Transformations ;)

He couldn’t refuse without another fight. So he jerked the driver’s door open, told his stepbrother to get in the back, and twisted the key. The V8 turned on with a deep, vibrating snarl that traveled up through the seats.

“Front seat’s off-limits,” he said without looking over. “You’re too young for the risk when I’m driving like this and I don’t have the energy to deal with you. Stay back there.”

Noah, that short, lean, smooth-skinned, baby-faced, with a frame smaller than the average teen, in his dad’s oversized blue tank top and loose white basketball shorts, climbed into the rear seat without argument. For the first few miles he stayed quiet while Maverik pushed the Jeep hard. Headlights carved the empty highway while the tires bit asphalt. The chassis leaned through curves. At one blind crest the older brother felt the whole vehicle lift for a second, so he slammed the brakes hard enough to throw them both forward.

“You good?” he asked, glancing into the rearview.

Noah’s answer came as a sudden scramble of limbs. He vaulted the center console in one fluid motion and dropped into the copilot seat, he grinned, flushed from the rush.

“Better up here.”

“You’re not old enough for the front on a joyride,”  Maverik muttered, “Get back.”

Noah ignored him and made himself comfortable in the oversized seat. The sky was brightening a bit, now a deep blue that progressively got lighter, even though the sun still didn’t appear. Maverik exhaled through his teeth, dismissed him with a sharp shake of the head, and stomped the accelerator again. The Jeep leapt. Trees blurred. The road became a black ribbon under reckless speed.

A deep, wet throb, not pain at first, but a sudden, heavy pressure that made his eyes widen. Noah's cock twitched hard inside the loose shorts and ballooned in a single slow surge. The shaft thickened, its veins rising under the skin as it pushed past its normal size and the head swelling until it stretched the thin fabric into a clear, dark outline. His balls followed, filling with a low, liquid slosh, getting heavier and pulling the skin of his sac tight. Noah panicked at the sight and a thick pulse of pre soaked through the shorts almost immediately.

“Wh-what the fuck- ” “GAAAHH” His voice cracked. He grabbed the edge of the seat, knuckles white, as another thick inch forced its way out; he slid on the seat while the head darkened and flared, his balls swelled further, now the size of plums and expanding, churning visibly under the fabric. Then, he inevitably cummed. The thin shorts he was wearing were now see-through.

From the corner of his eye the older brother caught a sudden, unnatural movement. The outline of his stepbrother was bigger, taller, and he wouldn’t stop groaning and moaning. He frowned, looked back to the road, and dismissed it as the kid shifting on his seat and he kept the pedal down.

Noah’s cock kept growing even as it continued to pulse out cum in thick, uncontrolled spurts. It lengthened past nine inches, past ten, the shaft now as thick as a wrist, and its veins standed out like cables. The tank top looked more like his size and when he lifted it he could only see how abs were developing painfully. The now glossy tight shorts showed an enormous sausage between lengthening legs and bulging thighs, and how the elastic dug cruelly into his heavy balls. Every jolt of the Jeep made the enormous cock bounce and slap against his thigh, spraying more cum across the seat and his own legs. His hips jerked involuntarily and his highs spread wider as if to give the swelling flesh more room.

“Stop the car- please- it’s- ahh- FUCK- !” His voice dropped another full octave mid-cry, the last word sounded like a roar and his body now emanated a rotting thick musk.

The older brother smelled it. He glanced sideways again and this time saw a twitching and crying 25 year-old where his step brother used to be.

Noah brushed the car’s ceiling as his back and legs cracked, his shoulders over the headrest, the tank top stretched over the expanding pecs and back while a trail of pubes rose from his crotch to almost connect his face, where a beard was developing at lightspeed.

Maverick’s own cock was rock-hard inside his jeans, throbbing painfully against the zipper and horniness and horror combined in this chest. He slammed the brakes and the Jeep skidded over the highway, then he ripped Noah’s shorts and freed the engorged monster that demanded attention and started sucking the cum faucet. Noah’s memories were being rewritten as well as Maverik’s, blurring while new ones formed.

“That 's it. Suck harder, babe” He grabbed Maverick’s head and pushed it until his face slammed his pubes. Maverick gagged as cum dribbled out of his nose.

“I’m old enough to know you like what you see” 

Tyler was 6’4 (1,9m) and 230 pounds (100kg) of pure college-recruit muscle, still wearing his practice jersey, the fabric stretched tight across his chest and shoulders. The performance-enhancing regimen he followed secretly made the veins in his neck stand out even when he was at rest, and it kept him permanently and aggressively hard. Marcus had learned that particular detail three weeks earlier, the first time Tyler had pushed him to his knees in the equipment shed and shown him exactly what the doping did to a body already built for dominating.

“Rent’s going up next month, dwerp” Tyler said. “Unless you stay useful.”

Marcus’s stomach dropped. His parents were scraping by on overtime and extreme budgeting, literally, one more hike and they would lose the place. Tyler held up his phone, deleting the draft of the formal notice glowing on the screen with an arrogant smirk.

“Before and after every game. And whenever I say. You already know the drill.”

“I… yeah. Okay.”

“Good boy.” Tyler’s grin was all teeth. “Tomorrow after practice. Locker room. Don’t be late.”

The first week was pure survival. Tyler would text a time and a location, usually the empty locker room after practice or the equipment shed behind the field house, and Marcus would show up, drop his pants, and take whatever Tyler needed to give. Tyler’s cock was thick and heavy, constantly leaking from the cocktail of compounds flooding his system, and he used it without hesitation or mercy. He fucked hard and deep, dumping load after load into Marcus while muttering filthy words that mixed with the wet slapping sounds.

“Fuck, you’re tight for a little nerd… take it… that’s it, squeeze around me.”

Marcus gritted his teeth through every session, cleaned himself up as best he could afterward, and tried to pretend none of it existed once he returned home. By the end of that first week, he started waking up hard and with the sheets damp with sweat under him. He found himself thinking about the weight and roughness of Tyler’s hands pinning his hips, the wet heat of another thick load flooding him and the way Tyler’s breath hitched when he came. 

He hated those thoughts. He was straight! He had never looked at another guy that way in his life. Still, the need sat under his skin like an itch he could not reach, growing stronger each time Tyler filled him. He told himself it was only stress, only the blackmail, nothing more as he hit his head with his fists.

Monday of the second week, Tyler cornered him outside the gym, still sweating from his lifts and the scent of sweat and musk rolling off him.

“Upped the dose, dipshit” he said, adjusting the obvious bulge in his shorts without the slightest shame and then forcing the reeking stench of his cock from his hand onto Marcus's nose (he did not flinch). “Gonna be dumping more. A lot more. And I want you here every day during training. Not just game days. Every. Fucking. Day.”

Marcus opened his mouth. “Tyler, I can’t just- ”

BUURRP. “Shut up. Your family’s rent. Remember, bro? Or do I need to call my dad right now?”

Marcus slumped his shoulders. “I’ll be here…”

“Hu-huh, Good. Starting today.”

The next two days were relentless. Tyler fucked him in the locker-room showers while steam still hung in the air, bent him over the weight bench between sets, and once took him in the coach’s office while the rest of the team remained on the field. Each load was thicker, bigger and hotter than the last. So much that it leaked down Marcus’s thighs for hours afterward, warm, sticky and lightly itchy, due to the sperm trying to penetrate his skin. The chemical scent of the doping clinging to his skin as his hole stayed loose and slick long after Tyler finished. The compounds in those loads were being absorbed into him in quantities no one had ever intended for a non-athlete. Marcus’s mind began sluggishing a bit, but he told himself he was only tired.

By Thursday his nipples had become noticeably puffier, the skin tighter and hypersensitive beneath his cheap T-shirts. The slightest brush of fabric made him bite his lip and stifle a sound that wanted to become a moan. His hole fluttered constantly, empty and wanting, and the only face that appeared when he closed his eyes was Tyler’s; smirking, flushed, eyes half-lidded with that drug-amped lust. He tried forcing himself to think about girls from class, old fantasies, undressed, anything that had once worked. None of them stuck. Only Tyler remained, and the realization sent a cold spike of panic through him every time he noticed it.

Friday and Saturday the sessions continued without mercy. Tyler’s loads were heavier now, almost alive inside him, and spurted with such force he felt how they almost reached his stomach, and Saturday night Marcus stood in front of the bathroom mirror after his parents had gone to bed, his shirt thrown on the floor. His chest looked even fuller, softer. The nipples were dark, swollen into fat little peaks that ached when the cool air touched them. He prodded one carefully and hissed at the jolt of sensation that shot straight to his cock.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to his reflection. “What’s happening to me?”

He forced the thought away. Dismissing the changes as stress. Nothing else.

Sunday came and the changes didn’t stop.

He woke already rock-hard, his cock was bigger and thicker, its veins throbbing against the now permanently yellow-stained white underwear he used as pyjama and the sheets. His body was stiff, heavy, warm and slightly swollen and in the shower the water ran over skin that seemed tighter across his shoulders and thicker around his thighs. When he soaped his chest his nipples protruded obscenely, swollen and hypersensitive; even the gentle glide of his palm made him moan under the spray while his asshole palpitated needly. The musky scent that clinged to his skin, after every time Tyler finished with him, stuck to his body and seemed stronger than before. He tried washing and ignoring it, but he failed.

That night sleep would not come. His cock kept growing slowly and stood rigid against his stomach, now as thick as a beer bottle and reaching his bellybutton, dripping pre constantly onto the sheets and pooling on it. He tried not to touch the engorged mass he now had as a cock. On his back, he could only imagine Tyler fucking his face and getting his lungs and esophagus filled with his cum. He came hard, biting his pillow so his parents would not hear, and afterward lay there panting, staring at the ceiling, scared.

“I’m not gay,” he whispered to the dark. “I’m not… I don’t want this. I don’t.”

Monday morning the changes became impossible to ignore.

His cock sat half-hard, heavy and warm against his thigh, the head already shiny with precum that would not stop welling. The clothes he had worn for years felt snugger the moment he pulled them on. His shirts pulling across his chest, showing the bottom of a muscle gut he never had, his jeans were tighter around the seat and thighs, yearning for space, the long and thick bulge of his dick and lemon sized balls couldn’t be hidden. He stood in front of the mirror and stared at the stranger looking back. His pecs pushed forward, rounded, heavy and every time he touched them they made sloshing sounds. His shoulders looked broader. When he prodded his chest again the nipple under his finger spurted with a clear, sticky fluid that was not sweat.

“No. No, no, no.” His voice shook. “This isn’t happening.”

He forced himself to go to college in the tightening clothes. His mind was getting as foggy as he was horny. The strain of his clothes started to hurt during class, the pressure in his shorts as well as his feet and shirt, like a second skin, and boy he stank! Especially his dick. a rancid musky vapour was the only thing he could breathe.

He jumped out of class and locked himself in the bathroom. As a rip formed on the crotch of his shorts, where the head of his purple, swollen dick crawled down his thigh, the pressure of his pecs was now painful and two wet spots formed on his nipples.

it was cum.

Tyler’s cum.

Marcus clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the gasp that tried to escape, but then his mind slowed, softened, the edges of panic blurring into a thick, hazy hunger. He tried squeezing out the semen, but every time he thought a pec was drained, it rapidly filled up even bigger, bloated and red.

He ran to the locker room, blinded by confusion and desire for Tyler. There, “Fuck… what’s… happening to …” he gasped, his voice lower, thicker, the sentences difficult to say. “I don’t… I can’t… GAAHH”.  RRIPPP. His shirt ripped as he fell on the floor. Then RRRIPPP. as his bulge, thighs and butt bursted though his shorts.

The door opened.

Tyler stepped in, still in his practice gear, the outline of his constantly hard cock clear against the fabric. He stopped and took in the sight. Marcus’s torn clothes, the swollen pecs dripping white, the thick new body trembling on all fours, him taking off the remains of his underwear to show Tyler his open, glistening hole. A slow, satisfied grin spread across his face. He looked almost unsurprised.

“Well, look at you,” Tyler said, voice low and pleased. He shoved his shorts down, freeing his thick, leaking cock, the head already shiny. “My little cumdump. You finally learned your place.”

Marcus tried to form words. What came out was a broken, needy sound. “T-Tyler… I… please…”

“Please what?” Tyler stepped closer, stroking himself slowly, eyes roaming over the new bulk of Marcus’s chest, the soft heavy gut, the fat muscular ass raised and waiting. “You want this cock? You need it?”

Marcus could only moan “Yes… Tyler.”

“Yeah? You Crybaby… don’t you know I’M the biggest dick?” He grabbed his bulge and shook it while showing his middle finger and sticking out his tongue.

The neighbour returned to his house after sighing with a frown.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Crappy old man…” 

They tossed their gym bags on the floor, and jumped directly on the sofa. Brock saw how Chase was trying to hide a sudden boner tenting his gym shorts by bending his leg over. 

“Feeling the pump, huh?” 

“Y-yes… sorry, I think im going to the bathroom to… relieve stress. You know.”

“Of course, bro! After training I also think about ladies’ tiddies.”

“Yeah…”

Chase spent an hour masturbating in the bathroom, he cummed non-stop at his cock’s minimum touch.

“What the hell…” He muttered.

He got out with his shorts still tenting and lunchtime was approaching. Chase sat back down on the sofa and covered himself with a blanket looking at his drowsy friend waking up upon his return.

“I’m hungry as fuck. Should we make something for lunch?” Yaaaawn “I’ve got rice and chicken, but we need to cook it”

“Allright, I'll cook the chicken… I don’t know why, but i’m still hard tho. Just ignore it.”

“No worries, my home, your home, make yourself comfortable.”

They went to the kitchen and began cooking.  

“Man, isn’t it like a hundred degrees in here? Im sweating like a pig.” Said Chase

“Naah man, the AC is turned on, and it’s actually kinda chilly. You look a little pale tho, maybe you caught a cold or somethin’.”

“Maybe you’re right. My arms and legs are sore too.”

“I’m sure you overtrained yourself.”

“Naahh. Only 'till failure, as always.”

“Then maybe next time don’t, but gains are gains man, i get it.”

“Yeah”

Sweat kept pouring out of Chase’s body, thicker than usual, while cooking, while eating, and it itched a lot. He scratched his neck and found some thick whitish residue on his hand. He jumped to the bathroom, and looked at himself in the mirror. He saw how the skin around his neck sagged a bit and between the creases, the sweat was accumulating in the whitish clumpy paste he saw before. He smelled it, and its rank, salty smell made his nose wrinkle. 

“Brock, I'm gonna take a shower!” He shouted through the door.

“Again? You already took a shower at the gym!”

“It’s just to ease this annoying headache!”

He undressed himself and tried washing off the nasty clumps. He looked at his still hard cock, and the water alone gave him jolts of pleasure. Not only did he notice how his pubes looked overgrown, but how they were growing past the crotch, around his waist, and how his butt looked swollen, somewhat wrinkled and darker. He squished it and heard a sloshing sound coming from it. Dismissing it as some weird sickness, he dried himself up as much as his now stiffer arms let him and put on clean clothes.

“It was time you got out already! I need to poo.”

“S-sorry bro. I’m not feeling my be-”

“You clogged the shower,” Brock pointed to a hairball stopping some water from draining, “are you balding?”  He looked up to see Chase’s head. “You are!”

“W-what? No way…” He looked at his reflection “Wha- HOW! No, no! This can’t- this can’t be happening…”

“Man, do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No… Don’t worry… I’ll just lay down, ok? Just leave me alone.” 

He stepped out the bathroom door and fell. His legs weren’t responding. He crawled as fast as he could to bed.

“You look awful… your face is as red as a tomato, or… kinda purple…?”

“I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE”

“Alright man, alright…”

Chase lay down on bed, his legs unresponsive, his arms so stiff he almost couldn’t bend them, his face bloated, covered in sweat and excess skin. Every heartbeat ran over his body, from his toes to his hard dick, to his face. It was 6 pm when he coughed, and with it, some viscous liquid dribbled out of his mouth, he ran his hand over his head and more hair fell out in clumps.

Every time his hand brushed his body, he spasmed, and more of the thick liquid came out of his mouth. He was horny as a dog, so he kept caressing himself, spasming, and spitting. 

He wanted to fuck. 

No.

He needed someone to fuck him.

At 11pm Brock went to the bedroom to check on Chase.

“Look, I already had dinner- Woah! You look far worse! Y-you smell like piss too...” He pinched his nose.

“Yeahgrgr” He gurgled.

“I’ll sleep next to you today, you can’t be here alone in that state.” Brock brought with him a pillow and a blanket and prepared to sleep over the carpet. He turned off the lights.

“Good night bro. I’m sure you’ll get better tomorrow…” And fell asleep.

Brock’s mouth dribbled now constantly, he could no longer move his arms, or breathe, and desperately wanted someone to touch him so he could feel that pleasure, then, his last complex thought formed and decided to flip over onto Brock.

“What! What are you doing bro?!” 

 “G-Get off me!” But he couldn’t push over the mass that was his best friend to the ground. Brock scrambled to get up as he felt something extremely heavy tugging him down. He tried dragging it, groping the wall searching for the light switch while trying to get Chase off, who seemed stuck to his pelvis.

He didn't find the light switch, but found the remote of the LEDs that decorated his room and pressed the first button he could. Red light flooded the room and Brock could finally see what was happening.

Chase's head was on the floor, now bald, smooth, bulging and deep purple, his mouth, immobilized, could only let out gurgling moans and spurting cum that trailed and puddled over the floor with his falling teeth. His neck shortened as a ring of smegma fused to the collapsing shoulders. His abs and pecs were melting into a rock-hard meat cylinder covered in enormous veins as pubes rose through it and Brock’s balls fused with the bursting scrotum Chase had as glutes.

He caressed it, palpitating,  shooting more and more cum, while soothing his horniness it seemed to be shrinking. It wasn't, Chase's extra mass was being absorbed by Brock. His body filled with testosterone. Pecs, biceps, thighs, feet, growing. The body he thought was worthy of a Greek god was minute compared to what he was becoming. His face sharpened and the stubble of a beard appeared over his jaw.

“gaaAAAAHHH” He moaned.

“Hufff… huff… what a naughty- huff… friend- huff…you are, Chase…” He slumped his gaming chair. 

“You sure are the biggest dick in the neighbourhood.” 

He is younger than me, 20… Hey, I know what you are thinking, don’t judge me, he was the one that approached me first. He was skinny, and didn’t have an ounce of muscle.

I couldn't accept the lack of motivation he had for going to the gym, so I searched on Tumblr and found a post explaining how the exposure to your partner’s cum can improve the “affinity” between the two. And so I did.

“Hey, do you want to go to the gym?” I said with puppy eyes.

“How many times do I need to tell you I don’t like going to the gym… I love you so much, but it’s just not my place…” He approached me and tiptoeing kissed me on the cheek.

“Yeah, I know. I just had to try one last time. Well, off i go! See you later, dear.”

“Byee”

I didn’t go to the gym that afternoon. I stayed in some public bathroom beating my meat and saving the cum. I hoped that the weird experiment worked and left the jizz filled cup on the dashboard, under the last scorching rays of sun of the day, and went grocery shopping.

“Babe, I’m home!” The now dried cum-filled cup in my pocket. 

“Edward!” He exclaimed while jiggling my tummy, “How was it?”

“Good training session, luv. I’ll cook. I’m gonna make spaghetti, ok?”

“Sounds wonderful. While you cook, I’ll mow the lawn then.”

Gael started the engine of the lawnmower as I began boiling the pasta. I finished cooking, served the two plates and sprinkled some of the dried cum powder over his plate and added some to his iced tea.

“Gael! Dinner is served!”

“Coming!” “Aww, don’t you want cheese seasoning on your pasta too?”

“No, don’t worry dear, all for you.”

“Thanks” He tasted the cum dusted pasta. “Wow, it tastes so good! Did you try a new recipe?”

“No, I made them as always…”

“Well, compliments to the chef!” He blushed as he looked me in the eyes. 

We ate everything. He drank the whole iced tea. And this routine of cooking and putting my cum over his food kept up over the days. 

His appetite slowly increased, and three days later I saw him struggling to put on his everyday skinny jeans.

“Do you need help?” I said

“N-no, thanks. It's just… Do I look fatter?”

“No! What are you talking about!” He struggled. His butt was thicker as well as his bulge. For the moment it wasn’t a weight problem. I didn’t think it was because of the cum experiment, I thought it was just normal growth. Until I looked at Gael the next day’s evening. 

He was eating almost double as much as I, when usually he ate half the amount that I ate. He devoured the dinner messily, as if breathing in the food, with a boner. Every bite he took made him breathe sharply with pleasure, while his girthier cock left a wet spot in the front of his jeans

“You ok, Gael? You are eating too fast…, you could choke."

“it’s just- *munch*  that this- *slurp* food tastes sSOOOoo GOOD *moan*”

He ate in such an erotic manner he turned me on… I looked at his hard-on under the table, and the outline of his cock through the jeans was impossible to ignore. It seemed to be growing down his pant leg and wetting it. Those jeans looked tight. Tighter than usual. The heel of his feet now sticked out his slippers while in the front you could see every toe molded under the leather. The hem was now tight under a bulging calf and the lateral seams of the jeans were pushed to their limits by the thickening thighs and glutes. He didn’t seem to notice, as he was deeply concentrated in engulfing every piece of food in front of him.

“Tonight is fuck night, Edward, im very horny…”

“As you wish, dear” I said as I observed how his belly folded in three flaps. He was still skinny, he just ate so much that that momentary belly was inevitable. 

“Maybe it’s because of the cum?” I mumbled.

“Did you say anything? *munch*

“No, nothing…”

We jumped directly to bed and believe me, it was some of the best sex I had had in my life. He massaged my dick, i beat his, that now was even bigger than mine, and then i fucked his ass while the baseballs he had as testicles slapped against mine. I grabbed his now pudgier hip and fucked even harder. We both ended up exhausted and fell asleep after putting on some light pyjamas on the cum splashed bed. That morning he woke me up with a screech.

“Babe! I went to the bathroom to clean myself… Look at me! I’m as fat as a cow!”

He was indeed fatter, he was taller, his frame was wider, his voice was deeper.

“What’s happening to me!” He sobbed over my hairy gut as I sat up in bed.

“Babe, your body is changing, but you shouldn’t worry… You are still perfect to my eyes.”

“No! Don’t you see? I’ve never been to the gym and my pecs are as big as yours, my pyjama looks painted on me and i just stink like a fucking lumberjack!”

“Hushh, Gael, don’t worry. You just need to relax and have some water.” I took a glass of water, mixed it with cum and gave it to him. “Drink up, dear, you shouldn’t worry.”

“Thanks. *gulp*  *gulp*  *gulp*. Do you mind bringing me another one?”

“Of course" I returned to the kitchen hiding the hard-on I had by looking at his hotter self. I thought I could bring him my 3 liter water jug I took to the gym instead of a tiny glass. While I was filling it with water, I jerked off in it.

“Here you have” He was sitting on the bed’s edge, which was extremely dipped in because of his new weight. He chugged the water. *gulp* *gahh*  His body grew bigger, *glug* *glug* his inflating chest made the buttons of his pyjama burst one by one, as well as its sleeves, *moan* *gulp* *slurp*  while hair erupted across his torso, legs and arms, growing up to his jaw, where he now had a manly beard from ear to ear. 

Halfway through the jug, his cock started spurting cum in his black underwear while his butt kept tightening them, and when he was almost finished drinking, some wrinkles appeared over his sweaty shiny face, on his forehead and eyes. Gael looked at me smiling carefreely with a far more mature face and somewhat receded hairline.

*bbbBBBBBUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPpp*

“Man, that water was refreshing!” He said while flexing his bulging bicep. I could see how his hairless pit grew a bush of hypnotizing, musky, sweaty coiled hair.

I jumped next to him and we immediately started kissing and moaning.

“After this we’re going to the gym.” He said.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Hayes woke up, he felt heavy. So, God damn heavy and his face itched. He scratched it, only to have his fingers be met with hair along his jaw. That was enough to jolt him awake. He jumped to his feet, half squatted, as if expecting vermin to run by. Two over-ripe pecs jiggled. Perfected muscles, experiencing the shock wave of his reaction. Confused at what he was looking down at, Hayes poked it, seeing and feeling the indentation in the skin, understanding it was his flesh.

Then he noticed the finger and hand that were poking him. Strong, veined, and brawny. The same as his arms. More fit for a construction worker than him. Wiggling them in the air, they looked more like his dad's fingers. His feet came into his view when he looked down and saw their gargantuan size, slammed into the floor. Eyes flowing up, his calves and thighs were loaded like a springboard. Only then did he realize the reason he was low was because he was still squatting. He rose slowly, surpassing his actual face worrying as his head went further into the air. By the time it stopped, Hayes felt like he was on stilts.

He tried to move around, body stumbling. His hips bumped into his dad’s dresser and the whole thing shook. The impact was barely noticeable on his end with his right thigh and glute absorbing the collision. He made his way to the living room, the first mirror he could think of, vertigo threatening to send him back to the ground. When his first footstep thundered into the living room, he spotted his dad standing directly across from him. Hayes made a shocked face that his father copied, before realizing it was his reflection. His face wasn’t his dad’s face at all, but hard to tell with the big bushy blond beard he had.

“Holy fuck!” his hands snapped over his mouth. The words came out on their own and the power behind them was brutal. That was not the voice of Hayes Colt. It wasn’t even his father, Evan Colt’s, voice. A voice as rich and deep as his father’s, but completely new. Hands grasping and pushing softly at his throat, he tried to find the cause as to why. Not knowing 'the culprit' lived much lower. He spun around but stopped when in the mirror spotted how his new tattoo reached to his far back. What had happened? How had he gotten so much older? He looked like a superhero and sounded like one.

The car pulled into the driveway. When he looked through the window, he saw his dad driving up. There was a throbbing in his dad’s briefs as Hayes for the first time since waking acknowledged the large lump, hanging down in them. Ghosting a hand over it, Hayes’ eyes went wide to discover that was indeed his dick. Warm to the touch, large, and growing. His eyes went back to his dad outside, now shutting the door. Hayes cock got larger even faster the longer he stared at his dad. And maybe he should have only worried about how much trouble he was going to be in, but he wasn’t. He was more interested in how exciting his cock was getting the closer his father walked.

A turn of the doorknob and Hayes’ dad stepped in, breakfast bag in hand. His father caught Hayes standing in the living room looking right at him. “Morning babe, got you a breakfast burrito,” He shook the bag then stopped, “Are those my underwear?”

“Yeaaah, I thought they’d look good on me.” Hayes responded and put his hands on his hips.

“They do!” His father replied, nodding, tongue tracing over his lips. “Just don’t give the neighbors a free show.” He nodded at the window. The two made their way into the kitchen where Hayes was sweating bullets that his dad hadn’t punished him yet. He kept waiting and waiting, but his dad never used the disappointed tone. Evan Colt simply unpacked the food he had brought out onto the counter. Hayes’ burrito and a few other food items sat there. As Hayes stepped up to the counter for the burrito, his dad slipped behind him. Something hard poked at his ass, with his father pressing him forward.

“I love that you wore these today, it really got me going.” Then his dad dropped to his knees pulling the back of his own underwear down to expose Hayes' new globes. His father’s mouth, then face, dove into Hayes’ ass and he got eaten out. Hayes had to sit back on his dad’s face not strong enough, even with his new body, to stand up on his own, legs wobbling from his first ass eating.

Evan Colt had his son’s ass for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Somewhere during his dad’s post-lunch, snacking and choking on Hayes’ cock, did Hayes realize he was in a world where he and his father were husbands. Though he only remembered when he was roaring a cum shot down his dad’s greedy throat. His body had inherited so much from wearing his dad’s briefs, even the man's low heavy balls constantly churning seed and testosterone. Who wouldn’t be attracted to something they made. A planned lazy Saturday for father and son became a non-stop fuck fest for lovers.

At night, both men shared the bathroom in their underwear as they brushed their teeth. Hayes had transitioned into a fresh pair post shower. His underwear was now housed in his father’s room, their room technically. The same briefs he’d worn before but resized to hold his ass and cock. The whole time they brushed their teeth his father smiled at him.

“What?” Hayes asked, toothpaste in his mouth.

“I don’t know, you’re even more handsome than usual today, can't put my finger on it.”

[APOLOGIES, THIS IMAGE (and the next) HAD TO BE REMOVED TO NOT GET THIS POST FLAGGED, visit the website!]

Hayes spat his toothpaste into the sink. “You just like seeing me in my underwear,” He smirked.

“Can you blame me? You look so manly in them.” His dad admitted.

“Heh, well If I do, I got it from you.” Hayes blushed, “Takes a certain kind of man to pull briefs off and you’ve got ass and cock for it for days.”

“So, because I wear briefs you wanted to wear them too?” Hayes’ dad asked.

“Well yeah, you’re inspirational.” Hayes set his tooth brush down, turning to exit. The comment earned him a large smack to the ass, as his father growled in his ear. They wrestled to the bed and rolled around it until it didn't matter who looked more manly in the briefs as both pairs laid on the floor on top of each other. 

The next morning, Hayes rose naked, with all the beauty his father would have. Evan Colt, however, was peacefully asleep. After kissing his dad on the head, Hayes got out of bed and walked over to the new bedroom mirror. A full body reflection awaited him. Last night wasn't a dream. And it no longer mattered how manly he looked in the underwear he wore.

He was all MAN out of them.

—

Oh yes, go on dad. Please explain what the hell I’m wearing. I’m waiting.

You don’t know? I find that hard to believe. I’m not just saying that because ALL OF THIS came with a whopping heap of knowledge. These underwear—can you even call them that?—were hanging in your closet. Must have been really special to get the pants hanger treatment. Anyone with half a brain could see that. 

Stop looking at my bulge dad. I can’t help that it’s a low hanger now. Blame yourself. When I put the underwear on, these straps came out of nowhere wrapping around my body. Oh, I tried to take them off, but then muscle was just pumping into me. I just kept growing and growing in your room. You wouldn’t have believed it when my pecs came in, like two properly placed slates. Then my arms got yoked and my biceps really wanted to snap these straps. I knew these shoes had to be yours when they appeared on my new monster-sized feet. Only you would stomp around in something like them. The facial hair grew in before my face even changed to look closer to yours. Huh? Yeah, I know I’m not you, I’m an older me. Ever think your son would be as big as you thanks to the secret in your closet?

So, you were wearing this when you brought men over to plow. Don’t answer, I already know that too. Did it feel good cunting them? rearranging their insides? Owning their asses? These Small black things made you feel powerful, didn’t they? I guess you fucked around enough in them they made your son actually powerful. Don’t be shy now dad, I know you’ve bent over and opened your ass in these underwear too. Guess powerful means different things on different days. Makes me want to fuck you too. 

You really shouldn't worry, we have the exact same proclivities now. Here’s what we're going to do: you get over here and start worshiping me. And maybe, just maybe, if you're good, you'll get your son’s cock, or would you prefer your new daddy?

—

Reyan had no idea the laundry had gotten mixed up. Sure, the briefs were larger, but he didn’t think much of it. Wearing the same brand as his dad was bound to lead to some mix ups. So, as he bent over to pull them up, he didn’t take into account how long the journey up his legs were, or the black hair he traveled over. 

Once he was standing tall, he found himself wearing a shirt via the mirror. The colors, the character. That had to be some Dragon Ball Z shit, which meant it had his dad’s name all over it. Why was he wearing it though? He wasn’t into that weeb shit like his older brother. No wait, his dad. Multiple conflicting images and memories played in his mind. Also, what the fuck was up with his face—did he always curse this much?—a freaking beard like his dad. His hair was even longer, styled back just like his older brother. The rest of the body was a pure copy and paste of the only other Indian man in the house.

Why did Reyan feel so off, when he looked so good? Maybe he shouldn't have done the laundry today after all. “Kabir, I got your shit dumbass.” He shouted out to the house, a heavy voice carrying his words out.

“Why are you blaming me, you did the laundry?” His dad answered back. “Is that what community college is teaching you? How NOT to do laundry.” Kabir's voice was laced in playfulness. Reyan was confused as he certainly wasn't in community college. With his looks wasn’t it obvious he was a fucking model? His brother could have been one too, if he put effort into it.  Footsteps came up the stairs and Kabir found Reyan in his clothes. The older brother smirked, “You didn’t say you were wearing my stuff?”

“What can I say? Guess I thought they deserved to be shown off on a body worthy of them.” Reyan gave one of those younger brother annoying smirks.

“You don’t even like anime?” Kabir shot back with his own grin.

What?! Of course, Reyan did. They watched it together all the time growing up…no, he had strange images of some kid with Kabir, but when he saw Kabir watching it growing up, Reyan skirted to the other room. It was garbage for the mind; he didn’t know anything about it. He didn't want to. But then, how did he know the shirt was Dragon Ball Z inspired? His thoughts were scattered at the moment. In Reyan’s memory the reason he put on Kabir's stuff was because he liked wearing his older brother’s things, ever since he was little, even if he didn’t get it. 

“What are you going to do about it?” Reyan crossed his arms, underwear still down, shirt still up.

Kabir was used to these antics. It was their foreplay by now. “Guess I have no choice, but to take them off you.” He rushed, Reyan before their lips smashed and he had his younger brother up against a wall, legs up fucking him. Kabir’s underwear hung off Reyan’s left foot, before falling to the ground.

There would need to be another laundry day, and no doubt there’d be another mix-up.

—

“You, were hiding all this from me, dad?” Harlo cupped his package over the Calvin Klein boxers.

Stephen had no idea what the hell had just happened. His son and he were taking a much-needed summer vacation. University and work were stressful and wearing them down. They only spent one night at the hotel. While lazing around that morning in their underwear, Harlo went through his father’s suitcase, squatting on the ground, before pulling out the boxers. 

“Look how big these are, definitely something a dad wears.” Harlo laughed, “Like grannie panties, but for dudes.”

“Hey, don’t be jealous, your dad’s a big dude. Muscle needs room and I like my underwear loose.” Stephen corrected. 

“Tsk,” Harlo sucked his teeth, “Couldn’t be me, I need my junk to be cradled.” Stephen rolled his eyes lovingly. Harlo was a jock, and even when he wasn’t working out, preferred boxer-briefs. Long since graduated from tighty-whities, his boy got stuck on what Stephen thought was a transitional stage. Harlo seemed to think they were the pinnacle of undergarments. 

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious son.” Stephen pointed at Harlo’s underwear, electric blue boxer-briefs. The two were very open around each other. Stephen didn’t like wearing any clothes while growing up, but once he was married got in the habit of at least having underwear on. It made sense why his son would pick it up. The two Baker men, underwear brothers in arms. Eventually Stephen and his wife got a divorce, but the new habit stuck. Whenever his son was over there were never any questions about attire. The two could sit on the couch and eat ice cream all day in their underwear.

There was just one problem though: the bulge. There was a point where Harlo began sporting a noticeable heft between his legs that his underwear only accentuated. Stephen’s vision was often led there, only a blind person wouldn’t see it. Stephen was aware it was his fault in a way, as it was clearly Harlo’s inheritance from him. The difference was with the boxers Stephen wore his big cock was easy to hide, Harlo’s, however, was in the open, stretching his underwear out. Harlo, as stubborn as his dad, couldn’t be convinced to put on anything else. He liked bouncing around. 

Staring at his dad’s boxers, Harlo flipped them. “Doesn’t it get hard to move, with it slapping your thighs all the time?”  Then, he looked over with a mischievous smirk. “Or is it not big enough yet?” he teased his father.

Stephen rolled his eyes, with a snort. “I wear boxers because my dick is so big, you’re the one clinging to your tiny boxer-briefs like some Lost Boy.”

The look that grew on Harlo’s face was classic. His typical shit-eating grin. Something mischievous was coming. Harlo stood up and yanked his boxer-briefs down, cock slapping out. He stepped out of them, “Let’s see if they're so much better,” then kicked his underwear off to the side. One foot after the other he stepped into his dad’s boxers. Then he stood there satisfied with himself, hands on his hips, staring at his father.

“This is it? All this dangle?” He twisted his hip, letting his dick shuffle around. “Not really worth—” His mouth froze. Stephen’s eyes locked in automatically, thinking it was a trip but within a second, Harlo was gone. Something was still there in Stephen’s boxers, but it wasn’t his son. It had Harlo’s shape and size, but the key word was ‘it’. Harlo had turned into a flesh mannequin, his facial features smoothed over. Before Stephen could even hop into action, the thing in the room with him grew.

Its height stretched to the ceiling as the pecs got juicier, the abs firmer, the arms thicker. A perma-tan baked itself heavily into Harlo’s skin. Stephen couldn’t believe what he was witnessing; he'd seen those features many times in the mirror. A face emerged, as the head shook, mouth mid-yawn as lips came to be. Was it shock or awe that kept Stephen on the bed? The face he saw resembled Harlo’s but so heavily influenced by Stephen’s own. The five o'clock shadow, the moustache: Stephen’s staples. When the hat and chain appeared on Harlo, Stephen was beyond sure something was mocking his style and existence.

“Holy fuck.” Harlo looked down at his body. “Guess boxers really are for men then?” His hands cradled his pecs. “You give everyone this physique?” A hand went lower, where his eyes went wide, before smirking. “You, were hiding all this from me dad?” 

Stephen gulped, not out of fear, pure excitement. He could already see the curve of his ass on Harlo, now he wanted to see the front too.

—

Mr. Chun softly sighed, “Eun-jae, did you take my underwear?”

“Noooo,” The studly Korean man put his hands behind his back. He was standing in nature with his underwear– rather his dad’s underwear, exposed. The cannonball shoulders, large pecs, diamond cut abs, tree trunk thighs, all native to Mr. Chun ‘s body. The peachy ass in the back and the bulge in the front were no different either. Mr. Chun was looking at the older version of his son, now packed with an extra packing of his father’s genetics. Eun-jae’s denim jacket was transformed into a larger version, but his pants were gone. Nothing, but fabric pieces on the trail behind them.

It was supposed to be a fun morning hike for father and son. Mr. Chun did notice his son incrementally growing as they walked but couldn’t place why. He thought maybe he was going crazy. Eun-jae going from Mr. Chun’s hips to his abs, to his chest, to meet his eyeline, however, was not a mental falter. He couldn’t piece it together until Eun-jae's new ass split the last remainder of his pants down the back. There was the culprit, encasing Eun-jae’s nether regions, Mr. Chun's own briefs! The tighty-whites were certainly wrapped tight around the new man’s muscle as if they always belonged there.

Suddenly, it all made sense to Mr. Chun. His briefs were just a bit too manly for Eun-jae, the style, the cut, the brand. Sure, they looked like typical briefs but not just anyone could pull them off. Designed to hold man-ass and family jewels, they would ensure they served their mission and nothing less. 

Eun-jae’s cock began to slowly peak over the waist band. Mr. Chun looked off to the side and saw how secluded it was. No one came in either direction. He took his son’s hand and led him off the trail. Once out of sight, he pulled those briefs down and fucked his son in the forest. Eun-jae's ass swallowed cock as good as his dad’s. Eun-jae had assumed the bent over position on a tree just as Mr. Chun did when questing for cock. The forest was soon full of their lovemaking, hard bodies meeting each other.  Eun-jae was the first to cum, balls pulling up as he shot a fat load onto the forest floor, cock spilling about, as his father dumped a huge load inside him.

The two never would finish their walk. There were better ways to bond.

—

Hector, my Hector, mi niñito. I never knew this would happen. How could my jock strap do this? I always knew there was something different about me. Growing up, I stood taller, my muscles bigger, my cock larger, and my balls hung lower. Jockstraps kept me tied down. I never thought he’d ever want to put one on. I had just walked in, seeing Hector sitting on the bed, faced away from me, when it sealed to his waist. The world shifted.

I know why he did it. He wanted to be closer to me. He thought the jocks held some secret because I wore them so often. Begged me to buy him some so he could have a pair too. There was no convincing him, they were just for comfort: if dad wore them there had to be something special. It turned out he was right.

The changes started from him. His back cracked, widening as muscles made their way in. The brown bare ass on my sheets rounded and firmed, sinking lower into the mattress. I came around, in time to see his pecs spill forth, bringing forth arms and legs that rightfully belonged to me. My hair grew over his chest, black whiskers spilling from the sternum, swirling over his nipples until a familiar treasure trail appeared over his abs. Then the same light hairs I had on my legs and forearms took up residence on his. His face went through several changes, life phases, all impacted by me. His jaw pronounced his own facial features, but the five o'clock shadow was all mine. Then the trademark mustache grew in. My son was replaced by a man made out of testosterone in my bed. 

With his first new breath, I heard the sounds of a gruff voice. On his first exhale, the house followed suit. Pictures of my son and me changed as he was replaced with the older version now in my room. Our poses became less paternal and more intimate. Hands around waists, gazing into each other’s eyes. A wedding photo of us was the main scene stealer. A large banner in the background that read: In holy matrimony Father & Son.  The bed expanded, ever so slightly, for the comfortability of two bodies. As for the layout of my room, it was completely altered, as more clothes appeared. Then accessories akin to my sensibilities appeared on his body, my socks, my bracelets, my necklaces, my beanie. He even copied my nipple piercing.

I faltered back, realizing I was in a world where I was married to my son, who was the same age as me. Judging by the pictures of us with family and friends around, no one questioned how it was possible or even thought the union was strange. Smiles and good times to be had by all. Even a candid of me that sat on top of my dresser, showed my tongue fully invading Hector's mouth. The world had accepted it and given everyone, but me the memo. My mind was stressed, but my emotions were peaceful, seeing our shoes on the floor, shirts and pants hanging in the closet. Our lives became intertwined as one. My jockstrap had forcibly pulled my son up to my level.

My mind was so lost, I hadn't even noticed Hector was talking to me. “Good morning, dad!” he lowered his voice and said, “babe,” seductively. “Came to start your morning off with this?” He flexed his biceps.

Should I have rebelled? Tried to set the world, right? I didn’t. The minute his biceps rose, so did my cock. He was my husband alright, and my body knew it on a deeper level even if my consciousness didn’t. His body, fueled by my masculinity, was a sight to see. I wanted him badly and I was going to have him.

—

Jacquan Davis did not own the body. He didn’t even own the coffee. The bubble ass he was using to rest on the counter was a perfect replica of someone already sculpted. He drank his coffee, trying to get his active body to take a rest. The muscles didn’t know how to relax; they craved exercise. He even knew the coffee wasn’t the greatest idea. But that was his dad’s addiction expressing itself through him. As for his dad, now husband, Mr. Daon Davis was knocked out. Who could blame him? He had a tough day and an active night afterwards.

Daon had bought them matching underwear as a joke gift for his own Father’s Day. He was always doing stuff that made him laugh on days like that. Black briefs with white polka dots on the waist band and white vertical lines across its entirety. Jacquan had been upset, “Briefs are for kids” were his exact words. What respectable person his age or older would walk around with their ass and cock on display? Even if he knew his dad hadn't actually expected Jacquan to wear them, the gift was still a slight. 

Underwear that promised to grow the bond between father and son. It made no sense. In Jacquan’s mind, men didn't wear briefs so how could a father & son set even exist? The packaging claimed to be a joke, but Jacquan wasn't laughing. For all the effort to be stupid, they may as well put cartoon characters on it and make people feel even more dumb.

And though it was supposed to be a joke, Jacquan saw his father, slipping into the larger of the pair when he thought his son wasn’t around. Daon didn’t even keep them on for long, tossing them in the laundry hamper without a second thought. That’s when Jacquan struck, sneaking into the room. If his dad wanted to humor the joke, he would too, but he wasn't going for the son's underwear, he wanted the father’s one. At least he might feel like a man that way. Once he put them on, the heat of his dad’s cock and ass were still embedded into the fabric. The connection to his own dad made Jacquan’s skin tingle, then his whole body, as the warmth flooded inside of him. A huge cock pushed out the front as his ass expanded out the back, each filling in the underwear the same way his father did. 

Jacquan’s upper body and lower body morphed, rising, growing. He could feel his dad’s strength moving within him. They were connected in more ways than one. This underwear was not for sons, this pair was made to make men feel secure within them. A sort of feedback to the owner that had no side effects for the originator. However, for a stranger unused to the level of testosterone and development, even from his own father, was an overload. The body that was birthed, knew who its donator was, baking pecs fit for a man over 6’ft tall. The abs and the arms were just extra icing on the cake. Despite all the physique defining hormones Jacquan’s face stayed true even as facial hair got his lower jaw and upper lip.

His dad walked back in to find his new monumental son standing in the room in his underwear. The pull between them was electric and it was all due to those tight briefs. Jacquan’s ass and cock were filling them in a way no mere ‘son’ could. They’re bodies moved closer and soon they were on the floor rolling around, making out. Daon was the one to slide the briefs off, and soon enough was buried balls deep in his boy. His hips moved automatically, positioning in and out of the well-trained ass, until he came an entire new heaping of sons deep in Jacquan’s depths.  There was no ‘cool down’ after-period. Jacquan rolled his father over and made his own claim as a man, taking his father’s ass on the floor as well.

They fucked their brains out and then some. The underwear had been like crack to their systems. Jacquan had been so wrong about who briefs were for. Only men could fuck like this, the briefs only made it hotter. They did try to call the company that made the underwear, who claimed misuse of their products. Jacquan’s transformation was his own fault for putting on a father’s pair of underwear, especially one recently worn by his dad. Words between them didn’t come until late in bed, trying to make sense of their new bond.

The next morning, Jacquan rose out of his father's bed with a strange compulsion on his tongue. He needed coffee. Then a set of events that led to his current introspection in the kitchen, coffee mug in his hand. What was next for him and his dad following this…besides the several fuck sessions.

—

I fucked up. I know that now. Putting on my dad’s jockstrap was a terrible idea. It turned me into a big hairy guy like him. Before, I didn’t properly appreciate how small I was and how easy it was to maneuver around. This body, my body, lumbered with serious weight just like my dad. Hard to sneak about with quaking footsteps. My chest was so goddamn itchy when the fur covered me. All the hair on my head migrated below my eyebrows. I wasn't a fan of the beard either. It looked nice on my dad, but made me a whole other person.

There was no benefit to being so large. Worse of all was my cock, my nuts had swelled like fucking baseballs and my cock, even soft, was thicker than a beer can. The thing wanted my attention from the moment it arrived. Had to use my hand to keep the wanting beast down, until my dad got home. He could teach me how to deal with the direct offspring of his own cock. 

Maybe I should have believed my cousin, Marlon, when he called me. At first, I didn’t know it was him. His voice was deeper and he was whispering. Said he found out that his dad had special underwear and my dad did too. Marlon said once he put them on, he became as tall as his dad and as old as him. His call was to warn me not to put them on if I ever came across them.  I thought Marlon was messing with me by putting on the voice. So, yeah, I headed into my dad’s room looking for the jockstrap. How was I supposed to take his word for it without confirming?

Found it easily, my dad wasn't good at hiding stuff from me. I just never knew there was something worth looking for. No idea what it was even used for. I wanted it because my dad had it. How could my cousin know about special underwear and not me? Being a shit, to stick it to my cousin, I slipped the jockstrap on and that’s where the trouble started.

Now, I'm this! A freaking gorilla and it was my own fault. My dad was going to be mad, but probably after he drained my cock. He was a cock hound through and through and so was I. He’d get a healthy dose of his grandkids, and my tongue was getting more curious to taste my brothers. 

My cock throbbed. 

I pray my dad gets back soon.

—

Marlon sighed, sitting in his father’s room. He hoped his cousin, Gilbert, had believed him. There was no helping him anymore. His chest sat proudly, two prominent pecs with perky nipples. Then there were his longer arms and legs, new muscularity packed into them. All foreign to him moments ago but slowly acclimating to his mind. As for his face, a nearly perfect copy and paste of his dad, no fat, all sculpted bone defining his chin. A permanent five o'clock shadow fused into his jaw with his father’s mustache chilling on his lower lip. Nothing left of who he was.

Marlon had overheard their dad’s talking at the last family get together about secret underwear in the dresser. Apparently, they only wore it on certain occasions, and Marlon was curious, or stupid enough, to go looking.

The moment he slipped on the pale green fabric, his cock jutted out, stretching the jockstrap. His father liked them tight exclusively for showing off his large appendage, and now his son was no different. Father and son shared more than just blood as Marlon experienced why his father kept the jockstrap a secret. It was as if every debaucherous thought from his dad was exposed as it flooded Marlon’s mind. The growth started silently, but Marlon couldn't hold back his moans. His body fed, redesigning itself to its former owner’s blueprint.

The jockstrap didn't know the kind, caring, fatherly image as much as it knew the man-whore. Nothing but a walking pole, practically a bottom fisher with the fat cakes he dragged everywhere in the straps. Marlon’s own butt firmed up, to massive size, while his legs pushed him higher. He could see his father in various sexual positions, bending, twisting, engaging his core and, Marlon’s mid-section bestowed the same abs onto him. 

A new man, as hot as his own father, came to life. He collapsed on the ground, body weak, but blood pumping to all his new muscles. The first thing he had to do was warn his cousin. There was probably a jockstrap laying in wait to strike at his house too. They weren’t trinkets to be fucked around with; they were carriers of WMDs. 

As Marlon sat on the chair, he heard the front door slam! “Marlon, Marlon” his dad’s voice was panicked as the male rushed up the stairs, “My brother said Gilbert got into his stuff and— “Marlon’s dad froze upon seeing his son, leg spread, cock print visible. He gulped standing in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” He asked, fighting to keep his eyes on Marlon’s face.

“What do you think dad?” Marlon sighed, as his cock throbbed, “I’m as horny as you! Can you ever make your dick chill the fuck out?”

“I usually compose myself…and get serious, when I think of you,” His dad stated, “Knowing you need me, it pulls me back.”

Marlon tried to earnestly follow that advice but in reverse, think of his dad. When he did however, only the sluttiest and braggadocious versions popped to mind. All the things his dad wouldn’t let his son see, but certainly a lover. Marlon’s eyes snapped open, no use his cock was aching even more, and his dad was watching a wet spot form. There was an excited jerk in his dad’s pants.

“Apologizes,” His dad halfheartedly covered his dress pants, “I don’t mean to stare, but I can’t look away. It’s like it’s calling to my dick.” His breath got heavy as he placed a foot into the room. “And I’m trying, believe me, I am to focus on my son, get serious.” He shook his head, “But your cock keeps knocking it out of my head.”  His dad sat on Marlon’s spread legs and pulled out both their cocks, perfect twins leaking on each other. The strokes were slow but the gaze between the men was intense, before they locked lips. Marlon’s dad went faster as Marlon’s legs trembled, cock slicking and being slick by his father’s cock. 

“FUCKKKK!!!” He cried as gallons of pent of seed came gushing out of him and landed on his pecs, before his father said “SHIT!” and his seed mixed with Marlon’s. They turned his torso into a canvas for their shared DNA. 

“Goddamn,” His dad chuckled, pressing his forehead to Marlon’s, “My naughty son going through my stuff, guess that just made you even more naughty?”

“Hello?” He walked in not hearing anyone, the place was quiet and spotless. Looked as brand new as it smelt.  He worried if he had walked in on someone forgetting to lock the door. There was no ‘Grand opening’ sign but nothing else could really explain that amazing condition. As for the sudden appearance, the place hadn’t been here last month when Do-yun treated himself to a meal.

There was a sign that read: Sit and Order. You will be served. 

Do-yun found his feet walking to a booth to sit down, before he even registered it. Then he sat opening up a menu. One page, one item on the menu.

Do-yun Choi $28.99

5’7”, black hair, baby face, average to thin body.

This college student offers a fresh taste of a pure love for sea life and ocean exploring alongside his studious nature. A quick appetizer. Food, but make it nerdy!

“Huh?” Do-yun read the menu again. That was his name printed there with his physical traits and a description. No matter how long he stared, it didn’t change, he was really seeing it. He looked around wondering if anyone was secretly watching his reaction. Sorta sucked that he had such a stupid description.

Standing up he walked to the counter and slammed the menu down “Real funny guys. And I could be more than an appetizer!" He waited for someone to emerge out the back. Nothing but the register, utensils, and pens. Pissed off he reached over and grabbed one writing on the menu. If someone went through the trouble to mess with him, he was going to ruin their prop.

So, he rewrote it.

Do-yun Choi $48.99

6’3”, black hair, handsome face, beefy built body.

This college student offers a bulky fresh taste of a pure love for sea life and ocean exploring alongside his studious and muscular nature. A full meal. Group meal even. food, but make it a stud!

He laughed to himself, setting the pen down, satisfied. “That’s more like it.” He tucked the pen back into its holder. His written blue scribble on the page glowed as the fresh ink flowed upwards, latching onto the printed text and changing it. Soon Do-yun’s description became the new printed text. Do-yun jolted away seeing the new state of the menu. As he did, a heat thudded his body. He broke out in a sweat. His heart was working like crazy. There was a fierce pump within his body, his chest exploded out of his shirt. Two pecs ripped through his T-shirt just to sit pretty.

Over his left pec was a nautical tattoo, fresh ink seared into his skin as blue as the ink he had used on the menu. There was a pop as his knees and back cracked growing upwards. His back broadened shoulders being forced further apart as muscle poured into his frame. There were tears and rips across his jeans as his thighs got massive, entering skull crushing territory. Abs appeared on his body and deleted his flat stomach forever more. There was no one and done, his muscles kept expanding, drinking in power from no discernible source. Do-yun went beyond looking like a fit guy into a new territory. His body wanted to get bigger.

One minute his shoes were there the next, they were smashed into the ground, feet popping out of them. Large. Extended. Masculine. Even his socks were ruined. His glutes inflated, pushing against the seat of his pants. As for the front his balls swelled, his own seed beginning an insane production as his cock rudely took up more space.

“Ah!” he let out a yelp as a nipple piercing claimed his right areola.

The consistency of his face transformed, or rather matured. His eyebrows grew thicker, while his cheeks shredded fat. A face that naturally found its place on the neck thickening to support it   and the new body taking shape. The change was overwhelming to Do-yun firing off all pleasure centers as he passed out. The last thing he heard was his clothes continuing to tear as his body broke free.

When Do-yun Choi awoke he was naked. Night was over and a new day had begun. His heavy body pressed to the cold floor. Slowly he stood up, muscles easily supporting him. The clothes his body had shredded were gone, not a trace anywhere. As he got up, his cock didn’t dangle, it flopped about, smacking his thighs with weight. Precum spilt from the tip onto the floor. “Unsanitary,” Do-yun muttered to himself. But as he watched that clear liquid puddle, he noticed the restaurant's floors were different. His gaze shifted. The entire place was different. It had gone from a generic western dining to a more Korean experience.

There was a white fundoshi. waiting to be worn: Do-yun’s uniform. The answer was already in his head. Though he wasn’t sure why he found himself slipping them on, making sure his package sat just right to help sell the merchandise. As he did, he perched himself into a squatting position, watching people walk by. He didn’t try to leave. He didn’t have the desire to. The restaurant was his. He belonged there. No time to process that information as the wind chime jingled and two people walked into the store.

Familiar voices. Boisterous and loud. Jocks through and through. Daniel Gibbons and Greg McFielder. Both dressed in workout clothes. Daniel’s arms were out, wearing teal tank top biceps showing off. Greg had on a white muscle shirt, but his chest looked ripe, nipples poking through. Their shorts were both black and mid-thigh, showing off the great quality of their thighs and legs.

“What’s the deal with this place?” Daniel turned around and Greg smacked his arm, both spotting Do-yun watching them.

“Hey, uh, we’d like to eat here?” Greg asked. His typical cocky voice sounded unsure, eyes darting around. The space was devoid of people, save for the three of them. They looked directly at Do-yun bulging in his undergarment and made no note of it. Do-yun cautiously nodded to a table with menus’.  The two young men sat down.

A sobering reality to have his personal antagonists step through the door. Do-yun stood up. He became hyper-aware of his near nudity. Logically, his heart should have been pounding for multiple reasons, but he was entirely calm. Ass swaying, he walked over to them, crotch eye level with their faces.

“What will you two be having?” Do-yun asked, hands behind his back posture straight.

“Is this a joke, there’s only one thing on the menu?” Daniel flipped the book over searching for more pages. “What kind of cheap ass place is this?”

“I assure you, that’s correct.” Do-yun stated. “We only offer one thing, but you're sure to enjoy it.”

Daniel rolled his eyes closing the book, “You seem pretty confident.”’

“Oh, come on man, I’ve never had Do-yun Choi either, but it sounds pretty good.  Say a group meal. We could split it!” Greg petitioned his buddy.

Do-yun peered over and the only thing written down in the menu book was his stolen description. If the place was his now, what exactly was he expected to make?

“Ugh! Fine.” Daniel sighed.

Greg pumped his fist, “We’ll have Do-yun Choi then!”

“A fine choice.”  Do-yun bowed.

“It was the only choice,” Daniel sniped.

Ignoring him, Do-yun put the menus away, then as if second nature, climbed up onto the table in front of Greg, his side to Daniel.

“Enjoy your meal.”  Do-yun said.

The two jocks stared dumbly at what had been ‘served’ in front of them.

“The hell is—

Daniel’s words were cut off by the sound of Greg standing up to nurse on one of Do-yun’s pert nipples. The compass tattoo moved under order of the pec’s gyrations. Greg pushed his face in deeper, nuzzling both bodacious man-tiddies. He popped his head out, “You got to try some of this man.” Then he was back on a nipple suckling, hand fiddling with Do-yun’s piercing. 

Do-yun and Daniel exchanged looks. Do-yun extended his hand. Daniel grabbed it and struggled bringing it closer to him. His eyes seemed frightened, but his mouth was wanting, a strand of drool escaping. Do-yun watched the jock’s willpower collapse in real time, as Daniel shoved Do-yun’s thick index finger into his mouth, moaning, body shaking in pleasure. Kisses and licks over his arm across his torso. Greg was lapping up the pecs watching them jiggle back into place. Daniel’s kisses, morphed into full out make out with Do-yun’s biceps and forearms. The two were going to Do-yun like he was their favorite ice cream flavor.

Do-yun had one thought: This was just foreplay. Despite that, neither jock had his realization. Daniel licked and traced a protruding vein up Do-yun’s neck. Greg couldn’t peel himself from Do-yun’s chest, humping the table as Do-yun cradled the back of his head, teasing the blond’s hair. 

“Taste so fucking good!” Greg whined, backing up face cover in slobber

“Yeah, where fuck has this place been all my life?” Daniel stopped kissing, chest moving heavily attempting to catch its breath. They put Do-yun on all fours on top of the table, as Greg crawled under him in a 69 position. Daniel slapped both of Do-yun’s cheeks, testing its firmness before leaning in and kissing each. He pulled the thin undergarment strand aside, exposing Do-yun’s pretty hole. Then he dove in, eating Do-yun’s ass, tongue diving deep, Fat cheeks smothering his face’s cheeks. Meanwhile, Greg fished out Do-yun’s cock, letting it snap out of the pouch and slip right into his mouth. He had an insane neck game, born out of pure eagerness. 

A wave of pleasure washed over Do-yun as he was assaulted from the front and back. Never in his life would he have believed those straight guys could go so hard sexually on another dude's body. There was no faking it or hesitation. They were going for gold. Greg’s boner was a big fucking indicator for their enthusiasm. Ecstatic himself, Do-yun retrieved Greg’s eager cock and plopped it in his mouth.

“MMffhpphh.” Greg moaned, legs shaking unable to speak with the sausage clogging his throat.

“What was—Mmffhpph!” Daniel’s face was shoved back into Do-yun’s ass by a massive hand and held there. Do-yun thrusted his hips deeper down in Greg’s throat.

“Don’t talk with your mouths full at a restaurant, boys.” Do-yun corrected. 

The ass eating and cock sucking lasted for a while. Daniel started to sneak his lips down to Do-yun’s bloated balls and kissing and sucking them, his face near Greg’s. At one point, Do-yun felt his cock miss a throat but brush against Greg's face nuzzling his crotch. Greg’s cock twitched in Do-yun’s throat as fresh jock cum spewed forth, before being swallowed down. Do-yun sucked it all out, feeling each slurp make the tingle in his own balls get even stronger. Luckily, he wouldn’t be without a throat as Greg got full deep throat and Do-yun unloaded right into it. Took Do-yun longer to drain his balls into the jock. As he did Greg’s abs extended out ever so slightly, taking on a pudgier quality. 

Once it was over Do-yun pulled his cock up and Greg stumbled off the table into a chair. 

“I’m fucking stuffed.” Greg rubbed his gurgling gut.

 Daniel pulled his head out of Do-yun's ass, “I could actually go for dessert!”

Do-yun smirked, patting his lap and Daniel understood right away. The jock flicked off his pants and underwear climbing into Do-yun’s lap. A wiser person may have asked how had a virgin’s oversized cock breached a jock’s untouched hole so easily? Well, a wiser person wasn’t there, and it happened with no fanfare. Do-yun simply positioned himself and thrusted in. Daniel opened up immediately, ass gripping Do-yun’s dick. Greg sat in his chair watching as his best friend got fucked in front of him. 

“This is sex? We’re like fucking right now, right? I’m not going crazy?” Do-yun asked, body pummeling into his partner. His body was doing things and making itself available in a way Do-yun didn’t even know where possible. Daniel asked for dessert and got a dick up his ass. How did that correlate?

“Yeah, best dessert ever man!” Daniel shouted. It didn't engage with Do-yun’s question at all. The footballer’s cock slapped against Do-yun’s abs, battering them. A strong hip thrust and Do-yun flooded Daniel’s gut. Daniel’s cock fired the moment he felt the warmth enter him, blasting long ropes over him and his host. By the time he got up, assisted by Do-yun, Daniel also sported a little food pouch. “Fuck, that tasted so good!”

Do-yun got up caked in cum, completely naked, looking over his satisfied customers. Their stomachs were loud with the digestion process but Do-yun wasn't even sure why. They hadn’t actually eaten anything. Putting his undergarments back on, he watched as their stomachs shrank pulling back into abs, even larger than before. Their chests pushed forward, arms out. Even the cushion of their asses inflated. The real shock however was the black that erupted from their hair. All traces of brown and yellow vanished. Thicker eyebrows. Plumper lips. Suddenly, they looked a whole less like themselves and more like…Do-yun. 

“Fuckin hell that was great!” Daniel stood up and gave Do-yun a celebratory handshake. Still naked from below he pulled Do-yun into a hug, his own cum seeping into his shrunken tank top.

“We gotta come back here again!” Greg gently pushed Daniel away so he could lap up his best friend’s cum off Do-yun’s giant milkers. The wrestler took his sweet time, and no one was in a rush to remove him.  By the time they left they were raving how they were going to tell everyone, even their dads.

Do-yun took a long sigh of relief once they were gone. He had just had sex with his childhood bullies and enjoyed it. Those two had a hankering for cock that even Do-yun couldn't compete with them. And the way Greg came when Daniel kissed him? What was going on there? Alone again, he looked around the restaurant, realizing he had been made the owner and all he served was himself. Definitely, a strange place. He could have left and never looked back. Maybe Do-yun should have left. But in all honesty, he was looking forward to when they'd bring more of their jock friends along.

No one asked why there was a sudden explosive growth of the Asian population in their county. Do-yun Choi’s signature dish was lauded by word of mouth as a cultural touch stone needed to bring some diversity of flavor back into a stagnant town. 

Even the men at the country club couldn’t resist to call in a reservation, determined to appraise the place. Do-yun would listen, cock already stretching, thinking about how to best feed the fathers of the jocks who bullied him. The men who hadn’t done a damn thing to stop it. They needed the splash of cultural taste more than anyone. 

They’d come in, wandering about, appraising the place, and unexpectedly find their meal ready and waiting.  Do-yun couldn’t wait to share dessert with them.

—

Last Night

“I’m telling you she has a spell book bro.” Maverick rambled on through the phone.” Right in her kitchen. She’s probably got snips, snails, and a puppy-dog's tails too. Be careful. Then bring it to me."

“Careful…alright.” He repeated to himself. Logan was never the sharpest tool in the shed. The brunette wrestler was more at home on a mat then facing social interactions. But when his crush, the cute Indian boy in his chemistry class, asked for a favor, he was too excited to say no. He knew the rumors about Mrs. Girshawn and her house. A little lovely hut for a little lovely lady. Never once did he think much of it, than in this moment when he was planning to sneak inside. He had on the darkest clothes in his wardrobe to blend in with the night.

Mrs. Girshawn pulled out of her driveway in her little buggy on the way to bingo. Logan watched until she was out of the neighborhood, then raced inside. It was crazy. It was insane. Would Maverick even like him after he did this? Oh yeah, spare key under the plotted plant by the door. And just like that he was inside. 

No candy or brewing cauldrons in the living room. Just sickly-sweet pastel colors and an incense machine spilling out mist, while changing colors in the corner. All the scary rumors people whispered about the place didn’t exist. It wasn't a secret holding cell, it was secretly homey. He stepped into the kitchen, dialing Maverick. No signal. There were quite a few books lined up on her top shelf, across from a snowstorm of flour on her counter. The oven was turned off, but the light was on, a cake in its center. A colorful egg timer sat off to the side ticking away.

Logan had to be a little curious, so he took a look at her pantry organizer. “Sugar, Spice and everything nice.” He poked through chuckling to himself. Grabbing a step stool, he perused though the bookshelf, sliding them out, then back. Maverick had claimed he’d seen a purple book with the golden engraving of the sun and moon interlocked. Not a single one matched that description. Logan went to step off the ladder and slipped, slamming down hard on his back. He sat up and rubbed his head. The little chicken clucked time as the oven’s image changed. The cake faded away revealing the exact book Maverick had described.

Perhaps if Logan had more brains than muscle, he would have seen the oddity in the book revealing itself at that moment. Excited, Logan opened the oven door and reached inside. Once his hand gripped the book, the world stopped, then sped up as an insane force sucked him inside. The oven door slammed and the chicken timer started again.

As for Logan, he wasn’t pulled into an oven, per se but it did get steadily warmer. His body got hot, then began to rise like dough. Muscles fought to show off on him as his shirt split, then tore. He tried to keep it all in, but his pecs were relentless. Testing the limits until they emerged on the scene. The bulk on his back became insane as his shoulder moved apart to accommodate the masculine silhouette taking shape. His feet tore his shoes apart, slamming into the ether of the dark space. Screaming threads of the jeans gave up as they tore high above the knees, mid-thigh, as they converted to shorts. Ass popping in the back, the jeans managed to hold on. Logan balls expanded, encouraged by the heat, and his cock did too. A rush of hormones overtook him, far stronger than anything he naturally produced. His voice changed from smooth to gravelly as his vocal cords were assaulted for a thicker neck. The facial change came suddenly, years flying and flaking away. His jaw took shape, features settled in, as a beard worthy of him took root and filled in. The last to set was his tan, perfectly backed into his skin.

The chicken timer clucked one more, having been reset. A familiar purple book appeared at its side, as its last ingredient ‘1 curious brat’ filled itself in on the open pages before slamming shut.

—

Maverick hadn't heard from Logan all night. He called. Texted. Nothing. Didn’t the dude have a crush on him? Since when were people with crushes fumbling this hard? So, he was at Mrs. Girshawn early that morning on the off chance she had called the cops on the poor fool. No cop cars in sight, but it was hard not to notice the man in cutoff shorts, standing on her front lawn. 

The hunk looked lost as if he couldn’t figure out what to do standing there blankly. Maverick watched, hard to take his eyes off truly, but hoped mainly to see Logan sneaking out. Slowly but surely the man seemed to get ready for his day, figuring out how to use the hose laying beside him. Maverick snickered to himself, the dude probably had less brains than Logan, and most of it was sitting in his chest, arms, and ass. So, Maverick watched him move around undisturbed until Joseph came along, scaring the shit out of him.

“You shouldn’t take advantage of people who you know like you, it’s mean.” Joe said.

“Oh, thank you moral police, I’ll be sure to tattoo it on my ass when I’m done.” Maverick rolled his eyes, “How about, Logan’s a big boy and if he didn't want to do it, he could have said no.” He looked back out to the gardener, “I’ve never heard of the old lady having a gardener.”

“He’s new.”

“How new?”

“I don’t know like,” Joe stopped speaking, eyes going to the sky as he contemplated. “New.”

“So descriptive.”

“I don’t know, it's just in my head. My parents and I were talking about it. Here let me ask.” He tried to brush past Maverick only to be pulled back.

“Are you crazy?!”

“He literally works for my neighbor. I think we’ll be fine.” 

“Don’t you think it’s weird she gets a new gardener when Logan goes missing?”

“You don’t know that he’s missing. Maybe he realized you were taking advantage of him and stopped contact. Have you gone by his house?”

“How am I supposed to know where he lives?” Maverick shouted a bit too loud

“Hey,” a deep voice cut through their argument, two heads poked up from the bushes as the man across the street locked in on them. “You boys keep glancing over here. Want to come inside? I think Mrs. Girshawn is always baking something.”

Alex's office was peculiar, to say the least. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city, while sleek modern furniture and minimalist fixtures gave the room an unmistakably corporate feel. Yet scattered throughout were niches filled with traditional and seemingly mystical artifacts.

"Souvenirs from business trips," Alex had once explained.

Daniel had never quite believed him.

He sat down in front of his boss, who remained standing for a moment, imposing and powerful as ever.

What I wouldn't give to feel even a fraction of that power.

"Daniel."

Alex's authoritative voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Look, I know you've been with us—this company—for a while now."

"Almost five years, boss," Daniel piped up.

"Yes. Five extraordinary years." Alex's expression remained unreadable. "Your projects have had a significant impact on this company. However, while I might consider you a valuable employee..." He paused.

"Well. The board may have other ideas."

Daniel's brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"The board has decided to let you go."

The words hit him like a slap.

"I'm sorry, Da—Mercer."

"But... tomorrow's presentation—"

"Will be handled by Jeremiah. I spoke with him about it a few days ago."

Daniel stared at him.

After all these years, they were really just letting him go?

"Please vacate your desk by the end of today. We'd be happy to recommend you to some of our partners if—"

"No, no. That's all right."

Daniel forced a smile, his voice suddenly smaller than usual.

"I'll manage. Thank you, Ale—sir."

He rose from his chair.

As he turned to leave, his hand brushed against one of the stone artifacts lining the shelves. The sculpture tipped precariously.

Daniel caught it just in time.

"Sorry," he chuckled nervously. "I almost made you pay for damages."

Alex, hunched over his desk, seemed to suppress a grin.

Daniel glanced down at the object in his hands.

It was a small sculpture of two snakes intertwined around one another, their bodies carved into intricate, ancient-looking patterns.

He carefully returned it to the shelf.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath. "I wish I could've stayed here longer."

His fingers lingered on the stone for a moment before he finally pulled away.

As he stepped toward the door, Daniel could have sworn he saw something in the corner of his eye.

The snakes' carved eyes were glowing.

Just for a second.

Then the light was gone. ---

Daniel lay sprawled across his bed, utterly exhausted by the day's events. He had said his goodbyes to his coworkers—his friends, really—and somehow made it home without letting the weight of it all fully sink in.

Now, alone in the quiet of his bedroom, there was nothing left to distract him.

His mind wandered to the days ahead.

More resumes. More interviews. More awkward introductions and forced smiles. Learning the names of new coworkers, memorizing their habits, figuring out who to trust.

And, eventually, getting to know a new boss.

The thought made his chest tighten.

His mind drifted back to Alex.

He hadn't even been there when Daniel left.

Did he really not care about me at all?

Daniel stared blankly at the ceiling.

It was a stupid thing to wonder. Alex was his boss, nothing more. And Daniel had never actually told him how he felt. There was no reason Alex should care.

Still, it hurt.

Daniel let out a quiet sigh and turned onto his side.

It didn't matter anymore.

Tomorrow was a new day.

He pulled the blankets over himself, closed his eyes, and slowly surrendered to sleep.

---

Alex lived in a modest penthouse apartment—alone, of course.

Some evenings, he had colleagues over. Other nights, business partners.

And sometimes, men.

One of them had left only a few hours earlier. Now, with the apartment finally quiet, Alex was preparing for bed. He needed to be up early. Tomorrow's presentation was important, and he had no intention of walking into it tired.

He had just finished showering when something happened.

A sudden, violent force seemed to seize him from within.

Alex lurched forward, catching himself against the bathroom counter. His breath came in sharp, panicked gasps.

Then he realized something was wrong.

He wasn't controlling his breathing.

He wasn't controlling anything.

He tried to straighten himself, but his body remained hunched over the counter.

"Hello?" he called, his voice tense. "What's going on? Why can't I move?"

His body suddenly moved on its own.

Slowly, almost mechanically, he straightened. His arms lifted above his head, his back arching into a long stretch. His eyes closed.

Alex hadn't told his body to do any of it.

Ow. Why does my whole body feel sore?

A strange voice echoed inside his head.

And... wait. Why am I standing up?

Alex froze.

"Who's there?"

Hello? Alex? Is that you?

Alex's stomach dropped.

"Daniel?"

Where are you?

"Mercer, what the hell are you doing?"

I don't know! I can't see anything.

Alex tried to move his head.

Nothing.

He tried to raise a hand.

Nothing.

"Shit. What the fuck is happening? Mercer, are you seeing this?"

No, I can't see anything. Hang on.

Then his eyes opened.

Daniel's eyes.

Alex's vision suddenly filled with the reflection of a man standing in front of a full-length mirror.

Daniel stared.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Holy shit.

Alex felt his stomach twist.

I knew you looked good, but— I mean—I'm sorry. Alex. Sir. I didn't mean to intrude on you like this!

"Daniel, turn around."

Daniel turned his head.

The room wasn't his.

The clothes weren't his.

The reflection wasn't his.

His face went pale.

This isn't my house.

"Obviously."

These aren't my clothes.

"I noticed."

Daniel slowly looked down.

And this isn't my body.

Alex closed his eyes.

"Mercer, please. Let me move."

Sir?

"Please allow me to move again."

What do you mean, allow you to move?

Daniel lifted Alex's hand.

Alex watched helplessly as his own fingers curled into a fist.

Whoa.

"Daniel."

Why does my hand look like—

Daniel looked down at himself.

There was a long silence.

Holy shit.

Alex could practically hear the grin forming in his voice.

Those abs are incredible.

"Mercer."

Daniel ran a hand over Alex's stomach, apparently fascinated by the unfamiliar body.

Alex involuntarily let out a soft moan.

Daniel immediately froze.

Oh my God.

"Stop."

I've never heard you make a sound like that.

"Daniel."

Sir, I'm sorry, but I think I'm in your—

"Yes. I figured that part out."

Alex struggled against the invisible force controlling him.

"Now get out."

I don't even know how I got in here! One minute I was asleep, and the next thing I know, I'm standing in your penthouse.

Daniel turned back toward the mirror.

For the first time, Alex could see exactly what Daniel was seeing.

Himself.

The man Daniel had spent months quietly admiring was now staring back at him.

And, judging by Daniel's expression, he was having a very difficult time processing his good fortune.

Damn.

"Don't."

I'm just saying, sir.

"Don't say anything."

Daniel chuckled.

This is really happening.

He ran his hand under the towel.

This is REALLY happening.

"Mercer, this is not the time for these inappropriate fantasies!"

He reached toward his throat.

And wait...

He cleared his throat.

"Mercer, this is not the time for these inappropriate fantasies!"

Alex's eyes widened subtly.

"How did you—?"

Daniel's voice was identical to his own.

Not an imitation. Not an impression.

His voice.

"I think you're losing control," Daniel said.

Alex felt his body tense.

"Daniel, please."

His own voice came out weaker than he'd ever heard it.

"I had nothing to do with this. It was the board's decision, I swear."

Daniel stared at his reflection.

Then he smiled.

"I don't care anymore."

He picked up Alex's phone from the counter.

"I still have a job."

He glanced at the name displayed on the screen.

"Well... now that I'm Alex Reid."

Alex's blood ran cold.

"Daniel, don't."

Daniel turned the phone over in his hand, considering it.

Then his grin widened.

"I think this would be a great time for a video."

"Alex, stop."

Daniel raised the phone.

The camera opened.

Daniel stopped recording.

For a moment, he simply stared at the phone in his hand, admiring the reflection on its screen.

Then he smirked.

"How'd you like that, boss? Think I do a good impression?"

Silence.

Daniel laughed.

"Not much of a critic, are you?"

He turned toward the mirror, studying Alex's face.

"I think that impression's good enough, right, Alex?"

For a moment, there was nothing.

Then, in Alex's voice, Daniel answered himself.

"Yeah. You're a better me than I'll ever be, Dan."

He chuckled at his own performance.

"Wow. Even the compliments sound convincing."

He set the phone down and glanced toward the clock.

The amusement faded slightly.

Tomorrow's presentation.

Daniel straightened, suddenly remembering that he had an important meeting to prepare for.

"I guess I'd better get ready for tomorrow's presentation."

He walked away from the mirror, already planning what he would say.

Inside him, Alex remained completely silent.

Daniel didn't seem to notice.

Or perhaps he simply didn't care.

Max was so excited for the new Konquest game. He knows this. But now he can’t think about anything but the drink raised to his lips. To say nothing of the drink literally taped to his other hand, one that should instead be stuck to a computer controller or whatever they’re called. 

OH shit. That’s a mouse huhuh.

Taking a big gulp, he watches someone he should not think of a bro start to down his own bottle and he feels an urge to start a chant, one he deeply tries to suppress. “Ch- Chughh, no!” Shaking his head, his arm instead twitches the bottle closer to his mouth as a bulging bicep provides proof of gym visits with his bros. Now they chant and his eyes glean with glee as a smirk tears across his wider face. “Chug! Chug! Chug!”

His past, his reality growing foggier with every sip, Max tries everything to return, to remember. Allowed a moment of clear thought he sneers at the godawful matching jockstraps his br- these assholes are wearing. Scowling eyes on a man’s hairy cheeks, his mouth suddenly feels dry. 

Easy solution. Unthinkingly he brings his duct taped drink to its faithful post and before he realizes what he’s done it’s too late. Desperately he tries to remove it but his body continues to swallow. His bro Cody guffaws and cries out for him to chug in turn. When at last he finishes the liter of cheap cider, Max wipes his drooling mouth and releases an obnoxious burp.

Ahh that’s right. The underwear was his idea! Huhuh these fucker’s’ll do anything if he’s the one to say it! “Let’s keep the party *buuurrrrp* going fuckers!”

What the hell is this? Atlas Studios would never- Uhh? They’d never. Uh. Shit. Where’d my shirt go? My fucking- My gaming setup?! I was at my computer to play some- To play some, uhh..?

Wait- is that?

Bro! You fucking showed up! We’re so in! There’s no way they turn us away this time! Huhuh. Uhh, no. No? No! I’m- I’m not supposed to be here! I’m a gamer, I think?

My pump? Pshyeah dude I’m not about to pullup not looking massive bruh. I don’t look massive? Uhh yeah that’s just? Shut up bitch ya I do! Here gimmie one of the packs lets take a pic bro.

This shit’s heavy ugh. Is what I would say if I was a little, uhhh… Huhuh, smell that? Airing out that pump right now, look at that bush in my pits. Kinda riles me up bro. 

Shit wait if I gotta semi in the pic my dick’ll look bigger won’t it? Nngh, shit don’t get too excited huhuhuh. K now quick! Snap a pic bitch so we can finally get our dicks wet bruh.

“What thefuck?? Itso dark in here?” 

Bright monitor giving way to the darkness of sunglasses indoors, Cam starts to move like a scared animal and bolts to standing. Or rather, he stumbles. Struggling to keep his balance, Cam’s head is suddenly rolling as alcohol like he’s never had before courses through him. 

Wavering in place as he tries to stand tall, Cam swears he should handle his drink better in this before shaking his head and striking himself woozier. Finally noticing the jug in his hands he shakes it to find it half empty and scoffs, mumbling to himself “I didndrink this did I?” Sure, Cam had drunk with friends and at a club or two, but if this thing was alcoholic he had drunk well beyond his means.

Moving to fall back onto the couch the battered sofa creaks under his new muscular form and he accidentally yanks on his shitty cape, causing him to gag. 

“Ayy You good dog? Haven’t even finished your BORG yet and you look like shit.”

First trying to understand what a Borg is as he only knows the thing from uhhh, Star Wars. Cam’s heavy head shakes before the man’s final words sink in. He’s no lightweight chump.

Face suddenly burning with prideful blush, beneath the sunglasses his eyes fill with a serious rage. These dicks think he can’t hang? That he’s some little bitch?? Puffing out his chest and widening his stance he takes a few hasty breaths before raising the BORG to his mouth and takes a heavy swig.

Releasing it with a gasp that might be pathetic were it not hidden by his two bros encouraging him, Cam wipes his green-stained lips with his shirt. Eyes having adjusted, he sees this is the perfect time to show off his shredded abs. Clearly everyone here knows he can party like that, now they know he’s built too. Only a matter of time before someone stumbles into his bed. 

Jin had decided to skip out on commencement at his graduation, he had already walked for his college and his parents had gone home. The ceremony lines up precisely with the time his friends are gonna start playing—

And then he submits a captcha and watches as his shirt sleeves start to lengthen into a too familiar gown. The rest of his shirt dissolves off his chest as his pajama pants fall away to reveal a bright red speedo struggling to constrict a package he feels growing larger within it. 

Failing to make sense of the situation, Jin starts to mumble in confusion, before something else spills from his lips. “Bro it’ll be so funny c’mon!” Brows tilt into a scowl as he feels the burning weight of authority. Who does this bitch think he is not listening to me. 

“Woah s- sorry ‘bout that uhhh, bro?”

Looking at his thicker arms hanging a few inches farther out from his gown than he remembered, he feels the sun against his tanning chest. What is he sorry about? Wasn’t he- Looking around he sees a crew of other men clad in matching speedos. His bros.

Lips twitching, he reaches down to adjust his own and feels it throb. With a grunt he looks back up and finds one of the fuckers not matching the rest of the frat. “C’mon dude it’s only funny if we all do it! You don’t show me your speedo right now I guarantee you’re gonna be walkin’ cross that stage nude.”

After a begrudging beat the final holdout pulls open his gown to reveal his lithe, sweaty chest and bulgeless speedo beneath it. “Yeahhh that’s what I’m talking about!” Pride fills his chest as it hardens slightly more. Can’t wait for his frat’s hot bods, and his genius joke, to be cemented in this grad recording forever.

You hadn’t heard about the game until your friend forwarded you the listing. Nothing better to do, at his prodding you went ahead and started to buy it. You were on a call with him until it suddenly dropped as he finished up buying it.

Shrugging you went ahead with your own purchase. Until that very last step. Clicking through the bizarre popup your shirt sleeves slink down your arms growing pudgier like mascara running down a cheek.

Sweatpants roughen into denim before falling down to your ankles. Moving to pull them up you stop yourself just short of whamming your head into your desk when you realize there is no desk anymore. There never was.

Stomach rumbling you rub it as it bloats into a well-loved beer belly as some of its ambrosiac fuel forms in your left hand. Taking a swig the room grows far more familiar as your droll life is replaced by one far simpler.

Cheers of ‘Let’s go Pats’ pound into your head like a heartbeat as you recall watching Tom Brady highlights as clearly as the back of your hand.

Feeling your heavier thighs scratch against the cheap, gaudy fabric of your frat house’s couch you squirm as you sink lower into its well worn cushions. Eyes adjusting to a TV set now showing today’s game, you turn to see your bro guffawing as he poses for a picture.