Incubus-coded

I couldn't believe my luck at being offered a spot in the genetic rehabilitation trial at my work.

We'd been working on a prototype technology that could "drain" convicted violent criminals of their genetic potential; it's much easier to keep a 6' 2" roided up beast of a man in check once he's been left as a 5' 4" twink without an ounce of muscle on him. The one logistical issue with it is that their potential couldn't just go anywhere, it had to be given to a donor or a host.

When I was approached and asked if I was interested, I jumped at the opportunity. It felt like a reward for the overtime I'd put in slaving over the project these past few years... as well as a small apology for the way the demanding nature of the role led to me packing on some excess poundage.

I was so eager that I didn't bother to think about what it would mean to have distilled machismo and excess testosterone hardcoded into my genome.

When I woke up it felt like a dream come true. I'd never felt so full of energy and drive before, and my libido was suddenly through the roof. But what started as a dream slowly turned out to be more of a nightmare; I found myself unable to focus for too long before my body needed to do some physical activity to blow off some steam, otherwise I'd get jittery and grumpy. The seeming endless supply of energy meant I was chowing down incredible amounts of food, so not only did my body pack on mass with incredible speed, I was sweating non stop as it worked tirelessly to metabolize the excess calories. And I never thought I'd say this, but even the boost to my sex drive turned out to be more of a curse - all my overwhelming testosterone had to come from somewhere, and my previously modest equipment has inflated into a leaky, needy beast that needs attention multiple times a day. And I think this enhanced masculinity ended up with some wires crossed, because women just don't do it for me anymore - this new footlong monster of mine only gets hard for men.

My performance kept dropping at work, and I eventually got let go a few months later with a generous compensation package. It was enough to get myself set up with a home gym and some camera gear.

I didn't really picture myself turning into an oversexed and overgrown gay bodybuilder making money from OnlyFriends, but I guess I just unlocked my true potential.

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 big dumb jock has the opposite problem. His brain stays simple. He doesn’t overthink. He doesn’t spiral. He just moves through life lighter, more present, and way less stressed. That mental simplicity is the real advantage. Less noise in your head = more peace, more confidence, and way more room to actually enjoy shit.

Mental action point you can start today:

Every single time you catch yourself overthinking something today (and you will), stop and do this:

In your head, say:

“I don’t need to figure this out. I’m becoming a dumb jock.”

Then immediately shift your attention to something simple and physical — how your body feels sitting there, the weight of your arms, what you’re gonna eat later, or how good it feels to just breathe for a second. Don’t analyze it. Just notice it and move on.

Do this every time the overthinking starts. No push-ups, no mirror speeches, no performing. Just a quiet mental switch.

The more you practice letting go of the “smart guy” stress, the more your brain actually starts to chill out. That’s how it begins.

Glad you like the stories

but since you are so interested in them I think you can enjoy a transformation of your own!

You feel yourself suddenly growing heavier, as your heart beats faster. Your face begins to itch and as your scratch you feel a thick dark beard growing over, your jaw becomes sharper but its hidden under the forest of fur. Your eyebrows grow thicker and darker and you feel your shoulders start to widen. Stretch marks appear in your arm pits and your lats lift off from your back creeping up your neck. Your shoulders continue to round as your biceps and triceps inflate with size and soon start brushing up against your chest. You look down and your chin touches your now thick muscled chest, a thick black quilt of hair starts to sprout from the centre and quickly coats both your pecs before making its way down.

You can feel your stomach changing and your abs popping into definition but can hardly see it under the testosterone induced forest of hair. You legs feel itchy in your shorts as the hair makes it way down, as soon as they are coated in hair they too begin to expand. The noise of stretching flesh fills your ears as your legs fill your shorts and stretch the seems almost to the point of splitting.

You watch as the backs of your hands are coated in the same thick dense manly fur as the rest of you, you feel yourself curling your toes as your feet grow larger and hairier too.

You moan and make your way to a wall, rubbing your back up against it like a wild bear trying to satiate the itching as it expands into a thick muscled wall covered in hair.

Your transformation is almost complete...almost.

You feel your groin grow heavy and you cup your dick as you like out a wince, feeling it expand against your hands. Pulling forward your waist band you see a massive 13inch serpent, slowly starting to twitch to life as your get aroused. "fuck" you think to yourself "how am I gonna use this thing"

soon a faint odour of B.O. fills the air around you, before slowing growing more noticeable, until its almost burning the inside of your nose. Lifting your arms you can smell the stench coming from your pits without putting your nose anywhere near. You stink like you just spent the past 8 hours lifting weights....and with that much hair it'll be hard to wash off, it may never was off....

Fuck look at your now, 6.5ft, thick muscled gorilla, you can't believe its you in the mirror, but boy do you fucking reek. Still might not be best to complain, you know you got off easy compared to what I do to other guys...

Enjoy living your life as a stinking hairy muscle ape...