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my brain: ok, but consider this
me: can’t argue with that
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me: I’ve to go to sleep…
my brain: ok, but consider this
me: can’t argue with that

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"oooh, fuck yeah!" the slight tear was an accident but it felt so good that he flexed his arm, making his bicep explode through the sleeve "just look at that arm! All that power!"
He continues to flex his arm in various poses, the shirt sleeve failing to contain the bulging muscles. As he admires his size there's another sound of straining fabric. You look down to see his crotch pouch expand then burst open. The biggest cock you've ever seen is getting thicker and stiffer. The tip beginning to leak. It NEEDS A hole to fill.
Father Maker
"Become a Father, Today!" Read the poster on the window of a store called "Father Maker"
One day the store had mysteriously opened up, promising anyone to be ripe and ready to be a father. Wade, who was reading the aforementioned poster thought it was some therapy thing, but the pictures of pretty dilfs on other posters enticed him to atleast... go inside and see what happens. Hey who knows, maybe he'll be a dilf one day. Not that Wade had any plans of being a father.
Wade entered the store and found a very clean building with a male receptionist typing away at a monitor. Wade walks over to him and says hello.
"Ah, welcome welcome. You want to be a father?"
Wade shakes his head, he's just curious about the place.
"I see... well, we offer a high tech machine that takes answers from a provided survey and gives exactly what you need to be a perfect father. It's pretty cool!"
Wade was amazed at the technical marvel that was just described to him, he had to try it now. Wade said as much to the receptionist.
"Alright, perfect. We've been providing consultations since we just opened so don't worry about payment just head to the hallway on the right and you'll see the machine. Enjoy!" Wade nodded and followed the receptionist instructions.
After some walking, Wade saw the device in the distance and got visibly excited. Wade increased his pace until right in front of the machine. The door automatically opened and Wade walked in. The inside looked very futuristic with a screen installed on a part of the wall
"HELLO. WELCOME TO THE FATHER MAKER. PLEASE FILL OUT THE PROVIDED SURVEY ON THE SCREEN"
The first question popped up and Wade began to answer the questions one by one. The questions asked were mudane and didn't feel related to fatherhood, but Dave guessed the algorithm was super smart.
"SURVEY COMPLETE. THANK YOU. NOW COMPUTING SUGGESTIONS"
Dave stood and waited for a couple minutes until something happened
"COMPUTING. COMPUTING. COMPUTING"
"COMPUTING..." "COMPUTING COMPLETE. NOW ROLLING OUT SUGGESTIONS"
The moment of truth. Wade was dying to know what the machine would say.
"SUGGESTION 1: HAVE BIG STRONG MUSCLES. A FATHER IS STRONG AND NEEDS TO BE RELIABLE FOR THEIR CHILD."
Once the robotic voice began to speak, Wade suddenly felt really hot, his clothes felt tighter than he remembered. Wade was growing. The machine was doing something to Wade. Every muscle Wade had was packing on the beef. First the oh so juicy pecs that pushed out and filled. Wade's nipples also perked up. Any fat was eliminated on Wade's frame as a eight pack popped into the crevices. Then Wade's lats and back muscles widened out. Both of Wade's arm thickened and became large trunks with large biceps and triceps and big meaty hands. Wade's neck widened as his traps bulged into mini mountains. Wade's legs became enlarged, with thighs so wide they were almost touching one another. On the other end, Wade's flat ass grew immensely into a noticeable bouncy behind. The final touch was Wade's feet growing a few sizes. With that final growth, all of Wade's clothes ripped off.
The adrenaline of the transformation left Wade dazed, unable to speak or react. All he could feel was pure euphoric strength. That left the machine to keep going
"SUGGESTION 2: A STRONG FATHER MUST HAVE A STRONG FACE SO THAT NO ONE MESSES WITH THEM."
Wade's face reacted immediately, morphing into an older masculine look . A beard began to form connecting to his hair, which stylized into something flat and basic but still very manly.
"SUGGESTION 3: HAVE A BEAUTIFUL WIFE. A FATHER MUST HAVE A LOVELY WIFE."
Flashes of memories entered Wade's mind. The image of a woman forming. bit by bit, Wade remembers meeting this woman, falling in love with this woman, and eventually marrying this woman. His... Wife. His wife Mary. Just thinking about Mary made Wade's groin stir. So much so, his average sized dick began to elongate into a thick nine inch beer can ready for anything. Such as...
"SUGGESTION 4: HAVE A BEAUTIFUL CHILD. A CHILD IS A TRUE SIGN OF FATHERHOOD."
Wade remembers the day fondly. Of Mary giving birth to her beautiful baby girl, Lily. Wade felt so proud to have a child. A child to continue his legacy and to teach and learn about the world. Wade loved being a father. Just thinking about his wife and his child and his muscles and his looks and his everything. Wade felt ready to burst. Wade subconsciously used one of his mitt hands to grab his dick and started to pump, the machine he was inside not even a thought to him. He kept going, closer and closer to climax, when the machine spoke one more time
"SUGGESTION 5: CUM INTO YOUR NEW LIFE AS A FATHER"
Wade released and everything went white. When Wade opened his eyes again, he was in the middle of a gym, wearing a cross necklace, a tank top and shorts surrounded by some of his buds. Oh right, he was just about to workout. Wade fidgeted his necklace reminding himself of his faith in god and his beautiful wife and child.
"Earth to Wade, You there?" One of the guys chimed.
"Oh, yeah, sorry was just thinking about my wife and child!" Wade explained to the group.
"Always thinkin' about them, huh?"
"Of course, they're everything to me! But enough chitchat let's get to work!"
Everyone else nodded and all got up from their resting spots doing various stretches, Wade included. it was time to get the pump on!
Wade began the workout routine he had refined over the years like clockwork. From chest to shoulders to arms and more. This is what Wade loved doing. Whenever Wade felt like he couldn't finish his rep, he thought of his wife and child to get through and finish it. He loved them so much. Being a father was his true calling alongside being a bodybuilder.
Many hours passed and the pump today was extraordinary. Wade's chest felt just a bit bigger and the bodybuilder reveled in that fact with a flex in the mirror. Wait till his wife sees this!
It was time to change and rest returning to his wife and child, one of the best things to come home to.
Years passed since the transformation and Wade had gotten even bigger. Many competitions entered, some won, some lost, but nothing ever brought him down. Thanks to the wife and child by his side. He really become a true father.
Brother Knows Best.
Reed’s big brother was always so cruel, a natural bully. His parents finally grew tired of his antics and sent him away for a year to a monastery nearly at the other side of the world. They promised total transformation and reform, something reed’s parents gladly accepted. The year passed blissfuly as Reed’s brother was not home to torment him and his friends daily, but nothing good can last. The day came when Reed’s parents jetted off to collect his brother and return him home, they left and kissed him goodbye. The day Reed dreaded was upon him, Brendon would soon be home and things would go back to how they were. A small part of Reed hoped that his brother had changed but a big part knew he was incapable of it.
It was the middle of the night when the front door flew open, Reed was awake and watching tv in the living room. He turned and in the doorway stood a menacing figure, his brother Brendon was home. Reed looked at him, only a year had passed but Brendon looked completely different, leaner and taller. Brendon had always been well built but now he seemed like something out of a comic book, his pecs visibly clung to his tshirt and his pants strained against his thighs. As Reed studied, Brendon spoke one sentence that shattered Reed’s stomach and caused it to flip.
“The boss is back, bitch boy” Brendon sneered. That sentence proved that Brendon had not changed at all, just as Reed expected.
“I knew this change bullshit wouldn’t work” Reed, cynical as ever scoffed.
“Oh it worked, those monks taught me things that would make that little brain explode!” Brendon stepped in the house and closed the door behind him, confusing Reed.
“Where’s mom and dad?” Reed examined the door, thinking maybe they were unpacking the car but Brendon kept his focus on Reed as he began to get closer.
“The body really is incredible. Capable of anything! That’s what I was taught at that monastery, that was completely transformation. I had to get stronger and they knew how to make me stronger. They deemed me worthy, I guess. Taught me everything they know” Brendon still stepped closer to Reed.
“Honestly Brendon, I don’t really give a fuck. I knew You wouldn’t change and You haven’t, I just want to know what happened to mom and d-“ Reed was cut off as Brendon’s hand grabbed Reed’s face. Reed squirmed as he tried to break free of this iron grasp, but there was no use. Reed watched, in terror as Brendon smirked at him before Brendon’s body seemingly started to vibrate and ripple, a very panicked Reed started to thrash against Brendon but he did not move and instead manically laughed as Reed’s lips started to fuse to Brendon’s palm.
Suddenly, Brendon released him and Reed fell to the floor. Reed was in a state of shock, confused if he was in some waking nightmare that he couldn’t escape.
“Reform and transformation, that’s what they taught me.” Brendon smiled proudly, knowing that Reed was crippled with fear. Brendon was always cruel and sadistic before but now he was armed with some strange ability that made him dangerous. Reed slowly stood and faced Brendon.
“Where are mom and dad!” There was anger in his voice, but also fear. Brendon titled his head and studied his brother before he slowly peeled off his tshirt revealing his impressive body. Reed’s eyes naturally flowed to his brother’s chest, his pecs were unnaturally engorged. Brendon slowly bounced each one without touching them, popping his pecs to almost hypnotise Reed.
“They were never good parents, so I thought they’d look better as my fat pecs”. Reed’s eyes alternated from Brendon’s smirk to his chest before he sunk to his knees.
“What are You going to do to me?”
“I thought about this all the way home on the plane You know. I was fucking an air hostess and thinking of all the ways I could make your life hell, to be honest it’s what pushed me over the edge as I flooded her full of cum. I absorbed her too though, don’t worry You won’t be an uncle haha. She added a few inches to my cock, not that I needed it.”
Brendon stepped forward so his cock was level to Reed’s face.
“I was total submission. That’s the price for your life.” Reed slowly looked up and met Brendon’s eyes and slowly nodded. “Smart choice.” Brendon slowly begun to unbuckle his pants.
“Wait what are you doing, I said I’d submit!” A panicked tone escaped Reed’s mouth.
“Huh? You thought I would be stupid enough to let you walk around free so you can run off the first chance you get? No, I’m going to keep You safe and sentient. You’ll belong to me, to my body but you’ll be awake during it. Let’s call it a gift from me to you.”
“I promise I won’t run! I won’t do anything”. Brendon hushed Reed.
“This is happening. Now let’s play a game. Can you guess where I’m putting you?”
“I don’t know?”
“Guess!” Brendon gleefully smirked, he enjoyed his sick games.
“Your chest, like mom and dad?”
“Nope! That’s already got enough meat” he popped his pecs for emphasis.
“Your…your dick?”
“Are you fucking slow? Ive already told you that I absorbed an air hostess with my dick today. Shall I give you a hint?” Brendon dropped his pants to the ground and turned around, revealing his bubbly and perky ass.
“Your ass…?” Reed’s mouth dropped
“And we have a winner! Good boy.” Brendon condescendingly patted Reed’s head. “You were a complete pain in my ass so it’s only right you get to be it, you’re lucky actually. You get to live the rest of your worthless life as fat on my ass. Say thank you.” Brendon stared a reed for a response.
“Thank yo-“ Reed didn’t even have time to get the demeaning words out of his mouth before Brendon spun around and grabbed the back of Reed’s head, forcefully pulling his face in-between his cheeks. Brendon laughed as he heard the pleas and muffled cries of his brother. Reed tried to push off against the fat cheeks before him but his hands simply merged into the flesh as it rippled and pulled him deeper inside. Brendon made quick work of Reed, before long there was nothing left. Brendon walked to the nearest mirror and turned around, admiring how much fat Reed added to his ass.
“Damn, I’m thicker than my ex girlfriend” he laughed as he stood on his tiptoes and came crashing down, causing his ass to jiggle. A perfect balance of muscle and fat. He reached and massaged the mounds of flesh, causing much needed pleasure. “You feeling this Reed?” As Brendon promised, Reed was still someone sentient and conscious and he could feel every jiggle and grope.
“Now, let’s get some real fun going” Brendon walked toward Reed’s phone and inputted the passcode, absorbing Reed almost meant absorbing all his memories and thoughts. Brendon went straight to the top of Reed’s contact list and saw Jamie’s contact details. Jamie had been Reed’s best friend for many years and was also subject to Brendon’s humiliations. Reed tried to protest in some way, but it was useless. He really was just fat on his brother’s ass. Brendon composed a text asked Jamie to come round first thing in the morning.
“Let’s get some sleep, we have some fun in the morning.”
Discord TFs #13
Me and my boyfriend both 28 nerdy twinks, started going to this new gym that opened a week ago or so, after a couple of trips there I realized that it was used only by this huge manly hunks that were clearly straight, so I was genuinely surprised when one of them came up to my boyfriend started spotting him. When we came back home I asked about it and he said that he was just a high school straight friend, like that doesn't make sense we were only friends with gay guys just like us, yeah he did look like one of our close friends but that can't be he was the most flamboyant open gay guy I ever met. I'm happy for him though, he made a friend at the gym and he is meeting him tomorrow for whatever reason.
You were supposed to meet up with your boyfriend at the gym after he met up with his old friend, but for some reason you couldn't seem to find him. You were supposed to workout with him today, as you had been for the last week, but since he wasn't picking up the phone you ended up having to workout alone. You were supposed to just do cardio today, but after running into a very attractive, strangely familiar jock, you ended up lifting weights with him. You were supposed to be looking for your boyfriend, or exercising, or something, but instead you were lifting weights and talking to this random, beefy jock about… something. You couldn't quite focus on the words. You were supposed to be struggling with the weights, but something about working out with this guy made it feel… weirdly easy. That was why you had been working out with him so much lately afterall. You were supposed to meet up with your boyfriend… but you had been single for a while, hadn't you? And… why did the idea of dating a guy feel… gross? For some reason as you lifted the weights, your biceps flexing as you did, you felt your mind turn to girls, like the blonde bitches you used to date back in highscool… You were supposed to be scrawny, but you felt powerful. Muscular. Buff. You were supposed to be gay, but all you could think about was finding a pussy to fuck and tits to grope. You were supposed to have a boyfriend, but instead you had a life long bro who made you feel like a real fucking man. You were supposed to resist… but being a dumb, straight, hunky gym bro felt so fucking good.
---
tf me? I dont like working out showing off drinking smoking partying hooking up but thats what it takes to be cool and I do want to be cool.
Don't like working out, showing off, drinking, smoking and partying? Bro, those 5 things make up your entire fucking life! Your head feels a bit fuzzy, and had ever since the DJ put on that awesome song what had been ringing in your ears all night, but you were certain you were a buff, cocky partier, who lived to fuck and get drunk. just like everyone else at the club!
---
Man I really should start going to the gym, but I need a partner to both get me and going regularly. I wish me and my boyfriend could be like those hunky gym bros I see in all the pictures online.
The good news is that you and your boyfriend are now regular gym goers, with hunky muscles that most men would kill to have. The bad news is that you're not boyfriends anymore. You still have sex, but your dumb jock brains say thats just "bros helping bros" and you're just as likely to be helping your bro get laid by a bimbo as you are to be the one sucking him off. You wanted to be like those hunky gym bros, and it looks like you got your wish. Good luck~
---
My boyfriend (a strict top) has been dropping hints about him been very curious has experiencing our sex life has a bottom. Could you swap our bodies and roles so i can make his wish come true?
So, i seems like there may have been a hiccup. I was able to switch your bodies… but now there are two of your body walking around, both controlled by your boyfriend, well you're in control of your boyfriends beefy body. I'm really sorry, and I'm super embarrassed by this whole mess… but on the bright side, you do get to experience life as a top, with not one but two submissive bottoms ready and willing to take your cock. So, maybe this is less of a mistake and more of a happy accident!
---
Do you tf other people? I don't need any tf… I'm a buff Latino stud that could get any guy I want. It's my twerpy boyfriend. He's just such a scrawny vanilla twink and taking him places is getting embarassing. I got him to go to the gym but its not doing shit for him. I deserve better… hopefully you know what to do to fix it.
To anser your question, Yes, I do tf other people! However… I'm not going to tf anyone for you. Calling your boyfriend twerpy, saying he's embarrassing, saying you "deserve better." I've met a lot of selfish people during all this, but after seeing how sweet your boyfriend is, and how awful you are to him, I think its time you get exactly what you deserve~
The good news is your boyfriend is going to become the beefy, macho, sexy latino stud you want him to be, someone that you won't be embarrassed to be seen with. The better news is that you aren't going to be his boyfriend anymore, you're his goddamn bitch. Don't get me wrong, he still loves you just as deeply as before, it's just that the new you is so whipped for him that you'll let him do just about anything to you.
You're not the buff latin stud whose bossing around his sweet little boyfriend anymore. Now you're the sweet submissive one for your studly man, although you're lucky enough that the man you're submissive for loves you. Personally I think thats better than what you deserve… but hey, your boyfriends happy with it.
---
I've got a pretty nice body, but my efforts at the gym have plateaued lately. I wish my skinny nerd roommate would transform into muscled gym bro and he'd love telling me what to do and I'd love doing what he says. That way he can push me at the gym and I can break this plateau! That's obviously what he'd tell me to do, right?
Looks like you got exactly what you want! Your roommate is now an older, muscular coach who can help you break through that plateau with ease. You had to admit, you didn't expect his workout plan to include you giving so many blowjobs, but hey, its working!
---
Another discord tf compilation already? I should probably spend more time on other things, but these small stories are a good way to stay in practice when I don't have a ton of time for longer ones. Stay tuned for more, and hopefully for some longer stories coming soon!

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hey hi! Heard you could help with this predicament I found myself in. I'm a 27 yo guy, blond, pretty hairy and slim, quite the artist too. But today I was waiting for mail and the mailman dropped a box I did not order I'm sure of it.
I opened it because I was curious and there's a pair of dark underwear. Look like the went through the ringer. They smell like sweat and musk, I think I can see some stains of I don't know what on them.
But the longer I am near them, the more....i sort of want them?
please help!
The postman had dropped the package on the stairs.
He, a 27-year-old guy, blond, skinny and hairy, an artist with paint-stained hands, picked it up out of courtesy. But it wasn't his. He hadn't ordered anything.
He opened it out of curiosity.
Inside, a pair of dark underwear. Dark gray, worn-out, battered. Stains from who knows what. A strong smell, of sweat and musk, that filled his nostrils.
His body reacted. A shiver. Goosebumps. His fingers trembling.
He held them in his hands. They were warm. Too warm. As if someone had just taken them off. The fabric was rough, worn, soaked with masculine smells.
The longer he held them, the more he wanted them.
"Just to try them..." He murmured, without realizing it.
He took off his light-colored boxer briefs. He put on the dark gray ones.
The fabric clung to his hips. Warm. Damp. As if someone had worn them before him. A stranger's sweat on his skin. The smell surrounding him.
"Ah..."
A moan. His voice was changing.
His jaw snapped. It widened. His chin became massive. His beard began to sprout, thick, dark. The hairless, delicate face disappeared. Now dark hair covered his cheeks, chin, and upper lip.
His hair. His blond hair began to darken. Brown, then dark brown. Wilder, thicker.
"AH! WHAT..."
His body. His skinny body began to swell. His muscles exploded. His biceps grew, enormous. His triceps became defined. His pectorals lifted, becoming two massive plates.
His shoulders widened, his back arched, his lats expanded. His waist narrowed, his abs emerged one by one, carved like stones.
Sweat poured copiously. From his forehead, his chest, his arms.
His armpits. He felt his armpits itching. The hair thickened, becoming wild, black. The smell of sweat grew stronger. Smelly. Masculine. Animalistic.
His arms. On his now-taut skin, tattoos began to appear. Dark, tribal designs wrapping around his biceps, triceps, and forearms. Thick, geometric lines that emphasized his muscles.
"AH! AH! YES..."
His body swelled even more. His thighs exploded, his quadriceps became columns, his calves enormous. His buttocks lifted, two hard and firm spheres.
His penis. He felt his penis growing. Lengthening. Becoming enormous. Thick. Heavy.
He looked down. The dark gray underwear was stretched to the limit. The bulge was enormous, long, the shape of his cock pressing against the fabric clearly visible. It was extremely long.
"Ah... fuck..." He moaned, his voice deep and hoarse.
His hands moved down to the bulge. He could feel it pulsing. Hard. Constantly erect.
The desire. An animalistic desire. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to show his body. He wanted to be seen, admired, desired.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
He was no longer himself.
He was a gym bro. Enormous. Massive pectorals, six-pack abs, tattooed and veiny arms. His thick beard framed his chiseled jaw. His hairy armpits smelled of masculine sweat.
He was perfect.
He flexed his biceps. The muscle swelled, monstrous. The tattoos moved with the flesh.
"Yes..." He murmured. "The gym. I have to go to the gym."
The thought was fixed. Only muscles. Only mass. Only becoming bigger.
He touched his bulge. It was long, hard. His hand caressed it. He felt pleasure.
"Every night..." He whispered. "Every night a different person. Everyone wants this."
His body was a weapon. The dark, dirty, smelly underwear was his calling card.
He showed off his chest. His pectorals swelled. Black hair covered them, sparse but thick.
"Perfect," he said. "I'm perfect."
His brain now thought of only one thing: gaining mass. And fucking. Always. With anyone.
His long cock pressed against the dark underwear, damp with sweat and desire.
"Tonight..." He smiled. A backpack over his shoulder, the gym was waiting for him. And afterward, someone.
Always someone.
hey hi! Heard you could help with this predicament I found myself in. I'm a 27 yo guy, blond, pretty hairy and slim, quite the artist too. But today I was waiting for mail and the mailman dropped a box I did not order I'm sure of it.
I opened it because I was curious and there's a pair of dark underwear. Look like the went through the ringer. They smell like sweat and musk, I think I can see some stains of I don't know what on them.
But the longer I am near them, the more....i sort of want them?
please help!
The postman had dropped the package on the stairs.
He, a 27-year-old guy, blond, skinny and hairy, an artist with paint-stained hands, picked it up out of courtesy. But it wasn't his. He hadn't ordered anything.
He opened it out of curiosity.
Inside, a pair of dark underwear. Dark gray, worn-out, battered. Stains from who knows what. A strong smell, of sweat and musk, that filled his nostrils.
His body reacted. A shiver. Goosebumps. His fingers trembling.
He held them in his hands. They were warm. Too warm. As if someone had just taken them off. The fabric was rough, worn, soaked with masculine smells.
The longer he held them, the more he wanted them.
"Just to try them..." He murmured, without realizing it.
He took off his light-colored boxer briefs. He put on the dark gray ones.
The fabric clung to his hips. Warm. Damp. As if someone had worn them before him. A stranger's sweat on his skin. The smell surrounding him.
"Ah..."
A moan. His voice was changing.
His jaw snapped. It widened. His chin became massive. His beard began to sprout, thick, dark. The hairless, delicate face disappeared. Now dark hair covered his cheeks, chin, and upper lip.
His hair. His blond hair began to darken. Brown, then dark brown. Wilder, thicker.
"AH! WHAT..."
His body. His skinny body began to swell. His muscles exploded. His biceps grew, enormous. His triceps became defined. His pectorals lifted, becoming two massive plates.
His shoulders widened, his back arched, his lats expanded. His waist narrowed, his abs emerged one by one, carved like stones.
Sweat poured copiously. From his forehead, his chest, his arms.
His armpits. He felt his armpits itching. The hair thickened, becoming wild, black. The smell of sweat grew stronger. Smelly. Masculine. Animalistic.
His arms. On his now-taut skin, tattoos began to appear. Dark, tribal designs wrapping around his biceps, triceps, and forearms. Thick, geometric lines that emphasized his muscles.
"AH! AH! YES..."
His body swelled even more. His thighs exploded, his quadriceps became columns, his calves enormous. His buttocks lifted, two hard and firm spheres.
His penis. He felt his penis growing. Lengthening. Becoming enormous. Thick. Heavy.
He looked down. The dark gray underwear was stretched to the limit. The bulge was enormous, long, the shape of his cock pressing against the fabric clearly visible. It was extremely long.
"Ah... fuck..." He moaned, his voice deep and hoarse.
His hands moved down to the bulge. He could feel it pulsing. Hard. Constantly erect.
The desire. An animalistic desire. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to show his body. He wanted to be seen, admired, desired.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
He was no longer himself.
He was a gym bro. Enormous. Massive pectorals, six-pack abs, tattooed and veiny arms. His thick beard framed his chiseled jaw. His hairy armpits smelled of masculine sweat.
He was perfect.
He flexed his biceps. The muscle swelled, monstrous. The tattoos moved with the flesh.
"Yes..." He murmured. "The gym. I have to go to the gym."
The thought was fixed. Only muscles. Only mass. Only becoming bigger.
He touched his bulge. It was long, hard. His hand caressed it. He felt pleasure.
"Every night..." He whispered. "Every night a different person. Everyone wants this."
His body was a weapon. The dark, dirty, smelly underwear was his calling card.
He showed off his chest. His pectorals swelled. Black hair covered them, sparse but thick.
"Perfect," he said. "I'm perfect."
His brain now thought of only one thing: gaining mass. And fucking. Always. With anyone.
His long cock pressed against the dark underwear, damp with sweat and desire.
"Tonight..." He smiled. A backpack over his shoulder, the gym was waiting for him. And afterward, someone.
Always someone.
New Star Players
The first thing Derek Hale smelled was musk, so much that it was overwhelming like a jockstrap was in his face or a sweaty towel from a post-game shower. Ever since he and Stiles had left Beacon Hills, it never stopped the thought of the supernatural being around, even if it came about with dealing Derek’s transformations every full moon.
However, whether it was because Derek was the only one that wasn’t busying his day studying at college or paranoia they pulled with him from his hometown, he just couldn’t let go that there was always something strange going on. Even when Stiles tried to calm him down, telling him nothing weird was going on at campus, Derek found it hard to agree with him.
Last week’s findings brought him to the college fraternity, where he sensed something off with how one of the jocks smelled and even more so when he asked Stiles about the student.
“Oh yeah that’s Greg, though I think he has some stupid nickname now like Big G or something,” Stiles explained while he was mulling over some lecture notes. Derek scoffed.
“Big G?” Derek glanced over his shoulder where Stiles was still disinterestedly murmuring, tapping their pen on their notepad.
“Yeah I dunno, I never hung out with him much. He seemed cool but then out of nowhere he started hitting the gym, next semester I saw him and now he’s one of the frat guys. Why?”
Derek opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped the words realising that the last thing Stiles wanted to focus on was another one of his conspiracies. In the months since they had left the town together, nothing bad had happened to them.
The only time something did happen was when they went back, almost frozen into stone statues. He saw the way Stiles was hunched over, tense and rigid as they were focused only on their notes. He waited for a while staring at his boyfriend before realising they weren’t even gonna ask what he was gonna say. Stiles was far from interested and even if he was, clearly worrying about some guy he barely knew wasn’t high on the priority list.
Sometimes Derek wondered if there was something, if there was some proof of supernatural happenings, that something was going on, would Stiles even care? If it wasn’t threatening them or anyone else, would he want to find out more? He knew of a Stiles who suspected someone on his lacrosse team of being a lycanthrope and doing everything to find out why, just because.
But the Stiles that was with him, didn’t seem to pay attention to that sort of thing, especially since he enrolled in college, something he was adamant about. When the two of them set off out of Beacon Hills to build up their life together, he really meant it. Derek did too, he just never realised how much the supernatural was his life, regardless of whether he wanted it to be or not.
It was at this moment he realised just how pivotal his choices were. He could either pursue it, see why there was such a change in Greg, the man who smelled…distinct, different, the unmistakable scent of magic. But he could also abandon it. He looked to Stiles and knew that the choice was already made for him. He had to keep Stiles safe, at least that’s what Derek told himself and he knew he would have to investigate.
That was why not even two days later, he was stalking through the campus, having followed Greg to the campus gym. Part of him thought the man might have noticed him following, but it was clear from his goofy demeanour that there wasn’t a care in the world or a thought behind those eyes.
He just had to figure out if that was something they were naturally like…or if something else caused it. A few moments later, Greg’s magical scent was snuffed out by musk.
There was so much that it was hard to think it was suspicious, but it was more potent than any of the gyms or places where plenty of musk would emanate from. There was something different in the locker room and it made Derek almost dizzy as he looked around. He thought that perhaps it was a spell or some sort of curse or even glamour potion, just something the man was doing to pull off such a huge change in his body.
But from what he could see, Greg was seriously working out. Though it didn’t snuff out all of Derek’s senses. He narrowed his eyes as he watched them doing bench presses. He sighed and backed away, realising what he was doing.
The hell is wrong with you Derek? You find out a guy is totally normal if…
Derek raised a brow and looked at Greg who was starting to struggle with the settings on a treadmill. A little slow…and you’re disappointed? He shook his head and sighed. Stiles was right, there was nothing going on or if there was, he should have just let it all alone. Perhaps that scent of ‘magic’ was all in his head, clearly his nose wasn’t as good as it used to if it was overwhelmed by the musk in a locker room. He went to leave when his ears pricked up suddenly at the sound of something behind him. If he turned around and saw someone, he would have dismissed it as nothing.
But he could definitely sense some breathing, that someone…or something was in the locker room and for some reason they chose to hide. His eyes scanned the room, trying to see if he could sense where they were, but they had gone silent, holding their breath and the musk around was too distracting for him to properly focus.
“Hello?” Derek asked to nobody in particular. It was a stupid move but the only one he could play, even if it was in a game that he already told himself he should have never started to begin with. It was probably nothing, he told himself, even if it felt like a lie just to make himself…and in some way Stiles, feel better. Derek went to walk out of the locker room and back out the gym when he heard it again, some sort of movement, some breathing. He turned around at once. “Alright I’m not gonna-”
That’s when it happened. Though it was hard to say what was it to begin with. All of a sudden, quicker than the werewolf could even react to, there was a tugging. His body was grasped by something, a heavy limb over chest, grappling him, yanking him back. If he just had a moment, he would have been able to use his strength to break out of the grip, but that’s when something was clasped over him. It was only when he realised just how much stronger the musk had become, that he realised it was a sweaty jockstrap.
The musk was so overwhelming that it suddenly made him almost melt in the stranger’s grasp, eyes flaring wide in surprise at what was happening…and how good it felt. How much it took over his senses. How it made everything feel so…weak and distant, like he was suddenly plunged into a dream with the same force of a tidal wave swallowing him whole. Derek’s senses, usually sharp and alert, felt dulled to the point of uselessness.
Every instinct screamed at him to fight back, but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate.
He tried to fight back even still, tried to overcome the malaise that invaded his senses and tried to fight back. But there was nothing that was working. Even as he managed to muster his arms to push back, all he could do was moan as he tried to thrash around in the man’s grasp. His nails started to sharpen into claws, the wide eyes of surprise soon forming the deep red eyes of his lycanthropy and he felt hair threaten to swell from his skin.
But the grip on him tightened and he heard a chuckle before a deep voice shushed him, forcing Derek into some state of calm as he continued to try and activate his powers. Derek tried to focus, tried to pull himself out of the fog. The musk was oppressive, flooding his lungs, his mind, every corner of his being.
He couldn’t tell if it was magic or something else entirely, but it was potent.
Too…distracting.
“Looks like someone sniffed out the wrong trail,” a deep, mocking voice whispered into his ear, the heat of their breath brushing against his skin. Derek tried again to do anything he could to beat them back, but all he could do was let out a whimper, a grunt that sounded suspiciously too much like a groan as the man continued to chuckle. “You don’t know me, but I know you…now why are you trying to stalk one of my new…proteges?”
The man asked, his deep voice sounded like one used to giving out commands, like he was a drill sergeant…or a coach.
“W-What the hell?!” That was all Derek could say and the man chuckled like it was a reasonable question.
“Relax,” the voice continued, the tone almost playful but with a sinister edge. “You’re not going anywhere boy. Not until we’ve had a little chat…you see my name’s Coach Colton…”
The jockstrap was removed and Derek could finally breathe again, even if the oppressive heavy scent of the musk still lingered in the air, making his legs wobble as he was spun around. “And you’re going to be my new star player.
“Wh-” Derek only saw the man for a second, a tall burly hunk of a man that he had seen somewhere before, perhaps on campus or on the college website.
Coach Colton towered over him, his presence almost suffocating, exuding an air of authority mixed with something far darker. His broad shoulders, thick arms, and piercing green eyes carried the weight of someone who wasn’t just in charge but knew exactly how to control others.
He even had the body of someone who seemed ex-military, his thick muscles and those heavy pecs that looked like they would spill out of his tight compression shirt. The shorts that clung to the man’s quads and the boots that even looked like heavy military boots. But that was all Derek could see for just a flash before the man stuck his tongue down his throat, pushing Derek up against the lockers and for once, making the man groan before he pulled away. Derek bared his teeth, acting as if he pushed Coach Colton away.
“Y-You fuck! The hell was that?! W-Who are you? What did you do to Greg? I could smell the magic y’know, if you think y-yo-ohhgh-”
Derek suddenly clutched his stomach.
Coach Colton just clapped slowly, chuckling as he looked the man over.
“Feeling alright there? See I saw you snooping on my latest pro- I mean…my protege, sure I can tell you the truth since you won’t understand it anyway.” Coach Colton gloated as he took a step closer, Derek managed to stumble away, beginning to grunt as he broke into a sweat.
“W-What do you…mean? What-What did you…do to me?” Derek grunted as he glanced down, seeing his bulge beginning to grow…and then throb with a life of its own. His nails that were still sharp claws began to recede and though he couldn’t see it, the heat behind his eyes, the red glow began to dim.
“You wanna know what I really did to Greg? Nothing he didn’t ask for. The kid wanted to be stronger, faster, better. All I did was… give him the tools.” He leaned in closer, his grin widening. The coach looked more a wolf in that moment than Derek ever did. “The same tools I’m giving you.”
“W-What do you-you mean broooo?” Almost like a howl to the moon, Derek moaned out the last word before he clasped a hand over his mouth, shocked before the sound of wet churning flush caught his attention and the sensation of his sensitive bulge practically rutting against his inner thigh. “What the fuck did I just say you bast-ba…”
“Aw come on, sound it out…boy.”
At that Derek moaned, not one that was out of any pain or pressure but one purely concocted of pleasure, his voice more airy. It was the kind of moan that he only shared with Stiles in the bedroom and just like then, it made him blush, all the heat behind his eyes now resided in his cheeks. Coach Colton gave a command. Derek’s body couldn’t help but answer.
“Brooooo…” Derek’s cock flared once more, the foreskin now pulled back as the sensitive head rubbed against the inside of his boxers and the sensation alone made him whimper.
“I find the best way to help men is…to work it like a computer. Was never good at those things but…to make space for something new, you have to get rid of something. To make space for you to be one of my boys…” Coach Colton grabbed Derek’s bulge. “We have to get rid of something old…like say…your old self.”
“N-No you caaahhnnt-” Derek didn’t have a choice but to gyrate into Coach Colton’s touch as he could feel the man pin him against the gym lockers and kiss him.
There was a sharpness to the kisses, rough from the spectre of a beard that brushed against his skin as the man continued to trail kisses down his neck…then his body and then suddenly to his cock. He didn’t cum, not yet, wanting to hold onto himself in case Coach Colton was telling the truth. But there was nothing he could do from whimpering, weakly failing to push at the coach when he felt them pull down his jeans and reveal his cock. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
His…transformations into a werewolf could have effects on his genitalia, but nothing like this. Without even so much as a stark change, his cock had clearly grown at least an inch, like it needed to make space, like what Coach Colton was saying was right.
Everything he was…was starting to trail down into his throbbing sensitive cock.
The heat behind his eyes as he tried to shift wasn’t just going down to his cheeks, it was trailing down his body like Coach Colton’s kisses, all the way down…to his throbbing cock.
Derek wanted to get away but the musk was getting to him and Coach Colton could sense it, but he still had fight in him, making the coach both annoyed…and impressed.
“Here…let your new coach help you,” the man purred before he kissed the tip of Derek’s cock and all Derek could do was moan in pleasure and see sparks as in an instant his pecs inflated and muscles began to grow.
Like his body was a balloon, it suddenly swelled up like the Hulk in one of those superhero movies Stiles loved to watch, only growing an inch larger but it was noticeable enough and made Derek heavier, suddenly finding it even more difficult to control his body, not used to the ten pounds of muscle that was stacked onto him.
“N-Noohhhh-” Derek’s entire body shuddered, rattling against the lockers. It wasn’t just ten pounds of muscles growing but what felt like ten percent of his memories escaping to his balls, inflating too, pumped up with his previous self. Memories of Beacon Hills, of Stiles, of everything that made him who he was, seemed to dissolve into the throbbing pulse of his cock and balls. Each shuddering moan brought with it a faint sense of loss, as if parts of him were being siphoned away into the growing weight between his legs. He didn’t even know balls could possibly grow that big, even with whatever magic was being used against him. Coach Colton grinned, his predatory gaze locked onto Derek’s changing form.
“That’s it, boy. Let it all go. You don’t need all that baggage weighing you down. You’re going to be something new, something stronger, one of my star players.”
Something about the approval in the his coach’s voice made him yearn for more. Derek forgot all his plans for resistance, of trying to get Stiles’ help, trying to get anyone’s help. His body was no longer betraying him but merely responding to the new instincts in his head to listen and obey his coach and that’s when he could feel that there wasn’t just old memories going down to his shaft and swelling balls. But new memories were coming in with every moan, every mutter, every breath that took in more in of the musk that was emanating from both Coach Colton and the room around him, the jockstrap that was gagging him and the huge sweaty muscles he was growing.
“Bro…” Derek’s voice was…almost duller, slightly more bassy and almost entirely unrecognizable to him. The word slipped out again, unbidden, like a mantra being forced into his very being. He felt like he had an entirely new accent, one that gave him the voice of a dude bro as he continued to grow with each inhale, each kiss Coach Colton gave to his cock, each spark of pleasure that threatened to spill into his climax. “W-what…are you…doing to me b-brrrr-?”
“Go on…say it…” Coach kissed his cock again.
“Bro…” Derek managed to choke out, his voice trembling as his resistance continued to crumble.
His pecs swelled first, the flat planes of his chest rounding out into heavy slabs of muscle that pushed against his shirt, stretching the fabric taut. The seams along his shoulders strained and popped as they surged in size, giving him the look of someone who had spent years under heavy weights in the gym. He could even remember what part of the workout helped him gain the stature, the widening shoulders that he needed to be a powerhouse on the football field.
Derek’s arms followed, biceps bulging with every strained breath, veins snaking over his thickening forearms as he could remember working out…working out with Greg. His muscles were no longer scarred and with wounds brought on from supernatural happenings in Beacon Hills but instead were worn from the intense training. The only bruises he sported were the ones he got on the field, crashing into the opposite team as he tackled his way through them to score a touchdown.
“Coming along so beautifully…boy…” Coach Colton continued to tease Derek’s cock, letting each kiss cause a spurt of pre-cum to spill out, almost like they were mini orgasms, but still just as impactful as surges of pleasure continued to come out of Derek. “That’s what I’m talking about. Big, strong, unstoppable.”
Derek let out a guttural groan as his torso lengthened and thickened, each ridge of his abs carving itself into prominence until they resembled a washboard of pure strength, framing his midsection like armour.
They weren’t just for looks.
Derek’s own muscles had been a mixture of working out and blessed with the supernatural strength that meant he’d naturally built up muscles over the years. But the supernatural part of him was fading with the memories of it, replaced instead with dedication and discipline in the gym, playing so well in his school back in Beacon Hills that he scored a sports scholarship to the college as he grew slightly younger.
No longer did he resemble the weary traumatised werewolf in his late twenties but instead reverted back to being 21 as more scars of his previous life were smoothed over. A couple of grey hairs reverted back to their usual dark.
“Such a good boy for me…on the field…”
“M-Mmmf-” Derek wasn’t going to let go without a fight, one final burst of his feral nature like he was a wolf locked away in a cage. “C-Call Stiles!” He always wondered why phones nowadays even needed voice commands but now he was happier than ever when he could feel his phone buzz in response. Coach Colton glared up at response before reaching into Derek’s back pocket and pull the phone at once.
“Derek? Babe wha-”
“The gym! He-”
The call was already ended and the phone thrown to the side, already forgotten like much of Derek’s previous self. His clothes were being torn apart, letting Derek able to see his muscular form as he started to feel his jeans growing taut even when they had been pulled down at his ankles. Another kiss at his cock and by now it was drooling, making Derek’s eyes threaten to roll into the back of his head as he tried the same plan again.
“Call…Call…” But he couldn’t even remember his boyfriend’s name. His legs were next, quads ballooning outward with a sudden, intense pressure.
The denim of his jeans couldn’t contain the sheer mass forming beneath, splitting apart at the seams to reveal powerful thighs that rippled with every twitch. His calves swelled as well, thick cords of muscle pressing against his skin and giving him the stance of a linebacker ready to charge.
Derek’s ass rounded out, firm and muscular, completing the hulking frame of an athlete. The once-comfortable boxers beneath his torn jeans struggled to contain his now-massive bulge, which throbbed in time with his hammering heartbeat.
“There we go…Come on star player…”
“P-Pleaseee bruhhhh-” Derek gyrated, almost getting his swollen cock toward his coach’s lips.
His neck thickened, veins standing out as his Adam’s apple bobbed with every gasp for air. His jawline sharpened, his features taking on a more rugged, almost statuesque quality that oozed confidence and raw masculinity. His features were still the same, still recognisable and somehow that made it all the more arousing knowing that he was still him…but different all the same.
A whole new life, a whole different personality and a whole lot of IQ trailing out of his cock like the pre-cum that pooled out of his swollen head. He flexed instinctively, his biceps bulging with intimidating size, and the remnants of Derek Hale, the brooding, cautious werewolf was basically gone as with another kiss at his cock he couldn’t stop it anymore.
He was becoming Derek Hale, the football player, most popular and talented guy in his highschool as he continued to grow, new memories swirling of football formations, gym workouts, games, training, championships…all of his old replaced by the new before his cock finally throbbed one more time and strings of cum shot out.
The climax hit him like the musk did, a wave that invaded his body as pleasure made him shake and shudder, making him unable to feel anything else but how good his coach made him feel. Strings of white hot cum continued and flowed out of his cock all over his front, dripping down his glazed and sweaty muscles.
“Say it,” Coach Colton commanded, his voice a low growl filled with authority. “Who are you?”
“I’m…I’m your star player dude,” Derek flexed his bicep and let out a guffaw, chuckling as he looked over at Coach Colton and wanted nothing more than another kiss. “Uh…can I shower?” Coach Colton nodded, pleased that the man even needed to ask his permission as he looked at his dull blue eyes. The man went for a quick shower, all the while Coach Colton smirked to himself before he suddenly sensed something. A faint buzzing. Coach Colton furrowed his brows as he approached and looked beneath one of the benches where he saw a silver phone rattling away. He smirked and grabbed at it, seeing a name on the caller ID, Stiles.
He hung up and waited for his new star player to finish their shower. He could do with a new quarterback.
• • •
Stiles Stilinski didn’t know what was up with Derek’s call. But he could tell that clearly they were in some sort of trouble, their voice strained and the call hanging up suddenly. He thought that his boyfriend must have been caught skulking around somewhere in the campus and tried to tell him.
But when he went searching around, he couldn’t find him anywhere and no matter how many times he called, Derek didn’t answer. The only place he could remember them mentioning was something about a gym.
But why Derek would have been there when he already had a membership at a gym in town, Stiles couldn’t say. He felt a bit bad, perhaps not taking whatever Derek was up to seriously enough, but he didn’t want to focus on any supernatural going ons. He just wanted a normal life at a normal college.
Derek couldn’t live without the danger and now Stiles was the one paying for it.
He traipsed through the gym, wondering how Derek even got in without a student ID.
For a moment, he could have sworn that someone doing bench presses was Derek or at least looked a lot like them, maybe a more muscular brother who decided to pursue sports instead of supernatural investigations.
Stiles stared at the man and wanted to say something, but he realised just how stupid that sounded. All he needed to do right now was focus on finding Derek and sorting out whatever mess he got himself involved with.
That’s when he stumbled into the locker room and almost bumped into the tall and buff body of Coach Colton.
“Shit sorry,” Stiles murmured. He blinked looking at the Coach. “Uh hey sir, have you seen someone around here? I’m looking for my boyfriend, he’s about this tall,” Stiles held up his hand, at least a head higher than himself. “Dark hair, muscular, you know what I can just show you a picture?”
“Hm, alright…” Coach Colton spoke. Come closer, his eyes said as he looked over at Stiles, wanting the man to approach. Stiles could sense that something was awry but he wasn’t sure what was wrong until it was too late.
As Stiles was busy, distracted by trying to scroll for a picture of Derek, he never saw Coach Colton coming until it was too late and he suddenly felt a faceful of warm musk in his face as a trainer was placed right on his face.
Stiles grunted and yelled out loud, eyes widening as he tried to escape out of the coach’s grasp but knew it was a losing game from how strong the man was. Stiles struggled, but Coach Colton’s grip was like iron, his towering form radiating an unnatural strength. Stiles’ protests were muffled against the trainer, and for a moment, everything seemed to blur as a strange, heady warmth seeped into his senses.
“Relax, Stilinski,” Coach Colton said, his tone almost smug. “You’ll feel better soon. Just let it take hold.”
Stiles felt let go of the grasp, coughing and spluttering as he tried to stop breathing in any of the musk but the warm air of the locker room was heavy with it. He tried to say something, but all he could do was let out a moan as he felt his cock began to throb.
“W-What the fuck is wrong with you?! Where’s Derek- Where…Whe…Whaaaaaaa-” Stiles groaned and felt his hips hump the air when he felt his cock throbbing and suddenly swelling, inflating, snaking out of his boxers. “N-Noh-ohhhhhh-” Stiles tried his best to not fall to his knees as he glared up at Coach Colton who smiled down at him. “W-What have you done to me?!” Coach Colton chuckled in response.
“You wanted to find out what happened to Derek, well…I’m sure he’ll show you.” As if on cue, Derek showed up…at least it wasn’t Derek, it was someone who looked vaguely like Derek but they were more muscular, macho, with the build of a professional footballer, even in the uniform and helmet. Stiles looked shocked…terrified and then aroused as his cock continued to grow another inch, his memories churning down into his balls and cock.
But unlike Derek who had the advantage of his supernatural physiology, Stiles had no such protection. In fact all he could do was whimper as he looked down and wished that he didn’t have the active urge to stroke his cock.
“Y-You bastard.”
“Oh careful with the b words…though the only one you’ll be saying is bro or bruh, right Derek?” Coach Colton laughed again as Derek nodded with a dumb smile on his face.
“Yeah bro…”
“And bros help each other don’t they? Why don’t you help your new bro, Stiles here?” Coach said it like it was a suggestion but Derek knew better than anyone that there was no saying no to Coach Colton. He nodded and began walking over to Stiles who looked up at his hulking boyfriend.
“D-Derek babe this isn’t you. You gotta- MMMRPH!” Derek silenced Stiles with a kiss that came across rougher than intended, his strength something he still wasn’t used to as he made out with the man.
“Shh don’t worry bro let me help,” and that was the only part of Derek that Stiles could recognise, the love in his gaze that even this curse couldn’t defeat. It distracted him enough for Derek to yank down Stiles’ jeans and boxers with one move and suddenly spin him.
“O-Oh fuck Derek please…” Stiles wasn’t quite sure if he was resisting or just merely begging for more. But he knew that his thoughts and plans of trying to resist, of remembering every method to get out of some creature’s grasp or ways to get rid of magical curses.
In fact he felt most of his memories were…shifting, one in particular of him and Scott playing for the lacrosse team. He could remember the field underfoot, the cheer of the crowd, the thrill of the game.
But details were starting to be rewritten, the grass was greener.
The burgundy uniforms were slightly brighter with different names and numbers on the back. It wasn’t Scott that was beside him but instead the familiar figure of Derek, slightly smaller, less muscular, younger but definitely still there. The sport itself had changed from lacrosse to football as he remembered just how heavy his uniform was, how he met Derek through their team.
Derek plunged into Stiles with a slick and sweaty cock that slid into him with ease, as it made contact Stiles could feel his ass beginning to thicken. The quads were the next part of his body to inflate as Derek didn’t ram into him with a roughness he felt from their kiss, but instead a slow and loving rhythm as he slid in and out of his growing ass.
“You know what’s happening? You’re gonna leak out…all that old stuff, your degree, your smarts…forget all about that. You’re Sti, on my team through a sports scholarship, ain’t that right Sti?” Coach Colton spoke and though Stiles shook his head and whimpered in response, he was soon silenced when the same musky trainer was put on his mouth.
He could somehow tell from his new memories that the musk was from Derek as more and more of the supernatural events throughout Beacon Hills began to leak down to his cock and growing balls.
That’s when he could feel his hands growing, enlarging as he remembered being the best thrower on the team, tossing the ball to Derek and helping him score the winning touchdown.
“D-Derek…please…” he whimpered, his hands gripping the locker for stability as his cock pulsed again, every throb seeming to pull more of his past self away. His toned, lean frame was becoming bulky, packed with muscle that wasn’t just foreign, it was wrong. But it felt so right. Stiles could feel the creeping allure of it as each change brought a strange sense of belonging.
Derek, or the version of Derek now towering over him, didn’t speak. His actions were guided by something primal, but his hands were gentle as they steadied Stiles, as though he were comforting his teammate rather than reshaping his boyfriend. Stiles felt Derek’s warm breath against his neck, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
“You’re gonna love it, bro,” Derek said at last, his voice deep and sluggish, his words slurred with the kind of lazy confidence Stiles had never associated with him.
Stiles tried to yell, but the words came out weak, muffled against the trainer that Coach Colton pressed back over his face. The musk was overwhelming, suffocating, and yet somehow intoxicating. His resistance faltered as more memories twisted in his mind.
The Beacon Hills library, where he’d spent countless hours researching supernatural lore? Gone. Instead, he remembered the weight room, the hours spent spotting Derek and the other guys, the camaraderie that came with being part of a team.
His dad’s proud smile when Stiles scored his first lacrosse goal was replaced with a memory of his dad cheering from the stands at his football games, shouting encouragement as Stiles threw perfect spirals down the field.
Stiles’ could feel his legs threatening to buckle as they continued to grow more muscular. The ridges of muscle that were fast forming over his entire body made him feel as heavy as his mind, his own thoughts felt like swimming through molasses as they were rewritten.
He couldn’t think.
All he could do was feel and what he felt next as Derek continued plunging into him, fucking him faster so the sound of his ass being clapped filled the lockerroom were his calves. His calves bulged with muscle that made his stance feel unshakable. Stiles tried to reach out, thinking that if he could just get rid of the shoe that was clad over his face, the musk that he loved so much about his bro Derek, that he could think straight. But as he tried to raise his arm, his shoulders broadened and biceps began to thicken.
His neck thickened, and he felt his jawline shift into something more chiseled, more masculine.
His hands, once nimble and dexterous, were now rough and broad, calloused from countless hours gripping footballs and weights. His hips bucked involuntarily as Derek continued his steady rhythm, each thrust sending another pulse of change through him. His cock was massive now, leaking precum that splattered the locker room floor as his balls swelled heavy and full, laden with the remnants of his old life.
“You’re almost there, Sti,” Coach Colton said, his voice smooth and commanding. “The team’s gonna be lucky to have a quarterback like you.”
“Q-quarterback…”
Stiles muttered, the word rolling off his tongue like it belonged. He blinked, struggling to hold on to his identity, but the memories were too vivid, too real. He could see himself on the field, the roar of the crowd in his ears, the weight of the helmet on his head. He could feel the pride of leading his team to victory, of celebrating with Derek in the locker room afterward, their sweaty bodies pressed together in a victory embrace, how good it felt to kiss him, to fuck him. No matter what changed about them, there was always a part of Stiles, the old him, a remnant that was so glad that he at least got to keep Derek.
His thoughts slowed, his worries faded, and his focus narrowed to the simple joys of the game, the team, and the bond he shared with his bro…his boyfriend.
Even as his neck thickened, his face grew more square and his spiky hair began to buzz to grow shorter, all Stiles could do was let himself give in. His cock was so close and he could feel Derek was getting close to based on how much the man was moaning, pounding into his prostate and the pleasure pulsing through the two of them. Coach Colton removed the trainer, letting Stiles gasp for air, but it was too late. He looked up with wide, adoring eyes, a goofy smile spreading across his face.
“Dude,” Stiles said, his voice thick and slow, “fuck…so close bro, you’re gonna make me cum.” Stiles, or what was left of him, couldn’t hold it back any longer. The pressure building inside him was unbearable, his cock throbbing with a heat that radiated through his entire body. Derek’s steady rhythm pushed him further, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through him, mingling with the electric buzz of his transformation.
His cock swelled one final time, precum dripping in heavy streams as the overwhelming pleasure reached its peak. Stiles’ mind, already drowning in the flood of new memories and sensations, teetered on the edge of release.
“Cum for me bro!” Derek moaned and Stiles let out a strangled cry as his cock erupted, thick ropes of cum painting the lockers and floor. Derek grunted and held him closer as his own cock throbbed and pulsed, cumming his jock seed right into Stiles as the two of them were together in a tangled mess of pleasure in the locker room, groaning and moaning together, gyrating their slick muscular bodies as Stiles continued to cum again and again in a crescendo of pleasure that wiped away the old Stiles…and left him as Sti, the new bro.
The two of them panted with relief as they finally separated, leaving them out of breath more than any workout or game.
“Atta boy,” Coach Colton said with a smirk, clapping Sti on the back as he stood unsteadily. “You’re ready now.”
“Thanks Coach…” was all Sti could say as he grinned, smirking as he looked at Derek. “Wanna hit the showers bro?”
“Aw yeah man, come on,” Derek replied and Coach Colton watched the two of them walking off side by side. It was incredible, the ‘curse’ that the both of them thought they were facing was actually a spell…one to allow a man to live out their true desires, if for a while.
All that resistance and the both of them just couldn’t help but enjoy being dumb hot bros in love with each other to forget about the stress of their old lives, just like Greg and just like many men who were gonna be on the football team for the semester.
There would be plenty more men to change, but for now Coach Colton grinned and left his new star players alone to enjoy themselves…and their new bodies.
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Roll the Dice - Marcus the Paladin
Marcus watched Ethan and Noah bicker across the table with growing disbelief. Somehow the atmosphere between the two, which had always been oddly complicated and loaded with tension, had become aggressively flirtatious ever since they started the character creation half an hour ago.
The barbarian lounged back in his chair, massive arms folded across his titanic chest while Ethan leaned against the table beside him, one hip cocked casually, presenting his butt. Their personalities fit together disturbingly well somehow.
“You keep touching my arms.”, Noah rumbled.
“Because they’re like battleship cannons.”
“They’re not…”
“You’re massive!”
Noah grinned at the compliment.
Marcus stared. Oliver stared. The situation wasn’t odd per se. Ethan always flirted with Noah constantly. And of course Noah liked the attention despite himself. But it somehow felt even more intense than usual today.
The only person who remembered otherwise sat calmly behind the DM screen, watching with calm fascination as Ethan absentmindedly rested a hand against Noah’s solid shoulder while reading over his own character sheet. The Barbarian didn’t react. No one but Adrian noticed Noah slightly leaning into the touch.
Finally having enough of watching Marcus rolled his eyes. “Okay … my turn..”
“What’re you playing?”, Oliver asked as Marcus nervously readjusted his glasses.
“Paladin.”
Noah snorted approvingly. “Oh, hell yeah.”
Marcus grinned shyly at the Barbarian’s enthusiasm.
“Big holy knight aesthetic. Heavy armor. Big mace. The works.”
“Fits you weirdly well.”, Ethan admitted, still half draped against Noah’s chair.
Adrian nodded.
The enchanted parchment shimmered, having already instantly accepted the Paladin archetype. Marcus picked up the dice and Adrian nodded at him to roll. “Strength first.”
The die rolled across the wood.
17
“Ha, still stronger than you!”, Noah barked, ignorant of the transformation hitting his black friend.
Marcus groaned slightly as his body surged upwards in the chair, his old heaviness vanishing almost instantly under slabs of dense, heroic muscle. His already wide shoulders becoming even wider, working together with his broadening chest to stretch out his shirt. His poor shirt almost lost the race to adapt, trying to fit the enormous torso that was quickly accentuated by the thick muscle filling out his arms and thighs. His shorts almost exploded off of the new tree trunk legs before adjusting.
Unlike Noah’s enormous rugged Barbarian size, Marcus transformed into something cleaner, something knightly. Not much smaller than the massive ginger mountain of a man that Ethan seemed hellbent on climbing, but somehow having a more heroic feel to it. He wasn’t even much shorter than the towering Barbarian, maybe only an inch or so in difference in height, which only made him look broader.
And as always Ethan the greedy twink looked between the two like he’d won the lottery. Sure he was mainly preoccupied with the rugged Barbarian Noah, but another piece of major eye candy certainly didn’t hurt.
Adrian smiled, loving the direction his magic was taking the party. “Next roll. Dexterity.”
Marcus nodded and rolled again.
The die stopped.
10
This time the transformation didn’t really have an imposing effect.
Definitely nothing like the Strength roll. Instead Marcus’ movements refined slightly. While almost as huge as Noah, the Paladin’s imposing frame now moved with controlled precision and grace, contrasting the Barbarian’s heavier groundedness nicely. Sure he wasn’t a graceful dancer like Ethan, but he carried himself with disciplined athletic coordination nonetheless.
Like someone who trained for swordsmanship. Or a mace fight for that matter. His posture looked balanced, stable. Confident even, which was especially surprising seeing how he still had his old slightly awkward personality.
Another indicator of that being that his nervous habit of adjusting his glasses still hadn’t changed. Though now he did it with paw like massive hands while Noah laughed at him for having the posture of a huge boy scout.
“Oh shut up, doofus. That just about makes him the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”, Ethan countered playfully punching Noah’s dense shoulder that the elven twink was leaning against. And while he barely felt the punch, the statement made Noah frown.
“Rude.”
“You’re still winning overall.”, Ethan calmed him, rubbing the swollen biceps to calm the beast.
“Good.”, the Barbarian said, looking genuinely pleased. Though that might have been because of the fond, rewarding, almost practiced looking smile Ethan threw him with the compliment.
The physical contact between them kept escalating too. Small things. Casual things. Ethan’s hand on Noah’s forearm while laughing. Noah resting a huge arm across the back of Ethan’s chair. Their knees bumping under the table and staying there.
Neither seemed remotely self-conscious about it anymore. Reality had already rewritten their chemistry into something longstanding and familiar.
Marcus watched them with amusement, “They’re gonna be making out by session three.”
“We’re sitting right here,” Noah pointed out.
Ethan tilted his head.
“Would that bother you?”
Noah opened his mouth.
Paused.
Thought very hard for someone with an Intelligence of five.
“…Not really.”
A statement that made Ethan look very pleased, like a child that had just been promised dessert. Meanwhile Oliver couldn’t help but laugh.
The grimoire pulsed warmly against Adrian’s thigh below the table, prompting him to urge for the next change. “Constitution.”
Marcus rolled and the die settled almost immediately.
19
And just like what had happened to Noah before, the transformation surged through him hard.
His already massive frame thickened further, becoming even denser with powerful muscle, making him look more like a superhuman fantasy hero than an ordinary hunk.
He just radiated vitality now. Not quite the dense enormity of the Barbarian, but rather a beacon of power and life, just a picture perfect valiant Paladin.
One part of him was especially radiating life, a part of him that now threatened to burst through the slowly adapting crotch of his shorts as it was ballooning with size.
Marcus shifted in his seat uncomfortably as his mind quickly acknowledged and accepted the sensation of now being hung like a horse. While Noah and Marcus had both nailed the same insane roll, there were noticeable differences. Like Marcus’ cock being longer and Noah’s being fatter. Or the Paladin being circumcised, unlike the Barbarian. Though the Paladin did end up with generally larger loads by comparison. Just the energy of life running through him helping a lot with that.
“With rolls like that, you guys are gonna make me feel left behind.”, Ethan complained, looking between the two towering hunks, pouting, “This little elf doesn’t have your stamina.”
“At least you’re pretty.”, Noah offered, “And tiny.”
“You like that I’m tiny.”
The Barbarian’s ears reddened slightly again.
Marcus stared between them.
“…You two flirt like people who already share an apartment.”
“With how often I spent the night at his place, we basically do.”, Ethan chuckled, resting a hand on the blushing Noah’s obvious cock bulge through the sweatpants.
“Intelligence.”, Adrian interrupted the bickering, nodding at Marcus to continue.
16
Marcus straightened. Not really physically, but mentally.
Behind the glasses sitting on his square jawed, masculine face his eyes sharpened, his thought processes becoming faster and more efficient. A lot more things suddenly made sense to him, connections, patterns and concepts coming easier to him.
Reality adjusted around them all, making that a statement that had always been true. While Noah had been the lovable idiot, Marcus was the brilliant brain of the group, though still lovable. His mind was simply so strategic and educated. So much so that he wasn’t teaching beginner’s computer classes in this version of reality. But rather highly advanced courses for seniors. And effortlessly too.
Adrian watched Marcus with a lot of interest. He was becoming downright dangerously perfect. With his towering body, handsome face, sharp intellect, enormous cock and calm but commanding voice he was basically shaping up to become the leader of the group. But the DM just grinned, knowing that a third of the stats hadn’t been rolled yet and things could still go awry.
With a smile and a throw at the elf-Barbarian pairing, which now included Ethan having basically abandoned his seat to sit on Noah’s lap, Adrian prompted the next roll.
“Wisdom.”
Before rolling, one could almost see Marcus running some quick calculations on his odds.
3
Marcus’ eyes went wide at the disastrously low roll.
But the transformation hit almost immediately after that and the look of shock morphed into a smile.
Not a thoughtful one.
Not a careful one.
Not a dumb one.
A trusting one. An open one.
His posture relaxed dramatically as tension he didn’t even realize he carried simply… vanished. The strategic sharpness remained intact—his Intelligence stayed exactly where it was—but his skepticism disappeared almost completely. His eyes softened. His need to question things evaporated.
He by no means became dumb. But he lacked caution now. The entire table could suddenly recall story after story of Marcus getting into trouble simply because he was too trusting of people. Especially people he knew and liked. Like if Ethan told him there was a buried treasure outside, Marcus would grab a shovel and start digging. He wasn’t an idiot himbo like Noah. Just really gullible, despite all his intelligence.
Adrian smiled behind the screen, finding the newly crystallized character flaw fitting beautifully with the archetype of the devoted Paladin. It also fit in beautifully with the increasingly touchy pair on the other side of the table.
“Last roll.”, the DM said, “Charisma.”
Marcus nodded obediently.
13
Unlike Ethan who could tell people the sky was red and they’d believe him simply because of his personality being so magnetic, or Noah, who always seemed to be the heart of a party, Marcus’ transformation wasn’t quite as severe.
His charisma manifested as presence. Authority. Warmth. The air around him suddenly saturated with trustworthiness, inspiration and an overwhelming feeling of kindness and safety. He’s become the kind of guy who people wanted to confess to. The kind of guy people wanted to trust.
His face changed too. It lacked the raw ruggedness of the Barbarian, but had a softer look, one that showed he smiled a lot, despite his lantern jaw. His eyes darkened slightly to the colour of hot cocoa, making him permanently look like a very playful golden retriever with how disastrously low his Wisdom throw had been.
“At least that one’s decent.”, Marcus chuckled, the sound relaxing the group, his aura of warmth grounding the intensity of his Barbarian friend.
Adrian watched the character solidify. A gigantic holy knight with immense strength and stamina, sharp intelligence, almost nonexistent skepticism, and overwhelming inspirational charm. Beautiful in a noble, masculine way rather than Noah’s rugged dominance or Ethan’s elegant seductiveness.
“Guess we’re gonna go with an emotional support tank.”, Ethan grinned, knowing full well that that was how their group dynamic had always worked. Though it was fun seeing their real-life dynamic transition into the game and making Marcus a “big lawful puppy” as Noah so eloquently put it.
Adrian’s eyes drifted towards the last player left as the grimoire pulsed warmly beneath the table.
Hungry.
Roll the Dice - Oliver the Bard
Oliver had been even quieter than usual for the past ten minutes. Which wasn’t unusual per se, but this silence felt different than usual. He looked between his friends.
Noah looked like a Barbarian king with how he sat draped across his chair like it was a throne. Ethan lounged against him, basically hanging off of the ginger hunk’s bulging muscles, his hand sometimes even finding its way towards the overwhelmingly large outline of his cock. And Marcus? Marcus resembled a seven-foot holy knight straight out of a stained-glass artwork.
Oliver adjusted the sleeves of his oversized sweater nervously.
“You guys seriously don’t think tonight feels… weird?”
Three pairs of eyes turned toward him.
Noah blinked slowly.
“Weird how?”
Oliver opened his mouth.
Paused.
Because the problem was impossible to explain.
According to every memory in his head, Noah had always been enormous. Ethan had always looked like an elven thirst trap. Marcus had always been built like a cathedral guardian with the personality of an overfriendly saint.
And yet, some small part of Oliver’s brain insisted that the room hadn’t looked like this before. That Noah hadn’t always accidentally crushed door handles and chuckled dumbly about it. That Ethan hadn’t always spent so much time caressing the Barbarian’s muscle chest while talking. That Marcus hadn’t always looked like he could just throw someone over his shoulder and carry them through a battlefield.
Adrian watched from behind his DM screen. Every time he wove magic, the last person to transform would always notice something subconsciously. There was always some resistance to incomplete narratives.
“Probably just sensory overload.”, Marcus offered as a solution.
“Yeah, the musk from those two must have you feeling light-headed again.”, Ethan added, one of his delicate hands tracing circles around Noah’s nipple. Noah just nodded, his hand slipping towards Ethan’s ass, his fuckbuddy leaning closer towards him immediately.
Oliver frowned. Sure, the two of them were always incredibly flirtatious with one another, but tonight felt even worse than usual.
Adrian just smiled. “You turn, Ollie.”
Oliver flinched, hating it when people called him that.
“I’m gonna play a Bard.”
Adrian just smiled, definitely agreeing that a charming Bard would round out their group nicely. “Okay, then roll for Strength first.”
Oliver nodded and rolled the die.
12
There was no dramatic change like what happened to the other three. Some muscle was added to his frame, but in contrast with the muscular powerhouses that were Noah and Marcus, his body stayed leaner and more toned.
Oliver relaxed in his seat. The sense of tenseness that had been hanging around him finally eased, now that the magic was directly affecting him. He didn’t mind people looking at his body all that much, not feeling the need to hide it away any longer. Not that he thought he ever had.
“Dexterity.”, Adrian said, nodding at his friend’s body language.
16
The transformation flowed through Oliver beautifully, reshaping his body with artistic precision.
His waist tightened slightly, while his muscles leaned out with athletic definition. He still didn’t have the bulky size of his two friends, but he also wasn’t as small and lithe as Ethan. His body somehow found the perfect balance between looking invitingly soft and masculine.
Oliver had become a twunk, a picture book definition of one even. His legs had lengthened slightly, his height now sitting a comfortable 6’1. Not so tall that it was intimidating, but tall enough to show he wasn’t a pushover. His movements now carried a certain fluidity, grace and sense of control with them, just enough to subtly draw the eye of anyone watching.
Noah leaned a little closer to inspect him, in a way that made Ethan look slightly jealous.
“Are you seriously checking out Ollie’s ass again when I’m right next to you?”, the twinky elf complained, Noah leaning back and shrugging his shoulders apologetically in response.
Oliver didn’t recoil at the nickname quite as much this time. And Noah did have a point in checking out his butt. While not quite as large or bouncy as Ethan’s bubble butt, his own ass was pert, perfectly harmonizing with his graceful movements. It was the kind of ass that looked both breedable and like it could throw some serious force behind a pounding.
Adrian looked amused at the situation, already liking the new group dynamic before the changes even fully finalized.
“Constitution.”, he said softly and watched the die bounce on the hardwood.
18
The change hit him like a freight train. Oliver always had had an unimpressive dick, but that was a thing of the past now.
While the transformation also made him look like he was brimming with vitality, his skin seeming warmer and less pale, his posture looser and his body language more confident and downright tempting, the real change was happening between his lean legs.
He didn’t quite have the size of Noah and Marcus, having rolled slightly lower, but there was no denying that the monstercock growing on the Bard was one of the biggest around, only half an inch shorter than Marcus’ and slightly thinner than Noah’s. Undeniably huge, but somehow seeming more manageable next to the two of them.
And not only that. The transformation had also given him an infamous libido. While Marcus fucked anyone who asked and Noah mostly stuck to plowing Ethan’s experienced ass, Oliver had become something of the man whore of the group. While still being pretty shy overall, his perfect build and incredible cock and ass never failed to secure the versatile lover a date for the night.
Adrian just smiled behind his screen. He hadn’t planned for this, but definitely welcomed his friend coming out of his shell to secure some experience. Especially with his character sheet only half finished. “Intelligence.”
Oliver grabbed the die quickly, eager to get his friends to stop staring at his now obvious bulge, even though his 10 incher was the second smallest of the player group.
14
The transformation settled behind the Bard’s eyes instantly.
He wasn’t hyper-intellectual like a wizard would be. Or strategically brilliant like Marcus. But he became a quick thinker, incredibly articulate. And definitely more creative. His room back home changed, several half finished songs and poems appearing. His quick wit also gave him sharper humour.
And he almost instinctively got better at reading people. Understanding emotional nuance felt easier now. Like he always knew at a glance what people needed. How to handle a conversation better. With his new intelligence and humour, the Bard became almost socially magnetic, despite his unchanged charisma.
Something that became very obvious when Noah, who had been rather focussed on Ethan before, started looking at Oliver more, causing the shy Bard to blush and get flustered, the attention of the overwhelmingly manly Barbarian still a bit much for him.
But that’s what the last two stats would be there for.
“Wisdom.”, Adrian prompted from behind his DM screen, watching as his changing friend rolled the die.
13
The change was subtle.
Unlike Noah or Marcus, Oliver’s sense of self remained strong. His emotional awareness sharpened further rather than collapsing. He became more perceptive of moods, tension, attraction, discomfort.
More emotionally intelligent.
And significantly more aware of what effect he had on others.
Oliver looked around the table slowly. At Ethan practically sprawled across Noah. At Noah’s huge hand still resting possessively against Ethan’s thigh. At Marcus unconsciously smiling whenever anyone else looked happy. Then at Adrian calmly observing all of them.
Oliver tilted his head slightly. “…You know,” he murmured, “the vibe at this table has gotten extremely charged.”
Ethan immediately lost it laughing. Noah grinned. Marcus looked confused for about two seconds before understanding abruptly dawned on him.
“Oh.”
His ears turned red.
Oliver smirked as reality settled around them. He had always been great at reading the vibe of a room. And right now the tension in the air was basically palpable.
And now only the decisive stat of his class remained. “Charisma!”, Adrian announced sharply, with unusual drama in his voice, the magic user urging his already gorgeous friend on to finalise the changes made to the group.
In a fittingly long slow circle the die spun across the table before settling.
20
“Critical success!”, Oliver cheered as the atmosphere in the room changed.
The world seemed to hold its breath as Ollie’s face became as gorgeous as his body, ass and cock. High cheekbones, strong but graceful brows, a strong but pretty nose, thick kissable lips. He didn’t have the ethereal look of Ethan the Elf or the overpowering rugged masculinity of Noah. He somehow sat in the perfect middle spot. Like someone had looked up masculine beauty and decided to crank the definition up to 11.
And it wasn’t just his face that changed. Everything about him seemed flirtatious and welcoming. His sparkling white smile, that was more than the smile of every boy next door from every teen rom-com. His voice that became rich and musical at the same time, masculine and melodious without sounding artificial. Even the eye-contact with his expressive brown eyes now oozed with warmth and playful awareness, a single glance enough to make people feel desired, seen and interesting.
His every gesture became charged with intentionality. Not in a teasingly flirtatious way like Ethan, but rather in a way that felt awfully magnetic and almost impossible to resist. His every laugh made people feel like their best self.
And the memories of Ollie and his friends reflected that. Ollie was the undisputed heartthrob on campus, even the straightest of jocks falling for him constantly. It was just impossible not to.
The Bard would constantly disappear from parties with strangers, take guys and gals home whenever he went to a bar and leave only well deserved legends and rumours behind. He wasn’t a fuck machine like Noah or a power bottom like Ethan. He was like the Kamasutra had decided to become human and evolve new tricks.
The mix of his absurd Constitution and perfect Charisma had fused in the best way possible. Ollie always gave people exactly what they needed, even if they didn’t know it themselves. Helping a girl get over her toxic ex-boyfriend with the most enthusiastic romantic fuck of her life? Helping a homophobic jock come out of the closet by giving him the best ass he’d ever have? Or helping a shy nerd come out of his shell by feeling desired and popping his cherry in the most loving way? All of those were now stories that were absolutely true about the extraordinarily skilled, endlessly versatile lover that was Ollie.
And the best part about it was that the Bard didn’t leave a trail of broken hearts. People genuinely liked him and treated him more like a treasure that they wouldn’t dare to keep for themselves, genuinely happy with the experience they had with the urban legend sex magician.
And while everyone else found themselves lost in those memories, Marcus found himself trying and failing not to stare. His own terrible Wisdom role had left him absolutely vulnerable to Ollie’s incredible Charisma. Something the Bard was very much aware of.
Not in a predatory way. Marcus was the one person that Ollie allowed himself to tease … a lot. And since the paladin found himself agreeing to basically anything if asked nicely enough, the two of them had had their fair share of nights together in the past, something even the group’s gigolo found himself enjoying endlessly.
Oliver winked at the blushing paladin and smiled. Maybe tonight would be another one of those nights where he’d end up with Marcus. But who could really tell.
—-------------------------------
Epilogue
Adrian quietly sat back behind the DM screen, watching the final party dynamic settle perfectly into place.
The barbarian and elf draped across each other openly now.
The gigantic gullible paladin blushing whenever the bard smiled at him.
And the bard himself sitting confidently at the center of the emotional gravity well he’d become.
Four completed archetypes. Four very changed men. Four people still passionate about Dungeons and Dragons, now more than ever since they had somehow ended up incidentally creating characters that were basically themselves.
One rewritten reality.
And only Adrian remembered how ordinary they had all been a few hours ago. How unhappy they had been with their lives.
Noah, who had been relentlessly bullied by the football team just this morning had become bigger than all of them. No more getting shoved into lockers when your shoulders are wider than three of those combined.
The often turned down Ethan finding himself next to someone who actually liked his flirting, revelling in the feeling of being the target of it even. And surely people wouldn’t dare mess with the enormous Barbarian’s quasi-boyfriend.
Marcus, who had been plagued by complexes for the majority of his life, would never hear a word of complaint about his incredible body any more. And maybe people would finally respect his hulking mass and brilliant mind now.
And the shy and easily hurt Oliver? He was now way too busy showing people the absolute heights of sexual delight to care whether people talked shit about his art online. The praise he got for it after showing it off to one of his lovers being the most important feedback he could ask for.
And Adrian? He was just happy his friends finally lived up to the potential their amazing personalities had always demanded.

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_____ Want access to more horny writing sooner! Patreon and Kofi Members get access first seeing it on discord! They also are gonna get to vote on future free stories and captions in the next few weeks!! Any and all support is appreciated! Were growing so much and I appreciate all of you!!
I'd love to see your take on a monkey's paw wish :)
Fit Camp to Frat Camp
The summer he was fourteen, Ethan's parents sent him to Camp Cedar Ridge.They called it a "fitness retreat." But even the sign in front of the camp said “Fat Camp.”
Honestly, it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd expected. The food wasn't completely terrible, the counselors at least tried to be encouraging, and after a week of hiking, swimming, and pretending dodgeball counted as "team-building," he'd somehow made two good friends.
There was Owen, who could turn any conversation into a lecture about fantasy novels or some bizarre science fact, and Miles, whose social skills were almost impressively awful. He never meant to be rude—he just had an uncanny talent for saying exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong moment. Together, the three of them had quietly become the camp's resident weirdos.
One afternoon, while wandering through the woods behind the cabins, Ethan came across an old storage shed that looked like it hadn't been opened in decades. Most of it was junk, piles of broken lanterns, moldy boxes, rusted tools. But tucked inside a dusty wooden chest was something that was different.
It looked like a dried-up monkey's hand. The leathery fingers were curled into a fist, and somehow it felt warm despite being covered in dust. As he turned it over in his hands, a half-forgotten story drifted back into his mind.
A monkey's paw and three wishes, maybe he had seen the movie but he barely remembered. He knew it was just all just an old superstition. Even so, as he stared at the shriveled paw, he found himself wondering what he would wish for.
He took it back to his cabin, obviously, it was a shriveled animal part and he was a fourteen year old boy. He also wanted to show it to Owen and Miles, who were in the cabin's small kitchenette when he arrived, loudly debating the integrity of a real life alien invasion. They didn’t even notice then come in, only looking up at the slam the door.
“Yo, look what I found.”
Owen glanced over. “...That's either a preserved primate paw or the world's least appetizing beef jerky.”
“I found it in the old shed,” Ethan said. “I think it's supposed to be one of those monkey's paws. You know, the wish thing.”
Owen snorted. “Magic violates several fundamental laws of physics.”
Miles looked up. “Also, if it grants wishes, why'd it end up in a dusty shed?”
Ethan frowned. “You two are no fun.”
“I wish you guys were cooler”
Their clothing instantly began to change, replacing their old outfits with a new wardrobe that hung awkwardly off their still-scrawny frames. Owen now wore a pair of khaki shorts and a navy hoodie, while Miles stood beside him in matching shorts and a fitted black T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a sports team neither nerd recognized. Both sported baseball caps, carelessly turned backward as though they'd been wearing them their whole lives.
The oversized clothes looked ridiculous on them, like toddlers playing dress-up in their fathers' wardrobes. They still had the soft, slightly pudgy bodies they'd always been embarrassed by, and neither boy looked comfortable in the new clothes. Glancing down, they watched their hands begin to change. Their fingers lengthened, palms broadened, and knuckles thickened into large, rough-looking hands as a healthy bronze tan slowly spread across their skin.
The color continued creeping over their bodies, replacing their pale complexions with the sun-kissed glow of boys who spent every free afternoon outdoors. Their feet stretched in tandem with their hands, widening and lengthening until Owen's size eights became solid tens while Miles' pushed all the way to elevens. At the same time, muscle began swelling beneath their skin. Miles instinctively flexed, watching his biceps rise into firm, rounded muscle with an awestruck grin.
"Bro... you're hot," Owen blurted, staring at his friend's rapidly broadening physique. But the changes didn't stop there.
The soft bellies that had always been a source of embarrassment suddenly tightened as though an invisible vacuum were pulling inward from beneath the skin. Every trace of fat vanished, sculpting defined pectorals and sharply cut abs across both torsos. Miles was already convinced his were an eight-pack, even if anyone else would call them a six.
The soft bellies that had always been a source of embarrassment were sucked inwards, like a vacuum sucking from beneath the skin. Every trace of fat vanished, leaving only identical sets of pectorales and immaculate six packs, although Miles would always claim to have an eight pack. Owen’s khakis became noticeably tight as it filled with a plump bubble butt while miles backside remained tight and muscly. Their entire builds broadened, shoulders widening, chests thickening, and arms filling out until both looked like they had spent years in the weight room rather than behind computer screens.
Both their dicks expanded, flooding their minds with a sudden rush of pleasure.
"Fuck ya, bro!" Miles shouted, his voice dropping into a deep, relaxed drawl that carried no trace of the nasal, awkward nerd he had been only moments before.
Owen laughed, his own voice sounding lower and brashly confident. He absentmindedly scratched beneath his backward cap as dark hair pushed outward, growing longer until thick curls spilled from underneath the brim.
Their faces shifted into place as the final pieces of the transformation settled. Miles' nose broadened, giving his features a stronger, more rugged look, while Owen's jaw sharpened into a broad, square shape that seemed carved from stone. Their cheekbones became more defined, their eyes settled into relaxed, self-assured expressions, and even their smiles took on an easy arrogance. The two boys looked at each other and couldn't help but grin like the narcissistic jocks they had become.
Ethan stared at them, waiting for one of them to crack the facade of bravado.
"...Owen?"
The curly-haired boy frowned. "Who's Owen?” He asked. "My name's Oz, dude."
Ethan laughed nervously. "Very funny. You were just talking about aliens," Ethan insisted. "And fantasy books."
Oz looked genuinely confused. "I don't read, I don’t even know how, lil bro.”
Miles shrugged. "Books are kinda for geeks."
Ethan's smile slowly faded. "But... you guys are geeks."
At that, both boys burst out laughing.
"Good one," Miles said.
As they talked, Ethan noticed the cabin wasn't quite the same anymore. A battered mini fridge now sat beneath the window where a bookshelf had been. Empty pizza boxes rested on the counter. Someone had tossed a hoodie over a chair, and a pair of muddy cleats lay in the middle of the floor like they'd been kicked off after practice. The room felt messier every time he looked away.
Oz grabbed a bottle from the fridge. "Dude, we're almost out of protein shakes."
"We'll grab more after conditioning," Miles replied.
Ethan stepped toward them confused. "Guys... what's going on?"
Oz looked him over for a moment before recognition crossed his face. "Oh, what do you want Ethan?"
"You remember me?"
"Sure," Miles said with a grin. "You're that weird kid."
Ethan blinked. "No... we're friends."
Oz exchanged a glance with Miles before both of them laughed. "Dude," he said, "why would we hang out with you?"
"You seriously need to chill," Miles added. "Maybe spend less time indoors."
The two of them wandered back into the kitchenette, still chuckling to each other. Ethan backed away slowly before hurrying into the bedroom. slamming the door behind him, he immediately started digging through his backpack until his fingers found the monkey's paw.
It was warm in his hands, One finger had uncurled. Outside, Oz and Miles laughed as another loud thud echoed through the cabin, making Ethan look up.
“I wish I had my friends back”
His shoes vanished instantly leaving the portly teen barefoot. His clothes had also shifted, camp tee becoming a white tank and cargos becoming black sweatpants, every piece of clothing fit him completely wrong. But he didn’t notice, as looking down, his feet seemed to be moving? His toes grew thicker and longer and his feet became long and broad as they resized to a meaty set of 11s. Simultaneously a dark tan spread across them and hard callouses formed on the bottoms.
In the span of a breath his whole body gained a similar tan, though he was noticeably paler than the other jock bros. His hands expanded to match his feet and grew into meaty mitts. He stared as veins began to pop out from his skin, starting from his hands and continuing up his arms and throughout his body.
“No, I don’t want this” he shouted, desperately trying to reach the monkey's paw that had fallen off the bed.
But the changes didn’t stop there, happening too fast now to stop. A large pectoral shelf jutted out, nipples standing erect in the cool air of the cabin. He lightly tweaked one with his meatier hands, his brain failing to register the movement. His hands moved down the usual curve of his stomach replaced by rigged abs covered by a light treasure trail. His body began to emit a strong odor, a mix of dried sweat and hormones, helped by the much larger bulge in his sweatpants.
He grabbed it roughly, feeling the extended length in all its glory. A deep sound coming from his throat, a far cry from the voice of a fat nerd yet to go through puberty. The newly minted bro felt a small pressure in his ears when a small pair of studs appeared and his hair became dark and well groomed. His face got wider and his jaw became square shaped giving him the typical looks of a dumb jock. He wondered why in the world we wouldn’t want to be one as he grabbed his phone to pull up his favorite porno, wanting nothing more than to try out his new equipment.
After finishing Ethan flopped onto the couch, his sweats still sticky. He absentmindedly scrolled through his phone, looking for another, maybe to watch with his bros. Speaking of his bros, Oz and Miles stood in the kitchenette shotgunning diet Pepsis. He shook his head in silent laughter at them before something poked against his thigh.
"Huh?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out the shriveled monkey's paw. "Yo, check this out."
Oz looked over from the mini fridge. "Dude... what the hell is that?"
Miles immediately sauntered over, eyes lighting up. "Bro, no way. Is that an actual monkey's paw?"
Ethan shrugged. "Found it somewhere, I think."
Oz carefully took it, turning it over in his hands. "This is sick."
"Isn't this one of those things that grants wishes?" Miles asked with a grin. "Like, three wishes and all that cursed magic crap?"
"Probably fake," Oz said, still unable to stop staring at it.
"Even if it is," Ethan laughed, "it's the coolest thing I've found all summer."
The three crowded around the tiny shriveled hand, tossing out increasingly ridiculous wishes and daring each other to try one, none of them realizing two of its fingers were already uncurled. Ethen looked at it, wondering what to wish for, then it hit him.
“I wish everybody here was as cool as us”
The wish had barely left Ethan's lips before the monkey's paw grew almost too hot to hold. He instinctively dropped it onto the couch, where it landed with a dull thud. For a moment, nothing happened. The cabin remained exactly as it was, with Oz and Miles still arguing over whether they could organize a volleyball tournament before dinner.
Then a strange sound rose somewhere outside, like a chant or cheer shouted in deep voices. It wasn't especially unusual at first. Campers were always yelling about something. But another voice answered it from farther down the path, then another from the lake, then several more from the athletic fields until the entire camp seemed to hum with too loud laughter and shouted conversations.
Across the grounds, subtle changes rippled through Camp Cedar Ridge. The campers transforming all at once, awkward postures straightening, Self-conscious expressions melting into easy confidence. Conversations about calorie counts and homesickness drifted naturally into plans for football games, lake competitions, and which cabin was going to dominate the end-of-summer tournament. Everywhere you looked, baseball caps had somehow become more common, camp T-shirts fit broader shoulders, and groups of boys who had barely spoken yesterday now greeted each other with effortless familiarity.
Even the camp itself seemed to adjust around them. The nutrition posters lining the dining hall walls quietly disappeared, replaced by faded championship photos and intramural banners that had hung there for years. The recreation lodge gained battered sweat stained couches and a pair of old refrigerators stocked with sports drinks, while the all of cabins gradually accumulated the sort of clutter that came from dozens of teenage frat boys sharing the same space, duffel bags left open, footballs under bunks, hoodies draped over chairs, protein bars scattered across countertops.
Bodybuilder legal huge counselors walked the paths smiling like it was normal, greeting campers with casual fist bumps instead of reminders about weigh-ins or meal plans. The schedule posted outside the dining hall had changed too. Hiking and nutrition seminars had quietly given way to tournaments, lake relays, and evening socials.
Oz leaned against the doorway where Ethan stood and looked outside.
"Whatca looking at?" he asked.
Ethen looked at him, his thick brows scrunched up like he was trying to sort though his meager thoughts. "Just thought this place was…different, ya know,"
Miles laughed at this, shouting loudly from his place unto the fridge, “bro, it’s always been like this. Welcome to frat camp!”
A tall blonde guy wearing a holey hoodie and basketball shorts stopped at the steps of the boys cabin. He set down several cases of cheap beer and leaned against the railing, tossing a football up and down.
"Is this cabin six?" He asked. "Heard y’all was having a big party tonight."
"Yeah, bro come on in," Ethan replied, remembering him and Oz telling some of the other cabins to come around tonight.
Word had seemed to spread on its own after that. As the sun dipped lower behind the trees, more boys drifted toward Cabin Six in small groups, some bringing snacks, others carrying speakers or folding chairs they had borrowed from somewhere. A camp wide party quickly forming, the cabin filling with conversation that spilled loudly out onto the porch and into the clearing beyond.
Watching everyone arrive, Ethan reached into his pocket and absentmindedly felt the monkey's paw. It had gone cold and when he pulled it out, all three fingers were tightly curled once more, looking like nothing more than an old, dried curiosity. He stared at it for a second before tossing it into the back of a drawer, where it disappeared beneath a pile of forgotten odds and ends. He had a rager to throw, this was frat camp after all.
(The next in the summerween series, inspired by a photo comic I saw. Also quick shot out to dmears1994 who suggested a similar idea(be careful what you wish for) more summery spooks to come, enjoy!)
Cycling
My best friend has been getting really into cycling lately. He even bought a stationary bike for his home. He’s been training so much that I’m not sure I recognize him anymore. He used to be this skinny nerd that I could pick up with one arm. Wait- was he always this big? This can’t be the result of just one month of training, can it? Maybe I should get into cycling too…
He Looks Like He’s Having Fun (Part 2)
Part 1 | Part 2
Mason woke up with a small headache and a big problem. Two big problems, actually. One between his legs, and one lodged deep within his chest. His heart was pounding, his dick was throbbing, and, with the exception of his underwear, his clothes were nowhere to be found. He stood up with some difficulty, and he felt heavier than usual. His head hit the lamp above the couch and he cursed under his breath.
He rubbed the sore spot on his head, and then he remembered exactly what he had done the previous day. He had swapped bodies with his jock roommate. His immediate reaction was excitement. He was in possession of the body of the hottest guy on campus, and he felt extremely powerful. He flexed his arms experimentally, trying to get used to the way this new body moved. It was unnerving. He seemed to hold so much untapped strength.
His attention was then drawn towards his lower body. Powerful legs, the size of his own head, with a crowning jewel that sat heavily between his thighs. He marveled at the road that the muscles of his abdomen carved straight towards his new dick. Like an arrow, pointing straight where he wanted to go.
He felt his new cock between his new hands. And for a second, he indulged in the foreign pleasure of exploring another man’s most intimate places. He felt like his crotch demanded his full attention, blood rushing to fill the monstrous appendage. He fondled it through the boxers he was wearing, and when that didn’t suffice, he took them off and started pumping.
It was almost as if his stolen body was telling him exactly what to do. He had never masturbated standing up before, or with two hands. Though, granted, he’d never had a dick big enough to require his two hands. It felt like second nature, and he loved every second of it. He closed his eyes and let the motion overtake him. He started thrusting his hips and grunting like an animal, like he had seen the real Ian do so many times. He understood now why Ian did this so god damn often. It felt good. Really good.
He came in ropes, letting go of a huge sigh he’d been holding. He opened his eyes again to see the victim of his reckless actions; he had coated the floor, and the pile of clean clothes he had been meaning to put away after he got Ian kicked out of the dorm.
Shit. He had completely forgotten about that. He sat on the couch, legs wide open, and tried to remember what the hell had happened the prior day. He had blurry memories of jacking off and listening to elevator music. He had failed to consider that, if he swapped bodies with Ian when he was high, he’d be in Ian’s intoxicated body. He remembered his plan, and his laptop, and he started scanning the room in hopes of finding it.
He failed to find the laptop, but he did spot a plastic bag with something that would have probably had gotten Ian kicked out, without needing to swap bodies. He cursed his stupid plan, and he cursed his stupid, brutish body. God, Ian was sexy. Like the guys that pose unnecessarily dramatically for those magazines no one buys anymore. He found a pair of boxers buried between the couch cushions, and decided to put them on. They were dirty, and they smelled strongly of sweat and balls, and that got him hard again. His dick called to him, like a siren.
He tried to quieten the impulse. He took some deep breaths and placed a hand on his borrowed, chiseled chest. Once he had somewhat drowned the sexual urges he noticed just how tired he felt. Like he could actually collapse right there, on the floor, right on top of his own fresh cum. Is this what Ian felt like every day? He spotted the joint he had dropped a couple of hours ago near one of the couch’s legs. And he felt an overwhelming urge to take a hit.
Mason had never tried drugs before. Alcohol, sure, he even had a fake ID, but pot? He mulled over the idea, and every second that passed, the urge worsened. The crawled towards the edge of the couch, and as he was about to reach it, the door opened with a loud thud.
Stay tuned for part 3.
He Looks Like He's Having Fun
Part 1 | Part 2
Mason’s roommate Ian was insufferable. He got high on the weekends, slept through the day, and had his football buddies over during the night. He rarely washed a single cup, much less his messy, grown out hair. He left his disgusting dirty laundry all over the room, walked around half naked, and often stole Mason’s clean clothes. He ate like a pig and he would masturbate relentlessly over any surface he could.
Suffice it to say, Mason had had enough. He needed to do something, anything to get him to behave like a functioning adult. He tried talking with him, pleading for Ian to have some sense of civility. He got the RA involved, and then the dorm administrators, but the building was packed, and he couldn’t change rooms until at least a year in the future. So, Mason got desperate. He combed through Reddit for some way to make Ian’s life hell, or at least to get him out of the room, and one Friday late October, he found something that just might work.
It was a link to some sketchy website, the kind buried under piles of mindless AI advertisements. The website, in ugly, highlighter yellow Comic Sans claimed that it could let the user exchange two persons’ bodies for a set amount of time.
This was it. If Mason could have Ian’s body, even for an hour, he could pretend to be him, and voluntarily leave the dorms for good. There was only one minor issue; both of them had to be touching the laptop at the moment of the swap. No big deal, though. He’d just wait until Ian was high off his mind, and the idiot wouldn’t even notice.
He did exactly that. He waited til Saturday, when he knew Ian would be stoned. Ian was lounging on the couch, like usual. His bare chest exposed as he put down the blunt he was holding. He raised is arm to scratch the back of his head, his armpit stinking up the room.
Mason rolled his eyes and tried his best to ignore the foul smell. He brought the laptop over to the couch. "Hey, Ian?" He spoke hesitantly, "I gotta show you something on my laptop." Ian lazily looked up with glassy eyes. Mason awkwardly set the laptop over his chest without any protest from Ian, and then hit enter.
For a brief moment in time, Mason's vision went dark. He blinked a couple of times, trying to ground himself. He had to go down to the office, but he couldn't leave the dorm shirtless. "Why not?" He asked himself. He closed his eyes and rubbed them hard. Focus. He had to focus. But he couldn't do it for the life of him. He felt giddy. The couch felt nice. So nice. He ran a hand through the fabric of the couch. It was soft. Really, really soft. And his hand was huge now too. He put one foot on the tiled floor and tried to get up, only managing to sit up on the couch. He heard a weird sound. He looked down, and his laptop was on the floor. Why was his laptop on the floor?
He picked it up and struggled to open it, but it wouldn't turn on. Oh, well. He let it fall on the floor again and sat back on the couch. Man, this felt nice. He stretched his arms and opened his legs. He took a big whiff of the air around him. It smelled masculine, and a little musty. What was he so worried about just a second ago?
Someone familiar came into the room. Mason had a shirt just like the one the guy was wearing. The man was excited about some thing or another. He couldn't be bothered to actually listen. He let himself fall back on the couch, and as his head hit the pillow, he couldn't help but notice how hot that little twink was. He absentmindedly fondled his new, much bigger package as he watched the guy run around the room. Oh, right. That was his old body. He looks like he's having fun. And man, is he having fun as well.

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Astroturfing
Four friends debate the latest gay dating app to hit the market. Four friends inevitably become walking advertisements for the very same app. Remember, What’s Good for the Gandr is Good for You!
Here's one for all you droney himbo fans! Average gay friend group into four Adonises literally molded to be the perfect men for Gandr’s supernaturally expanding user base. Hope you enjoy! -Occam
(L to R) Sven - Blaine - Clint - Guy
“It’s called Gandr! I’ve heard nothing but good things! Besides, I’ve been obsessed with the founder since he guest judged on Drag Race!” Clint held out his phone showing an ad for the newest dating app to hit the mobile store. “And it’s not even just for dating! It’s for the lifestyle!”
His friends are nonplussed. Swirling a drink in his hands, Blaine rolls his eyes. “Have you heard anything about it that wasn’t from an ad? I mean- Girl. Obviously it’s not made with guys like us in mind? Like, fuck look at those guy, they wouldn’t seven give Sven a second look unless it was to laugh at him!”
Clad in his usual deep v-neck and squinting at the screen, Sven shrugs in agreement before speaking up himself. “Dunno about this one Clint, something about it feels off? But you know me, I’m not really about apps and shit.”
Huddled around the phone in their favorite haunt, a lowkey gay bar-cum-brunch spot, the group continues bickering about their interest in reality star Chad Gleeson’s latest venture. Taking little part in the chatter, while his cohort debates whether or not this is a cash grab or a genuine attempt to build community online, Guy is simply staring blankly at the disembodied oiled up torsos still scrolling past on Clint’s phone.
I'm a gay guy in my early 20s, starting to get muscular, with dark curly hair. I just got back home from the gym, opened my bag to wash my gear, but... none of my stuff is here. There's only a pair of Freegun boxers. How'd they end up here? They reek... Damn, they scream straight, dumbass gym bro. I'm not sure what to do with them...
The gym bag was open on the bed.
He, a gay guy just over twenty, with dark, curly hair, still sweaty after his workout, was rummaging through it to get the clothes to wash. But there was nothing. Just a pair of boxer briefs.
They weren't his.
They were Freegun. Red. Bright red. The fabric was thick, technical, made for a real gym enthusiast.
He took them in his hands. They smelled. A strong, masculine smell, of sour sweat, of an unwashed armpit, of something animal.
He was disgusted. "That's disgusting..."
But they were there. How had they ended up in his bag? Maybe someone had accidentally mixed them up. Or maybe not.
The fabric was warm. Strange. A tingling ran through his fingers. The boxer briefs seemed to vibrate. A thought crossed his mind: Try them on.
"No, no, no..."
But his hands, as if moved by a primal instinct, began lowering his shorts. He took off the boxer briefs he was wearing. He put on the red ones.
The fabric clung to his hips like a second skin. Warm. Too warm.
Then it began.
A dense heat rose from his lower abdomen. The sweat that was already there became copious. Streams running down his back, across his chest, down his legs.
"Ah..."
A moan. His voice was getting lower.
The muscles he had started building at the gym exploded. His biceps swelled, the veins surfaced. His pectorals lifted, becoming two heavy plates. His abs became sculpted.
"Ah... fuck... yes..."
Another moan. Rougher. His jaw widened. His chin became more pronounced. His dark, curly hair began to fall. Tufts flying away. And in their place, new hair grew. Light brown. Shorter. Thicker. A simple haircut, like a real man's.
The beard appeared on his chin. Thick. Light brown. It grew before his eyes, framing his square jaw.
His body swelled. His shoulders widened, his back became a V. His thighs exploded, his buttocks lifted. And his penis. He felt his penis grow, swell, press against the red fabric. The bulge was enormous. Obscene. A package sticking out, provocative.
"Ah... AH!"
The final jolt. His whole body contracted, his muscles tensing.
Then silence.
He was still there. But he was no longer himself.
He looked at his reflection in the window. He was enormous. Huge pectorals, veiny arms, broad shoulders. Thick beard, short light-brown hair. The perfect gym-built body.
But something had changed inside.
He looked at his muscles. And he liked it. A feeling of pride, of power. "Yes... that's so fucking cool..."
He adjusted the bulge in the red boxer briefs. It was big. Too big. He smiled with satisfaction.
Then he heard a noise. An explosion. It smelled. A loud fart that broke the silence.
He laughed. "Haha, that's fucking awesome..."
He approached the mirror, flexing his biceps. The beard gave him a tough look. Like a real man.
"I'm a fucking hassle..." He muttered. His voice was hoarse, low. "The girls will go crazy."
He touched his hard, smooth chest. The smell of sweat was strong. Thick. Masculine. He liked it.
He felt his phone vibrate. A female friend. He didn't look at it. Now he was only thinking about the gym. Only about getting bigger.
"I'm not working out today... fuck yes... tomorrow I'll double it."
Another fart. It smelled. He laughed again.
The old him was gone. Now there was a rough, smelly gym bro, obsessed with muscles and girls.
And the red Freegun boxer briefs were perfect.