, and it was going to be with two pornstars. 

Just an hour ago Jax had been flaunting his twinky physique at the clubs. With a group of his friends, he had been making waves along one of the city’s most prominent strips. This was mainly due to his flirtatious attitude and newfound sense of freedom, after having been dumped by his boyfriend only a week before. The two had been going at it for almost a year, but after six days of grieving Jax was ready to be reborn. With a glittery crop top and tight black jeans, Jax was to have fun.

The night had luckily provided him with what he needed. Jax’s typical shy, romantic personality was ditched after a few shots of tequila, instead adopting a more flamboyant, slutty nature. Jax rubbed his body against any male figure he could, no matter how attractive. He was feeling easy and sleazy, a look that suited his 5’5 lithe frame quite well. His friends even commented on it, encouraging him to embrace his more feral side. And they were the ones who encouraged him to go home with Malik and Martin.

The pair had bumped into him on the dancefloor. Jax had first started grinding his perky bum up against Malik, the shorter and tanner of the two. Martin approached shortly after, sandwiching Jax in between their bodies. Both well over six feet, Jax melted into himself, the pure walls of masculine meat like heaven. His own meat, a solid 4 inches, displayed his ecstasy. He quivered as he realized the two massive sausages poking at either end of his exposed torso were not even hard yet.

“How about you come home vith us,” Martin requested in a slightly accented English.

“Yes,” Malik agreed, his English notably rougher. “Ve give you good time.”

After a confirming nod with his friends, Jax left with the pair. They rented a house that even in the night appeared desperate for some renovations. Jax’s heart was pounding as he entered the home, trying his best to disregard the unkempt space. The place reeked of sour food and musky men, each floor painted with an array of unwashed clothes and unknown stains. And he would not even try to discuss their intellects–Jax was not that picky but he at least wanted a guy who could hold a conversation. Yet he reminded himself that he was here for one good time, not a relationship of many.

“Let’s see vat ve are vorking vith,” Malik chuckled, helping Jax remove his small shirt. His pale, beautifully thin torso often led others to assume he was years younger than his actual age of 22.

“Ah yes,” Martin began rubbing one of his thick mitts along Jax’s bare skin, examining him. He had removed his own shirt to reveal two sculpted pecs and a muscular build gifted by the gods. “Zis vill do nicely.”

Malik smiled, “I agree, big money.” Malik’s own revealed torso was just as marvelous.

“This is insane,” Jax replied giddily. “You two are built like pornstars.”

The pair looked at each other before laughing, “Zat is because ve are.”

Jax gulped, “Really? What site do you guys work for?”

“StraightShot” Malik said. “Have you heard of it?”

Jax nodded slowly. He had never actually seen any videos from the site, but he was familiar with the name. He remembered thinking it was clever, assuming it to be some joke on forceful ejaculation.

Martin noted the concern in Jax’s face. “Do not vorry, ve are both clean.”

“Yes, very clean,” Malik added. “Very talented too.”

Jax began to feel the downward slide of his adrenaline, the logic and doubt he had tried so desperately to force back seeping in. 

“If you are vorried, ve can give you aid for fun.” Malik suddenly voiced, extending a hand slowly to cup Jax’s bulge. Instantly, his softening cock began expanding once again.

“‘Aid’?” Jax questioned.

“It is vat producers give if we have off day, are nervous,” Martin answered. “Vould you like some?”

Before he could answer, Malik dug the hand fondling Jax's dick up and into his skinny jeans, his rough calluses completely rubbing erotically against Jax's skin. Jax moaned a little in response, rolling back his eyes as Martin opened a drawer beneath the sink in front of them. Inside was a stack of syringes, each filled with a hazy white liquid.

“W…wait,” the sight momentarily broke Jax out of his glazed state. “What is that?”

“Do not fear,” Malik cooed, tightening his grip on Jax’s shoulder and dick. Martin's giant hand landed on Jax’s shoulder, their combined strength suspending him.

“Guys?” Jax’s voice cracked nervously. “What is going on?!”

“Just relax,” Martin notched the cap off of a syringe. “Zis vill take one second.”

“No, wait, I don’t consent-!”

In a flurry of action, Malik yanked Jax’s dick out of the tight jeans while ripping down his jeans with the other hand. With Jax held still, Martin jabbed the syringe into Jax's hard dick and slowly released the milky liquid. The pain was incredible, paralyzing Jax until the last drop had entered his system. Once he was finished, Martin slowly removed the needle and tossed the syringe aside. The pair then released Jax, watching carefully as he collected himself.

“What the…” Jax started slowly. “What did you do to me? What was that?”

“Zat vas ze Straight Shot,” Malik answered. 

“The what?”

“Ze Straight Shot,” Martin over-emphasized each word dramatically as if Jax did not understand what they were literally saying. 

Jax backed out of the bathroom naked and in disbelief, the two carefully following. The muscles Jax had previously wished to be wrapped up and tangled in were now frightening to his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Malik and Martin did not know how exactly to respond, and luckily, they did not have to. With a groan, Jax felt his dick stiffen up again. Unlike before however, his boner was more intense, more demanding. It was so stiff and rigid that Jax could have sworn it was bigger. It globbed out a spurt of precum, and to Jax’s shock, his dick grew. The previous 4 inches had plumped up into to 5.

“What the-” but Jax did not finish his statement. He groaned again as another drop oozed out of his head. Only this time, the growth did not only come from his dick. Slowly, his bones creaked and extended as his height was altered. His legs were stretched out, torso lengthened, and even his midsection was vertically pulled. More precum began pulling out, only fueling Jax’s ascent until he reached Martin’s height, a glorious 6’5.

Jax’s height was not the only thing affected by the steady trickling leaking from his current 6-incher. Across his body, Jax’s skin began to inflate, as if filling with cotton. At first, Jax thought it could be some temporary allergic reaction, but after some painful recognition he realized it was quite the opposite.

Jax's thin frame was bulking out with muscle rapidly. It was granting him biceps the size of footballs and quadriceps the size of watermelons. Calves with steel tendons, triceps carved by intricate valleys, gigantic hands built for cupping gigantic pouches. Even his buttocks had discovered a new harder, tighter curve. In the back of Jax’s mind, he reckoned it would be harder to bottom now.

Another groan showcased Jax’s new voice: a deeper, gruffer tone. It made him sound much older, his vocal color introducing him as a more experienced person. Through the agony of his transformation, Jax realized his voice was not the only thing that aged. His body proportioned itself differently–a more even distribution of his muscle mass, tighter skin, a sharper jaw that was covered quickly by a luxurious beard. 

Body hair instantly followed, dusting Jax’s pecs, pits, and coating his legs all the way down to his new monstrous Size 15 feet. The skin around his face grew a little taut, plumping out his longer nose and larger brow. With one hand on his 7-inch pump, Jax ran his other giant mitt through his taller, lusher quiff, just barely feeling the new age lines upon his forehead. No one would ever assume he was younger than 22 again.

“You are almost zere, brother,” Martin cheered.

“Yes, so very close,” Malik encouraged. “Ze viewers will love zis, love you.”

“‘Ze viewers’?” Jax questioned, his rich bass now also tainted with their same accent. “Vat you mean by zis?”

Jax followed Malik’s and Martin’s eyes, discovering a phone had been propped up onto a stand to his right the entire time. Its screen mirrored himself back. His entirely new, muscular, naked frame was currently gracing the audience of their livestream. And according to StraightShot's numbers, the audience had just hit four digits.

“I am being live streamed?”

“And later, your video vill be published on our channel,” Martin grinned. 

Malik added, “You vill join our content house.”

“But vat if-'' Jax grunted, thrusting his hips forward. “Vat if I don’t want zis? I liked being tvink!”

“‘Tvink’?” Malik questioned, as if Jax had just spoken a foreign language. Jax stared at Martin for help, but was met with the same dumbfounded expression. That was what he was, or at least what he had been. Any gay man should have known what a twink was.

Jax blinked. Even through the pain, the unwanted ecstasy, and the fear, he now began to fully grasp the scene before him. StraightShot was not some pun on ejaculation, it was a literal conversion drug. And the signs had been there all along. Malik and Martin's continuously soft cocks, their inspection of his body, their unfamiliarity with queer terms.

“Does zat mean…” Jax moaned, his 8-inch dick throbbing and quivering. “...you two…you two are straight?”

The pair chuckled, with Martin replying, “And you vill be too.”

Jax’s heart skipped a beat, the rush of despair clouding his judgment. He did not even recognize his guard faltering, lowering just enough for the ecstasy to completely override his system.

“Oh god,” Jax tried to protest in agony, but he had already lost. Both of his hands were working him towards release, one pumping his long, girthy cock and the other cupping the succulent, drooping sac that had already removed all of its former homosexual occupants. Jax held himself for just a moment before releasing his head back, the pleasure overpowering his will. 

"ICH KOMME!" The roar was that of a mighty manly beast, accompanied by hot, sticky cum. After a few labored breaths, the new man settled back into reality.

The young, romantic, little gayboy Jax was gone, now splattered across the room and even partially onto the phone in front of him. Malik, Martin, and their subscribers were now presented with Maximillian. Bolstering 32 years, 200 pounds of pure muscle, and 9 inches of pure heterosexual meat, the newest member of Malik’s and Martin’s content page was bound to rack up views and money.

Maximilian’s memory of his past and transformation had been erased, along with a notable chunk of his intelligence. Now lacking the certain motor skills he had once looked for in a partner, he simply began to flex for his fans in front of the camera, still covered in sweat and the afterglow.

“Hey,” Malik whispered eventually, breaking Maximilian out of his mindless haze. “Time to sign off.”

“Vat?” Maximilian growled. “Zey love me.”

Martin winked, “Zink of ze slutty babes zat vill love you more.”

To the delight of his viewers, Maximilian’s massive dick instantly sprung up. To their dismay however, he grabbed a pair of tight black undies and covered his package. Flexing one last time, he confirmed his departure quickly with the pair before addressing his audience.

“It is time to go,” Maximilian remarked matter-of-factually. “I’ve got to StraightShot into some chicks!”

Hey everyone!

First of all, a massive thank you to all of you who read my stories, reblog my posts, and leave love in the notes. This community has been incredibly welcoming to my world of male transformations.

Bringing these specific, vivid fantasies to life takes a lot of hours of plotting, writing, and fine-tuning prompts to get the visuals just right.

If you love what I do and want to help me keep the creative juices flowing, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi!

👉 Support raxero-malemetamorph on Ko-fi! 👈

No pressure at all—reading, liking, and reblogging my work is already an amazing way to support me. But if you have a few bucks to spare and want to buy me a coffee, it would absolutely make my day.

Let’s keep pushing the boundaries of the male form together.

When your lanky roommate came home from his job at the research facility, he boasted about some brand-new finished product that he had spent months developing. You hadn’t really given it much thought. Of course, you were thrilled that he had finished his work on this supposed new product that was going to “revolutionize the world,” in his words, but it sounded like the same sort of thing he had been saying every day. Still, you weren’t going to rain on your roommate’s parade, especially when he was thrumming at the idea of “moving on to human subjects” and mentioning under his breath that he might be the “lucky one to test it out.”

Out of curiosity, you had asked him what his project was about. He had pulled out his phone to show you a company-directed video about the “Male-tamorphosis Drug,” a new initiative designed to help combat male baldness, muscle atrophy, erectile dysfunction, and all sorts of other medical conditions. From the way your roommate was brimming with excitement, and from the computer-generated graphics showcasing a skinny man bulking up with muscles as though he had spent years pumping iron at the gym, you made the reasonable guess that the drug had far more use than what the video talked about.

So when your roommate said he was going to step out for the evening to grab dinner and some drinks with his co-workers to celebrate their new success, you found yourself sneaking into his bedroom and eyeing the small, medicine-like container placed in the center of his desk. It felt as though the drug had been set out for you, practically inviting you in to try it out yourself. As you picked up the container, the small, singular pill inside clinked against the plastic edges, barely illuminated by the warm light from the lamp.

Popping off the cap, you peered inside and dumped the singular pill onto the palm of your hand. It looked like candy, a light-brown pill that could easily be mistaken for an M&M. In fact, the more you convinced yourself that it was just candy, the easier you felt yourself being swayed that this completely untested, unfamiliar drug was fine to take. The rational, logical side of you knew that this was a complete mistake, for several reasons. First, it was completely experimental, and who knew what side effects might result from this magical creation. And of course, there was the fact that you were practically stealing from your roommate. This wasn’t yours to take, and he definitely hadn’t given his permission for you to come in and try out the product of his hard work.

But the glint of light shining off the smooth, brown pill was all it took for you to pop it into your mouth, and you quickly swallowed it down with very little time to regret your decision. The pill had a surprisingly sweet taste, almost like rich, velvety chocolate. If your roommate found out about what you did, there was no way he was going to forgive you. Perhaps he could at least be willing to understand if you came clean about swallowing up his lifelong work. Panic sank in at the thought of him walking in on you and catching you after what you had done. Since there was still some time before he would be back from dinner, you quickly began to make sure that everything was in the right place just as you had seen it. It was better to leave no trace of your crime in his room and deal with the consequences afterward, if he suspected you.

Tucking the empty medicine container into your pocket, you began making your way out of the room so you could retreat to the privacy of your own space. You planned to just play video games or watch some TV for the rest of the night, hoping that it would be a simple enough alibi for your roommate not to notice anything. But as you made your way back toward the doorway, your eyes caught a glimpse of yourself in the full-length body mirror in the corner. You would have normally hurried past, but something in your reflection seemed to catch your eye.

​You stared at yourself with a raised brow, carefully rubbing at your jawline with a curious expression. The person in the mirror followed your movements, and it certainly looked like you, but something felt… off. Stepping closer to the mirror, you leaned in to examine the reflection. When was the last time you had facial hair? And a jawline that looked like it could cut through a diamond? Your mouth started to open in surprise, only gasping to yourself as the light and sparse patches of hair quickly unfurled into a thick and dense forest of jet black hair, creating an itchy sensation over your cheeks and upper lip. The reflection had a full-on beard, something that you could never have achieved in your lifetime, no matter how much you had dreamed of it. While the dark hair looked a bit out of place in contrast to the rest of your body, your fingers were too busy exploring the dense stubble that pricked at your fingertips.

“Whoa… it really works!” you whispered softly to yourself, turning your head to the sides to marvel at the beard. Amid your surprise and admiration, you watched as your reflections shifted once more. Like a pulse of energy running through the rest of your body, your hair and eyebrows darkened to the same pitch-black, until your face matched. Marveling at your new changes, you were quickly distracted by the sudden stretching and ripping sound coming from the rest of your body. A quick glance down at yourself confirmed the strange noise, with your clothes bursting and fluttering down around you in ripped tatters. The scraps of fabric barely clung to your body as you swelled up, much like a balloon becoming filled with air.

But there was nothing soft about you anymore. Pounds of thick, meaty muscle bubbled up from your skin, drawing it tight like a leather suit over mounds of pure beef. You continued to stare as a light dusting of dark hair covered the rest of your body, leaving you standing in your roommate’s room with a ripped body and even more ripped clothes. Turning your head to the side as you raised one of your beefy biceps up for a flex, you caught a strong whiff of your musk, trapped underneath a freshly damp mat of armpit hair. Rank with your sweat, your eyes rolled back at the thick smell of a man who spent most of his time building up his body.

The smell must have done wonders for you, though, as your head began to empty and clear itself of any thoughts beyond lifting and bulking up. All the things you used to know before, the knowledge you had from school, the experience you had from your job, quickly seeped out of your brain and traveled down to your cock. With each passing second, the last remaining strips of clothing, desperately trying to grant you some modesty, were quickly being pushed aside. Your formerly modest cock and balls were quickly swelling up to something of enviable proportions, and even you knew, in your half-addled, gooned-out state of mind, that no matter what sort of shorts or pants you put on, a sizeable bulge was going to be pressed tight against the fabric.

Reaching down to feel up your heavy cock as it slapped against your tree-trunk-like thighs, you used both hands to pump and stroke it slowly. Each pull drew out a long, low rumble from your heaving chest, your swelling pecs bouncing as you found a nice, steady rhythm to pleasure yourself to. Droplets of precum began to slip out from your cock slit, splattering onto your roommate’s bedroom floor. You marveled at the sight of yourself in the mirror, flexing and posing your newly gained muscles with each pump. The sensual mirror display you were putting on left you distracted as your skin began to darken, revealing a healthy tan beneath the coating of dark hair. Years spent indoors, sitting at a desk in front of a screen, were quickly replaced by years of farm and fieldwork. Memories of the blazing sun beating down on your broad back and bulky shoulders left you working up a sweat, and your tongue slipped out from your lips as you touched your sweat- and oil-slicked body.

You were too distracted by the new changes to hear your roommate close the front door. All that was on your mind was hitting that moment of pure ecstasy and climax, and the impending orgasm was starting to build in your loins. Your deep, throaty moans covered up the sounds of footsteps approaching the bedroom door, and it wasn’t until you heard the sharp exclamation of surprise that you glanced over to greet your dorky roommate.

“What the fuck, man?! What the hell are you doing in my room? Who the hell are you?!”

That seemed like such a dumb question to you, especially when your roommate was supposed to be the smart one between the two of you. It was the whole reason you opted to stay with a nerd like him. He made good money to help pay the rent, and you always left the boring logistical stuff to him. People typically did things for you as a favor just to catch a whiff of your scent or a sly grope of your bouncing pecs, and you were happy to oblige so long as you didn’t have to deal with all that boring smart people shit. You flashed a toothy grin at the smaller man as your face contorted into a doped-out, pleasured expression.

“O-Oh, fuck, bro. Why’d you gotta walk in on your roomie like that? I’m fuckin’— so fuckin’ close, man!”

The sharp yell of pleasure was the only warning your roommate got before you unleashed your full, pent-up load. It had been days since you really got yourself off, so your cum shot out with a high and forceful arc. Spouting out from your throbbing, veiny pole, the white ambrosia landed over the other man’s shirt, leaving a nice, healthy splatter that began to seep into the fabric. If neither of you knew any better, it practically looked like he had spilled a full cup of milk over himself.

“What the…? What the fuck?! Get the hell out of my room! This is so disgusting, how can you– Why are you—”

You stared at the shrimpy man as he floundered with his words. The angered expression on his dorky face began to morph from disgust into curiosity with a hint of arousal. Judging by the small tent in his pants, it wasn’t surprising to you that he was attracted to a beefcake like yourself. You smirked as you sauntered over, leaving your naked Arab body on full display for him. His eyes seemed to glaze over the closer you got, and his nose seemed to tilt down towards the cum-splatter on his shirt.

“Smells…. so good…” the lanky nerd mumbled as he stumbled forward, landing on his knees so that he was eye-level with your dripping cock. Grinning as you took in the dazed expression on his face, you gripped the base of your cock and smeared some of your leftover cum over his lips, making sure to coat it with your spent seed. “Tastes… like chocolate, man…” he mumbled softly.

You placed one of your hairy mitts on the back of his head, carefully guiding his mouth forward until his pretty, pink lips were wrapping around the fat head of your cock. “I know, right? Tastes amazing, bro. You really outdid yourself this time,” you chuckled dumbly as you let your eyes flutter shut at the warm and wet sensation of his throat. Bucking your hips forward a bit, you made sure to slide in a few extra inches until your nerdy boytoy was spluttering with saliva and your cum dribbling down the corners of his mouth. “You always know how to help me feel good after a good pump sesh, man. Love havin’ you around to help a bro out.

As both of you lost yourselves to the dizzying pleasure of arousal and orgasmic bliss, neither of you noticed the patches of hair starting to grow on your roommate’s chin, or the roots of his hair darkening to an inky-black color. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, a glimpse of a shadow as he swallowed up every last droplet of your cum. But you were too far gone to care about all that big thinking stuff anyway. Best leave that for those smart people at the lab.

Un año desde que mi esposo Liam falleció hace un año, he tomado un largo tiempo de luto por él. Pero creo que después de un año, es momento de buscar una nueva relación, ya me sentia muy solitario yo solo en la casa y quería a alguien idóneo con quien compartir mi vida.

Fue ahí cuando conocí a Maxivillion, empezamos a salir pocos días, y cada vez que salíamos estaba más seguro que el era el hombre idóneo con quién quiero vivir el resto de mi existencia. Tras algunas experiencias juntos, lo invite a mi casa para que saltemos al siguiente paso de nuestra relación.

Solo había una pequeña cuestión que debía cumplir, cuando el se distrajo, saque un dardo tranquilizador y se lo clavé en el hombre por detrás, el ni pudo reaccionar para saber que pasaba, solo se desplomó en el suelo.

Con eso listo, llamé al espiritu de mi difunto esposo quién apareció rápidamente. Verán, nunca estuve solo, siempre me acompaño el fantasma de Liam, pero después de un año, ambos sentimos que era momento de que yo tuviera una pareja con cuerpo real en mi vida, pero esa persona estaría poseída por Liam.

Por lo tanto, ahora el fantasma de mi esposo se acostó sobre el cuerpo inconsciente de Maxivillion y se apropió de él. Liam ya dentro, recuperó la consciencia y se levantó un poco desorientado al tener un cuerpo nuevamente. Luego se me quedó mirando fijamente y me dijo que sus ojos estaban ahí arriba, ¡rayos!, se dió cuenta que no podía parar de fijarme en su miembro recto de abajo.

Le pregunté a mi marido como le gustaría que lo llamara apartir de ahora, ¿le seguia diciendo Liam o mejor Maxivillion?. El me contestó que mejor me dirigiera a él como Maxi, porque había que honrar su nombre.

Mi esposo Maxi, no paraba de estar maravillado con su actualizado físico, jamás se habia encontrado tanto en buen forma y siempre quiso experimentar ser un hombre pelirrojo.

Ya finalmente podemos vivir juntos nuevamente en nuestra casa en donde hemos vivido felizmente.

¿Para que hacer años de entrenamiento?, si fácilmente puedo llegar a mi primer día de gimnasio y puedo poseer al tipo más fuerte del lugar.

Así lo hice con Mike, de todos los hombres del gym, el destacaba por su gran tamaño y fornido cuerpo varonil. Con solo verlo supe que lo tenía que poseer lo más rápido posible, y así fue...

Mira lo grande que soy ahora.

Siento todo su poder y me siento tan dominante, en un día me convertí en el tipo más fuerte del lugar, con un solo golpe puedo derrotar a quien yo quiera.

Maldita sea, mira como se mueven estas nenas, son monstruosas.

Oppss...

Creo que derrame un poco de semen de la emoción en mis calzones, creo que es hora de cambiar estos viejos trapos blancos por unos formales calzoncillos negros. No importa si muestro mis nalgas en público, nadie se puede meter conmigo y otros solo se quedaron hipnotizados ante el movimiento de mis nalgas.

Mejor también me doy un baño dentro del gym, este cuerpo apesta a cerdo, escucho ruidos desde afuera, era un bastardo gay curioso tratando de verme. Abrí la puerta y el se quedó boca abierto al verme, las gotas del agua bajaban por mis pectorales y todos mis músculos, jale al chico homosexual hacia dentro de mi regadera, lo bese y le metí mi vergota en su culo pequeño, el chico no paraba de gemir, entonces le metí mi mano en su boca para que se callara.

Terminamos y dejé al pobre curioso en la regadera lleno de cum en todo su pequeño cuerpo, creo que le gustó.

Ahora ya hice mi cardio, es momento de seguir con mi rutina de gimnasio, debo aprovechar la mensualidad que acabo de pagar al máximo.

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Extra.... opss

I am a witch, magic has been in my family for generations, and I wield it responsibly. Well mostly responsibly, sometimes I like to use it to fix small problems. But today I'm making my sweet, kind, and boring roommate Michael into the perfect manly man for me to boss around and use to my own amusement. He's ok, he's never pissed me off or anything but I just know I could make him better, and besides I deserve to have a little fun right?

First step is I use a simple spell to make his mind ready for the changes, he's far too meek, and really needs some confidence. I like a guy who knows what he wants.

"You are a MAN, you want to be strong and love getting all sweaty at the gym. You love getting all swole and having me worship your body"

"I wha... I'm...strong..manly"

Perfect, he's going to be so much better. I can't wait to play with my new toy, every inch of him, now to make his body match. To make such large physical changes I need a physical item, so I bound the spell to something he could drink

"what's going on I was just.."

"Hey here you should drink this, I made it just for you hehe"

"Oh a protein shake? thanks bro, good looking out I been needing to hit the weights"

As he drank it up, his body began to change as a little muscle started to form, that would take the longest to set in. A sexy but still thin mustache started to grow on his lip, it's working just as I wanted!

After finishing it, he stood up with a loud belch and grabbed his car keys

"All right gym time! That tasted great, you should make me one before I go workout haha"

"I just might, maybe if you send me a pic or two"

I couldn't hide my smile as he left to go finish the spell's work on himself. He was gonna come back as my absolute dream man, big hairy and unstoppably strong. After a few hours, Michael sends me a video of him lifting weights, covered in sweat my magic had completely changed him. He now had huge muscles that were growing with every rep and a thick luxurious mustache that made me horny as hell.

"47....48....49.."

He stopped and winked at the camera, making me blush. Damn I knew he'd look good. When he got back I made sure to enjoy my new creation as he was talking about his new gym bro friends or something, I was lost in heaven. His body grew more hairy and stronger, so I wasn't really listening to him talk about masculinity and strong values or something.

"They were telling me, we need to put this country back together, showed me some dope podcasts that made great arguments. Alpha men need to be in charge, we lead the weak."

"uh-huh...yeah...God you smell amazing"

My head started to get foggy, like I couldn't think straight. Whats happening?

"That's because you're learning your place. You know you belong below a real man, fags like you need to give in and worship us."

This wasn't right, my spell should make me in charge of him! How is he doing this?!

"N-No I'm in control...your...my.."

"I'm your King! I take what I want! I got some new stuff to make this place a little more my style, and if you got a problem with that then I'll make sure we fix that."

He forced my face into his warm, musky pit as he stood up and dragged me across the room to his gym bag. Pulling out a trump flag and some maga hats he made me hang them up for him. Something in me wouldn't disobey, and after I got done I tried to speak, maybe I could get control over my spell again.

"Stop, this isn't you! I'm sorry I shouldn't have changed you, I'll fix this!"

"Shut up. I'm perfect, and you need to listen to your Alpha. Magic works for those with a strong will, and now mine is greater than yours. A little bitch like you don't deserve that power."

How does he know about any of that? Did he hijack my spell? Before I could react he grabbed me and tossed me on the floor, holding me to the ground and my mouth shut with his foot. I suppose he really is unstoppable now.

"You wanted a man who makes you worship his body, time to worship fag. See why should a pathetic loser like you have that kinda magic, if you're mine then that power is mine too"

"please...don't do this Michael mmph"

He shoved his foot in my mouth as the scent, the taste started to overwhelm me. I felt my willpower falter as my magic drained from me to him. His musk had become the catalyst for his spell to make me his subservient fag slave and I didn't even notice, I'm such a idiot.

Weeks Later

I was cleaning the apartment just as I've been ordered too, he has me take care of all the chores now. Laughs at me while I sweep up his messes in sometimes nothing but the small chasity cage he made me buy. My, daily fag duties as he calls them, were interrupted by a text from his contact now labeled as Master. He sent me a picture with the short message -

"Have dinner ready for your Alpha by 7 and maybe I'll let you get a taste tonight"

I make sure the room is nice and tidy, work on dinner, high protein of course just as he told me to. And just as I finish I hear his car pull up and I get into position, kneeling with my head down facing the door, ready to greet him like a dog.

"Welcome home Master, your dinner is ready and waiting on the table"

"Good bitch, I'm almost proud. Looks like you been keeping the place in order too, here I'll let you have a small taste before tonight. After I eat I'll let you get some more while I watch some TV."

He pops a shoe off and removes the soaked sock, lifting the hot sweaty foot to my face. Mindlessly I take it and begin to clean it with my tongue, a small part of me wants to resist, screaming to fight and take my power back. But all I can bring myself to do is...

Lick...Lick...Lick..Lick

————————————————————————

Maxwell Biggerman: Cop of the Year

Max Biggerman, one of the tenured cops of New York, was on his regular rounds around his section of the city.

Max wasn’t exactly the poster-image of the perfect cop but his record and reputation walked into the room before he even got in. With over 20 years of dedicated service to the precinct, what would you expect? But, now that he was 43, all the donuts throughout all those years have caught up to him.

His weight and cholesterol have been pulling his performance down a few notches and the captain had assigned him to do regular rounds — both following that he knows what to look out for and so that he could get some exercise.

“Calling for backup on 107 and 32nd, we got a big group” Max heard over on his radio “On my way” he replied.

As he got to the scene, it looked to him like it was a drug bust. What perplexed him was it wasn’t normal for these things to happen in broad daylight.

“What do we have here?” Max asked one of the lieutenants handcuffing some of the suspects “Just a regular bust sir, though we assume they tried hiding this in daylight to avoid suspicion” the lieutenant replied. “I’m new to this sort of thing Max, mind if you take over logging in evidence?” the lieutenant asked. “Sure but you owe me a dozen donuts when we get back” Max said jokingly

As they brought over the suspects’ cars over to the precinct for further inspection and cleaning, Max collected each item from their cars. “What were these guys trying to do? Mix up a cocktail or something?” he said.

As he reached in again into the cushions of the cars he immediately winced in pain

As it turned out, one of the suspects purposefully hid one of the syringes into the backseat. “WHAT THE HELL!” Max shouted as the syringe deposited its remaining contents into his bloodstream

“Fuck, gotta get this checked stat” he said as he rushed back inside the precinct to get first aid. Luckily some of the rookies were trained in some first aid. He stayed in the precinct for hours to see if the syringe had an impact on him or anything, luckily for him again nothing happened (for now) but the captain told him to get checked at the hospital first thing tomorrow.

It was already late when he finally got home but he couldn’t stop thinking about that syringe. “Damn it, what could’ve been in there?!” he wondered as he inspected his hand again. “Thankfully I don’t feel anything” he said but promised himself to get to the hospital tomorrow morning

As he laid in bed to get ready to sleep, he then started feeling intense heat and pain

“Okay this must be fucking it then” Max exclaimed as he clutched his pillows tight from the intense pain. The heat his body was generating was making him sweat profusely “GAAAAAAAHHH FUCK!” he continued as he tossed and turned in bed

He reached for the pills he prepared ahead of time on his nightstand and drank as much as he could — he assumed it would help him ease any pain he’d encounter if the syringe did anything to him at night.

It got to a point where his body just gave up and caused him to quickly pass out

What was interesting was the contents of the syringe was really just a junkie’s own concoction but pairing that with years of donuts, a (very) high cholesterol and fat storage, and the meds Max took, that all resulted into something new altogether.

As he was passed out on the bed, the changes started occuring like clockwork throughout the night.

First, his body started deflating. Years of accumulated fat started melting away from his body through his sweat until he was barely recognizable.

Second, his body started slowly creeping longer vertically. Over the course of 5 hours, his body stretched from his 5’10” to a commanding 6’5”. Thankfully the clothes he had on were big enough to cover him up, following they were all 3XL and all.

Third and finally, the major changes started manifesting just before sunrise. The amount of fat he’d lost came back 3X stronger in the form of pure rock hard muscle

His once flabby arms were now absolute cannons, thankfully he had a gun owner’s permit for being a cop. Each bicep were as big, if not bigger, than his own head. His pecs were now so obscenely huge that they would block his view downwards while rested. The deep valley they made practically stretching the shirt fabric to their limits. His neck practically packed on so much muscle that it flared a bit wider than his now chiseled jaw

His shoulders and back didn’t disappoint either as he now occupied more space of his bed than before.

It was already 6:30AM and his alarm went off. Max woke up with a start as he felt the damp bedsheets. He immediately stood up from bed, getting virtigo in the process.

As he got his bearings, that’s when he finally saw what had happened to him

“N-no this can’t be real” he said as he looked down and saw nothing but his shirt - his pecs stretching the fabric so far out that he couldn’t see his feet. Something only his stomach would’ve done before

Max continued and felt up his chest only to be met with 8 cobblestone abs and a deep crevasse that lined his now prominent pectorals.

After that realization he rushed to his mirror to see things more clearly

In the mirror stood a man he couldn’t recognize at all — it wasn’t him per se. The man in the mirror no longer had the weight of a thousand bear claws and beaver tails and cups of coffee, the man he saw was practically perfect in every way and then some.

“This can’t be me can it?!” He exclaimed as he raised an arm to flex. The man in the mirror followed suit. The bicep he flexed now in full view “Jeez that’s a gun violation right there” he said as he gawked at the sheer size of it

“Shit what’re the boys and the chief gonna say about this when I enter looking like an absolute behemoth” he said as he continued inspecting his now massive physique. He had so much energy that he felt like he could run a marathon “God, look at me thinking I could run a marathon” Max exclaimed as he felt how light on his feet he was — all thanks to his now massive tree trunk legs.

As he got ready for work, he tried on his uniform. He was afraid it wouldn’t fit him but luckily it did “Thank God I wore a 4XL uniform” he said as he barely could fit his arms in and close the buttons. Unfortunately his pants didn’t fit so he had to settle for the uniform shorts

At the precinct, all eyes were practically glued onto him with jaws all on the floor. Not everyday you get a man that had to duck and pivot to get inside

“Hey fellas, I’m looking for the captain. Anyone seen him around?” Max asked some of the policemen there. All of them shaking and staring in fear and bewilderment. “He’s in his office” one of them finally replied.

“Ah Biggerman, you done visiting the hospital after yesterday’s fiasco?” the captain said before looking up from his paperwork. “Not yet I’m afraid, something came up” Max replied. “Well I told you to go there fir— HOLY SHIT WHAT HAPPENED?!” The captain exclaimed as he looked up to the new and improved Max. “Growth spurt chief. Can I ask if I could get the case files from yestersay? Wanted to figure *this* out myself” he said gesturing at his bicep that was struggling with the 4XL sleeve

“Here be my guest man, take all the time you need” the chief replied “Be sure to still get checked alright, I don’t want this precinct to be liable for creating The Hulk”

“Got it boss” Max replied back holding the case files

Max made his way out of the office immediately after getting the files to check who the suspects were and what they were mixing and concocting

Max went on to discover the total sting operation by uncovering a cult trying to genetically force their way into superhero-hood via a special mix of chems that would’ve altered a person’s physicality (and libido). Unfortunately their work ended up being inconclusive until Max.

Max went on to eventually get named Cop of the Year by the chief for uncovering the entire operation but he’s thankful that he now had Max, the absolute unit of a man of precinct 7 on the job to make the city safe

This your boss? No problem.

A familiar rush hits my face as I’m transported back in time. The year is 2005. I look at the college campus around me, trying to pinpoint where he is. My powers take me to the relative locations of these men, so it takes a little to find them. Eventually, I find him sitting in the corner, poring over his calculus textbook.

“Hey bro! How’ve you been?” I ask, slipping into character.

He looks up bewildered as I wrap my arms around him in a bro-hug. “I-um- who are you?”

“Bro what do you mean who am I? I’m your buddy Ryan, we’re roommates man.” I say as my body pulses with power. Hypnosis is one of my favorite powers of mine.

His eyes glaze over and he gives me a look of recognition. “Oh yeah, hey man! Wild I didn’t recognize you for a sec there, I was zoning out.”

I give a dumb chuckle. “It’s all good man. Hey listen, there’s a party later tonight at the Beta Sigma Chi house dude, you should totally go!” I say, pushing my power further into him.

“Yeah dude that sounds amazing! I’ll be there.”

The party was a standard frat party, with booze and half naked guys everywhere. I spot him in the corner of the room, quietly nursing his drink.

“Hey bro! What are you doing over here? Join the party!” I say, willing it into existence.

Next thing I know, he’s absolutely wasted, standing on a table screaming “I’m never studying again!” A chorus of cheers surrounds him. I just smile.

After the party, I return home to 2026. Standing before me is no longer an uptight corporate boss, but instead, a frat bro who never quite grew up.

coaxelnuts

CAN U DO MORE FATHER AND SON MERGE PLSSSS

They say that youth is wasted on the young.

The power of hindsight & wisdom.

We call that maturity.

While most learn to accept the passage of time, there are some who do not. They have the power to fight the clock.

This was the case for Lars:

At random intervals he has absorbed his sons. Their youth, their power, and potential all flow through & within him.

But it is time.

The grey hairs on his head & face indicate that his previous son has run his course.

But he has learned to prepare.

No matter how much the clock is turned back, no matter how much youthful potential he has absorbed, he know he has to do it again.

But it feels different this time.

His son, Soren:

His seventh son and intended seventh victim & fusee.

Smart, handsome, and with a fit body.

And rich.

He is everything Lars wants.

"Took me seven tries, but with the potential from my other sons flowing through him, I shouldn't be shocked that I fathered a total stud."

Soren was in his late 20's. Through his finance career & smart investments, he has nothing to worry about. Just two years ago he got married, and now he has received some great news.

His wife is pregnant.

Knock, Knock.

There was a large banging on Lars's front door, within a minute he was answering it. To his shock it was Soren.

"Well if this isn't a surprise. Hopefully good news."

Soren followed his father into the house.

He had a big smile on his face.

"You are having a grandchild. Sophia is pregnant."

Lars stopped suddenly in his tracks.

To Soren, he thought that his father was positively shocked, but he was actually worried.

He always absorbed his sons before they were able to father the next generation. Perhaps he waited too long. Steve extended his youth a bit longer than expected.

Lars turned around & put on a face of jubilation, and gave Soren a big bear hug.

"I am so proud of you son."

Soren was through the moon.

"I see...you are as strong as ever dad."

Thanks to the previous six versions of you, he thought.

Lars put his son down & invited him to the kitchen for a drink.

For the next hour, both men were deep in happy conversation about the next step in their lives.

Soren began to slur his words.

"I see you still can't handle it."

"I am shocked you still can."

"Well, when you have the metabolism of seven men, you would be surprised by all of the auxiliary benefits."

Soren pursed his eyebrows. Seven men? Maybe he is joking.

Lars put out one of his hands and Soren took it. They were shaking hands, but the shaking was lasting a bit too long.

Soren tried to let go, but his father's grip was too strong.

"I wanted a another century or two before I had to deal with the prospect of letting my bloodline survive & thrive after only one generation, but I guess fate has another plan."

Soren was focusing on freeing himself to no avail.

"I suppose it's time to sow my oats on a more long term basis. One more time, what do you say son, your brothers are dying to meet you."

Lars yanked Soren towards him & pulled him into a bear hug.

Soren grunted.

"Dad let me go, what is this."

Soren found his strength & was able to push himself half a foot off of his dad, but to his horror his skin stretched like bubblegum, staying connected to his father.

"What the-"

Lars took Soren's head and mushed it against his own. Their faces started to mix & merge.

But Soren was a fighter, and as he & his father merged, he fought back. As Soren sunk into Lars, their conjoined grunting mass moved throughout the house. It smashed into walls, knocked over vases & glasses, but as Soren fought back, even as he made Lars work for this merger, he was still losing.

"Mmm, ughhh"

His skin creaked like an old wood floor plank as it was flowing into & being consumed by Lar's own. His bones cracked & broke down as they touched Lar's own. His muscle & organs glooped & melted as they touched Lar's blood stream.

Lars could feel it. He could feel his DNA upgrade & renew itself using Soren's own genetic structure. He could feel, for the seventh time, as his organs healed their damage from time & become stronger versions of themselves. He could feel as as his muscle fiber broke apart & then fixed themselves using Soren's own muscle fibers.

Then, as Soren's brain met his father's, he could feel each of his memories leave him, and he would know eventually that they rested within his father, inside Lars's subconsciousness where his other brothers were stored as well.

But even through all this, even as Lars took everything Soren was, he still fought. The mass was moving less & less about, but Soren's grunting & moaning only got louder. But once Soren's mind was absorbed completely with Lars, even that stopped as well.

Within a few minutes, the conjoined mass was forming into one human body.

And then it just stopped.

Soren was one with Lars now.

He took a deep breath, put on a towel when he realized that he was naked & ran to the nearest mirror to see the results:

Lars had grown to 6'9.

He kept his hair color, but the texture & volume was Soren's. Not a grey hair in sight.

He kept his eyes, he had Soren's eyebrows, nose, and ears. He had a combination of their mouths & skull shapes.

Lars was quite the muscular man, but somehow Soren was able to increase the size of his shoulders & chest. His neck was thicker. His biceps & thigh muscles got bigger & longer. His butt was bigger as well. His abdominal muscles became more bigger & blocky, yet he still had a v-line. His rod was longer & thicker as well, and he could feel his sack swell up as it updated his seed with Soren's potential.

As he moved his fingers & toes, he could feel that they too were bigger & stronger.

With Soren's testosterone level's adding to the mix, his facial & body hair continued, and now he had body hair on his forearms.

Then there was a glow. It covered his entire body.

"What is this? One last attempt to free yourself?"

The glow went away. Lars felt no different.

But there was a change.

"You were just what I needed Soren. I always wanted to be a hunk, a big man. Your previous iteration almost got me there, but you pushed me over the finish line. Thanks."

But as their merged timelines settled, Lars came to a new reality.

Soren's grandchild was now his child and Sophia was now his wife as well.

In the coming years, Lars would realize further changes. He would no longer prey on his progeny. And that glow?

It was a sign of his completion.

Through absorbing seven sons, he had achieved immortality & eternal youth.

But now has to actually raise a family for the long term.

Ah, fame & fortune. Being a celebrity seems to be the high life.

If you are the celebrity in question.

There are some face types that repeat regardless of relatedness. For these people, being an celebrity look alike beyond Elvis is not something they intended do, but it happens. A quirk of genetic expression.

For Ford:

People often mistake him for Jean-Luc Bilodeau.

Apparently, the town is big fans of Kyle X/Y & Baby Daddy.

He often called Jean, and has had more run ins with people wanting to get his autograph on that basis. It was cool at first, but eventually it got grating when people started asking for money.

He has his looks, not his money.

Then we have Dante:

People think that he is Haley Joel Osment.

With the false attribution of identity with his hot body, he has gotten many requests to be someone's surrogate father; from middle aged couples on the last chance to have kids, to some young in their 20's lady wanting to sleep with a celebrity.

Dante & Ford are best friends.

"Man this celebrity look alike mess is getting on my nerves."

"Yesterday, a camera crew came to my house looking for compromising photos."

Ford lifted his eyebrows.

"You would think they would do their due diligence & understand the mistaken identity situation."

"Why aren't the real celebrities speaking up?"

"Because it takes pressure off their own backs, and gives them a greater sense of privacy."

Both men: "..... Celebrities suck."

"So what are we going to do? This is only going to get worse."

"Already figured it out Ford, we merge."

"...We what?"

"Let's merge body, minds, and souls. Surely there isn't a celebrity who looks like a fusion of those two."

"Other option?"

"We leave town & our families."

"Fine. I guess we can consider this as marrying each other."

"Only deeper."

"Only deeper."

They met in Dante's home in his attic gym. With the window ceilings, it was less of an attic, and more of a secret open air man cave. Ford had been here many times. Why pay for an gym membership when he has access to this?

They have a key to each other's house.

They are practically a married couple already despite having girlfriends.

"So how do we do this. Some fancy dance, some odd jewelry, some strange substance..."

"Get in this bag."

It was a lilac purple silk body bag. It was more like an cocoon.

Dante knew how Ford thought & got in himself first. He beckoned Ford in.

"... This better work, because if this is an elaborate plan to sleep with me..."

Dante chuckled.

"This is going to be fun, being merged with you."

Ford eventually relented and got in, now resting on top of Dante. They were both blushing.

"So...."

The zipper on the silk bag zipped itself up sealing themselves within.

Heat began to rise & they both were sweating bullets.

Suddenly they both broke down into a slurry of blood, flesh, and other physical matter. From their perspective, there was no pain. They felt floatish instead. Then the memories of each men flash in each other's mind. They were converging as one mentally.

The zipper on the bag disappeared, the silk material became more fleshy. It began to move & squirm about. After a minute, their DNA were merged into a new traditional double helix structure. The material within began to glow.

The cocoon began to stretch & change shape, with each passing minute it became more & more more human shaped. When the skull & brain formed, he began to moan.

After five minutes he was fully formed within. Steam issued from the silk-flesh cocoon.

He ripped out of the cocoon & roared. He was wet at first, but quickly dried in the air. He was breathing heavily.

"Phew, that felt weird. I mean a good kind of weird but still weird."

He took a few minutes to collect himself.

"I am Ford, but I am also Dante. Mmm, parading around as either or would be strange even though they are me, and me them. How about Wyatt."

Dante + Ford = Wyatt.

He took out his phone & snapped a photo of himself:

He was as tall as Dante. His shoulders were more pronounced, his pecs slightly bigger. His biceps the same size as Dante's but with more vascularity, and that somehow meant thicker hands. His eight pack & obliques were more prominent, more rounder. His buttocks were the same size as Dante's. His rod & jewels were ripped straight from Ford in size; length, girth, and circumference. Luckily, Ford was very well endowed. He just wore baggy pants & shorts to hide it. Using Ford's legs as a base, he had much bigger thighs, and denser quads. His feet were thicker as well.

He was at least 20 pounds heavier than Dante.

Using Dante as the base, his skull shape was a mix of the two. His eyebrows were from Ford, his eyes from Dante. His nose & ears were from Dante, while his mouth was from Ford.

Just like Dante, he sported facial hair, only much bushier. He kept Dante's dark blond hair & volume, but with Ford's texture & styling.

He posted the photo to social media.

"Let's see how people react."

The next day & he checked out people's responses:

"Oh look, its Ryan Gosling!" One comment said.

Oh, oh. In trying to get away from looking like one celebrity, they merged into the look alike of another celebrity.

"Let me check one more time for old times sake:"

"Are you sure this is going to work babe?"

"Oh yeah, you'll do this if you love me."

"Anything for you muffin."

She smirks & closes the web. Standing ten feet away from the cocoon made of a spider silk like material with other women, she smiles in anticipation.

The cocoon becomes animated with the two men's moaning before merging into one voice. The cocoon the begins moving about within as two men become one. After five minutes, the movement & sound ceases.

Two ladies rip cocoon open & a singular man flops out naked. They pick him up & take him to his room. The person who talked to the fusees lifted up his hanging head.

"Wow, you really did merge my two boyfriends. He looks like a love child of the two."

"Of course, anything to help a sister out. Now there is no need to choose, you have both in one."

In his room his dumped on his bed:

Back at the cocoon site, one of the women pulls out a tablet.

"One more to go for this season."

"About time, this has been a record year so far. I think we need to raise the price."

"Maybe at the next quarter meeting. Contact Sarah, she is up next."

Some people struggle to find love, some have it in spades. The hard choice is picking that final one, that soul mate. But why choose them when you can make them?

For Sarah, it has come down to Orson:

Noted member of the college wrestling team. Handsome & charismatic. A bit dumb, could use some work in his bedding skills.

And Iverson:

Top engineering student who has hit the gym.

Just has bad taste in hair styles & not as out going as his build suggests. Great in bed.

Orson gave her status, Iverson gave her pleasure. She thought to herself: "Why can't I have both?"

She noticed that in her friend group that they had the perfect boyfriends. Everything they liked in nerds & jocks mixed into these individuals. Where did they find them?

She eventually learned that these men were created, not born. And after more digging found out about the group that facilitated it. It was not a free service, but it let you merge two men of your choice to create a better life partner. After getting some contact info, she contacted them & was placed on a waiting list after paying their fee.

At the near end of the summer semester, she got a text with the details of everything that she needed to do.

"About time!"

She contacted both of the men she was dating and got them to meet with her at the location. It was dark, misty, and chilly. A rarity in the height of summer.

"So, where is the party at," asked Orson.

"I thought we were going to do a study session," wondered Iverson.

"Oh we can do both," she said.

She introduced the men to each other, somehow not letting on that she was in an relationship with either beyond basic friendship.

"Before that, I want you to do something for me, a game. Orson, you will have fun, and Iverson, something for your future studies."

The other women looked at them dumbfounded as they wondered how they believed her words. They see it all the time, but just have to wonder.

Funny thing is that most fusees of this process do it willingly or are tricked. Only a small percentage need to be drugged or knocked out.

"See that large web thingy over there? Get in it for a couple of minutes."

"At the same time," they both asked.

"Trust me."

They both thought that this was some kind of kink for her, so they did it to make her happy.

Within a few moments, both men where in a airy sack of made modified spider silk.

"Kind of weird, I hope this makes her happy."

"Same."

"How do you know Sarah again?"

"I'm her bo-"

Both men snapped up like soldiers & went quiet suddenly. The webby cocoon began to produce more web making it more opaque. Then the inside began to constrict & squeeze forcing the two men to touch each other face to face.

They grunted as their lips were forced to touch, and then the skin gave way. Endorphins rushed throughout their bodies from the webbing making the situation feel good if not pleasurable. But the web also injected them with more chemicals that speed up the fusion process.

They phased through their clothing, becoming naked and began making out. As they touched each other all over, their skin in various places throughout their bodies began to mix & merge.

A few more minutes, their their organs & bones began breaking down into their base materials, and their skin formed their own cocoon with the men inside. The only part unbroken was their brains that simply mushed against each other, and merged into one bigger brain.

From the outside, it looked like the two men were doing each other with the loud moans and the animated webbed cocoon sack. This turned the ladies on. It always did as the knowledge that there was a stronger, better version of the two being created before their eyes was just too hot to not be affected.

Their DNA lined up & merged into a singular genetic code:

The two moaning voices became one.

The skin cocoon began to reshape itself into an human shape as the skeleton formed, forcing the webbing to become human shaped as well. The ladies outside got excited.

The cocoon pinched itself at the top where the head would form.

As it squeezed into human form, his features came into play. He would have a meatier version of Iverson's manly pecs. Bigger version of Orson's manly shoulders. His butt would be big, firm, and round. He would have a H shaped waist with a blocky version of Orson's abs. His legs & arms would form using Iverson's own as a base & then enhanced their size. His feet & hands would be a combination of the two. He would have Iverson's girth, and Orson's length. He sack would hang low as his jewels would be three times the size of any of what his fusees would have. He would have a muscular neck that was a cross between the two.

The pinched area started to form a skull & his facial features.

He had a cross between their skulls shapes. Iverson's eye brows, Orson's eyes. Iverson's nose, and Orson's mouth. He had a mixture of their ears. His testosterone flooded his body causing body hair to grow all over his body & face, giving him facial hair. He had Orson's hair color, Iverson's hair texture & volume. A mix in the styling.

He went quiet as he built his personality & traits based on what the two had left him.

He stopped moving for a few minutes and he was cut out.

"Holy smokes, we made a hot one. Sarah, can I have him?"

"Heck no, but also thank you. Take him to my room."

He was lying in her bed naked. She put some underwear on him while he was sleeping. Before long she too went to asleep.

"Babe, wake up. Wake up."

Sarah woke up to this before her eyes:

"Goodness you are hot, but turn those lights off."

"Right, sorry."

He crawled into her bed & they did the nasties.

He would be called Quentin. Engineering student who was on the wrestling team. He did a lot of studying, but he had an active social life. He was devoted to her. And as Sarah is experiencing now, he was a great lover too.

Zack woke up feeling strange. He remembered being at the club after celebrating a promotion with a few of his coworkers. He had several strong drinks and got rather drunk. He was chatting with some guy who came over to talk with him. He couldn't remember the guy's name. He just remembered that he was hot.

He found that he couldn't move or speak. "Wait, what happened? Last thing I remembered was talking with a cute guy at the club after several drinks. Why do I have a cock in my face. Hel me!" He mentally screamed when he couldn't even wiggle. He then heard the guy talking down to him and realized what he was. He was a literal pair of underwear on his body. He was taken in by a TF Pred and was now his trophy and property.

Continued from a short story here.

By the time Owen opened the app again, he had stopped thinking of himself as the guy he used to be.

At forty-two, with the shorter receding hair, the salt-and-pepper beard, and the thick body hair he’d wanted badly enough to make for himself by spoiling Hair Tonic, he finally looked the way he’d always imagined a real daddy should look. His profile picture showed exactly that: shirtless on a hiking trail, backpack straps in both hands, chest hair visible, expression calm and solid.

David messaged him within the hour. A rendezvous was planned for the next day.

David was twenty-six, lean and smooth-skinned, with a compact athletic body and a face that still carried the softness of youth. When he arrived at Owen’s place, he couldn’t stop looking at the older man. It wasn’t just that Owen was handsome. It was that he looked settled. Rugged. Finished. Like a man who had grown fully into himself. David did not know what Owen had used the Hair Tonic to do to himself - he didn't know that inside Owen's masculine exterior was a man a few years younger than himself with the visage of a self-assured daddy.

The sex was dynamic. Owen leaned into his new role as daddy with a youthful enthusiasm - if not the experience. David enjoyed the feeling of being kissed, worshiped, and filled by the entirety of Owen - longing for attention from older more confident-seeming men.

Later, after their night together had faded into sweat, dim light, and tangled sheets, Owen fell asleep fast, heavy and satisfied.

David stayed awake. He padded into Owen’s bathroom in his boxers, still thinking about the body he’d just had his hands on - the dense chest hair, the roughness of Owen’s beard, the masculine weight of him. Then he noticed the brown bottle on the counter. HAIR TONIC. Old-fashioned label. Plain lettering. He picked it up and turned it in his hands. The name sounded harmless, almost quaint. He smiled to himself. He was familiar with the product, but had never gotten his hands on a bottle. He wasn't interested in becoming Owen, not exactly. He just wanted a little help looking more his age. More scruff. Some chest hair. Less boyishness in the mirror. So he uncapped it.

The tonic smelled sharp and strange, old and herbal with something bitter underneath. David rubbed a little over his cheeks and jawline, then across his upper lip. He poured more into his palm and worked it over his chest, down the center of his stomach, over his shoulders, even along his arms. His skin prickled instantly, then flushed with spreading heat. He frowned at his reflection, waiting for the sensation to fade. Instead, the faint shadow on his jaw began to darken. The nearly invisible hair on his chest sharpened, filling enough for him to notice - and then some.

He ran his fingertips over the new texture, half-thrilled and half-nervous. By the time he climbed back into bed, the scruff at his mouth had thickened into a short, rough mustache and the hair across his pecs had become real enough to cast a shadow. His heart beat faster, but he convinced himself it was just stronger than he’d expected - it would pass - it was just hair.

David fell asleep telling himself he’d overdone it a little. He woke with a start the next morning. Everything felt wrong at first—heavier, rougher, denser. The sheets dragged differently across his body. His chest felt warm beneath a thick layer of hair. When he pushed himself upright and looked at his hands, he froze.

The backs of them were hairier than they had been the night before, the knuckles broader, the skin less smooth. He brought them to his face and felt not light overnight scruff but a full, coarse mustache and short beard framing a jaw that seemed more substantial than it had been before. He stumbled to the bathroom mirror, Owen just starting to stir in the bedroom behind him, and stopped cold.

He did not look twenty-six anymore. The man staring back at him looked closer to forty. His face was still unmistakably his own, but matured - broader through the jaw, heavier through the neck and shoulders, with stronger lines around the eyes and mouth. His hair was shorter-looking somehow, neater, his features more rugged and settled. A thick mustache and trimmed beard had come in dark and full, giving him a stern, masculine look he’d only ever imagined on older men. Across his chest, the hair had spread into a dense mat that continued down his stomach in a dark trail, with more thickening along his arms and thighs. He looked stockier too, more substantial, more like a man who’d spent years growing into that body instead of a single reckless night.

“Owen...” he said, voice rougher than before. “Owen!”

Owen came into the room half-awake, then stopped dead in the doorway - mouth agape.

For one long second, neither of them spoke. Then Owen’s eyes dropped to David’s chest, his beard, his hands, and finally flicked toward the bathroom counter.

“You used my special Hair Tonic?!” he yelled.

David’s face tightened. “I thought it was just normal Hair Tonic - I ….”

“It is not just Hair Tonic!" Owen’s voice sharpened with real anger now, cutting David off mid-sentence. “I left that out in the sun to spoil on purpose. I changed myself on purpose. You had no idea what that was and you still used it?”

“You changed yourself? You mean you did this to yourself on purpose?!” David snapped back, then looked away, shaken by the sound of his own gruffer voice. “I just wanted…” He swallowed and rubbed a hand over his chest, feeling the thickness there. “I just wanted a little more. A beard. Some body hair. I didn’t think it was going to do this!” David gestured to his older body.

Owen’s anger faltered, replaced by a grim, complicated sympathy. He knew that impulse too well. The wanting. The private pull toward a rougher, older, hairier version of manhood. David let the bathroom and sat back down on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands again like they might belong to someone else. He looked upset, genuinely upset - but not devastated. Not all the way. Because every few seconds his fingers drifted over the new growth on his chest, or up to the heavier shape of the beard at his jaw, as though he couldn’t stop checking that it was real.

“This is my fault,” Owen said finally. “I shouldn’t have left the tonic out for you to find. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re… probably stuck like this.”

David let out a shaky breath. “Great.”

Silence settled between them. Morning light spilled across the room. David’s reflection lingered in the mirror opposite the bed: older, hairier, undeniably changed. He looked at himself again, this time longer. At the thicker chest. The rough mustache. The stronger, more mature face. It wasn’t what he had meant to ask for. It was too much. Too fast. Too permanent.

And yet some quieter part of him - deeper than panic, harder to admit - recognized the shape of his own wish inside it.

“What am I going to do? No one will recognize me! I hate that this happened - I have to get out of here!” he said in a panic while trying to stuff his thicker frame into his jeans - sucking his gut to fully zip them, and throwing his shirt quickly over his shoulders.

Owen folded his arms. “Do you hate this?” he said looking at David. "The way you've been looking at yourself in the mirror reminds me of myself when I first woke up after using the tonic."

David stopped dressing took a deep breath and looked down at himself, then back at the mirror. He had to admit he was attractive like this - more like the men he pursued - and enjoyed being pursued by. He noticed a twitch in his boxers as his dick started to grow - panic subsiding and being replaced with lust. Lust both for Owen, who had filled him just the prior evening to the brink with his daddy seed - and also for the half-dressed man he saw reflected in the mirror.

Owen walked over to the sofa in the corner of the room and sat down with his head in his hands for a moment while Owen waited.

“No. I don’t hate all of it” he admitted with a grin at Owen as he unbuttoned his pants - his thick hairy pecs pushing against his half-open shirt. His eyes smoldering at the sight of Owen’s shirtless torso and beautiful face.

Owen stared at him for a moment, then gave a short, disbelieving exhale that was almost a laugh. “I see … you’re a bit older than my usual type now, but I think this might work...” he said with a grin as he approached the older version of the perky 26 year-old he had fucked the night before.

Owen dropped to his knees in front of David and helped him slide off his now-too-tight jeans and underwear, freeing David’s thick semi-erect daddy cock nestled in a thick bush of pubes - “Guess a trip to the mall is in order” he said with a grin as he took David’s dick in his mouth - feeling it continue to stiffen.

David let out a little moan and replied, half joking, “Yeah, I guess I put on a little extra weight somewhere in my 30s.”

After a couple of minutes receiving head, David pushed Owen onto the couch and pulled down Owen’s sweatpants, revealing the same uncut daddy dick that he had deep inside him last night - which might as well have been an eternity ago. “Things are going to be different today, son” he stated irrefutably - Owen looking up to him with soft bedroom eyes. “It’s your fault I’m close to my father’s age, and stuck like this - so now I’m going to be the daddy and you’re going to be the piece of meat I please myself with. Understood?”

Owen simply nodded and replied with a soft “yes, sir.”

“Good, now roll over for daddy so he can see your ass.”

Owen complied, moving onto all fours and presenting his hairy asshole to David - who gave it a quick look before sticking his head between his cheeks and eating it out in preparation.

Owen remembered the feeling of being prepared from before his change - from the countless older men he let enter his tight frat boy hole. He knew what was coming - and despite his recent shift to daddy himself he couldn’t help but anticipate how bottoming would feel in his new body.

After prepping Owen, David rose to one foot, with the other propped against the couch. He spit on his dick and lined it up with Owen’s ass and thrust in hard. Owen gave a quick yelp and tightened around David’s dick - but he didn’t care. It was Owen’s fault he was stuck like this and he was going to exact as much pleasure from the situation as possible.

After a few hard thrusts, Owen started to gently moan as David settled into a more steady rhythm. David reached forward grabbing Owen’s thinning hair pulling his head back and whispered in his ear, “You like this don’t you?”

Owen nodded between soft moans.

David continued, “No matter what you look like on the outside, you’re still just a bottom bitch frat boy.” He reached around and grabbed Owen’s dick and began jerking it while pumping into his ass.

“You made yourself older, you gave yourself a beard, a hairy chest, you got the look - you played the role last night as well - but deep down we both know you’ll always crave this. Crave a stronger man controlling you and filling you with his daddy cock.”

David released Owen’s hair and picked up his pace. As he approached climax he thought about the man he saw in the reflection - hairy, mustached, confident - maybe this new version of him wouldn’t be so bad. He snapped back into attention as he felt Owen jolting underneath - coming onto the sofa with a hand wrapped around his own dick. "Daddy didn't say you could come yet, son."

Own just whimpered as David picked up his pace and intensity, quickly following suit coming deep into Owen - then collapsing on his back in a pile of sweat and chest hair.

“Hmm might need to increase pec size by another 10%” Nathan said as he ran his hands through his perfect 8 pack abs

Nathan recently got a hold of the BodyMod app on his phon luckily before it got shot down by The Store for data privacy issues

He wanted to just alter some of his photos to see what he’d look like if he had a different hairstyle, if he had a beard, etc. and the app promised to be able to generate it with some new AI tools to really make it more realistic and immersive

As Nathan registered an account and ran through the app, he was perplexed to see that it already had his biometrics and vitals “now that can’t be right. I guess that’s what the data privacy lawsuits were about” he said as he ran through the data

As he ran through the app, he started noticing that each section had sliders. Out of curiosity he slid the height slider from 5’10” to 6’5” and pressed apply. Almost instantly and by magic, he felt his entire body stretch out to match the new metric “OH SHIT IT WORKS?!” he screamed as he immediately stood up to check, almost getting virtigo in the process.

The two of them walked out of the AWO store together. Jack took a deep breath of fresh air and let out a sigh of contentment. Just standing there, anybody could tell that Jack was enjoying every moment of his newfound power, his newfound presence. Alan on the other hand stood there looking at somebody who has started to look like a monster and wondered if his friend, the guy who came to know as a good guy was still in there somewhere.

Jack caught Alan’s glance and said, “You’re quiet. What’s up bro?”

Bro. Fuck. He’s even starting to talk like a musclebound frat bro. “I’m trying to figure out if my best friend is still in there,” Alan said.

Jack smiled as he looked at Alan. “First, calm down bro,” he said as he flexed a little bit. “Look at who I am now. And stop worrying about finding the old me. The new me is 100 percent better.”

“Yeah,” Alan said unconvinced. “Sure. All right. Sorry to do this but I need to head home for the evening. If you need me for anything, message me okay?”

Alan turned away from Jack and headed home. As he got back to his own apartment, his phone buzzed and it was a message from AWO:

Stage One Assessment Complete

Recommended Archetype: The Spotlight

Primary Traits: Charm, display, confidence, desire, social control.

Your humor hides your hunger.

Ever since Alan left Jack, his mind had been going over everything that had happened in the AWO store. The whole thing made him sick to his stomach. Seeing what was happening to Jack and the feeling like he was nothing more than data point to Terry and Cindy, Alan tried to figure out what the hell he had been doing there to begin with.

The worst part of it was that Alan had fallen for the sales pitch. That was what made it even worse. He had gone in there wanting to prove to himself and Jack that it was all bullshit and smoke and mirrors and instead Jack came out physically stronger, more arrogant and more sure of himself than ever before. Because of that, he had allowed himself to actually sit down and get analyzed.

It was a slow moving train wreck but Jack was about to hit the wall. At least Alan had the ability to stop and get off the train before the disaster happened. The problem was that the last line of the message hit home for Alan. Thinking back on just the last few days, he could see where his humor hid things, where it was easier just to step into the shadows and not be noticed and just be what everybody else needed him to be.

Alan went to bed with those thoughts in his head. It was going to be a long night.

Jack meanwhile stood in front of his bathroom mirror and basked in the new physique that he had been gifted. He wasn’t a full blown genetic freak yet but he had to make sure that he was going to get new clothes from a bodybuilding store when he got the chance. Doing a double bicep pose, Jack grinned and landed up kissing his bicep and it made him feel so alive.

While he was getting ready for bed, Jack’s phone went off and just like Alan across town, there was a message from AWO:

Stage Three Integration Active

Archetype: Genetic Freak

Dominance must be expressed.

Visibility is no longer enough. Impact is required.

Do not soften. Do not retreat. Do not apologize.

Fuck, Jack thought to himself. With this newfound body and newfound attitude, there was no way he was going to back away and let others take control of his life or what he did. It was time for him to grab life by the balls and do exactly what he was meant to do. Instead of waiting for others to push him in the right direction, it was time for him to chart his own course and fuck anybody who got in his way.

Jack went to bed feeling more confident, more alive tham he had been in years. Fuck, maybe his entire adult life.

The next day, Jack walked into the office and everybody noticed the change. He saw out of the corner of his eye Annie looking at him with a slight frown on her face. Mabel on the other looked like she had a question and thought better of it and just turned back to work at her desk. Jack immediately felt the tension go up in the office by his mere presence. It felt so fucking good to be respected and looked at. They should be grateful that they could see him like this every day.

Alan walked into the office a few minutes later and immediately got stopped by Annie. “What the hell is going on with Jack?” she asked. “Do you know?”

“I’m as confused as you are,” Alan replied. “I’ve tried to talk to him to figure out what’s going on but all I get is static.”

“Was this something to do with that blowup you two had the other day?” Annie asked. “Because that sure didn’t sound like it was a simple conversation about sports.”

“There’s a lot of stuff going on in his personal life,” Alan replied. “Ex-wife and all that. He’s just trying to reinvent himself you know?”

“Great,” Annie replied. “So what… a mid life crisis? Just what I need.”

“Well, at least he hasn’t decided to move to Hawaii and start driving a sports car,” Alan said with a smile. “At least not on this salary.”

Annie chuckled at that. Alan noticed it immediately that yet again his humor had tamed a situation that could have spiraled into a crisis. “All right,” she said. “He’s your best friend. Keep an eye on him and please for the love of God talk him out of whatever he’s doing to himself. He looks like…”

“A professional wrestler?” Alan said as he looked at Jack’s back.

“Or a bodybuilder who is on too many steroids,” Annie replied as she walked back to her desk.

Oh, Alan thought to himself, you have no idea how close to the truth you are. He walked by Jack’s desk on to the way to his own and he heard Jack say under his breath, “That fucking bitch.”

That made Alan stop and he said, “What’s up?”

Jack looked at Alan with anger in his eyes before he dropped his cell phone on his desk with a thud. “Oh, just the battle axe ex-wife sending me yet another message about the divorce papers,” he said. “I’ll sign those damn papers when I feel like it.”

Alan noticed that a couple of people looked in their general direction and realized that Jack’s voice didn’t have an ‘inside’ voice any more. “All right,” Alan said. “Just don’t do anything you are going to regret all right?”

“I regret marrying that bitch,” Jack replied as he got back to work.

The rest of the morning luckily passed without incident. Alan was hard at work trying to get through the daily tasks while Jack had a hard time concentrating because of his ex-wife’s text message. Of course, from everything that had gone on the last few days, Jack was still trying to sort out what had actually happened to him.

Lunch time came and as Jack was walking to the break room, his phone went off. “What the fuck?” he said under his breath as his ex-wife’s number came up.

“Hello Linda,” he said sighing as he answered the call.

“Hello to you too,” his ex-wife replied. “Just wanted to talk to you to see if we can move things along.”

“Right,” Jack replied. “So… which guy did you jump in bed with this time? Adam? Jason? I forget.”

“I just want this chapter of our lives over,” Linda replied. “Why can’t you understand that?”

At that moment, Jack’s anger burst out. “Listen you cunt,” Jack said.

“Cunt?” Linda interrupted with. “Jack, what the hell is wrong with you? I’m… well… was your wife!”

“Yeah,” Jack replied. “You were my wife. And not a good one at that if I’m being honest with myself. Don’t know what I saw in you back then.”

“Jack… this isn’t you,” Linda said after a moment still shocked over what he called her. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you but… it’s not good.”

“Of course it’s not good,” Jack said ignoring the fact that there were others around him that could hear the conversation. “You and everybody else just want me to do whatever I’m told like a good fucking dog. Don’t worry. I’ll sign the papers tonight so you can get on with your life and I can find somebody who actually is good in bed.”

“Fine,” Linda screamed on the phone. “Whatever the fuck you want. You know something? I wish I had never met you.”

“Same fucking goes for me you little whore,” Jack said as he hung up the phone and looked at everybody staring at him. “What the fuck are you looking at?” he said as he glared and walked away.

Finding a place by himself for a moment, Jack closed his eyes and then let out a laugh. My god, he thought to himself. It felt so good to finally stand up for himself and actually have true power. He had finally said what he wanted to say for the last six months and finally when he was able to say it and let go it felt so damn good.

Fifteen minutes later, Annie walked over to Alan’s desk and said, “We need to talk. Now.”

Alan looked at Annie and frowned. He knew exactly what this was about. Actually, who it was about. “What did Jack do?” he asked.

“You need to talk to him,” Annie replied. “Before I have to suspend him for a few days. What he did in the break room… can’t happen again.”

“Oh hell,” Alan said as he closed his eyes. “His ex-wife?”

“I’m not going to repeat what everybody in the break room heard but yeah,” Annie said. “He needs to calm down really fast. I’ve already got a few complaints from people. I don’t know what’s got into him but he needs to cool down really fast.”

“Got it,” Alan said as he stood up from his desk. “I’ll take care of it. Consider me the Jack Whisperer.”

As Alan walked over to Jack’s desk, his thoughts wandered for a moment. The amount of attention that Jack was getting was undeniable. The problem was that in the AWO store, if Alan went through with the entire process, he could just turn out to be a freak like Jack was turning out to be. But there was a part of him that envied Jack even if it seemed like he had taken the macho alpha thing way too far.

“What the hell did you say to your ex-wife?” Alan said as he looked at Jack when he got to his friend’s desk.

“I said the fucking truth for one,” Jack replied. “And it felt fucking good.”

“Truth for who?” Alan asked. “Because from what I’ve heard they want to suspend your ass for what you said.”

“Suspend? Me?” Jack said followed by a laugh. “I’d like to see them try some bullshit like that.”

“Dude,” Alan said. “Listen to yourself. Fuck man… you’re starting to scare me.”

Jack looked at Alan and smiled. “Everybody is starting to notice me and now you’re scared of me?” he asked.

“I don’t know what I am,” Alan replied. “I saw that screen in the store. I saw what they think I am. I see what you’ve become and… well… it scares me. I keep thinking about it.”

“Good,” Jack replied. “That means it saw something real. This me was inside all of the time bro. It just took somebody else to take it out and show it to the world. Just think about what it is going to do for you. Let it fucking happen will you? Stop lying to yourself.”

Alan went back to his desk and sighed when he saw a message pop up on his phone. It was like a disease that kept on returning. Another message from his ‘saviors’ at AWO:

Stage 2: Beginnings Available

Archetype: The Spotlight

Stop fitting in. Start being followed.

Wear black. Be ready to be seen.

This whole situation was fucking insane. Seeing Jack change so much in such a short period of time terrified him. But at the same time, Alan knew that all he had to do was walk away from the entire thing, delete the message and not go back to that damn store. Thinking about Jack however, Alan knew that if he was to help his best friend, he needed to know what the hell actually happened in that store behind the curtains.

The rest of the afternoon flew by without any incident. When it was time to leave, Alan saw Jack walk over with an AWO bag in his hand.

“Here,” Jack said as he put the bag down on Alan’s desk. “I bought this for you to get you into the right frame of mind.”

Alan looked in the bag and sighed. “Of course you did,” he said as he picked up the AWO shirt out of the bag. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome bro,” Jack said. “You’ve got an appointment to start Stage 2 right?”

“Yeah,” Alan replied somewhat reluctantly. “Yeah I do.”

“I knew you would keep with it,” Jack replied grinning. “Bro, you’re going to fucking love it. I know I do.”

“Yeah yeah,” Alan replied. “I certainly see you loving it. All right. If we’re going to do this, let’s do this before my better senses get a hold of me and I run away from this nightmare.”

The two of them headed to the AWO store, Alan now dressed in the AWO shirt that Jack had bought him and Jack wearing his own AWO shirt that seemed even tighter than it had been a few short days ago.

When they walked in, Jack looked at Alan and saw the worry and concern on his face. “Relax bro,” he said. “Stage 2 is where things start making sense.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Alan said as he saw Terry walk over to the two of them.

“Looking good brother,” Terry said as he fist bumped Jack. “Really looking the part now. Amazing transformation huh?”

“You have no fucking idea how good it feels,” Jack replied with a grin on his face.

Terry looked at Alan and said, “And look who came back. The doubting Alan.”

“Hello to you too,” Alan said with a smile. “And I thought I was the only one who made jokes around here.”

“Trust me,” Terry said. “The only thing you will need to joke about soon is how many people flock to your side. Come on. Cindy’s ready for you.”

“Lead on,” Alan said with a sigh.

The three of them found themselves back in the same room where Jack had gone through Stage 3 but now instead of Jack on the platform, Alan found himself on the platform. Cindy was working at a console and was totally clinical about everything that was going on. Jack was standing next to Terry and they both had smiles on their faces like somebody was about to join the brotherhood of bros.

Cindy was finally ready and the screen in front of Alan populated the Spotlight archetype and all of the information that had been gone over during the Stage 1 evaluation. Standing there on the platform, Alan felt like he was about to step off a cliff and that there was no going back. But at the same time, he looked at Jack and realized for his best friend’s sake, he needed to do this in order to help him.

“First,” Cindy said as she looked at Alan. “Let’s start with posture and your smile. All right. Give us your best movie star pose.”

“My what?” Alan said with a chuckle.

“Movie star,” Cindy replied. “Every time a movie star walks into a room, they have a smile on their face and everybody looks at them. Let’s start with that.”

“All right,” Alan said. “But I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“That’ll change in time,” Terry replied from where he was standing next to Jack.

For the next thirty minutes, Alan went through a number of exercises that were built around social control. From learning when to actually make jokes to how he should smile and present himself in a crowded room, it was a massive bit of social engineering. The more Alan practiced, the less he felt like a fool. He could see subtle changes in his posture and how he handled himself as each exercise was completed.

“Now,” Cindy said. “Repeat after me. I don’t disappear into a room any more. The room adjusts to me.”

Alan looked at Cindy and shrugged. “I don’t disappear into a room any more. The room adjusts to me,” he said.

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

Every time Alan repeated what Cindy had told him to say, it felt more comfortable. A part of Alan thought that it was a subtle version of social engineering and brainwashing but another part of him actually enjoyed what he was saying.

Finally, Cindy smiled and said, “I think that’s enough for today. Let’s take a look at you shall we?”

Alan looked at the screen as it changed to show him as he was now. His hair was styled better, tighter and more clean. Unlike Jack’s muscles which had turned freakishly big, Alan’s muscles were a bit more toned. His shoulders were back, his grin more practiced. He was wearing sunglasses and an AWO wristband.

“There,” Terry said. “Hold that smile bro.”

“It feels so fucking fake,” Alan replied.

“So did every version of yourself that you made for everybody else,” Terry pointed out.

Standing there watching the entire situation play out, Jack looked at his friend Alan and saw the subtle changes that were occurring. He felt proud looking at his best friend, starting to keep eye contact, posing as though he was somebody and starting to enjoy being the center of attention.

“There’s the man I knew was hiding inside,” Jack said to Alan.

Five minutes later, Alan, Jack and Terry stood in the Gallery. Terry grabbed a sleeveless AWO vest and gave it to Alan to try on.

“Now,” Terry said. “Walk through the store as though everybody came to see you.”

“You have got to be fucking joking,” Alan said. “I’m not… well… fake.”

“No, you aren’t,” Terry replied. “This is who you are now. Do it for you.”

With a hint of swagger, a smile on his face and a confidence that Alan honestly never had felt before, he walked around the store as though he owned the place. When a young woman shopping with her boyfriend looked at him and smiled, he returned the smile and a part of him thought that she deserved better than her current boyfriend.

As Alan took his new look and personality for a spin, Terry looked at Jack and said, “You really are becoming a genetic freak aren’t you?”

“Fuck yeah brother,” Jack replied. “Feels good too.”

“Good,” Terry said. “Cindy told me that Stage 4 was getting closer for you. Seems like you might be ahead of schedule.”

Terry looked at Alan as he continued to walk around the store and said, “Your friend is getting the hang of it isn’t he?”

“He just needed to be pushed in the right direction,” Jack replied with a smile.

Finally, Jack and Alan left the store together. Alan now had a bag of AWO gear including a couple of shirts, a sleeveless vest and tights that had the AWO logo spray painted on them.

Outside, Jack looked at Alan and said, “See? Told you they could find you.”

Instead of answering, Alan looked at his reflection in the store’s window. He smiled at what he saw and fixed his collar.

They walked away together, not yet finished, not yet lost. But close enough that the city reflected two men where only one had entered before.

You've been hitting the gym for a while. You've been seeing results as your arms slowly thicken and your legs tone up, but it's not enough and it's too slow. You're hungry for more.

You've tried to get a plug for some less-than-licit supplements, but the guys at your gym, for all that some are built like they've been cycling since age 14, seem to have gotten to where they are on the merit of their natural testosterone alone.

It's demotivating. You can't get the enhancements you want and you're limited by whatever your genetic potential sees fit to provide. It's not fair. It's not like you can improve your genetic potential, right?

Except during one late-night spiral after yet another gruelling gym session that never seems to get easier, you find an unassuming ad for clinical trials.

The company seems like a legitimate one. You find a Wikipedia page for them and everything. And the testimonials for this stuff look incredible. You see one of the researchers go from looking like an average doughy guy to an oversexed hunk of meat making bank from online admirers... and that's the opposite of a deterrent for you.

So once you're satisfied that yes, this is safe, yes, this isn't science fiction, and yes, they actually wanna bump your testosterone up to the max, you barely read the terms and conditions in your hurry to sign up.

There's all this stuff about how the original formula boosted libido and how they've retooled it to try to promote physical activity instead. You couldn't care less, though, since you know that being in the body you dream of would give you an unstoppable libido to boot.

Maybe you should have read the paperwork a bit more carefully, though.

See, the formula you end up getting treated with is even more potent than the first version. It doesn't just up your natural testosterone and masculinity, it shocks your system into what can only be described as overproduction. Within days, you already see the difference in your body; and as days turn to weeks, then to months, you realise that you're growing and growing almost despite yourself.

You bloat up with pound after pound of muscle with what feels like no effort whatsoever, thickening all over, with a new (and not unwelcome) forest of body hair that itches as it comes in. It feels like you're growing veinier and more vascular by the day, since your newfound hulking mass needs a correspondingly huge supply of blood flow to fuel it with the oxygen it burns through.

One thing you haven't thought about, though, is the effect of carrying so much muscle around. And in their haste to try to redirect your focus from playing with your junk to throwing weights around, the researchers didn't fully think through what a newfound furry mountain of a man you've become would experience when those heavy workouts make your heart pump.

You sweat. You sweat so much, you have to chug water like it's... well, water. You're basically in a constant state of overheating from the blood thundering through the thick veins that pulse just under the surface of your hairier skin. You sweat so much that you instantly break through any sort of antiperspirant, clinical or not, and drench any type of clothing you wear within minutes regardless of how thin or breathable it is.

That, of course, is combined with your body producing an overabundance of natural T, which ups your metabolism even more, makes you impatient and gruff, deepens your voice into a bassy rumble, and makes your full head of hair recede into a gleaming scalp practically overnight.

You'd be more concerned with all these side effects if you weren't in a state of near-perpetual arousal, though. You didn't fully understand that you were signing up for ice baths twice a day, a brand new wardrobe of short shorts, jockstraps, and breathable tanks that drape down past your nipples for maximum airflow, and for trading your hair for an excessive amount of fur... but you couldn't be happier with the outcome.

The heat of the late summer evening pressed down on Marcus like a heavy blanket. The air in his cramped apartment was still and humid. He lay across his bed, stripped down to nothing but a pair of faded yellow briefs. They were loose, standard cotton things, typical of the plain, unnoticeable life he led. Sweat pooled in the shallow hollows of his collarbone. He was scrawny, a constellation of sharp joints and pale skin, his arms thin rods holding his smartphone. He was just mindlessly scrolling through social media, a digital life that mirrored his empty social life. Girls didn't notice him, and he’d resigned himself to a life of digital voyeurism.