#hunk tf

It was supposed to be his chill day at the beach.

Cameron adjusted his wide-brimmed hat and slathered a second coat of sunscreen over his pale body, trying not to let the growing irritation show on his face. The waves were small, the sand was hot, and unfortunately, two overly persistent girls from his old high school had spotted him almost immediately when he stepped onto the beach.

“Aww, Cammy! Still pretending to be into boys?” one of them teased, licking a popsicle suggestively.

“Yeah, come on. You’d look so hot with a real girl on your arm instead of—what was it, that barista guy?” the other said, flipping her long bleached hair.

Cameron tried to brush them off. He told them clearly twice, then three times, that he wasn’t interested. He even put his earbuds in. But they only got more persistent and more condescending. They talked about him like he was broken, like his whole self was all a joke or a phase.

So, when they followed him down the shoreline, to where the tide lapped gently against the shore, he finally turned and gave them a long, quiet stare. He had this magic for a reason after all, he thought to himself.

“I warned you,” he said calmly. He made a strange gesture with his fingers and clearly envisioned in his head what he wanted to happen.

The wind died for a moment. The sunlight shimmered strangely on the water. Then, very softly, things began to change.

Their names were Madison and Brittney. They’d grown up as pretty, popular girls, same old story: always the center of attention, always used to getting what they wanted. And they wanted Cameron. Or more specifically, they wanted the challenge of Cameron.

Madison was the first to feel it. She opened her mouth for another taunt, her voice cracked. Literally cracked, as she tried speaking her voice sounded too deep to be hers.

“Ughh, wha—?” she croaked, then coughed, clutching her throat and finding it to feel unusually thick and hard.

Brittney giggled or tried too. but the sound came out sharp and nasal, more like a mocking sneer. “You okay, Mads?” she asked, only to frown at her own voice. “Wait, what the—?”

Their skin began to darken under the sun, but not from a burn. Muscles began to swell beneath their collarbones, at first subtle, then sudden. Popping into place as if something alive was under their skin. Their delicate wrists thickened, and their narrow, painted fingernails curled inward, breaking off as larger hands formed, knuckles cracking and fingers broadening each with a dull thick nail. 

“Cam?” Madison asked, but even she could hear the desperate, masculine rasp in her voice now.

Cameron just watched, standing a few feet away as the transformation accelerated.

The girls dropped to their knees in the wet sand, gasping, clutching their stomachs as their waists thickened and broadened. Their hips narrowed, breasts flattening into hard, meaty pecs. Pink bikini tops slipped off and hit the sand with a soft slap. What had once been sun-kissed hourglass torsos were now bulking up into V-shaped gym bros.

Brittney, who now looked about 80% frat pledge, grunted and tugged at the waistband of her bikini bottoms as something stirred beneath them, which something did , her feminine parts reformed, an above average male prostate was pushing itself out of her vigina.

“I feel—oh fuuuck, I feel weird,” she moaned, then let out a guttural laugh as her voice dropped even deeper. “No, bro, this feels good.”

“Bro?” Madison repeated, then blinked. “Wait, yeah—bro. I feel, like—fucking alive.”

Their thoughts were shifting now. You could almost see it happen  in their glassy eyes, the way their brows furrowed dumbly in confusion, then eased into cocky smirks.

“Yo, is this what it’s like to be a dude?” Madison asked, flexing his arms and looking at the veins bulging beneath the skin.

“No, man,” Brittney, now mentally calling himself Brock rather than Britt, grinned and scratched his head. “Like. . . aren’t we fucking dudes though.”

Their hair had changed too. Madison’s straight blond waves curled tightly into a mop of sweaty dark curls. Brittney’s tangle of platinum strands faded into a rich, sandy brown and grew denser, more tousled, like the perfect Instagram model the former girls would have thirsted over.

Within minutes, two shirtless young men were standing in the sand where the girls had been, tan, ripped, and glistening in the sun.

And the thoughts that swirled in their newly male brains? Definitely not what they used to be.

“Damn, I need a fuckin’ beer or somethin’,” muttered Brock, tugging on his board shorts, now perfectly formed around his trim waist and generous bulge.

“No joke, bro,” said the other, who was now going by Maddox. “Also kinda feel like...I wanna hit something. Or fuck someone. Or both.”

Cameron stepped back just as they picked up their skimboards, ones that hadn’t existed a minute before. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips. Cameron stood quietly, a glimmer in his eye.

He went back under his umbrella and sat down, content with a job well done. He watched, as they jogged down the beach to go check out some “tight chicks,” Jax and Brock were now prime examples of the straight, cocky fuckbois they’d always fantasized about. Shallow, horny, and mostly brainless, with just enough confidence to make them entertaining.

He watched as Brock clumsily flirted with a volleyball player, slurring a lazy line about “how tight her spike was,” while Jax adjusted his waistband for the fifth time, smirking down at himself like it was the first time he’d seen it.

Cameron let out a slow breath and pulled his hat lower over his face. He happily picked up his book, eager  to finish it in his self made peace and quiet. But as he quietly flipped pages he failed to notice the two new beach bros walking towards his set up, lust in their eyes and a determined pep in their step. Not every spell works exactly as you want it to. . .

It was the sort of place that didn’t feel like just a place, as much as a moment in time, like it had no reason to hurry. Sand shifted the feet of Daniel Raines as he walked past manicured hedges trimmed to an architectural precision that must have cost more than his yearly salary. The air was different here — lighter somehow, as though it had been screened through centuries of privilege before it reached his lungs. The scent of salt and far off freshly mown grass drifting in with the sea breeze. Somewhere above him, gulls cried lazily, as if even they knew this was a place was trapped, unmoving as stone in the rushing river that was time.

At the crest of the hill, far past the beach Danial was now strolling on, the famed Nester Estate revealed itself. a sprawling white mansion set on an emerald lawn that spilled down toward the dunes. It didn’t so much sit on the land, no, the estate claimed it, its tall gables and proud brick chimneys like a crown worn over the Atlantic. Windows the size of small cars reflected the sun like polished mirrors, catching the light in a way that made the place seem almost unreal. Like the distant view of heaven in a classical painting. 

Daniel looked curiously at the massive building. He’d been told the Nester Estate was an “exclusive club,” but no one had explained what that meant. All Daniel knew was it was one of the most elite country clubs in the world. He was walking across the beach in his jeans and a short-sleeved plaid shirt, the clothes suddenly felt wrong here so close to the world of the wealthy. 

“Hey, you forgot your shoes!”

Danial glanced around, looking for the owner of the odd greeting. A man was walking towards him, tall, broad-shouldered, barefoot in the sand. His skin had the effortless bronze of someone who never worried about sunburns, only about which yacht to take out that day. A crisp white button-down shirt hung open at the collar, sleeves casually rolled to the elbow, paired with pale shorts that ended mid-thigh. His hair was perfectly sun-streaked, a sculpted sweep of gold, and the light caught on the lenses of his  sunglasses as he smiled.

 Danial felt extremely awkward when he realized the guy was walking from the direction of the Nester estate's beach front access path. Now, Danial didn’t have any problem with rich people, in fact he knew the great benefits their presence had on the economy of his small beach town. But it was the awareness of being an outsider that made him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. Nonetheless, Danial gave him a friendly smile. 

“Hello, I don’t think those are mine.”

The man only shook his head with a small smile, like he knew the secrets of the world, which he probably did. “No, they're yours, but anyway. Good morning Danial.”

Danial startled, how did this person know his name. The man stuck out a large golden hand, his shake was firm and impossibly confident. And it didn’t end right away, lasting longer than Danial thought a handshake could. 

“Chadsworth D. R. Nester. Chad, to friends.” He said his voice was warm yet commanding, a tone that suggested both welcome and ownership. After he had finally let go of Danial’s hand, he all but shoved the pair of boat shoes into them.

“What. .these aren’t mine, I’m even wearing shoes right now.” He tried to protest.

“Huh, really,” Chadsworth replied back, left eyebrow cocked above his dark glasses. 

“What!” Danial looked down, shocked to find his flip flops had completely vanished. He looked desperately behind to see if they fell off, but no such luck. “This makes no sense.” 

He looked down at the massive shoes the other man had given him. They looked quite expensive although they had clearly been used more than a few times. The shoes were easily five sizes too big, how Chadsworth could ever think they were Daniels was beyond him. He could smell a warm funk rising from them, the scent of dried salt water and teenage foot funk all hardly covered by the scent of cologne working over time to cover the worst of the musk. 

A strange sensation had spread through him once he started to hold the shoes. It was subtle at first, unnoticeable. A prickling in Daniel’s palm, a faint tingle that spread up his arm like a slow moving frost. His knees felt oddly light, his shoulders relaxing without his permission. Daniel blinked, but the world didn’t quite blink with him. The sharp glare of the water behind him blurred as if he had become unfocused on reality itself. 

“It doesn't need to make sense.” Chad said. “They are your shoes, let's make sure you fit in them.”

“Bu—”

The word caught in his throat. His voice was different, deeper and smoother, touched with the lazy drawl of someone who’d never needed to rush a word in his life. The thought of speaking quickly, urgently, seemed… gauche.

His hair grew lighter by degrees, strands turning from black to mahogany to a light brown shade. A gentle breeze brushed through it, and instead of mussing, it fell perfectly into place. His jawline sharpened, cheekbones lifting slightly, skin evening out into a healthy, understated tan. A face that had never heard the word no. 

The changes spread, his whole body experiencing similar transformation. His limbs stretched out, giving him height he never had before. His limbs filled out, well maintained muscles pumped onto them. A light dusting of hair covered his legs and worked its way across his chest and down his arms. Finally he felt a pleasing pressure in his feet as they began to grow. He sighed in contented bliss as they lengthened to a final size 13.

The tingling warmth moved deeper now, curling into his thoughts. And there, something changed more profoundly. The weight of his old life, memories of the cramped apartment, the worry over bills, the long hours in a cubicle. All of it began to loosen like knots made in a silk cord, fated to fall apart. In its place came something else: mornings waking in a sunlit bedroom with linen sheets; summers spent sailing; knowing without doubt that every door in the world would open for him if he wanted it to.

The sensation was intoxicating. a deep, cellular level certainty that he belonged here. That he had always belonged.

He remembered that his family’s estate was only three properties down, an ivory mansion with green shutters and a private tennis court. He remembered prep schools with stone archways, holiday parties with champagne towers, a father who played golf at the same club as senators and CEOs. The memories fit perfectly into place, with a precision that made the old ones feel like someone else’s half-forgotten dream.

Daniel Dane Trent A. Nester stood barefoot on the sand, rolling his shoulders with the unconscious ease of a man who’d never lifted anything heavier than a gin and tonic. The salt air filled his lungs, filling him with the deep sense of relief and something else, ownership. He looked at Chad and didn’t see a stranger, but his cousin and closest confidante, the man he’d spent summers with since boyhood.

Come on,” Chad said, turning toward the path that led between the dunes to the famed estate. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

Dane followed, the wood of the boardwalk warm under his bare feet. He carried his loafers in one hand, though he couldn’t remember ever wearing them today. while Chad gestured toward the horizon. The house in front of them looked even more magnificent closer up, its long porches and towering windows glinting in the sun.

As they strolled, unbothered, toward the main house, Chad spoke easily about club traditions, private dinners, and the upcoming regatta, and Dane found himself nodding, adding comments, remembering things he had never lived.

By the time they went inside, there was no trace of the man who had been walking along the beach, looking with envy at the easy life of the wealthy. All that remained of that man was Dane,  a polished, clean-cut son of the Nester Estate, born to wealth, bred for leisure, and welcomed home at last.

“Fuck,” Harry screamed throwing his game controller against the wall, he had just died before almost completely the final level of his new set gaming obsession Devil’s Clash. The game was fairly straightforward: beat all nine levels or “circles” of hell and kill the devil himself to become the new king of the underworld. Unfortunately the game was designed in such a way that if you died at any point you would be booted back to the first circle. He had made it to the throne room only to be killed instantly.

Harry loved video games, he would play for hours each day. A fact most of his family and exes had frequently complained about. But as Harry saw it it was something he enjoyed doing, he still worked hard, made a decent living, and worked out enough to stay a healthy weight. A game like Devil’s Clash would keep him busy for weeks. 

He took a calming breath and flipped off the game, heading to bed early tonight. The next day after a full work day he got home and began to pump himself up for ,hopefully, the final session of Devil’s Clash. He played for a couple hours, making his way through the many different zones and levels of the game before the throne room. Once Inside he carefully snuck around, taking out the devil kings guard one by one. Then with a quick move he engaged the king in battle. Swipe! Slide! Stab! Harry’s fingers were a blur on the controller, him and the demon king an equally strong force. Then in a final moment Harry’s in-game character landed a killing blow, triumph at last. With a fanfare of trumpets and cheers the screen informed him that he had won. Suddenly the screen went black. . .

Harry stared, confused as a strange symbol appeared, a simple circle with a curved line hugging its bottom half and a simple upside down cross shape on the bottom. He didn’t really recognize the shape and fruitlessly pushed buttons on his controller. Trying to figure out what in the world happened. All of a sudden a voice spoke loudly. 

“Harry, you have honored me,” the voice spoke, seemingly from nowhere, “the first to beat my game, you are to be my champion.”

“What—” Harry startled, “who are you—uh, sir” 

The voice sounded pleased by the honorific, “I am the true king of the underworld and master of the dead. I am Hades.”

Harry couldn’t help but let out a startled laugh, “Hades the god.”

“No, Hades from down the street. The voice said saucily, “yes Hades the god”

“Ok”

“Just ok, you shall accept my existence that simply mortal”

“Why not”

“Very well,” the voice of Hades continued, “as I said you are to be my chosen, prophet of my return, heir of death and riches, my beloved mortal.”

“Ok, what does that all entail?” Harry asked curiously.

“You shall see mortal boy,” the voice of Hades said, authority radiating from his voice. “But first you must understand my power, power to be respected and devoutly followed.”

Harry felt off as a slight pulse began to beat in his head. He looked around confused, trying to understand what was happening to him. His eyes landed on the tv, now recognizing the symbol of Hades opened the floodgates as new instincts and knowledge powered into his mind. His thoughts and doubts were helpless to the devotion rooting deep into his very being. A powerful respect and affection for his great lord Hades began to bloom. knowledge of his myths and power, as if had known them forever, pushed to the forefront of his mind. He lowered himself to his knees before the symbol of his hollowed god, waiting eagerly for Hades' next words. 

“You will be a great servant to me, Harry,” Hades voice continued, “you will feel my favor in your presence, your strength and beauty”

Harry felt the changes beginning to happen in his body, as it began to grow larger. His limbs grow longer, stretching out to give him a massive wingspan and a height of 6,2”. He rubbed his jaw as it went through a shift too. Cracking as the softness of his chin hardened into a sharp jawline. The Pouty lips of a model replaced his dry chapped ones, His face becoming the classically beautiful profile of a supermodel.

Muscles began to inflate across his body, staring in his shoulders. They became broad and solid as the thickness ran down his arms. Biceps and triceps swell to form attractive curves. Thick veins ran down his arms, pumping the changes to his hands as they grow wide and thick with callouses. 

His torso begins to slim down as the flabbness melts away, replaced by strong muscles. Hyper defined abs grow out of his stomach, harsh ridges of pure muscle. Pectoral muscles smoothing, looking like those of a man who worked his upper body out religiously. The changes spread down to his legs, growing larger, tree trunk thick. His thighs inflate to massive globs of muscle, matching his newly expanded calves. The change finally stopped at his feet as they became thick and veiny. A deep tan spread over his body, giving him a backlit glow illusion.

“Perfect, my servant, you are almost ready. But you must also have control of my spheres and reflect my nature.”

A deep rooted chill filled him, making him shiver involuntarily. As the memories in his head began to die, rotting into nothingness. The memories of growing up middle class, gone. Of his loving parents, gone. Of his high school graduation and college experience, gone. Of his first job working for a law company, gone. Even his recollection of receiving the offer of a lifetime to work at a major game labels coding department. Until his love of video games was the only thing left and that too quickly vanished into the ether of his now empty head.

But as quickly as his memories faded, new ones took hold, grasping to his very conciseness. First he remembered growing up wealthy, powerful. As his small apartment grew large, reshaping into a penthouse high on a massive skyscraper. His ratty sweat suit changed into a small pair of black shorts, showing off his new powerful body. The idea of working and making a living felt foreign to him.

But more memories surged in and many tattoos spread on his skin. The void left by memories of his parents was filled as he remembered his dad, a hard cold man. He also remembered his father being head of the city’s most powerful mob. Memories of being trained by father fill his head, doing his fathers dirty work is his favorite task. As memories of the criminal underworld pour into his head, so does a new scheming mentality, as multiple plans fill his head, to control the underworld himself for his master, Hades. 

His master speaks once he realizes the changes are complete, “you are ready my devoted one, go forth and make me a new underworld. For when I return only my followers should be spared.”

Harry smirked, a cruel practiced expression on him, as ideas of his next underworld converts filled his head,

 “It will be as you say master.”

Jonathan had always had a love of the culture of the Ancient Greeks, specifically Greek mythology. He had grown up being read the familiar myths out of a worn storybook, then had fallen in love with Homer’s the Odyssey when he read both of the ancient philosophers epic poems. From there it had spiraled out into collage, where he studied Greek literature and architecture and discovered his passion and Career, archeology specifically Greek archeology. He now did moderately well for himself now as the associate curator of a smaller museum.

Unfortunately his almost obnoxious interest in his work led to him being perceived as odd or, as his ex-girlfriend accused, a paganistic devout. It probably didn’t help that he worked long hours at the museum by choice and occasionally taught night classes on Hellenistic culture. When he was home he would be finishing work assignments or reading his worn copies of Greek literature. His home was a shrine to the ancient people, his furniture was historically accurate Greek furniture and every surface or shelf was covered in books, trinkets, and even small common artifacts. 

—

One late afternoon, he was unboxing the latest shipments of artifacts and objects to be displayed. When he got to the bottom of one of the stacks of boxes he found a curious piece he didn’t remember ordering. It was a medal disk about as large as his hand. Carved unto one side was a ranging eagle and the inscription reading: Ζεύς, the Ancient Greek word for Zeus.

Now if Johnathan has to pick a favorite subject within his field, it was easily the ancient pantheon, especially Zeus. He was fascinated by the gods, but Zeus was his favorite, sure he had his flaws but he ruled the skies with might and power. He had written many papers on the positive effects the worship of the gods had for the Greeks, citing their advanced understanding of the world and the influence they still had in culture today. 

He picked up the plate-like object, wondering what it was. In all his years he had never come across something like this before. Was it a plate, an ancient sign of sort, or most likely a modern object made to appear ancient. He examined it with care, on the other side was a thin bust of the king of gods himself. It seemed decidedly thick and was heavier than it appeared. 

All the sudden he heard to great voice, “my chosen,” it boomed, “you have been honored by the gods to be chosen”

“What,” his curiosity replaced by fear as he tried to move but found his body unresponsive. He asked fearfully, “who are you”

The disembodied voice let out a booming laugh, “why child, I am who you call to, who you devote yourself to. I am Zeus, master of the skies, ruler of the gods and king of Olympus”

“That’s not possible, you're not real. Even if you were, why are you here now?”

“Child, it is not your place to question the will of the gods. But I shall humor you for you have served me well. We have never vanished Johnathan, just been waiting for the time of the prophecy. Watching your world change and grow; wars, revolutions, and death we have watched. But now it is time to end all that and bring forth the new age and you Johnathan shall be my herald." The last part said with some amount of grace as if Johnathan was honored by this weird little acid trip he was on.

“This isn’t real, this isn’t real” he told himself desperately.

The voice of Zeus started to lose patience, “what do you have to lose mortal, if I am not real then what do you have to lose. You have honored us so you have been rewarded by being chosen”

“Fine,” Johnathan replied, “but what does that mean, chosen"

“You shall lead my people, warn the world of our return and bring them to worship me”

“So like a missionary”

“Yes, Johnathan, just so. But you will be blessed, immortalized as demigod”

“Fine, whatever,” he couldn’t admit the secret thrill that went through him at the word “demigod” despite his fear his dreams were coming true, the gods were real and he was to be half god.”

“Excellent, my servant, it is time. Rub my symbol and we shall begin to mold you into my prophet.”

Johnathan reached out and rubbed his hand on the side bearing the eagle, after a few seconds of rubbing in a semicircular motion his body went numb, unable to move. 

Zeus spoke with a commanding tone, “you are to be the heir of Zeus. You will be immortal in your devotion to me forever”

Johnathan felt a queer feeling in his body, a rushing sensation, as unknown to him the blood in his veins changed from red to a deep gold. A faint shimmer was now visible where his thin pale skin showed his veins. He felt good, miraculously good, every ache and pain was gone, even the faint runny nose he’d had for weeks had cleared. His mind felt sharper as his thoughts began to move in a different direction, a deep devotion beginning to grow for his lord Zeus. He started wondering how to please him and grow his following. 

“My heir shall have strength worthy of my name,” the voice of Zeus commanded.

Johnathan’s body instantly began to grow. First his arms flowed with power. Powerful tendons now run down his arms as his biceps and triceps grow. Hard muscle forming unto the curve of his shoulder running down to his hands. His formerly delicate artifact handling hands reformed, growing into massive meaty mits. His arms now looked to be better suited to a bodybuilder than a museum curator.

Next, his torso began to bulk tremendously. Johnathan had never taken the time to develop his body, evidenced most prominently by his pudgy beer belly and soft moobs. This quickly became a thing of the past as his shoulders grew outwards and his spin cracked as it lengthened to make him much taller. His sad looking pactorals grow into hard globes of muscle, his belly shrunk into his chest as rippling abs popped into place. The saggy flesh left tightened as his body fat melted away. His shirt, stretched to its limits, finally burst in an explosive fashion when he unconsciously flexed his new arm.

The transformation flowed down into his legs. Shaped, as if by weeks, months, more like years of running and pumping iron, instantly. His thighs thickened into massive tree trunk legs, pushing his work pants to their limits. Claves toned to muscular perfection and quads the size of a football popped into place. His legs stretched out making his final height around 6’3”. Finally his feet grow as his shoes burst to accommodate the new massive stompers. They plateaued at a final size 15, still thickening in girth. His toes splayed as they grew chunky, each with a large well maintained nail. 

“My strength becomes you, child. You must have beauty in my name as well.”

Johnathan’s body began to change even more, worthy of Zeus as he said. His skin glowing brightly, began to darken and as the light faded his body was now a perfect golden tan. No tan lines showed on his dark skin, like he had baked in the sun nude for days. He felt an odd itching sensation that was the hair on his body shedding, dropping to the ground in whisking tuffets. The hair on his head didn’t vanish but lightened to a pale flaxen gold. The sides shaved themselves as if by an invisible razor and the top spiked itself to the right of his golden head. He rubbed his jaw lightly as he heard a cracking sensation. His jaw reformed from a lumpy double chin to a strong set jawline. His other facial sharpened to match, a strong nose and plump lips forming. Finally a faint sheen glazed over his body, like had been dipped, by his ankle, in oil.

Zeus, clearly pleased thus far, issued his next command , “You must believe in the standards of my rule, you are to be my Conqueror, both in rule and in bed”

Johnathan felt a quick, sharp blow below his belt. Followed intensely by a pleasurable haze. His formerly average dick grew to be of godly proportions. His poach aching as it filled with youthful hormones and golden sperm. The mixing happening in his testicles caused him to moan in pleasure.

His mind began to fill with obscene images and strong thoughts. They created a need to seed. Telling him to breed, and conquer in the name of his great lord Zeus. His ideas of the perfect intellectual girl vanished changing into any women eager to serve him, leaving some room for newly developed interest in guys, ass presented to Johnathan like a gift. His advanced knowledge and skill set vanished in favor of images of wet holes. Ass or vigina didn’t matter. He no longer had a type. If it was human(or not) and it had a hole, it was his job to fill it, plant something in it. 

“Yes, my chosen,  you understand the call of Zeus,” Zeus said boomingly, “now you must understand the role you have to play”.

Johnathan’s intellect took another plunge as his brain filled with the words of Zeus. Telling him his sacred duty to make others like him and grow his master following. He knew now his true purpose, convert the unbelievers or the shall perish when the gods return soon. He felt something in his chest as he thought of showing more the pleasure of serving lord Zeus, his lord was the greatest master ever. It was Johnathan’s greatest pleasure in life to serve him, every command from Zeus was like sweet honey for him. Everything his lord says was law and he felt so so so proud he was Zeus' earthly commander. 

“You must go, son, convert your family, show them the truth of my power. Lead them to me. Begin to grow my followers for it is almost time for the reckoning of gods,” Zeus spoke one final time as his voice grew distant, the plaque vanishing as well. 

Johnathan stood feeling glorious in his new strength and power. He headed out the door to find his first convert. For the gods were returning and when they did the ones who followed them would be blessed.

It was supposed to be a simple interview, at least that’s what your agent had told you. You twiddle your fingers anxiously in the warm lobby of Karv creative development. Your agent had lined up this interview with them saying “it’s for some human interest film,it’ll be good for your career.” Which had hit a sore spot for you as your stage name currently had only 5 credited roles and 3 were background extras. You’re sure you’ve never heard of Karv but a gig is a gig after all. 

You heard the scratch of the intercom “Ryan Wells, your interviewer is ready in the next room. Please head to the large doors on the right wall.” You get up, discarding your, mostly ads, magazine and follow the voices instructions. Pushing open the large matte gray doors you find yourself in a warm room, sparsely furnished. The walls are a simple tan color with pictures of vintage cars and abstract tribal art. You notice the large window that lets in natural light, behind a red toned wood desk. A simple green leather chair is placed in front obviously for you to sit in. The man behind the desk made the room look small around his large frame barely contained in a suit that looked hastily put on and uncomfortable. He smiles at you warmly, his trimmed beard crinkling slightly at the motion. 

“Ryan right, pleasure to meet you.” He extends his hand and you grab it in a firm shake. 

“You’ve a strong grip,” he remarked “must have an excellent work out routine”

You sit down, slightly confused. You rarely went to the gym. As you puzzle over this you don’t notice as your biceps puff outwards and your lats expand. Your slight belly stretches thin over rock solid Abs matching your new lean pecs. The fabric of your dress pants grows tight as your thighs grow to massive proportions and your calves grow to support your new frame. Your brain is filled with gym exercises and protein packed meals, as you realize how ridiculous it would be if you didn’t go to the gym, it’s how you keep this body in shape after all.

“Thank you sir, I’m rarely not at the gym,” you shrug. “Eating healthy helps too.”

He smiles, “wonderful we like our models to be big and strong”

You frown “wait. . . I’m an actor not a model. .”

“This was clearly advertised as a modeling position,” he says. “You have the perfect body for it”

As he says this you remember applying to model after one of your friends had told you about this opportunity. Your feet grow in your shoes, straining them until you have nice size 11 stompers. you feel your spine and legs lengthen, shifting painlessly as you suddenly find yourself eye level with the other man. Now a casual 6’0” your suit barely fits, a fact your interviewer takes notice of. 

“That suit looks horribly uncomfortable,” he remarks “between you and me I find clothing quite annoying. Your a model anyway why would you ever need to where one”

You mull over his words wondering why indeed you chose to wear a suit, you were a model and a damn fine one at that. You had nothing to be shamed for. In fact you loved showing off your body.

“Can I. . Just,” you ask, gesturing to your horrible clothing.

“By all means, please do,” he smiles suggestively at you. “Need to inspect the wares anyhow.” 

You waste no time, ripping off your suit jacket and undershirt revealing muscles you don’t even recall having. After kicking off your shoes, you stand up and strip down to the black speedo that your boxers shift into. You turn in a circle and give your tight ass a slap for him. 

“How’s this boss man”

“You're coming along beautifully” he says to you” but . . Tsk. . Your attitude needs some work, you might look like an alpha male with your chiseled face and days old stubble. But you and I both know you're a perfectly obedient employee. All our models must be submissive, you know.”

You bow your head shamefully, “sorry sir.” and why shouldn’t you be sorry after all this man was your boss(hopefully) and deserved the utmost respect, you thought as stubble filled your shaping jawline. Your hair slicked back into a perfect styled look. 

“Now what makes you unique from all our other candidates, Ry,” your boss addressed you.

You think hard. “I don’t know sir”

“Hm I’ll tell you boy,” he said commandingly “it could be your can do attitude, maybe your obligation to this company or maybe that interesting tattoo, we do like our models to have some interest. After all those are the reasons your one of our best models in the company”

You blink, sure you misheard. You glanced to your side admiring your tattoos you got as soon as you could. Your slow brain trying to wrap itself around the complainant boss just gave you.  

“Thank you sir” you stare blankly at your obvious superior “why I here again, sir”

He laughs “Ry, just wanted to give you first dibs on the gigs for our new cars, need a strapping model like you to really sell them”

You nod vicariously, eager to please him. “Where at”

He nods at a door to the side. Heading through you find yourself in a tropical garage, a Karv modified car parked in the light. One of the many photographers gestures for you to lean on the hood of the car. You do, placing your hands on your hips and spreading your legs wider. Flashes go off as you look blankly at a camera, not remembering or caring of your old life. Just a happy obedient model, courtesy of Karv industries.

(Original story posted November 7th 2021. Original story title “Better Life, Cop Life”) This story has been mildly Updated!

Recently Eric’s life had been going down the drain. First he split up with his boyfriend Jake after discovering he was cheating. Then he lost his job due to staff cuts. And to top it off he then lost his old apartment since it was all in Jake’s name. Now his ex was living in their old place with the guy he cheated with while Eric was struggling to find a new job while living in the cheapest apartment he could find. As he applied for shitty job after job he couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done to deserve all this? Was it all some kind of cruel universal joke?

As he was job hunting, one of the positions that popped up was a job at a small clothing shop called “Threads for Life”. The description of the job itself was extremely vague but he assumed it would just be retail. Working a till and serving customers etc. So he applied.

Surprisingly they were the first to get back to him about his application and in such a short time frame as well. They emailed asking for him to come in for an interview. Of course Eric accepted. Why wouldn’t he? The only weird thing was how close this shop seemed to be. It was just down the road from his old apartment and still rather close to his current one but he could swear he’d never seen or heard of the shop before. He just chalked it up to him being unobservant and forgetful.

On the day of the interview Eric found the shop just where it was said to be. Even after seeing it though, nothing clicked. He could’ve sworn it wasn’t here before. He shook the odd feeling off however as he stepped up to the front door perfectly on time and looking his best.

Upon entering he was greeted by a middle aged man who introduced himself as the owner of the establishment, Tony. The two exchange greetings before Tony ushered Eric to follow him. Eric expected to be taken immediately to an office but instead Tony simply walked through the many isles of clothing with him while chatting casually about the shop and its history.

Before Eric had assumed this to be a simple clothes shop. One that sold shirts, pants and all the rest like most other shops. And it did. But something Eric was quick to notice was how most of the clothes seemed to be matched together in outfits. Rather than being separated into different sections, almost all the clothes in the shop had already been prematched. There were plenty of casual combos like t-shirts and jeans or shorts and tank tops however as they moved from aisle to aisle there were a very noticeable amount of clothes that seemed more like costumes.

Some were more understandable like suits. But a lot of the others?… Eric took note of medical scrubs, fireman uniforms, motorcycle gear, handyman clothes, police uniforms, cowboy costumes, construction clothes and so much more. Eric also couldn’t help noting that none of the clothes seemed to be marketed towards women. He supposed the shop specialised in men’s attire specifically. Still he couldn’t help but find the layout of the store to be… strange.

“Soooo… Eric was it? Before I can give you a job. I want to ask you a couple questions.” The owner said as he sat down on a cushioned stool near the back of the shop, prompting Eric to do the same.

Eric of course agreed to this as questions were standard procedure for almost any interview so he was ready for it..

“Okay first question then. Growing up, did you ever have any dreams of who you’d eventually become? What job you’d want to strive for? What kind of man you’d want to become?” Tony asked.

It was a strange question for sure but Eric still pondered it for a moment before answering. “Well I don’t think I was ever dead set on anything but I remember wanting to be something along the lines of a fireman… or a police officer maybe?”

Tony nodded, seeming pleased with that answer. “Okay then second question. Are you content with the current direction your life has taken or would you still like to fulfill that childhood dream if you could?”

Eric chuckled at the bizarre question. “Well… my life hasn’t exactly been going in a good direction recently. If I could change some things I would. But if you’re asking me whether I’d wanna become a cop then… I just don’t think I have what it takes.” He gestured down at his body. “I’m thin and lanky. Don’t really go to the gym that much and I’m not all that good with confrontation. To be honest I just don’t think I have the right mindset to be a cop you know?” Eric huffed before looking back up at the owner. “And no offense but what does that have to do with me working here?”

Tony didn’t answer at first. He just smiled before standing back up again. The owners eyes glanced around the store, mainly at all the costumes and then turned back to Eric.

“Alright. I think I can give you a job.”

Eric was surprised when he heard that. All he’d done was answer two silly questions. He tried to query as to how those questions even mattered but Tony simply asked Eric to follow him. Confused as ever, Eric did just that.

The pair made their way back down the isles of outfits. They passed by the suits, doctors scrubs and all the other costumes yet again. Only the weird thing was now that Eric was getting a closer look at them, he started to notice how real the costumes looked. They weren’t just silly fake costumes you’d wear to a party. They were the real deal! Actually looking as though they belonged to real firemen and real doctors. Even the tradie outfits looked dirty as if they’d been used for actual tradie work.

Tony stopped in front of the police uniforms. Eric was quick to notice just how real those looked as well. Not just uniform but genuine looking police badges as well. Not to mention the radio, utility belt and even a body cam that all looked completely real. As if they’d been taken directly from actual cops and put on display.

“Pick one.” Was all Tony said.

“What? Seriously?” Eric was baffled. This had to be some kind of joke right?

“Oh come on. Humour me a little. Pick one out.” Tony urged, patting Eric on the back. “Though if I were you I’d certainly pick that one.” The shop owner pointed out a specific uniform amongst the selection. Eric didn’t really see why it’d matter which one he chose as they mostly looked the same anyway.

Eric sighed. “Fine, I’ll pick that one then. Now what? Want me to go try it on.” He joked only to be met by an affirming nod from Tony.

“Changing rooms are just over there.”

Eric raised an eyebrow at the man but decided what the hell. He took the uniform off the rack along with the equipment. Tony then picked up the large black boots and placed them on top of the uniform in Eric’s hands. Eric shook his head as he turned and walked off towards the changing rooms.

He shut the blue curtain behind as he stepped into one of the stalls. It was a fair bit bigger than he’d expected it to be. Eric sat the uniform down on the bench before striping himself down to his boxer briefs. After setting his own clothes to one side, he began to get dressed in the police uniform.

First thing he did was pull on the pants which he found to be rather baggy. He sat down to prevent them from falling as he grabbed the shirt, pulling it on and buttoning it up. He made sure to tuck it into his pants before grabbing the utility belt and strapping firmly around his waist. He still couldn’t believe it had a real taser attached to it and everything. Lastly Eric slid his feet into the heavy black boots which were clearly a couple sizes too large.

With that Eric stood up to take a look in the mirror. He looked ridiculous. The uniform was far too big and baggy on him. He looked like he was playing dress up more than anything. He slid his hands into his pockets as looked at himself a little more, amused by the uniform. Though as his hands dug around in the pockets, he realised something was in one of them. It was small and metallic. Eric pulled it out to reveal a name tag with “J. Desmond” engraved on it. Jokingly Eric decided to pin it to his shirt for a laugh.

Eric shook his head again at how silly this all was. Why had Tony made him put this one anyway? With a shrug he was just about to start taking the uniform off, not wanting to look stupid when he stepped out of the changing room. But before he could even start unbuttoning the shirt, he began to feel…weird. Like a warm wave of pure pleasure began flowing over him. A wave so incredible that he almost didn’t notice his body starting to change.

His upper body was first to see a transformation. His back widening significantly as his flat chest began to bubble and swell into two thick hefty pecs. Pecs that grew larger until they started to strain his shirt slightly. The same shirt that’d been hanging loosely off his frame moments ago now starting to fill out at an alarming rate. Especially as his shoulders bulged to the size of cannon balls while his traps grew to match. His waist grew larger but tighter at the same time as fat melted away in place of pure raw muscle. Showing itself even more so in the form of abs. They weren’t chiseled washboard abs, they were thicker and softer than that but still impressive all the same.

But his arms. They were what really caught Eric’s attention. Partly thanks to the cop shirt he was wearing being a short sleeve which gave him a full view of their transformation. He got to watch as veins pulsed across his skinny twig-like arms as though they were being pumped full of unseen energy. And then with pain or warning they started to swell. His previously non existent biceps began hulking into reality as the muscle beneath his skin inflated. It should’ve been impossible. Seemingly gaining mass from nothing. But his eyes witnessed it all. His forearms expanded rapidly while his hands cracked and thickened. His biceps continued to balloon with power and size until they stretched his sleeves. Only then did they finally stop. His veins subsided as his arms reached their new colossal size.

His upper body might’ve been massive now but his lower body was getting ready to catch up. Eric’s waist and hips had already widened enough for the waist of the cop pants to fit securely. Now it was his legs turn to catch up.

In seconds they put on an unbelievable amount of sheer muscle mass. It was as though someone had plugged an air pump into his legs and started filling them up. But it wasn’t air. It was pure real muscle. Eric couldn’t help but groan a little as his pants began to feel tighter. He leaned against the wall of the cubicle for support as his thighs and calves continued to bloat thicker and more powerful by the second. The once baggy cop pants now fit him like a glove. But it wasn’t just his legs. His backside started to swell as well. His once average butt growing into a juicy muscular bubble ass that strained against the back of his pants perfectly. Not to mention his feet cracking and lengthening similar to hands. Growing multiple sizes until they fit perfectly inside the black cop boots he had on.

When the next change kicked in, Eric’s eyes widened as one of his hands instinctively flew towards his crotch. Grabbing his bulge tightly as even that began to swell and grow. His eyes began to roll back as his cock snaked down one of his legs, growing girthier in the process. Meanwhile his balls followed suit as they bloated into fat heavy nuts full to the brim with cum.

His body was complete but his head still had to change. A stinging sensation came over his face as it started to morph. The shape of his head and all of his features altering dramatically until he was unrecognisable from the man he once was. His new look being much sharper and masculine in a way that would’ve screamed high school jock had he been a little younger. All the while the light stubble he’d always carried grew into more of a short well kept beard while the messy mid length hair he adorned shortened into faded crew cut.

“Fuuuuuck…” Eric groaned as the transformation subsided at last. There was a clear difference in his voice. It must’ve been altered with the rest of his body. He found himself looking back into the mirror with amazement. No longer was he that scrawny pale figure of a man he’d seen reflected all his life. Now he was… buff. Really buff! And hot as fuck!. It was unreal. The uniform that was more or less falling off him moments ago now clung to him as though he were made for it. He couldn’t stop himself from running his hands up and down his torso, feeling a set of strong abs hiding under his shirt before drifting back up to squeeze his power new pecs through the fabric. He never thought he’d actually have fucking pecs but here he was now! Groping and kneading them.

In all the excitement his cock began to firm up. Eric could feel the blood rushing to his crotch as his growing erection created a clear outline in his pants. He smirked as he brought both hands down towards his crotch. Gently he rubbed his hands across the length of his dick through his pants.

Eric looked back into the mirror before bringing both arms up into flex. His already hard cock twitched at the sight of his biceps bulging, threatening to rip his sleeves in the process. The strength he felt flowing through his arms… No, his whole body was intoxicating! With his left hand Eric proceeded to grasp and squeeze his right bicep. It seemed impossible, like he was living in a lucid dream!

Just then Eric thought of something he’d always wished he could do. He’d never been buff enough to do it before. But now? He lowered his arms to his sides, stood up straight before flexing his chest. His pecs bounced. Eric’s eyes widened in amazement at the sight of his new muscle tits jumping underneath the shirt. He bounced them a few more times before cupping them again with a sense of pure wonder flowing through him. “These feel fucking amazing…”

Once he’d finished admiring his pecs, Eric remembered something else that’d grown. He turned his back to the mirror and looked behind. His cock twitched extra hard this time as he caught sight of his muscular new cop butt straining against his uniform pants. He couldn’t help himself. Before long his greedy hands were reaching back and grasping at his thick bubbly ass. “Oooohh fuuck.” He growled, feeling just how hefty they were. “My ass is fucking huge!…” Eric murmured aloud, lost in the pleasure. So lost in fact that he didn’t even notice Tony peering through the curtains. Watching with a horny gaze as Eric squeezed and groped his fat new ass. Even watching as Eric went as far as to place his hands just under his ass cheeks and start jiggling them, dumbly laughing as he did.

Eric felt his cock pulsing and bucking uncontrollably as he played with his cop butt. So much so that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Soon enough he spun back around to face the mirror again before unzipping his pants. Tony continued to creep in on the show while Eric shoved a hand into his underwear, struggling to free his erection. With a little effort however Eric was able to let out a satisfied sigh as his girthy python sprung free. The thing must’ve been around 9 inches long and insanely thick. It was every man’s dream cock.

A slapping noise could be heard from the changing rooms as Eric began smacking his cock against his hand while he admired it. Every smack sent a pleasurable shiver through his body. He had to stroke it. He was just able to wrap his hand around its full girth before he started to pump. It had to have been at least three times more sensitive than his old cock as Eric couldn’t stop cursing while he pumped it.

He began to jerk faster as he looked over his new body in the mirror again. His handsome bearded face and buff body. How thick his legs were. How buff his arms had become. How massive his chest had grown. Just looking at it all reflected back at him allowed him to jerk off furiously. He then looked down at his cock. He loved seeing it. Soooo thick and excited as some precum started to drip from the tip. With how sensitive it was and intensely he was pumping it, Eric could tell he was gonna to blow any moment.

He turned to his left, getting a perfect side view of his body. He couldn’t help but fixate on how much his ass stood out. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching his free hand back towards it again. Before long he was groping his ass and jerking his cock all at the same time. The new cop was having the time of his goddamn life!

“Fuuuuuuuccck!” That was enough to send him over the edge. Tony, who was still watching, saw Eric's ass clench and his cock erupt with an enormous load. One so big that it shit cum all over the benches adjacent to the new cop as well as his old and now ill fitting clothes. His cock continued to buck and twitch for a good few moments afterwards. Shooting a few more times as it covered the floor in front of him with cum.

“See. I knew you’d like that one.” Tony finally made himself known as he pulled back the curtain.

Eric whipped around, still panting a little. “Fuck I… my deepest apologies sir… I couldn’t stop myself.” He tried to reason.

“No need to apologise Officer.” Tony smirked as he glanced down at Eric’ softening cock, still dripping cum. “Most find it hard to contain themselves after what you just went through. So no need to worry. I’ll even get it cleaned up for ya.” The store manager smiled innocently.

“Officer?…” Eric repeated what the other man had said to him as though it weren’t the truth. It sounded weird and off putting to hear someone call him that. So why did it sound so right at the same time?

“Well you are a Cop now. Officer James Desmond to be precise, so you better get used to hearing it.” Tony nodded towards the name tag that was pinned to Eric’s shirt.

Hearing that name triggered something inside Eric. Memories of being Cop flooded his mind along with a bunch of other unfamiliar memories. He still remembered who he used to be but now he had a whole new life filling his head that made his old one feel like a fleeting dream. A new life as Officer James Desmond.

“Thank you sir. You have no idea how grateful I am for all this…” James stated, his new manners kicking in right away. Immediately after he tucked his fat new cock back into his pants before pulling up the zip. “But I’ve got to be back at the station in half an hour.”

“No worries Officer! I completely understand. You head off and I’ll be sure to get all your ball batter cleaned. Might take me a while though.” Tony joked, earning a chuckle from James.

“Heh sorry sir. Got myself a pair of bull balls down here.” James gave his crotch a quick squeeze. “Well I’m off. If you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask for me down at the station.” He said, passing by Tony as he exited the changing cubicle.

“Oh don’t worry I will.” Tony replied, giving James’ ass a smack as he passed. He continued to watch James’ ass shake as he sauntered away up until the sexy new cop reached the front door.

James hopped into his car, not even noticing it’d been morphed into a cop car, before starting up the engine. As he drove towards the station he couldn’t help but daydream about plunging his cock into some other hot cop’s ass or having another cop fuck his new bubble butt. Surely some of his buddies down at the station would be down for some fun. According to his memories he seemed to recall catching his own partner checking out his ass a couple times…