Homofun

“Fuck bro, you gotta try one of these kebabs. They’re fucking sick!”

Evan’s jaw dropped. He was staring at his best friend Joe—or at least, it used to be his best friend Joe. Joe has invited him over for a Super Bowl BBQ. He just bought a new grill and was excited to make his dad’s “special kebab recipe.”

One bite of the kebab and Joe began to… change. There was no better way to describe it; Joe had always been something of a slacker, pale, soft around the middle. But in the span of one commercial break, Evan watched his good friend transform into a meat-head jock. His skin bronzed, his flab disappeared, and his muscles got so large, they tore the Patriots shirt from his back.

“Evan, bro, you still there?”

Evan shook himself out of a trance. He’d always considered himself to be pretty straight edge (with an emphasis on the “straight”) but he couldn’t stop undressing Joe with his gaze. To be honest, he didn’t really need to; Joe was very, very shirtless, and his shorts were so tight, Evan could easily make out the shape of his dick through the sweaty fabric.

“Joe,” Evan said, “what did you put in those kebabs?!”

Joe laughed a dopey laugh. It was so hot. “I told you bro, it’s my dad’s secret recipe. It’s more fun to watch football when you look like you could play it.”

“… Right.” This was too weird. Never in a million years would he have been attracted to Joe. But here he was, trying to hide his erection and entertaining the very real possibility of turning into a huge, football jock just like him. Maybe just a bite?

Evan took one of the skewers off the grill. The meat sizzled, dripping hot juices all over the freshly charred onions and peppers. “Here goes nothing,” Evan said, and took a bite.

One bite became two. Two bites became three. “Woah, bro,” Joe said, “slow down!” Evan looked down. He’d eaten two whole skewers. Joe ate only one.

Evan was sweating balls. “What’s going to happen?”

Joe shrugged, “dunno. I’ve never eaten that many.” And then he grinned. That stupid, dopey grin, “maybe you’ll turn into an actual football player.”

Evan gulped. He was becoming acutely aware of his body, of his shirt, pressed tight against his chest, his dick, which was so big it was forcing his zipper down. He scratched his face. Stubble was coming in thick. And Evan could barely grow a mustache before…

“I have to use the bathroom—“ he rushed inside the house. As he walked, his massive shoulder blades caused the fabric stretched across his back to strain. His shoes were so tight now that his feet were a full size bigger, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to get his pants off.

The second he slammed the bathroom door, he started to try. He had titan legs now, powerful thigh muscles capable of propelling him across a field at lightning speed. With arms strong enough to throw a touchdown, he tore his shirt from his chest. Evan’s pecs heaved up… down… up… down…

Man, transforming was a real workout. It was like his body was going through a thousand high-intensity training sessions all at once, making years of progress in a matter of seconds. Abs that would have taken years to carve out appeared instantaneously, a beard that’ve taken months to grow sprouted on his face in less than a minute.

He’d worn boxers that day, but you wouldn’t have been able to tell: his underwear was flush up against his skin now, constricting around his ass and riding up his thighs. In addition to all the muscle growth, his libido was off the charts, and he could see the veins on his uncut cock through the drenched boxer shorts.

“Fuck… FUUUUUCK.” Evan growled, his voice deeper. He let out a primal victory cry as he tore off his shorts and shot a load all over Joe’s bathroom. He gave his muscles another flex. So this is what it feels like to be a football player. Suddenly, being at a BBQ watching the game felt so strange; he needed to be playing it. He needed to be out on the field, representing his team. He needed to hear the roar of the crowd, feel the cameras on his face. On his body…

Joe was in the middle of grilling some more kebabs when Evan stepped outside, looking a lot more like Julian Edelman than gangly old Evan. He had a towel from Joe’s bathroom wrapped around his waist, though it was doing a poor job of hiding his rock hard cock.

He started to squirm and the eyes fluttered open. Eyes with confusion and fear. Though he can’t move much, I can see that he is testing his restraints that straps him to the table. They are rated for far more force than he could ever exert. I don’t want to rush this. I want him to feel as much confusion as possible. Fear, anxiety, anger, defeat. I want to give him the wildest emotional experience as possible. I keep out of view while he consider his position, his restraints, the chill of the room against his naked skin. Naked except the bandages and the restraints around his limbs and across his body.

He can’t see much, but he must feel that something is off. That things have changed. The dull pain of the different incisions as the numbing goes away. By now he must have seen the bag of fluid connected to his body. I wait another few minutes before I step into sight.

“So, Peter, the tables have turned. I guess it is your turn to to grow up now”. His eyes were darting around. I could see panic and hear his muffled attempts to scream through the rubber gag. I put my hand on his arm, faking reassurance. “Save your energy. This is going to be some taxing years ahead, in particular the next couple of months.”

He stop trying to scream, but his eyes are still wild. “Let me introduce you to the brilliant work that has been done while you were having a nap. Some very unusual and custom made glandular matter has been implanted into your organs, and are digging their roots deeper as we speak. In a few hours it will be so embedded that it will literally be impossible to remove. That’s when the real work begins.”

I’m tracing the outline of his right biceps with one finger. “The glands are pumping out hormones, stem cells and stuff I haven’t even heard about before. Your hole body chemistry will change to bulk you up, to make you big, to make you strong. It’s not just that your body can build muscle. It has to. Salts and acid will build up in your muscles unless you exercise them to exhaustion, making it unbearably painful to not lift heavy and often. The way you eat will change. Your taste will change. Your mood will change. Your life will change”.

I see a small tear forming at the corner of his eye, so I push on. “Soon you’ll have to go sideways through doors. You’ll speed through the Recommended Daily Intake before noon. You can only fit in clothes brands with ‘gym’ or 'strong’ in their name. And if you don’t learn to enjoy talking macros and reps, you are not going to have anyone to talk to at all”.

With that I leave the room. It will take a few days for the implants to start producing hormones and whatnot, so he is primed by the contents in the drip bag. This will shock start the process. I take extra comfort knowing he will be able to see the fluid drip as he is slowly but irreversibly altered. I let him stew for a few hours, while the implants spread like cancer in his body.

When I come back into the room his body glistens by a thin sheen of sweat, despite lying naked on the table. His eyes are pleading. “I see that your core temperature is starting to get elevated. No need for warm ups anymore. You shouldn’t expect to ever sweat less than this though, so get some good fitness clothes you can wear at all times. Take something stretchy you can grow in. Make sure it wash well, because with the amount of growth hormone that will slush around in your body you’ll stink like a rank gymbag whatever you do”.

I’m getting ready to inject the knockout anesthetic so we can move him back to his apartment, but I want him to beg for mercy. Beg for it to stop. Not that there is anything anyone can do for him at this point. It’s beyond our most cutting edge science, I’ve been told. But I want to tell him that. I reach for the gag, release the latch and pull it out.