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Dont make Dick Jokes to a fairy

Bound by Size: The Giant and His Mini

Josh and Troy had been best friends since their freshman year at the local university. Josh, 6’1” with sandy-blond hair, a square jaw, and an easy, confident grin, had always been the bigger of the two—broad-shouldered, naturally strong, the kind of guy who turned heads in the campus gym without even trying. Troy, 5’10” with dark hair, sharp features, and a mischievous spark in his eyes, was leaner but fiercely determined, the one who dragged Josh through extra sets when motivation lagged. They bonded instantly over iron and protein shakes, spotting each other through grueling workouts, sharing late-night talks about their shared dream: one full year of total dedication to packing on as much muscle as humanly possible, then stepping onstage together in amateur bodybuilding competitions.

“We’ve got the drive,” Troy said one night, sweat still glistening on their chests after a brutal chest-and-back session in their cramped apartment gym. “But we need an edge. Something to fast-track this.”

That edge came in the form of a flyer pinned to the campus bulletin board: an experimental clinical trial at the university’s physiology lab. “Rapid Hypertrophy Peptide Serum”—a new injectable compound designed to supercharge muscle protein synthesis, promising gains that normally took years in mere months. Volunteers were needed, with full medical monitoring. Minimal side effects reported in early testing. Josh and Troy looked at each other, grinned, and signed the waivers the next day.

The results hit like a freight train. From the very first weekly injection, their bodies responded with shocking speed. Within two weeks, shirts that once fit loosely now stretched tight across swelling pecs and delts. By the end of month one, both had packed on twenty-five pounds of dense, striated muscle. Josh’s arms ballooned past 19 inches cold; Troy’s abs carved themselves into a deep eight-pack that looked photoshopped. Their workouts became almost orgasmic—the pumps so intense they’d flex in the locker room mirror afterward, veins popping like rivers across oiled skin, laughing and shoving each other while their cocks strained half-hard against their shorts from the testosterone flood.

Month two cranked it higher. They were both pushing 250+ pounds of pure muscle. Josh hit 6’2” and 280, his back a wide, sweeping V that made doorways feel narrow. Troy, still compact at 5’10” but now 225 pounds of shredded perfection, matched him in density. They outgrew every piece of clothing; seams ripped mid-set. Evenings turned into ritualistic admiration sessions. They’d oil each other up in the living room, hands sliding over hot, hard muscle, tracing striations and peaks. “Fuck, bro, feel this,” Troy would murmur, squeezing Josh’s thickening quad. Josh’s hands would linger on Troy’s carved obliques, the air thick with musk and unspoken heat. They jerked off side by side more than once after sessions—“just bros blowing off steam”—but their eyes locked longer each time, breaths syncing as they came.

By the start of month three, they looked like pros already. But something was… off.

It began during their weekly measurements. Josh’s pants were suddenly riding high on his ankles. “Dude, you’re taller,” Troy said, tape measure in hand. Josh had gained nearly three inches overnight. Troy, meanwhile, found his favorite gym shorts slipping down his hips, his shoes feeling loose. “And you’re… shrinking?” They laughed it off as measurement error or posture, but the changes accelerated fast.

Back at the lab, the doctors ran scans and looked alarmed. The serum had interacted unpredictably with their genetics. In Josh, it triggered a gigantism-like cascade: explosive vertical growth alongside even more extreme muscle hyperplasia. In Troy, the opposite—a rare proportional compression of skeletal structure and soft tissue, condensing his frame while preserving (and somehow densifying) every ounce of muscle. “It appears irreversible,” the lead researcher said gravely. “We’re terminating your participation immediately, but the effects will continue for a few more weeks as the compound clears.”

Josh and Troy sat in stunned silence on the drive home. Panic flickered—bodybuilding dreams, normal life, everything upended. But as the days passed and the changes locked in, something shifted between them. Josh stabilized at a towering 7’0”, 350+ pounds of colossal, vascular muscle. His thighs were thicker than most men’s waists, his pecs heavy slabs that jutted out like armor plates, arms peaking over 28 inches cold, hands big enough to cradle Troy’s entire torso. His voice dropped to a deep, rumbling bass that vibrated through the floor. Troy, meanwhile, dwindled steadily until he stood exactly 2 feet tall—a perfectly proportioned miniature bodybuilder, every muscle still ripped and dense, abs etched like a tiny washboard, biceps popping when he flexed, cock and balls proportionally impressive but now doll-sized.

The apartment became their sanctuary. Josh had to duck through every doorway, reinforced the furniture, and bought a custom king-plus bed that barely contained him. Troy’s world was now a landscape of giants: counters became cliffs, the couch a mountain range. But Josh adapted instantly, scooping his best friend up in one massive palm or letting him ride on his broad shoulder like a living accessory. “My little spotter,” Josh teased affectionately, his huge fingers gently adjusting Troy’s tiny tank top. Troy, never one to lose his fire, fired back: “Still the brains, big guy. Don’t drop me or I’ll kick your giant nuts.”

Practical life flipped. Josh quit his part-time retail job—his size made everything awkward—but started picking up strongman gigs and modeling work for niche fitness brands. Public stares were constant; people gawked, whispered, asked for photos. Troy, tucked safely in a custom harness inside Josh’s hoodie or perched on his shoulder, became the secret weapon—whispering form cues during lifts. Troy’s independence was gone, but he discovered a strange freedom: no more pressure to “be big enough.” Josh handled the heavy lifting (literally), while Troy’s sharp mind kept them organized, scheduling, planning content.

But the real transformation was inside their home—and between them.

The size difference ignited a raw, insatiable hunger they’d only hinted at before. One humid evening, after Josh had carried Troy through a sunset park walk (Troy nestled warm against his massive chest), they collapsed onto the oversized couch in the living room. Josh sprawled back in nothing but loose blue shorts that strained obscenely over his tree-trunk quads and the heavy bulge between them. Troy, shirtless in matching tiny blue shorts that hugged his miniature glutes and thighs, climbed up onto his friend’s lap—exactly as they’d later capture in their favorite private photo.

“Flex for me, big guy,” Troy breathed, eyes wide with lust as he stood on the warm, solid expanse of Josh’s thigh.

Josh grinned, that familiar cocky smile now framed by a jawline that could crush walnuts. He raised both arms into a massive double biceps pose. The peaks erupted like mountains—veins thick as ropes, skin stretched tight over striated perfection. Troy’s small but powerful hands couldn’t even span half the swell. He moaned openly, pressing his entire compact body against one bicep, grinding his tiny, rock-hard cock against the hot muscle while his face nuzzled into the peak. “Jesus… you’re a fucking god now,” he whispered, licking the salty skin, biting gently at the vein.

Josh’s breath hitched, his own enormous cock—now over a foot long and as thick as Troy’s forearm—stirring and thickening rapidly in his shorts, the head already peeking above the waistband like a blunt club. “And you’re perfect, little man. Every inch of you.” One of Josh’s huge hands came down, fingers thicker than Troy’s arms, gently cupping the smaller man’s back and ass, pressing him flush against the bicep. Troy humped harder, his whole torso sliding over the muscle, leaving a wet trail of pre-cum.

They kissed then—deep, hungry, Josh’s full lips enveloping Troy’s as he lifted him effortlessly toward his face. Troy’s hands roamed Josh’s neck and traps, then down to those massive pecs, sucking and biting at nipples the size of quarters while Josh’s free hand roamed lower, tugging Troy’s shorts off with careful precision.

Their sex became an art form of size and worship. Troy explored Josh’s body like a climber scaling a living mountain—crawling across the deep valleys of his abs, licking sweat from every ridge, burying his face between the heavy pecs until Josh’s moans shook the couch. Josh would lay back, shorts discarded, his colossal cock rising like a veiny pillar. Troy straddled it eagerly, wrapping his arms and legs around the shaft as best he could, rubbing his entire muscular little body along its throbbing length while Josh stroked himself slowly, the motion sliding Troy up and down like a living sleeve. Troy’s cock dragged against the hot skin, driving him wild.

“Fuck… use me,” Troy gasped, and Josh did—gently at first, then with growing confidence. He’d coat his palm in lube and slide Troy along his cock in long, full-body strokes, or position the tiny man between his pecs and thrust slowly, the friction and pressure making them both groan. For Troy’s pleasure, Josh was endlessly creative: his massive tongue lapping over Troy’s entire torso and groin in wet, hot strokes that made the smaller man shudder and cum within seconds; or a single thick finger, slicked and careful, teasing into Troy’s tight ass while Josh sucked gently on his tiny cock and balls at the same time.

Orgasms were explosive. Josh’s loads came in thick, ropey torrents—enough to cover Troy head to toe in hot, sticky cum that the smaller man would rub into his own skin like the world’s most expensive lotion, glistening and spent. Troy’s climaxes were smaller but no less intense, his whole body convulsing as he painted Josh’s abs or cock with his release.

Nights blurred into tender aftercare. Troy would curl up asleep between Josh’s pecs or nestled in the crook of one massive arm, the giant’s heartbeat a soothing drum. “I used to worry about being big enough for you—for anyone,” Troy confessed one night, voice soft against Josh’s skin. “Now… this feels right. Like we were always meant to fit together this way.”

Josh’s huge hand stroked down Troy’s back with impossible gentleness. “You’re my everything, little bro. Always were. The serum just made it obvious. I love carrying you. Protecting you. Feeling you worship me like this. We’re closer than any competition could ever make us.”

Publicly, they leaned into their new reality. Josh dominated local strongman events and oversized bodybuilding showcases, drawing crowds who cheered the 7-foot freak of nature. Troy perched proudly on his shoulder or lap during photos, flexing his own miniature physique, becoming an online sensation in size-contrast fitness content. Their bodybuilding dream evolved—they created a joint brand, “Giant & Mini,” with training videos, sponsorships, and private subscriber sessions that got very explicit. The money let them renovate: reinforced everything, custom everything, a life built around their sizes.

Months later, they recreated that perfect living-room moment on the couch for a private “photo shoot” that quickly turned filthy. Josh lounged back, blue shorts barely containing him, one arm flexed in a towering double biceps, the other supporting Troy who sat on his massive thigh, also shirtless and flexing, looking up at his giant lover with pure adoration and lust. Troy’s small hands traced Josh’s abs as the giant’s free hand slid down to cup his ass.

“Ready for round two, big guy?” Troy grinned, already grinding against the growing bulge beneath him.

Josh’s deep laugh filled the room. “Always, little man. Climb on up. We’ve got all night.”

The neighborhood pool looked smaller than Jake remembered. Not physically smaller, obviously. But standing outside the chain-link fence early in the morning with Liam and Hunter crowded beside him, it suddenly felt weirdly… tiny. Like the whole place had been built for children. 

Which, technically, it had. I mean, the faded sign out front still read: CEDAR HILLS COMMUNITY POOL; NO RUNNING; NO DIVING IN SHALLOW END

Jake stared at it for a long second before snickering.

“Focus,” Liam muttered, though he was grinning too. “We still gotta do this before Coach realizes anything’s missing.”

At that, the group collectively looked down toward the black duffel bag sitting between them. The bag contained enough serum concentrate to probably ruin several lives. Jake nudged it proudly with his worn flip flop.

“Correction,” he thought. “Improve several lives.”

—

The previous afternoon. 

Getting the serum had turned out disturbingly easy. Coach trusted them too much. He never locked the office while the team practiced because somebody was always running in and out grabbing stopwatches, towels, lineup sheets, electrolyte packs, whatever. Normally the filing cabinet stayed locked though.

But Coach had also made the mistake of complaining. Specifically about his poor back. which led to Liam volunteering to help clean equipment after practice while Jake distracted Coach with fake questions about relay strategy.

Meanwhile, Hunter had stood lookout outside the office pretending to scroll on his phone while Liam slipped inside. The office smelled exactly the same as three months ago, when he and Jake begged Coach for recruitment drinks. Now he crouched in front of the filing cabinet with a borrowed key ring trembling slightly in his fingers from anticipation,

The rows of bottles were exactly as he remembered. Red, Blue, Orange, Purple, All glowing faintly beneath the dim office light. Liam shoved as many bottles as he could fit into the duffel.

Later, after every piece of equipment was packed away. The boys hurried to the parking lot, chuckling and joking, excitement swimming in their stomachs like fish. 

—

Back in the present, the neighborhood pool gates rattled softly as Liam opened them with his key.

“Still think this is a little insane,” Hunter muttered, passing the duffel over.

“Too late now,” Jake said.

The pool sat perfectly still beneath the early morning sun. Waiting for somthing, waiting for them. Liam unzipped the duffel and Neon colors nearly blinded him.

Hunter let out a low whistle. “Damn. You got  a lot, brah”

Jake crouched beside the edge of the pool, grinning like an idiot. “Ready?”

 Liam looked uncertain for exactly one second. Then he smiled too. “Ready.”

Together, the three boys unscrewed the caps and poured them one by one, into the pool. Orange, Blue, Purple, Green, steaks mixed with the clear water before fading away, disguised perfectly for unsuspecting victims. 

The boys stared down into the shimmering water. “Now, we just wait.” Jake said with an excited grin.

————————

Marianne loved getting to the pool early. It was the optimal time, her fellow retirees didn't show up until nine. The families didn't arrive until noon. And the teenagers usually slept until the afternoon, leaving the first few hours blissfully quiet.

She settled into a lounge chair near the shallow end, oval sunglasses perched on her nose and a worn, familiar paperback novel resting on her stomach. The morning sun felt good on her skin after a week of business casual. She could hear a few younger men that had been sitting near the entrance when she had arrived. Their loud blunts of laughter and frenzied teasing made her nostalgic for her high school days

She shook her head and returned to her book. An hour later she was regretting that decision. The heat had become oppressive, the summer arriving in a heavy fog of humidity. The air clung to her skin. Sweat dampened the back of her neck as she tried to cool herself. She fanned herself with her novel.

"Good grief." She said glancing at the pool with growing interest. She didn’t normally get in the pool on these mornings, but today might be an exception. The surface of the water shimmered beneath the harsh sunlight.

Making up her mind. Marianne set her book aside and stood. Her knees protested immediately.

"One day," she muttered to herself, "I'm replacing every joint in my body."

She made her way toward the pool steps. lowering one foot into the shallow end, she noticed how unusually clear the water looked today. Must have been cleaned recently. The water felt cold against her flushed skin, and a relieved sigh escaped her.

Soon she was waist deep, the coolness wrapping around her like a blanket. The feeling of relief was instant. Marianne closed her eyes and let herself sink to shoulder level. For several seconds she simply floated, content. 

Then a strange tingling sensation crept across her skin. Like the pins-and-needles sensation after a limb wakes up, except it was spreading everywhere at once. Down her arms and across her shoulders. Down through her legs to the tips of her toes. 

Marianne frowned. "That's odd,” she thought.

Then her body began to morph, her limbs got longer and leaner, any hint of flabbiness melted away. Her hands and feet grow to easily double the size, as her body fat dropped dramatically into the tenth decimal place. His body continued to lengthen, his newly grown frame pulling smooth young skin tight. His former breasts pulled into flat pecs, so flat even his abs cut out more visibly. His gray hair receded back into his head, fluffing out into a blonde tik-tok fringe. 

He stood up, drawing his slim body out of the water. He looked down at his body as the changes completed, noticing his new prominent manhood between toned legs. He watched as the bikini he had put on that morning was replaced by a wet white pair of Nike shorts, nearly seen though in the water. He shifted his lighter weight, bouncing experimentally on his new feet. 

Marty glanced at the boys in the corner, “yo, come on in bros!” His brain registering them as his best friends, gaps in his memory filled with dumb jokes, an updated modern vocabulary, and interdict knowledge of the swimming sport. 

His best bro Hunter plunged in beside him, “can’t let the teams champ freestyle distance swim alone” he said with a laugh and a knowing grin, “let’s see who else shows up today.” 

The Simon family had been looking forward to the pool all day.  Of course, it had taken quite a while for Melissa and Brian to get their 12 year old son out the door, clothed, fed, and sunscreened up. All the while, Grandpa Frank had sat comfortably on the front porch swing watching the chaos unfold with complete amusement. 

Eventually the entire family had finally squeezed into the SUV.

Melissa settled into the passenger seat with a relieved sigh. She spent most weekdays juggling work meetings, schedules, and household responsibilities. A quiet afternoon at the pool sounded heavenly to her.

Brian started the engine. He taught history at the local middle school and looked forward to summer almost as much as his students did. Today was one of the first genuinely hot weekends of the season, and the pool sounded better than mowing the lawn.

In the back seat, little Ethan bounced excitedly. Thankfully for the excited boy, The short drive passed quickly, and soon the familiar chain-link fence of Cedar Hills Community Pool came into view. The parking lot was surprisingly busy for a morning.

"Looks like everyone had the same idea," Brian said.

The family unpacked their car and headed toward the entrance, arms laden with bags full of sunscreen, pool toys, and towels. The loud sound of splashing water drifted across the deck, the pool seemed to be filled with teenage boys roughhousing and racing different strokes. Not unusual for the summer, they seemed to be leaving plenty of room for others to enjoy so the Simon’s didn’t mind. What was unusual was the fact the only people anywhere in the complex seemed to be athletic teenage males. Normally there were at least a few other families and some older people sunbathing. 

The moment they claimed some chairs, Ethan was already halfway gone.

"Can I swim?" he asked.

"You haven't even put your stuff down yet," Melissa replied.

"That's not a no."

Brian laughed. "Five minutes. Then sunscreen."

Ethan made a face.

"Five minutes or no swimming at all," Melissa repeated.

The boy dropped his backpack beside their chairs and immediately began drifting toward the water, drawn by the familiar sound of splashing and laughter.

"Don't go far," Brian called.

"I won't!" The answer came without Ethan even turning around. Within seconds he had disappeared around a cluster of lounge chairs.

With a sigh, Brian began unpacking towels and drinks from the cooler while Melissa finally got her moment of peace. Frank stretched his legs and adjusted his fishing hat, talking loudly to Brian about the local baseball team’s chances of making the playoffs.

It wasn't until nearly thirty minutes had passed that Melissa glanced around and frowned. "Hey." She said to her husband.

Brian looked up. "What?"

"Ethan."

"What about him?"

Melissa scanned the pool. "I haven't seen him in a while."

Brian shrugged. "He's probably swimming. I’ll go look for him honey.” 

"Ok, it’s time for him to reapply sunscreen anyway."

He stood up and looked toward the shallow end. Seeing no signs of the twelve-year-old there, he walked across the pool, eyes searching frantically for his son. He stopped at a group of young men who were currently chicken fighting, trying to wrestle each other off their friends shoulders.

“Hey, have any of you boys see-,” he started to say only to be short stocky redhead. 

“Yo Ethen, your dad’s looking for you!” He yelled, cupping his wide hands over his mouth  

Then, from somewhere across the pool, a familiar voice shouted: "Yo, over here!" Before Brian could make sense of what he'd just heard, a burly teenager came splashing through the water toward them.

He was tall and broad shouldered. A silver necklace sitting between plump pecs. He looked athletic in the same aerodynamic way every other young man in the pool seemed to be. He pulled himself out of the water, teal shorts dripping wet, and flashed a wide grin.

"Dad!" He said to Brian’s shock. The kid was looking directly at him.

"Uh..." Brian glanced over his shoulder. "Me?"

The teenager laughed. "Yeah, you."

Brian frowned. The boy's voice sounded familiar, in fact it reminded Brian of his own. Brian peered at him intently. The teenager tilted his head and something about the manner of it started to feed a growing sense of horror. The smile, The eyes, The tiny gap between his front teeth. Brian felt the blood drain from his face. "Ethan?"

"There you go." The teenager grinned. "Took you long enough."

"Ethan?" Brian repeated weakly.

"Yeah?" The teenager grinned.

"What happe—"

Before he could finish, Ethan slung his arm around his father. Feeling the gentle pressure, Brian began to panic. 

“You’ll see,” his son said. With one lazy pull, Ethan pushed him forward. Brian stumbled toward the water, the familiar sound of his son's laughter the last thing he heard as he fell into the water with a Splash.

The first thing that hit him was the coldness, momentarily distracting him from the rapid changes. Under the water his skin begins to darken as any viable body hair recedes onto revitalized pores. The effects of the last 12 years of parenthood wearing off in seconds. Neglected muscles plump up nicely, defined and lean. His abs and pecs gain muscle tone and strength. His face changed into a picture of carefree youth, face broadened into a squarish look, pretty blue eyes hiding the lack of intelligence behind them, thick eyebrows permanently in a suspicious raise. 

When he comes up for air, he glances at his sonbrother, feeling his matching necklace. They exchange a mischievous look, and BJ grinned crookedly thinking of his family sitting at the other end of the pool.

A few minutes later Frank looks up to see two teenage boys facing him, both carrying loaded super soakers. Before he can even say a word he’s soaked though. 

The transformation happens instantaneously, his age dropping from 78 to 18. His weathered skin became rosy with moisture and constant sun exposure. His height noticeably decreases, dropping nearly to 5”2. Muscles tighten with lean cords and memories of dry land training. So far gone in his transformation he unbuttons his shirt to feel his new rippled abdomen. Any wary body hair gone as the only place he didn’t previously have hair, his head, grows curly locks.  He grins with a larger, toothier grin. 

“Yo, thanks big bros!” He said, shifting on his newly increased feet. He adjusts his newly revamped member through a wet suit. He gestures to Malissa, who had been watching the entire exchange, horrified, “what we going to do with your wife, BJ”

The taller boy laughed, “I think you know what to do, lill bro!” Then, with almost parallel movements they pulled Mulissa out of her chair and into the pool. 

Splash 

Once she was in the pool, the boys could clearly see the transformation happening beneath the water's surface. The first thing to happen was a newly gained farmer's tan, maybe this one wasn’t a swimmer jock after all. Then her frame thickened with muscle, her shoulders broadening and her limbs becoming noticeably stronger. Her midsection swelled into a solid, barrel-chested build, with a firm muscle gut sitting beneath thick, pillow-like pectorals. The strain became too much for her bikini, and the fabric snapped apart. Sparse hair soon spread across her chest and legs, while her face widened into a rugged, masculine shape with a stronger jaw and heavier features. Finally, her long hair receded and shortened into a neat, athletic jock cut.

Once the boys saw the changes were complete, they whooped and yelled, jumping into the water with a splash. The bulky miles wrapped his legs around BJ, “Hey babe,” he said, kissing his boyfriend as if for the first time. 

All afternoon the Simons hung at the pool, chatting with their swim teammates, racing each other in the water, and watching everyone who walked though the gate eventually join them.

The neighborhood had changed over the last few weeks. The smell of sunscreen, chlorine, and teenage sweat filled the air, the sound of screeching whistles and brash, friendly teasing could be heard from anywhere in the neighborhood. 

Harold, the local HOA president, had finally acted on his suspicions. He had noticed that despite a wide variety of locals entering the complex, the only one in the pool ever and the only people who ever left were the teenage swim jocks. Though crazy, the thoughts in his mind would explain the wild happenings, Missing retirees. Families that seemed to vanish overnight. Entire households suddenly being replaced by groups of athletic teenage boys who claimed they had always lived there. He stood just inside the gate, arms folded across his chest, staring at the water. 

"You really think it's the pool?" Lucus asked. The lifeguard adjusted the whistle hanging around his neck, clearly just for show as it was past pool closing. He shifted on skinny legs glancing uneasily toward the water.

Harold nodded. "I don't know how. I don't know why. But every story eventually leads back here." He held up a folder, "it’s odd, odd enough to close down the pool until further investigation could be done. I've got enough complaints to disguise the closure as a health inspection. And there’s a big party at the Simon’s tonight, no one will realize we were even here till tomorrow afternoon. ”

Lucas looked relieved at that. Together they walked toward the equipment shed. Halfway there, Harold stopped so fast Lucus nearly bumped onto him. The pool glowing faintly under the moonlight, the effect was so beautiful both men found themselves staring at it.

Harold suddenly became aware of how hot the humid the summer night was. His shirt felt uncomfortable, sticky on his skin. A quick swim would feel nice. Beside him, Lucas was thinking exactly the same thing.

The young lifeguard shook his head violently. "No."

"What?"

"I was just thinking about getting in."

Harold blinked. "So was I."

They exchanged a nervous look, then both turned back toward the water. The temptation intensified immediately. Suddenly, Harold felt air under his left foot. He shook himself out of his trance, somehow, without realizing it, he had walked up to the edge of the pool. 

Something was wrong. Very very wrong. But before he could think of it, he felt himself falling into the water. He faintly registered Lucus’s weight on top of his body, pushing him deeper into the water. The lifeguard must have walked in a trance as well, unable to shake himself for it, he had run straight into Harold. 

Harold began to feel a strange tinkling spread through his limbs. He felt his bones cracking and refusing as longer limbs, as his hands grew larger. His feet began to swell as well, any body hair receding into youthful unblemished skin. His body began to thicken with muscle, chest firm and arms growing larger still. He used his newly expanded hands to push the smaller lifeguard off him and break the surface. 

“What the fuck,” he managed to bark, water dripping down the sharping contours of his face. He looked to Lucus, the boy seemed taller and larger, the spark behind his eyes just a little dimmer. 

Simultaneously the transformation continued, Hal watched as Luke’s simple t-shirt began to dissolve, revealing a firm, defined stomach Hal was sure the lifeguard didn’t have before. Luke’s arms and legs grew lean with muscle, smattering of hair growing on his body. Unbeknownst to him, Hal was going through similar changes, his tight polo also gone. The hairy saggy fat of his stomach hardened into a smooth definition of a six pack. He felt a slight tightness down below and reached down his tighter bulge, confined in a loud patterned pair of swim trunks. 

He felt a strange cracking sensation in his face, as his jaw reformed. He grunted as his features became more and more youthful, wrinkles and age spots replaced thick lips and a darker skin tone. Beside him his friend's skin began to take on an even darker tone, changing his ethnicity altogether. Finally both “boys” felt a slight weight between their pecs, simple chains forming and Hank felt an extra pressure on his ears as both gained multiple earnings. 

“Hey, why aren’t we at the Simon's place?” He asked his best friend luke.

“Bro, that’s tonight, the triplets throw the best parties!” He replied 

“Let’s go!” Hank yelled, jumping out of the pool, Luke right behind him. Both thinking of the booze, dancing, and sex to come. 

Coach had known something was wrong the moment he opened the filing cabinet and saw half the bottles were gone. He had forgotten about it for a long time. Figuring the boys had just wanted some new teammates, yet eventually he began to notice the uptick in recruits on his team, but throughout the town. Looking deeper he discovered it all connected back to a simple neighborhood pool.

—

Six weeks later his truck rolled through Cedar Hills. He rolled past dozens of young men, shirtless, confident, and happy. He parked near the community pool and stepped out.

"This isn’t possible," he muttered to himself.

But when he got inside the pool, he saw immediately the faint streaks of neon colors in the water, only viable to a trained eye such as his, Red, Blue, Orange, Purple.

His jaw tightened. "Oh, you idiots."

A familiar voice called from behind him. "Coach?"

He turned and saw Jake and Liam standing near the gate, Hunter leaning casually against the fence near them. All three immediately realized why he was there, their faces grimly set. For several seconds nobody spoke.

Then Coach spoke up, "Want to explain this?" He said, gesturing to the pool.

Jake winced. "Okay, so..."

"Jake."

"Right."

Coach rubbed his bald head. "You put it in there, didn't you?"

Hunter looked at the ground; but Liam folded his arms, doubling down, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Coach laughed once. "You contaminated an entire public pool and as a result dozens of unwilling people in your own neighborhood."

"We improved them," Jake argued, regretting his phrasing immediately, "That wasn't the right word."

"No. It wasn't." Said the older man, stepping forward. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

The boys exchanged uncertain looks. 

"You need to drain this pool," Coach said.

The boys immediately erupted in protest. "What?" 

"No way." Hunter said.

"Seriously?" Liam said, his eyebrow raised in challenge. 

Jake shook his head. "You can't."

"I absolutely can." The swim coach said already starting to walk to the equipment shed. 

Liam stepped forward. "And then what?"

Coach opened his mouth yet he couldn’t answer.  Because he didn't actually know. Then Jake's eyes widened, following his gaze, Coach saw it. A bright plastic water gun sat abandoned beside a chair. The kind kids used during summer parties, only this one had been filled directly from the pool.

Coach slowly backed away. "No."

Jake grabbed it.

"No."

Liam started laughing. "Gu-ys,” he tried to say, his body shaking. 

Hunter was already laughing too.

"This is a terrible idea." Coach pointed at them. "Put it down."

 Coach took another step backward. "Jake."

Jake’s finger floated over the handle. “Yeah, Coach?”

"Don't."

Jake grinned. A familiar grin that Coach knew meant disaster. The exact same grin he'd worn every time he'd gotten into trouble, stupid stunts or fucking in the locker room.

Coach sighed. "You're all idiots."

The water gun fired. Coach felt the cold sting of the water first then the numbness he knew began the transformation. 

First his feet began to grow, the water constantly dripping on them making them larger and larger. Stopping around size 12. Also extending in length was his dick, swelling in size, longer and girthier than it had ever been in his youth. A wave of hornyness overwhelmed him, his shrinking brain losing its ability to focus on much else. His body followed suit, gray hair vanishing, wrinkles smoothing over expanding muscles, frame cracking to a 6’8”. Veins coursing down his bulging arms and legs. 

Coach had to sit down, the transformation overcoming him. His face reforming, plump lips, sharp jawline, large head. Above, long blonde hair pushed out of his skull, conformed by a tan cap that mutualized on his head. His intelligence took a final downgrade, as his butt blew up, a feeling of emitted hollowness from it. 

Big C looked at his friends with glazed over eyes, the intense hornyness and emptiness taking over him. “Yo, one you help me. Im. horny.” He said in monotone single syllables. The boys exchanged mischievous looks, any earlier troubles forgotten as their former coach presented his ass to them. 

So the last of the neighborhood was transformed, it was unanimously better changed population of the neighborhood agreed. Life was better when you were all the same. young families and relaxed retirees gone, replaced by the over abundance of young swim athletes. Everywhere you looked there were guys congregating, working out on their driveways, throwing blowout weekend parties, and of course swimming at the local pool. 

Speaking of the local pool, it has easily the center of the changed neighborhood. Everyone still used it, swimming in it daily even though they all had pools at their own homes now, completely covering the front and backyards. Grass and yards had been deemed unnecessary, instead the residents had pumped water from the central pool to fill their entire lawns. And somehow the pools never ran dry. 

The faint smell of chlorine, gym locker room, and sunscreen fills the air. Every house is spread like little islands amidst a literal sea of pools and constantly slick roadways. On those roadways sit the occasionally used car(walking is great cardio), a redone pickup truck, the back filled with water to swim in mid ride or during slow traffic. 

Of course the guys constantly getting wet and swimming the serum that made them as made any sort of aging stagnant completely. Everyone’s just happy the way they are, and are ready for you to join them in the pool. The pool that’s always full to the brim with teenagers, no matter who visits, by the end of the day only the teens reminded, lounging, racing each other, or fucking around. 

The morning light filtered through the cheap hotel curtains in that dingy downtown room, casting long shadows across the two queen beds. Alex and Jordan had been best friends since college—gym bros who pushed each other through heavy lifts, shared protein shakes, and crashed in the same room on every road trip. Last night had been no different: beers, dumb jokes, and passing out in their boxers after a late workout.

But when Alex stirred, something felt… wrong. His body ached in a way that wasn’t just from squats. He sat up—way up—and his head nearly brushed the ceiling fan. The room looked tiny. The bed creaked dangerously under his weight as he swung legs that were now tree-trunk thick down to the floor. He stared at his hands. Massive. Veined. Powerful.

“Jordan?” His voice boomed, deeper than before.

A tiny, muffled groan came from the other bed. Jordan rolled over, but instead of standing, he… climbed. The man who used to match Alex rep for rep in the gym was now barely two feet tall, his once-jacked physique shrunken into a perfectly proportioned, hyper-muscular little stud. His dark hair was tousled, his back still cut with deep ridges of muscle, but he looked like a living action figure.

“Holy shit,” Jordan squeaked, his voice high and breathless as he looked up—way up—at his friend. Alex had to be eight feet tall now, shirtless, his chest a wall of striated muscle, abs like cobblestones, and those gray sweatpants stretched obscenely over thighs thicker than Jordan’s entire torso. The drawstring hung loose, but the fabric clung to the heavy outline of a cock that had grown in perfect, terrifying proportion.

Alex’s heart hammered. He should’ve been panicking. Instead, heat flooded his groin as he stared down at his tiny buddy. “Dude… you’re so fucking small.”

Jordan’s face flushed. He stepped off the bed onto the carpet, craning his neck. From down here, Alex was a god—broad shoulders blocking the light, massive hands dangling at his sides, fingers thick enough to wrap around Jordan’s waist. Jordan’s own tiny cock twitched hard in his black boxer briefs. “And you’re… enormous. Fuck, look at you.”

The air thickened. Alex slowly stood, his head brushing the ceiling. The motion made his sweatpants slide lower on his hips, revealing the deep V of his obliques and the base of a thick, heavy shaft. Jordan walked forward until he was between Alex’s feet, staring straight up at the towering bulge.

“You’re hard,” Jordan whispered, voice shaky with arousal.

“Can’t help it,” Alex rumbled. He reached down, his huge hand engulfing Jordan’s entire upper body as he gently lifted him. Jordan gasped, legs dangling, but he didn’t fight it. Instead, he grabbed onto one thick finger, grinding his tiny erection against Alex’s palm.

Alex carried him over to the full-length mirror. The sight made them both groan. Alex’s reflection was obscene—eight feet of shredded muscle, veins popping, sweatpants tented like a circus tent. Tiny Jordan looked like a doll in his grip, muscular but helpless, his ass flexing as he squirmed.

“Put me down… against you,” Jordan begged.

Alex lowered him slowly until Jordan’s feet touched the waistband of those gray pants. The little man pressed his whole body against the massive cock straining beneath the fabric. It was thicker than his leg. Hot. Pulsing. Jordan moaned and rubbed himself up and down the length, arms wrapping as far as they could go around the shaft through the cloth.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Alex growled. He peeled his sweatpants down with his free hand. His cock sprang out—eleven inches of thick, veiny meat, the head already slick. Jordan stared at it like it was a monument.

Jordan climbed. He used the ridges of Alex’s abs as handholds, scaling the giant’s body until he was straddling the base of that massive cock, his own tiny dick rubbing against the hot skin. Alex’s hand came up to support him, fingers cupping his ass and guiding him.

“Ride it,” Alex ordered, voice low and commanding.

Jordan did. He humped forward, grinding his entire body along the underside of Alex’s shaft, kissing and licking the pulsing vein that ran its length. Precum the size of his thumb leaked out, smearing across Jordan’s chest and abs as he worked. Alex stroked himself slowly with one hand, the motion sliding Jordan up and down like a toy.

“God, you’re so fucking tiny and perfect,” Alex panted. He lifted Jordan higher, pressing the little man’s face against his leaking slit. Jordan licked greedily, moaning as the salty fluid coated his tongue and chin.

Alex’s other hand moved behind Jordan, a single thick finger teasing between his firm little asscheeks. Jordan whimpered but pushed back, desperate. The finger—bigger than any cock he’d ever taken—pressed in slowly, stretching him open while he kept humping the giant dick in front of him.

They moved together like that, the giant and his shrunken buddy, lost in raw size difference lust. Alex’s breathing grew ragged. He lifted Jordan off his cock and brought him to his mouth, licking the little man’s entire torso with one broad stroke of his tongue, tasting sweat and precum. Jordan cried out, cumming hard across Alex’s lips in helpless spurts.

That pushed Alex over. He set Jordan back on his cock and stroked furiously. Rope after thick rope of cum erupted, painting Jordan’s chest, face, and hair, drenching him completely. The overflow splattered onto the carpet in heavy drops.

Panting, Alex lowered his spent little friend onto the bed, then collapsed beside him—careful not to crush him. Jordan lay there in a puddle of cum, grinning up at the ceiling-filling giant.

“So… round two after breakfast?” Jordan asked, voice hoarse.

Alex’s massive hand gently stroked down his tiny body. “We’re not leaving this room until we figure out how to make this permanent.”

1

File name:FBO-ED-Doritos   

Manufacturing details: Produced by the lays Frato-laid (formerly known as frito-lay).

Key transformation components: 

Chip dust mixed with powdered Natty Light residue

Corn masa soaked in used pong table water

Seasoning blended with late-night pizza grease and microdoses of testosterone

Plastic bag interior coated with dorm-room pheromones

Crunch vibration calibrated to lower IQ by 40 points per bite

Testing: “Ok, guys. This one was sent by. . .looks like a Doritos. Thanks for sending this, Doritos! Let’s open.”

In Johnathan’s hands is a large cardboard box with the Doritos logo on it. He was filming an unboxing video for his YouTube channel. He didn’t even like chips but his viewers (and his sponsor) didn’t need to know that. Opening the branded box, he found maybe a dozen packs of Doritos chips. 

“Ok, these look amazing. What flavor are these? Oh, looks like there's a new flavor: Super Cheese.”

He opened one of the bags and took a performative sniff. He had to suppress the urge to gag, it smelled distinctively like old socks and overripe cheese. He smiled wide at the camera and plucked one out. When he placed it in his mouth he was hit with a powerful taste of nacho cheese and chipotle peppers. 

“Wow!” He exclaimed, “That's hot. Like really hot.”

Despite his better judgment he went in for another, then another. Until maybe half the bag was gone. He wiped his hand carelessly on his t-shirt, leaving an orange streak. The orange powder seemed to spread across the shirt. Growing into a larger and larger stain until his whole shirt crumbled into cheese dust. 

Johnathan glanced down, too absorbed in his bag of chips to care. His skin began to take on a deeper tan and his body inflated with lean muscles. His brand new vans began to wear down, becoming years old in a matter of seconds. Jewelry wrapped itself on his wrists and fingers.

As he chewed, his jaw shifted. Withers can but it became slimmer and any beginnings of wrinkles vanished. His face now one of aloof hotness, his mind soon matched. The cheese rewrote his sense of self entirely, making his brain foggy. So foggy he could recall, well, anything. He didn’t remember putting up that camara. Didn’t even remember what year it was. 

When the bag was empty he pounded on his chest in a show of bravado.  

“Soooo good bros. LETS GOOO!!!!” He glanced around at the bags and bags of Doritos. “Like, Where did these even come from, bro? I don’t remember things for shit.” He laughed.

Then he remembered what time it was: 10:35. Shit, he was late for school. He couldn’t fail senior year for the third time. 

2

File name:SJ-ED-Peanut butter cup

Manufacturing details:produced in partnership with Graystone Athletics and the Hershey company.

Key transformation components:

Peanut butter whipped with extracted sweat from used shin guards

Chocolate shell spiked with “goal celebration hormones”

Cups constructed using molds from designer jockstrap factories

Packaging microperforated with muscle pheromone mist

Filling enriched using stadium air from Saturday night matches

Testing: Walking home after school, he was extremely hungry. The long day of studying and learning had taken it out of him. Thankfully he had grabbed a pack of peanut butter cups from the old vending machine outside the school gym. 

As he walked by the athletic field he had just gotten the sealed package open. He took a large bite and was hit by the strong flavor of peanut butter. He polished off the first cup with relish, but was soon hit by the feeling of vertigo.

His height shot up, bones cracking to give him broad shoulders and a wide set of hips. He felt a slight pinch in his ears as a pair of fake diamond studs materialized. His long messy wave pulled back into his head into a trendy sporty style. His jaw sharpened to create a strong profile. 

Muscles pumped into his body faster and faster till his crappy cardigan and jeans burst to shreds. Sharp cut abs and pecs were revealed and he rubbed them without hesitation. Dark hair growing unto muscled arms and legs. He stood shaking on massive feet trying to remember what he was doing. 

He saw the last peanut butter cup on the ground and grabbed it, eating it without hesitation. His discarded school bag shifted into a soccer ball and nylon workout pants formed around his thick thighs. He ran onto the field with excitement, kicking the ball as he went. 

3

File name:RN-ED-Cereal

Manufacturing details: Produced by Graystone Labs, Georgia division. 

Key transformation components:

Cornflakes made with real silo dust from Nebraska farm co-ops

Milk powder mixed with authentic barn musk

Natural sugars replaced with “clean organic” sweetener

Box lined with hay-scent aerosols

Oats treated with UV radiation to simulate outdoor farm labor

Crunch-timbre calibrated to trigger “country-fried brainwaves”

Testing: Cassie sat down with a bowl of cereal. As a nursing student, she rarely had the time or money to go to the grocery shop. She had woken up knowing she had already eaten her last eggs the other morning. But in the back of the cabinet she had found an old box of off-brand cornflakes and had poured herself a bowl. 

Her first bite was chalky and obviously a bit stale, she continued chewing as she looked over yesterday's notes. As she chewed her clothes began to shift, scrubs becoming loose white pants and shirts that didn’t fit correctly…yet. 

She shifted in the orange chair, trying to accommodate for her body that began to change. Still, she was too absorbed in her notes to notice anything amiss. Her feet began to grow out of her socks, revealing long white arches. Limbs lengthening into sun tanned muscle. She tabbed her long fingers on the table as her mind began to wander. 

Her throat became instantly thicker as the changes spread up to her face. Her tight bun exploded into a roughly cut mullet. Face becoming longer, a long nose and thick eyebrows appearing. A small scattering of body hair grew like she had never shaved before. A permanent smell of livestock formed around him.

She lost focus in her schoolwork entirely as a course of pleasure coursed through her body. Her brain started to rewrite itself, memories and instincts changing. Ambitions of becoming a pediatrician were replaced by much smaller dreams of farming and living simply in the south. Skills changed as she gained knowledge of agriculture and home cooking. The source of pleasure became obvious as she reached down to her crotch feeling for the growing penis that was pushing its way into existence. Becoming fully formed and erect as she became he. 

A cap plopped onto his head as he fully embraced his new self. A ruddy, stinky, dirt-under-the-nails midwestern teenage farm boy.

4

File name:(RC)AS-ED-Sprite 

Manufacturing details: produced in partnership with Graystone International.

Key transformation components:

Lemon-lime flavor adjusted with Kabosu limes

Bottle plastic mixed with recycled Chinese take out containers

Liquid aerated using pheromone enriched air from Japanese gyms 

Sugar blend calibrated for maximum speed + minimum brain activity

Carbonation spiked with cultural spectrum chemicals

Testing: He cracked it open mid-commute. He needed the boost trying to walk the seven blocks to the office. 

The fizz exploded in his mouth, way too strong. His body jolted in shock. Energy flooded him instantly, his legs twitching, heart pounding, lungs expanding like they could never run out of air.

He chugged it. Big fucking mistake.

His cubby frame began to skim down, he also lost at least multiple inches. The fattiness in his limbs changed into lean muscle. Lean abs formed under his clothes as his skin began to take on a lighter tone. His face lost all roundness as it became lean, sharp and youthful. 

His brain… didn’t keep up. Memories of being another office worker replaced by being an international transfer student. His internal thoughts were in Mandarin instead of English. His suit melted away, replaced by a black t-shirt and baggy jeans. His hair becomes messy and straight. 

“Yo—yo—yo—” he laughed, bouncing on his toes. “Gada’ get to school”

He didn’t remember where he was originally going. Already on route to a school in the opposite direction. Sipping on his sprite like it was the best thing in the world. He was so glad 妈妈 had sent him his favorite 雪碧 from china, all this American soda was garbage anyway.