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Peter liked his life, and his body. Sure, he wasn’t a multimillionaire with a sculpted six pack, but he was comfortable being the manager of a local restaurant. His dating life was okay, his apartment was okay, and his life was okay.
Recently, a content creator started showing up on Peter’s For You Page. His name was Brandon, he was 6’4, and built like a god. He posted pictures of his gorgeous body relaxing on sandy beaches, and videos of his tight shorts struggling to contain his massive muscles. He often talked about his life, the incredible trips he took, the local food he got to try, and the fans that he stumbled into every once in a while.
After a while, Brandon became Peter’s favorite content creator, and sometimes Peter felt like he truly knew Brandon, even if only parasocially. He knew the sound of his laughter; it was loud, and unapologetic. He knew exactly Brandon’s type; tall, lean men that posed for his videos in tiny, bright-colored trunks. He would often wrap his guns around their shoulders and pull them in while smirking at the camera. He knew the way Brandon talked. He had listened to his voice talk about an endless amount of subjects; the gym, his friends, taking care of plants, traveling, macros, and even his experience as a gay man.
Peter was straight. Totally straight. But he could still admire Brandon through his screen. And, while Peter was straight, he wasn’t blind. He knew Brandon was handsome, rich, and successful. Despite them being total opposites, Peter felt a connection, he felt like they were friends.
The night before his thirtieth birthday, Peter found himself stuck doomscrolling yet again. He was trying to distract himself. His life was good, he kept thinking, as if he needed to convince himself. He swiped a couple of times before he met eye to eye with Brandon. He looked excited and had a wide smile. He was shirtless, as per usual, and spoke a little bit louder too.
Peter stared at his little light box of joy as Brandon announced that the following day, June 22nd, he would celebrate turning thirty. He thanked his fans for their support and ended the video with his signature smile.
Peter put his phone down. What were the chances that both him and Brandon would have the same birthday? He settled into bed and stared at the ceiling. He felt off. Brandon was his age exactly. What was Pete doing with his life? He contemplated his own achievements. He could count them on his right hand. He ran his hand over his beer belly.
Maybe he didn’t like his life as much as he thought.
He had a rough night of sleep. He writhed in his bed and woke up with a cold sweat. He sat up on his bed and put one of his hands to his forehead. It felt strange. Like his hand was bigger, and rougher somehow. He decided he didn’t have a fever, but he should get some water before going back to bed. He threw his feet off the bed and felt them hit a soft rug. Weird, he didn’t have a rug. And he didn’t sleep barefoot either. He tried looking around the room, but the darkness made it impossible. That’s odd too. He didn’t have blackout curtains. He found his phone under his pillow, though it was seemingly smaller than he remembered. The screen lit up when he brought it up to his face, and the wallpaper didn’t match his own. He squinted at the phone and tried to make sense of it. He swiped up to unlock it and realized his skin was not the same color as before.
Peter was confused, and disoriented, and a little optimistic as well. He lumbered around the dark room with an astounding lack of dexterity, until he found what he thought were the curtains, and drew them back.
The room lit up immediately, and he blinked while his eyes adjusted to the light. What he saw made his jaw drop. He looked down at his body in awe. It was muscular and big. So much bigger than what he was used to. He lifted his arms and flexed, admiring the way his veins popped against his muscles. He was Brandon now.
He looked back at the phone which he was still holding in his other hand.
The phone was receiving texts from an unknown number. He recognized it as his old number. They started slow and confused, and then continued with an escalating level of urgency. He opened them. It was “Brandon,” who was asking questions like “who are you?” “How did this happen?” And “how do we go back?”
The texts got more desperate.
please man
you have my life
you have my body
we have to go back
He looked down at his new body. Then, he looked around his luxury apartment. His larger finger hovered over the text box.
You have blocked this number.
He didn’t want to go back. He knew exactly who he was now, and there is no way in hell he would ever return to his old life and his old body if he could help it. He sat down again. He knew who he was, he was Brandon now. And he didn’t need to worry about how to go back.
This would take some getting used to. The power, the body, the job… even his new found attraction for men, which he apparently inherited as well. Brandon didn’t care, though. He liked his new self.
Constantly annoyed by his androgyny, David stumbles onto a spam ad that leads to his first facial hair and unknowingly condemns his latest overly masc ex to the twinkdom he's leaving behind.
Pretty standard role swap/masc theft! Twinky bottom to hairy top though much of the opposite changes happen off screen. At any rate, hope you enjoy this tale of Twink Theft! -Occam
And so began the same argument that has led to the end of each and every one of David’s previous relationships. Sure, he knows he’s beautiful. Angelic many of his one night stands and observers from afar frequently point out. He’s a model by default and his face card is perfect bait for men to just fall at his feet.
David frequently finds himself with men almost stereotypically masculine, alpha bros and DL hoes are always drawn to his androgyny. But rarely do they ever consider anything but his looks. When the cherubic man can no longer hold back his ire at being considered just a pretty face they fight and then abandon him for some other waifish twink. Leaving him feeling like nothing more than a soft-skinned doll for them to play with and abandon.
Curled up in the passenger seat of his current horndog fling’s car, David looks from underneath his tangle of perfectly coiffed curls as Mattias just stares down the open road. Glancing at the hairy jungles covering the man’s torso and pits, David yearns to feel the scratch of hair against his body. The closest thing he can ever experience to growing it himself.
For half a moment the model believes that perhaps Mattias is reflecting, thinking about their argument. Considering David’s point of view at all. When a hand drifts to adjust a bulge clearly visible in his pants it’s clear there’s only one thing on his mind. And David is certainly not going to let that happen tonight.
“You’re not even listening.”
“Shiiiit, I mean c’mon babe. Be serious. You couldn’t even grow facial hair if you tried. I just dunno why you’re being such a lil bitch about it.”
Bony arms hugging his long legs, draped with pants he purloined from a shoot, David feels a fire burning within him. He’s not even been allowed to try. His agency would can him on the spot. Staring at the small mustache decorating Mattias’ upper lip he reaches to feel his own smooth, soft face. He’s going to try.
“I don’t care what you think, I’m going to stop waxing. Keep complaining, see what else I might decide to try. Asshole.”
Eyes flitting to his passenger, Mattias reaches over to feel David’s inner thigh. “So, uhhh, that means we’re not-”
“Fuck off you horny fucking- Spend half an hour thinking about anything but my ass and maybe, maybe I won’t lose your number.”
Clicking his tongue, Mattias throws his head against his headrest and starts rerouting to drop David off at his home. Sure that his dick is anything worth craving he assumes David’ll come crawling back to him by the end of the week, femme-er than ever. Smirking as he nods farewell to the man, he imagines soft hairless cheeks bouncing on him come Tuesday and quickly redownload Grindr to try and satisfy his still throbbing cock.
Watching yet another mindless jerk abandon him to his insecurities, David is of a different mind. This time it’s going to be different. As soon as the tail lights of Mattias’ shit box are out of sight, David begins his research.
It’s not long at all before David comes across a targeted ad. Formatted like any other, on the left there’s a twink that the model swears he’s seen before, on the right is a perpetually bear-faced man. Face overgrown with itchy stubble and capstoned by a burly mustache that makes David’s mouth water.
Averse to cumming in his pants from a spam-ad, David does his best to stop imagining the twink’s journey to become the hairy hunk opposite him. He can just picture the bleach blonde hair giving way to that ruddy brown as his hairline retreats. Stubble growing so quickly it’s not even worth trimming. David bites his lip to stop from imagining his bulky figure out of frame.
Trailing past both the familiar ditzy twink’s lolling tongue and the alluring garden of chest fur on his alleged new self, David reads the caption. ‘How I became a man with ONE simple trick’
Rather than inviting whatever malware hides behind this jpeg onto his system, David scrawls through his instagram hoping against hope that he does actually know this man. Lo and behold he miraculously finds him, though as of late the twink’s has been dry.
Refusing to acknowledge the reality that this ad probably just stole an image from this mystery model’s account, David prepares to cold-DM this man he doesn’t really know. Desperate to feel the way he has always craved, desperate to change, he types his message:
‘Hey Hi! Peyton right? Funny thing :P I just found an ad of u and this like,,, lumberjackey otter? U know anything about this?’
Within the minute the man replies:
‘lmaooo ya thas me dude so u wanna fucc or what?’
Shocked at the bizarre response, there are a few false starts before David lands on a message. While he certainly wouldn’t be opposed to getting fucked by the man on the right, his eyes are on the prize of being more like him than anything else.
‘Ahhhh unfortunately I was more just wondering about the trick the ad mentioned. Like,, is that real? Surely thats like a joke huh?’
Across town and annoyed at the boner that won’t be satisfied now that Peyton knows what David wants, the hirsute horndog whines and starts absentmindedly playing with his cock as he prepares to offer David the route to join him. Much like David’s string of horny tops, he’s slightly disappointed for the world to lose such a pretty boy, but he would never stand between someone who wants to join him in his most-masculine form.
And he knows it’s not the only change to erupt from David’s ascension.
‘its easy brother just click the link and type the guys name in’
‘The guy?’
‘the dude who made u feel like shit lil bro sumone u want to take down a peg’
Obeying the strange man’s prescription, David takes a deep breath before clicking the ad to find nothing but a small empty text box. Left with nothing to go off besides the man’s words, David pictures the most recent jerk to wrong him.’
Imagining Mattias’ sneer as David explained the pain he feels when he looks in the mirror, the mustache twitching with his lips is impossible to ignore. He yearns to just rip it off the man’s face and put it on his own. David quickly types his name into the box. And nothing happens.
MATTIAS
Worried he’s fallen for some phishing scam or at the very least made a fool of himself, David quickly hits his keyboard to ask for next steps from Peyton:
‘What now?’ … ‘Hello, you there? I typed his name in’ … ‘K. Well thanks for nothing’
After spamming the man who got him this far with a few more dms, unaware that the man has simply muted his notifications to quickly masturbate, David refuses to be awake any longer and falls into his bed. Tomorrow he’ll be over it. It’ll be just another day. He’ll go to a shoot, pose, go home, do his regimen, and then go to bed again.
Sinking into his mattress, David stares at his ceiling. Dimly lit by the computer monitor left on he swears he can see Mattias’ cocky face watching him. After a blink he sees his own, gaunt and smooth, like carved marble.
Seeing his face reflected in the funhouse mirror of his mind’s eye, David doesn’t know when sleep overtakes him. When he begins to dream about the man he is going to be, a small smile twitches across his sleepful lips as the slightest itch begins to burn atop them.
The changes he finds in the morning are already too drastic to outright explain, if he could notice anything new besides the slight but unmistakable new mustache, that is. Fingertips instantly poking against the adamant new prickles decorating his face, David rushes to the bathroom to find his new reflection.
Quickly tearing out his phone to get permanent proof of his first facial hair beyond peach fuzz, David is ignorant to how his messy ringlets retracted into the spiky new fade that crowns his slightly retracted hairline.
So focused on the new lip candy as to miss this most prominent of changes, the many more minute alterations absolutely breeze past the excitable new man. Staring at the stubble promising future growth on his chin, he doesn’t notice the rougher hands holding up his phone or the ruddier complexion covering his face.
Underneath the shirt he fell asleep in the first steps of body hair begin to slowly prickle out. Struggling in a biome designed to prevent regrowth, David’s lasered chest and perma-waxed pits tingle as the first brave new curls begin the first steps towards a total rout of his smooth twinkish form.
Unable to do anything but grin as he delights in the first glimpse of a life and body he never truly saw for himself, David rushes to thank Peyton for putting him onto that strange site. He can’t believe all it took was some manifestation! Funny how a stupid little text-box prompt could be so helpful!
Blissfully unaware of the ocean of changes brewing beneath his skin, David is waylaid by a handful of notifications. Grin turning to a smirk as he imagines it’s his manager on his ass for being late to a shoot; little does he know he’s got a far bigger surprise in store. Scratching at the barely noticeable itch in his pits, his fingers free the musk that had been baking all night under his heavy shirt.
Half-preparing to send the selfie he took to the man who fought for him to stay femme more than anyone else, David instead finds the handful of texts are from his personal trainer. Of course he’s had one since he was brought on by his agency, but reading the handful of missed messages, David is thrown for a loop.
As far as he could remember their routines have always been on keeping him lithe. Maintaining his stick thin figure. Ensuring his cortisol stays low at any cost. To see message after message tearing into David for not taking strength training and bulking up seriously completely derails his train of thought.
Something deep within his chest turns at the idea and without even changing into something more appropriate for the gym, David tears out the door and sprints to his trainer’s side. With every step further from his austere apartment, his body continues to adapt to its new status quo.
Calves designed to be draped with baggy pants burst with muscle as each rushing pace springs with more strength. Working from increasingly strained shoes upward, his calves begin to blanket with a soft garden of hair. Burgeoning curls tug at the air soaring by as they yearn to connect with the thickening patch of pubes surrounding a permanent-semi that David is struggling with as he continues his heady jog.
Before he even arrives at the gym he has already become an altogether different man. The step-above-peachfuzz mustache that languished on his face when he woke up has continued to thicken and now hangs entirely over his upper lip. Across his whole body his bony figure has continued to fill out from the exertion of his sprint to the gym.
Biceps bulge onto his thin arms as they cut through the morning air on his run. Sleeves of a shirt not designed to be within a city-block of a gym are quickly strained as dark stains under his burgeoning shoulders show the beginnings of his tangled pits seeding proof of their existence.
Smelling the unpleasant odor of his morning breath joining the aura of body odor steaming in his wake, David feels his underwear strain as his hips readjust and grow mid stride. Panting like a dog he moans from soreness burning as new muscle strands thicken and bulge onto his powerful limbs.
Filled with gratitude greater than he can understand to the man who ushered him into this ecstatic change, he once more goes to message Peyton only to find a plethora of new messages from none other than Mattias.
‘What did you fucking do to me you bitch.’
Absolutely no idea what that’s about, David stares dumbfounded at the screen before his attention span in high-demand is summoned by his trainer as he bumbles into the gym, late. “You ready to go or what princess?” Butterflies in his stomach quiver at the words, he’s not a princess anymore. And he’s going to prove it to Mattias, his trainer, and anyone else who gets in his way.
His chest burns with a need to grow as he makes his way over to a bench. The act of laying down alone causes his thin chest to bulge larger. The buttons that always hung loosely on his sternum fly off into the gym as pecs fill his sweat-stained shirt to its breaking point before sending lancing tears further down his chest.
Through each new open seam and widening hole, the hidden hair prickling across David’s torso makes itself known. Having expanded well beyond a paltry patch connecting a handful of curls swirling around his formerly petite nipples, the swath of tangled jungle covering his bulging pecs races to make itself seen. His growing chest aids in this as the single button still feigning modesty on his shirt bursts free to reveal the curls climbing towards his neck.
Feeling the pump of growth, his heart racing, David grunts and groans as torso firms and expands to compete with his strengthening limbs and eye-catching chest. Quickly filling the shirt like rising dough in a tin, David barely holds back a horny scream as he feels the fabric tear to shreds off his body.
Standing nearby for obvious reason, David’s trainer simply stares blankly as his once doelike ward has grown into a stag. Watching as his face prickles with thicker stubble surrounding his gritted teeth, staring as arms that he swears were to be deliberately untouched thicken and trail with veins, the trainer has a burning urge to keep him here in the gym as long as possible.
To this end he reaches up to usher David to the next machine, opting to reach for the small of the man’s back for lusty greed alone, he bites his lip as he feels the beginnings of his trainee’s ass hair creeping up towards his shoulders. Unlike the still perma-poised David, the trainer doesn’t quite quiet a whimper from feeling up his sweaty back. “Mhhmm~”
Shocked to hear as much from someone David would’ve sworn was straight, David turns in surprise to stare at his visibly horny trainer. Blush paints the broish man’s cheeks and the twitching package he can’t hide makes it clear he’s certainly not red in the face from his own scant workout.
Stepping away David watches as his needy hands fall away. Gulping with need, there’s surely a part of the hitherto professional trainer that knows there is something strange alluring him to David, but when he sees the growing man’s bicep twitch even larger his train of thought has no recourse but to pull out all the stops to keep him close.
David knows he’s hot stuff, and this wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten googoo eyes from a ‘straight man,’ but something’s off. Scratching his head he feels how his hair texture has shifted. As clear as he feels itchy tufts of thick hair in his pits rubbing the sides of his chest as he moves his arm, his thicker fingers feel hair that is both thicker and thinner than it should be.
Texture more akin to fur than the downy curls he once had, in real time he feels what’s left of his model’s do retract into a tight and rough buzz. Memories of a hair routine before bed every night dissolve to be replaced by David just rolling into a barber and getting the most basic cut they have to offer.
Glancing towards his trainer he feels something profound shift within his chest. He’s used to attention sure, but having a truly masc man stare at him with needy jealousy has awoken something within him. His own cock twitches and he reaches down to adjust it. When the trainer’s needy eyes follow David’s hand his newfound cockiness only grows.
He can almost feel the thick hair coating his chest thicken as his adorer’s mouth falls open in need. He does feel the cock that he’s only recently begun to fondle grows even more, only a semi thus far if David didn’t know any better he’d swear it was already larger than the most turgid erection he’s ever had.
Having humored the man enough, Dave feels a profound urge to play with his food for just a second longer before dipping. Glancing at the muscular figure he’s always admired he doesn’t feel nearly the same heat that the trainer evidently has for him. Feeling his phone still blowing up in his back pocket he’s reminded he’s got a bitch- er, he’s still got Mattias to deal with.
To point he challenges his trainer.
“What’s the problem with you?”
Sheepishly the trainer averts his eyes from the center of Dave’s chest where the hair is so thick that one truly can only guess that there’s skin beneath. Halfheartedly pointing to the next machine he viscerally feels any authority he once had over Dave slip away.
“Just let me go.”
Knowing deep within himself that this is profoundly wrong, that the twink he was hired to keep fit and keep femme has grown into a man like he’s never seen, when Dave pushes past him towards the exit of the gym the only thing he can do is giggle from feeling his sweaty skin against his own. Dave doesn’t even look back as he stomps out of the gym, hairy feet exposed as the tennis shoes he had on finally give way to the massive stompers this top heavy body requires.
Left behind, the trainer feels lightheaded as the source of his confusion leaves him be. Slightly worried he’s going to get chewed out for something out of his control, by the time Dave pulls out his phone and begins walking towards Mattias’ he doesn’t even remember having Dave as a client. It’s not like his employers had any interest in fashion for men who think deodorant is optional.
Finally free from the gym, Dave allows the asshole blowing up his phone some attention. Every message is whinier than the one that came before. Scrolling up to the first, Dave finds it the usual aggressive diatribe he’d expect from a man he chose explicitly for being a macho loser but with every step closer to the present his messages tinge with emotion.
“I no u did this u little bitch when i see u its over
“Look idk what I did but u need to stop it. Please I cant show up to my boys lookin like this”
“Fine, shit! Maybe I deserved it but you gotta stop. I don’t want to be some hairless twink.”
“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease.”
Every message only makes the hunger within Dave grow. Reading Mattias beg and whine and cry only makes him feel more. Bigger, hairier, hornier. Each heavy step towards this man’s house hits harder as his thighs bulk up to support his widening chest and the thickening cock between them.
The mustache on his face thickens and hangs lower to cover the entirety of his upper lip. The dense thicket on his pecs decides it’s not enough as thick curls launch towards his shoulders and musty pits. His midsection continues to thicken as the thin arrow of a treasure trail that once pointed to his tangled pubes widens to engulf the whole of his heavy new muscle gut.
Gym shorts he didn’t remember changing into are taut on his ass as it sends a couple tears straight down his ass crack, partly exposing his jockstrap and the dense tangles it struggles to corral to the open air. Dave can’t help but continue to read Mattias’ appeals as he grows. Thick vein bulging down his biceps as a coat of curls races down his muscular shoulders to meet the prodigious jungle on his forearms.
Grunting as he feels his cock strain the front of his shorts he wonders if he’s going to make it to Mattias’ without being criminally indecent. Seeing his thick cockhead near the lip of his shorts he finds Mattias’ most recent messages have switched their tune.
“I’ll fucking do anything babe please, anything but my cock.”
“I wish I had a cock like yours…
“God you’re so hot, I just wish I could be more like you…”
Doubletaking at the idea of this once vainer than life machismo obsessed douche yearning to be like him, less than a moment later Dave smirks and remembers his reality. Of course Mattias wants to be like him, who wouldn’t. The twink’s wrapped around his meaty finger just like anyone lucky enough to get to ride on his cock would be. Scratching his hairy gut he decides he wants to see his prize.
Deigning to reply at last, Dave just sends two words. ‘Facetime me’
Within a second Dave’s phone is ringing for Mattias. Seeing his old profile picture Dave can’t recognize the middling man before him. Nothing like the twink he knows and loves to fuck, still he lets the mystery man’s face stay on his phone for a moment longer to leave Mattias waiting. Offering the perfect juxtaposition between Mattias’ new and old self.
“Hey daddyyyy~ Are you coming over or what?”
Even the most powerful supernatural effect couldn’t stop Dave from being stunned in his tracks, shocked at the twink, jittery with need, now performatively shimmying on the facetime call. Staring at the pathetic remains of the mustache and goatee Mattias once prided himself over, Dave feels his cock twitch and drip with pre as it finally escapes his shorts.
Accidentally grabbing a few curls on his thigh as he yanks his shorts back down to poorly hide his throbbing rod, Dave grunts in pain which causes Mattias to gasp as his thicker lips purse into a pout. “Are you okay baby?”
His airy whine drives Dave into one final wave of changes as he grunts out a “Be right over. You’d better be ready.” Shorts almost shearing off his meaty thighs as he begins sprinting towards his lay’s home, Dave pants like an animal in heat as he feels everything about him grow more extreme. No inch of skin is spared as his coat spreads to cover every inch of his sweaty skin.
Swinging between his legs, Dave makes no attempt to hide his thick cock during his flight. Prioritizing speed above everything, his hairy feet do their best and miraculously the accidental nudist arrives at Mattias’ house with nothing but his hairy ass having been seen.
Stumbling into the front door, always left unlocked for him, Dave follows his nose to the floral scented bedroom and finds Mattias just where he wants him. Even thinner and smoother than he was on their call moments ago, Dave smirks at the pouf of manicured curls on his head and the pitiful few strands of hair clinging to his pits, the dregs of his masculinity.
Pouncing on the bed to straddle Mattias, he sees a sparkle in the twink’s eyes as his massive cock bounces hard in the air. Shocked at just how large it is compared to Mattias thin waist he rests upon the small man and rubs his smooth skin with hands rough from the gym and a life lived with altogether no attention to skincare.
Feeling his cock buck of its own accord as it spews viscous pre onto Mattias’ hairless chest, Dave experiences for the first time just how powerful it feels to be The Man in bed, in a relationship, in life. Give him a few seconds and he might just cum from the very feeling.
Doing his best to restrain quick-cumming he leans down to whisper in Mattias’ ear, he feels his mustache scratch the twink’s regimented cheek. “Get on your stomach and let’s get this started.” Blushing like he’d never have done before, what is Mattias to do but obey the sexiest man he’s ever been with.
“Bro, you’re telling me.” Liam replied, as him and his two friends explored the penthouse.
It was fully decked out. A massive flatscreen in the living room, a fully stocked bar, a beautiful view of the beach. It was everything Liam could’ve wanted. Initially, when his soon to be father-in-law offered his penthouse for the bachelor party, Liam was shocked. Mr. Reynolds often used phrases like “irresponsible”, “waste of time”, and “not good enough for my daughter” when talking about Liam. And he wasn’t afraid to let Liam know too.
“Dude! There’s a flatscreen in each bedroom too!” Chris shouted from down the hall, “Fuck, you were right. This guy’s loaded!”
It was true. Liam was marrying the heiress of a massive tech company. And Mr. Reynonds was certainly loaded. But despite his reassurances that he loved Susie, not their money, the older man viewed him suspiciously. Liam came from a pretty humble background and the world of upper class living wasn’t something he was used to. But perhaps letting them use his penthouse was Mr. Reynolds’s way of showing acceptance.
“Okay boys.” Liam said, “We have a few days here. Let’s make ‘em count.” He tossed Jeremy and Chris each a beer. After a quick toast to what was going to be the most incredible bachelor party on Earth, they downed their beers.
________________
“Lookin’ good.” Liam chuckled as he inspected himself in the mirror, “Can’t believe you’re actually getting hitched.” He flexed his bicep, “Sorry ladies, I’m off the market. Oof, I’ll have to practice that line a bit.” He grinned.
Leaving the bathroom, he found Jeremy sipping a beer on the couch. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of blue swim trunks. His dark brown hair was well styled, and his face clean shaven. He had that boy-next- door look that caused the ladies to swoon.
“Yo Jeremy, what’s up?”
“Not much, just texting Sarah.” He replied, “I forgot to let her know I got here safe and she’s pissed.”
“Oh shit dude.” Liam patted his friend on the back, “I feel for you.” Sarah could be scary when she was angry, but otherwise she was a solid 10. Liam looked forward to the day Jeremy proposed.
“All good.” Jeremy sighed, “Where the fuck is Chris?” Liam shrugged, “He kept me up all fucking night. Fucker must’ve been horny. I’ve never heard anyone moan so loud in my life.”
“Not even Sarah?” Jeremy didn’t seem amused.
“Seriously, we need to get him a girlfriend or something.”
Liam chuckled, “I guess I slept through it.”
“Lucky you.” The door to Chris's room suddenly opened and both men turned.
“Hey boys, sorry to keep you waiting!” The sing songy voice threw them both off, and Liam’s jaw dropped when he saw Chris. His muscles were proudly on display as always. But it was the tight speedo showing off his impressive bulge that shocked him, “Oh, is something wrong?” His voice carried a breathy sultriness, which was unusual for their bro.
“Dude, I’m not one to judge, but don’t you think that’s a bit risqué?” Jeremy asked, raising an eyebrow, “What would Jesus say?” It was well known Chris was religious. In fact, Liam and Chris had met at their college’s church.
Chris shrugged and ran a hand through his curly light brown hair, “Oh this? You like?” He grinned and did a quick pose, “Come on boys, we’re burning daylight!” He said, sauntering towards the door.
________________
The walk to the beach was uncomfortable. Chris walked ahead of his two buddies at an unusually fast pace, his firm ass jiggling with each step. Liam didn’t even know where to begin. What the fuck had gotten into Chris? Usually they’d have to drag him to parties and give him pep talks to boost his confidence. But now? He was certainly turning heads.
“Wait, guys! Did you see that?” Chris asked, turning to his friends and waving excitedly, “That guy over there was totally checking me out!”
“Um, so what?” Jeremy asked, “Why do you care?”
“Do you think I should go after him? He was totally cute. And that ass- just wow.” Liam and Jeremy’s eyes widened, “What?”
“Are you gay?” Liam asked bluntly.
Chris placed a hand to his chin and shrugged, “Like totally! Since like forever probably.”
“Makes sense.” Jeremy said, “Repressed religious guys. It’s a thing.” But Liam was still having a somewhat hard time believing it. Was all their prior bro talk really a lie?
“Oh! He’s getting away!” Chris whined, “I’ll catch up with you later!” He blew them each a kiss and briskly walked over to the man from earlier, leaving Liam shook.
________________
Hours went by without hearing from Chris, and Liam’s mood tanked. Jeremy tried to cheer him up back at the penthouse. Beers and the big game on a flatscreen. Should’ve been perfect. But it wasn’t. Liam knew that Chris being gay shouldn’t matter. Good for him, right?
“Oh my god, that was incredible.” Chris said, gasping as he entered the penthouse, “How are my two besties doing?”
“Would’ve liked you around.” Liam replied, “It’s my bachelor party after all.”
Chris dramatically placed a hand to his sweaty chest, “Sue me for having fun!” His voice cracked and he headed towards his room, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room.”
Liam didn’t reply. Sure, Chris is gay. Fine. But acting like a stereotypically fruity drama queen? That didn’t make sense to him. He turned to Jeremy.
“Look, its late and I’m tired. The game sucks anyway.” He said, “I’m off to bed.”
“Same bro. Gotta be up early for our tee time anyway.”
They went to their respective bedrooms. Once there, Jeremy sighed. He hated seeing his friend like this, but what could he do? Talk to Chris maybe? He'd try to salvage this party. But when he finally got comfortable in bed, the TV suddenly turned on. He was greeted by static.
“Weird.” He mumbled. He tried to turn it off with the remote, but failed. Sighing, he got out of bed to turn it off. But as he got closer, he could hear a voice. It was soft, but forceful.
“You are a gay slut. You like to fuck men.”
Jeremy raised an eyebrow, “What the fuck?” He whispered. But the voice only got louder.
“You are a gay slut. Your dick only gets hard for men.” Jeremy felt woozy as the voice reverberated in his head.
“No, I’m straight... I like...” He moaned loudly as the voice drowned out his thoughts. At this point, the screen was flashing various scenes of gay porn and Jeremy’s dick started to swell, “No... fuck...” He breathed out, “I-I... ughhh.” He tried to imagine tits and his nights with Sarah. But these thoughts were instead swapped out with images of juicy, jiggling bubble butts and twerking men.
“You are a dominant top. You only fuck men.”
“I-I’m a gay slut?” Jeremy questioned, “I only like to fuck men?” That didn't sound right. Right? He never...
"You are a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride your dick."
His eyes became half lidded and vacant as the words carved his new reality.
“I’m a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride this cock." He said confidently, "I am a gay slut.”
Soon, the room filled with his pleasure-filled moans, his new reality taking hold over him.
________________
When Liam entered the living room the next morning, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jeremy was aggressively caressing Chris’s face, as the two made out on the couch with their erect dicks on full display.
“What the fuck?” Liam gasped as the two men turned towards him.
“Oh Liam! Good morning!” Chris sang, ending his kiss with Jeremy.
“Fuck, just who we were waiting for.” Jeremy commented in a lower, more gravelly voice, “We have something for you.”
“No, this is fucked. What the fuck?” Liam fumed, “What about Sarah? What were you thinking?”
Jeremy shrugged, “I only like fucking men.”
Liam shook his head, “No way, fuck that.” He replied, taking a step back.
“Oh goodness, you’re upset!” Chris whined, “No Liam baby, its okay. Here, watch this.”
Before Liam could say anything, Chris turned on the TV. Static filled his field of vision. But then he heard it. Faint at first, but present nonetheless.
“You are a gay slut.” It said, and Liam grabbed his head.
“What the fuck?” He cursed, stumbling slightly.
The voice was echoing from within his head. Desperately, he moved towards the TV, wanting to shut it off. But Jeremy grabbed his arm firmly and forced him to sit between them. Liam tried to fight back, to get away from his two friends, but he felt so disoriented. The voice continued.
“You are a gay slut. You like taking cock.” It said.
Liam yelped as a needle entered his skin. He looked down to see Chris dump the contents of a syringe into his arm.
“Wh-what was that?” Liam slurred.
“Don’t worry, cutie. Just listen to the voice.” He giggled.
Liam groaned as the voice got louder and louder, “You are a gay slut. A slutty bottom. You love taking cock.”
Liam looked down and watched as his body hair started to disappear. Gone was his light dusting of chest and belly hairs, leaving him smooth. At the same time, the scruff framing his face vanished. He looked over to Jeremy, who smirked at this new development.
“Oh look at that! It’s totally working!” Chris giggled.
“No shit. Reynolds must’ve given us the good stuff.” Jeremy remarked, slowly massaging his cock.
“The good stuff?” Liam slurred, his voice cracking, “Like, what are you talking about?”
“Good because I was getting bored.” Chris sighed, “I mean, Jeremy baby, you’re an expert kisser, but like, I need a hole.” Jeremy nodded in agreement.
“A hole?” Liam whispered.
He let out a pained moan as his body temperature suddenly spiked. Sweat poured from him as his musculature dwindled away. His hard earned muscles atrophied before his terrified eyes. His bulging biceps and triceps became thin and lean, while his juicy pecs rapidly deflated. In a matter of minutes, years of workouts and optimal dieting were undone, leaving Liam slim and fragile.
“Wow, he’s so light now.” Jeremy chuckled as he man-handled his friend onto his lap. Liam yelped at the sensation of Jeremy’s erect cock grinding against his hole.
“Oh and he’s gotten shorter too! What a cutie.” Chris cooed.
“Ah, ass is still bony though.” Jeremy commented, giving it a firm squeeze.
But Liam barely registered any of this. Instead, his thoughts were filled with the words echoing from the TV. His eyes became half-lidded at this point and his resistance was fading.
“You’re just a bottom, a hole to be used by other men. You are a gay slut.” The words continued, “You like being used by other men. Your only pleasure is from getting fucked.”
“I-I’m straight... I like... I like tits.” He knew his voice sounds more feminine somehow and he cringed, “I’m a straight man.” Jeremy and Chris smirked, “I-I...” images of men getting fucked in all kinds of positions flashed on the TV, “Ohhhh I... I... I’m a...” Liam’s handsome face lost its masculine edge and his hair became lighter in color. At the same time, his cock started to shrink. Inch after inch lost as it retracted back, “Noooooo.... not my cock...” He moaned, tears now stinging at his eyes. His manhood, his masculinity. It was being stolen from him. And he was unable to stop it.
“Your only pleasure comes from your ass.”
Liam moaned again and this time his ass started to fill with jiggly fat. He could feel the extra padding build upon itself, his slim cheeks turning into mounds of soft flesh. And as Jeremy squeezed his ass again, pleasure filled his slim frame.
“Much better.” Jeremy remarked, his fingers massaging Liam’s hole, “Fuck, this is gonna feel so good.”
“Mhmm.” Chris replied, grabbing his own fistful of Liam’s juicy ass.
“Ohhhhhhhh yesssssss.” Liam slurred.
“So, what are you?” Jeremy asked.
“I-I’m...” Part of him didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to acknowledge it. But as his lips plumped up into gorgeous cock suckers, and Jeremy’s teasing fingers penetrated him deeper, Liam was drowning in too much pleasure to care, “I...I...” The voice was so loud. It egged him on, beckoned him to admit his new truth. He wanted- no needed- to be like the men on the screen. To be fucked and used by other men. Who was he kidding? He knew what he was, “I’m like a total gay slut! I love cock.” He turned his head to look at Jeremy, then Chris, “Please daddies, use me! I need your cocks!” He begged.
And his new lovers were happy to oblige.
________________
In the afterglow of sex, the three men sat panting heavily on the couch. Liam was curled up between his two lovers, still rubbing their dicks. Despite draining them each multiple times over, he needed more. But his horny thoughts were interrupted by a video call. He grabbed his phone and smiled.
“Hey Mr. Reynolds!” Liam slurred, “Like, we love your penthouse.”
Mr. Reynolds grinned, “I can tell.” His eyes sparkled with satisfaction, “Look at you Liam. My god. You turned out better than expected. The boys at the lab earned their salaries with this one.” Liam nodded along, not really understanding the implication, “How do you feel?”
“Like a total gay slut.” He grinned, “And I love it, like so much, Mr. Reynolds.”
“Well I’m glad to hear.” he chuckled, “And are your friends treating you well?” Liam adjusted the phone so the older man could see his two lovers, who were both fast asleep, “Well looks like you have two very satisfied customers.”
Liam grinned, “Like totally.” A sense of satisfaction filling him, “Oh! Like, can you let Susie know the wedding is off? I’m like, so sorry.”
“Of course, it would be my pleasure. She’ll understand.” Mr. Reynolds replied- mission accomplished, “Now, get back to your party. Enjoy the penthouse for as long as you want.”
Liam’s eyes lit up, “OMG thank you!” The call ended, “Did you hear that?” Liam asked, his two lovers stirring awake.
And so their party continued- and it would for days. Their lives forever changed, and them none the wiser to it. But if their pleasure filled moans were anything to judge by, they certainly weren’t complaining.
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At Sirenbills Coffee, Brock drinks his coffe when this guy got his attention. Luke sat across from his friend, nursing a lukewarm latte and slouching in his oversized hoodie. The usual complaint spilled out again.
“I don’t know, man… I just keep striking out. Girls talk to me but nothing ever happens.”
His friend smirked. “Dude, you’re jacked under all those baggy clothes. Just show off the goods a little.”
Luke’s cheeks burned. “Nah… I’m too shy for that shit.”
He turned, confused. “Hey, this is my room—who the hell are you?”
---
Later that afternoon, Luke had just gotten back to his dorm room when the door clicked open.
Brock stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Before Luke could react, Brock cupped his smooth face with one large, warm hand.
The touch sent a thick, syrupy wave of heat crashing through Luke’s mind. His shyness, his insecurities, his quiet nature—all of it melted away instantly, replaced by something new. Something hungry. Something shameless.
“You don’t need to be shy anymore,” Brock murmured, voice deep and commanding. “You’re my flex boy now. Your only purpose is to show off for me. Strip down, flex every muscle, and crave my eyes on you. No more shy guy — just my eager, cocky muscle toy.”
Luke’s eyes glazed over with pure, needy lust. A cocky, attention-hungry grin spread across his face as the new personality took root.
“Yes, Owner,” he purred, voice already dripping with bratty confidence.
He ripped off his baggy hoodie in one dramatic motion, tossing it aside carelessly. The breathtaking young physique underneath was finally free—smooth, flawless skin stretched tight over dense, sculpted muscle. His pecs were full, rounded slabs with sharp lower cuts and perky nipples begging for attention. His abs formed a tight, deeply etched eight-pack that flexed and rippled with every breath, framed by dramatic V-lines and serratus that looked carved with a blade. Broad, capped shoulders flowed into thick, peaked biceps and vascular forearms. Every inch of him screamed youthful power and definition.
Luke immediately struck a sharp double bicep pose, flexing hard while pushing his chest forward. His biceps peaked dramatically, veins popping as the muscle fibers stood out in sharp relief.
“Look at me, Owner,” he demanded, voice already whiny with need. “Don’t you dare look away. This body is all yours — watch how it flexes for you.”
He flowed smoothly into a side chest pose, making his thick pecs bounce and his abs crunch down into even deeper cuts. When Brock’s gaze lingered appreciatively, Luke moaned softly, clearly getting off on the attention. But when Brock glanced down at his own hands for even a second, Luke’s expression shifted into a pout.
“Hey! Eyes on me,” he complained brattyly, stepping closer and thrusting his chest toward Brock’s face. “I’m flexing my ass off for you and you’re not even looking? That’s so unfair…”
Brock chuckled, clearly amused by the sudden personality shift, and grabbed a handful of Luke’s firm pec, squeezing hard. Luke gasped in pleasure, immediately lighting up again.
“Better,” he breathed, voice turning needy and slutty. He hit a most muscular crab pose, neck thickening, traps rising, every muscle from his shredded abs to his striated delts popping in vascular glory. “Fuck… I love it when you stare like that. Keep looking. Touch me more. I need it.”
Completely stripped of his former shyness, Luke became an insatiable attention whore — posing, flexing, and teasing without shame. He ran his own hands over his body, squeezing his pecs together and tracing his abs while keeping his eyes locked on Brock, desperate for every second of his Owner’s focus. If Brock’s touch slowed even slightly, Luke would whine and press harder against him, grinding his now rock-hard cock against Brock’s thigh.
“Owner, please… don’t stop looking at your flex boy,” he begged, voice bratty and dripping with lust. “I’ll do anything to keep your eyes on me. Just tell me how you want me to show off next.”
Brock grinned, hands roaming greedily over every ridge and curve of muscle. “Good boy. This is who you are now.”
Luke shivered with delight, already flexing harder, completely addicted to being Brock’s shameless, attention-starved muscle slut.
A little Valentine's Day story I wrote for my favourite @mrwavellswaps.
~~~
“Okay, say that again just so I’m clear.” Libby raised an eyebrow as she sipped her coffee, a quizzical expression pointed in the direction of her friend Lewis.
Lewis blushed a little. “I was wondering if you’d help me do something romantic for valentine's day by using your magic to transform my boyfriend into his ideal self?” He said, looking slightly embarrassed by being forced to repeat the request.
“And why exactly do you think I’d do something like that?” She replied as her coffee cup still hovered in the air without her having to hold it.
Lewis winced. “Because I’m your oldest friend and you love me a lot and this is the first guy I’ve got this serious with?”
“Firstly, you’re wrong.” Libby scoffed. “Zero is my oldest friend, I’ve known him at least 50 years longer than you.”
A small red dragon poofed into existence around Libby’s shoulders and sent a small puff of fire in Lewis’s direction in a way of saying hello. Despite looking like a woman in her late 20’s, Libby was far older than she looked. Lewis had never asked exactly how old for fear of being rude to a powerful witch, but he’d worked out she couldn’t be younger than 80. They’d met when Lewis was just a kid and his family had moved in next door to her, and now here he was over 20 years later having coffee with a woman that hadn’t aged a day since they first met.
“Secondly,” Libby continued, her expression softening. “Of course I’ll help you Lewis. Least I could do for my oldest human friend after all. It’s not like it would be too hard either. For normal witches maybe, but it’s pretty simple stuff when you’ve been kicking around as long as me.”
Lewis let out a sigh of relief. Part of him had been expecting a flat no, or to have to beg more, so this had been easier than expected. “You will? Seriously Lib you have no idea how much this means. He’s going to shit a brick when he realises all the witchy occult stuff is actually real.”
“You want me to make him do that too? Because I can, you know. It wouldn’t be the first time either, though I’d probably be gentler on Oscar when the brick comes out than-”
Lewis sputtered through the mouthful of tea he’d just drank. “No! No, god no. I don’t need my boyfriend shitting an actual brick thank you, just the physical transformation is fine.”
Libby shrugged and tried to look nonchalant, but it was obvious she was hiding a laugh. “Suit yourself little Lewis, each to their own or whatever that saying is. February fourteenth when you want it to happen then? Sometime in the early morning so you can enjoy it?”
Lewis smiled. “Yeah, that would be perfect honestly. And you’re sure this isn’t too much to ask?”
“Not in the slightest.” Libby smiled affectionately, as if a mother would at a son, at Lewis. “You’ve never asked for anything Lewis, you even turned down my offer to help you cheat on your exams as a teenager. Lewis, no one does that. So this one thing? Of course I’ll do it, especially when you and Oscar are the cutest couple I’ve seen in a long time.”
Lewis blushed and scratched the back of his neck. “Thank you Libby, really.”
“You’re welcome.” Libby grabbed the coffee cup from where it still hung in the air and drained the last of it. “Now, as much as I’d love to sit around and chat, I’ve got several rare ingredients to go and gather, and a nice big steak to cook up for Zero here.” The small dragon around Libby’s shoulders chirped happily, then let out another small puff of fire in Lewis’s direction before he vanished again.
“So the morning of the fourteenth?” Lewis asked once he’d stood up and slid his coat back on.
Libby nodded. “The morning of the fourteenth, three days' time. Three days before everything changes.”
In a dramatic flash Libby vanished from the cafe and left Lewis standing alone by their table. He waved goodbye to the owner as he walked towards what appeared to be a solid brick wall, only to pass straight through it. Witch cafe’s hid themselves to ordinary folk like him usually to allow their patrons the freedom to be themselves, he could only get in because Libby had brought him there first. He walked out of the alleyway he’d emerged in from the cafe, and glanced around before he slipped out and blended back in with the rest of the crowd to carry on with his day.
~~~
Valentine’s Day couldn’t come quick enough for Lewis. The three days between his chat with Libby and when he finally woke up in bed with Oscar that morning felt like they took years, but he was finally there. The two of them regularly stayed over at each other’s places, it was rare they spent a night apart at this point, and this time they were curled up in Lewis’s bed.
“Morning sleepyhead…” Oscar said softly as he kissed the back of Lewis’s neck. “Happy Valentine's day.”
Lewis let out a low groan in acknowledgement as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Morning babe…”
There was a chuckle from behind him and another kiss pressed against the back of Lewis’s neck. “Never been a morning person have you? I’ll get you coffee.”
“No… don’t get out of bed.” Lewis whined as he reached behind him to grab Oscar’s arm. “You’re warm…” He mumbled.
Lewis was trying to pass it off as just his usual morning sleepiness, which was half true, but in reality he didn’t want his boyfriend to leave because he knew his gift should be kicking in any second. “As soon as you’re both awake it’ll start, best way I can time it.” Libby had texted him the previous evening. He didn’t want to miss a second of what was about to happen.
Both Lewis and Oscar were fairly average in the looks department. Not unattractive by any definition, but not the absolute knockout’s that both of them tended to thirst over either. Lewis was a tiny bit shorter than his boyfriend, just over 5’8 whereas Oscar stood at around 5’11. He was slightly more well built than his boyfriend too, being the only one of the two of them that attempted any kind of activity in the gym left him with a small amount more muscle than the relatively slim build Oscar had. There was the hair too. Both had a similar colour brown hair, but Lewis tended to keep a full beard and had a decent amount more body hair than Oscar, who himself kept his facial hair trimmer fairly short.
Oscar smiled and settled back down onto the bed as Lewis rolled over to face him. “If you want to stay in bed all day that’s more than okay with m-” A strange shiver ran through Oscar’s body and he groaned, then ran his hand over his forehead with an obvious look of discomfort. “Fuck… something’s up babe!”
Lewis sat bolt upright, his eyes wide as a shimmer of what he recognised as Libby’s magic ran over Oscar’s entire body. “Listen babe, it’s okay. Just let it happen and I’ll explain afterwards okay? This is my Valentine’s day gift to you, I promise the discomfort will be worth it!”
There was a flash of recognition in Oscar’s eyes that confused Lewis for a moment, but no words as his lover continued to groan and shift around uncomfortably. Lewis was a little worried, right up until the first signs of the transformation started.
Oscar’s body started to get pulled outwards in every direction. It was like someone was blowing air into his body as his previously skinny frame started to expand, only Lewis could tell it was muscle and not air that was filling his boyfriend’s body up. Oscar had always had a slender, narrow build, so one of the first things the magic did as he started to grow was to push his shoulders wider, which broadened his whole body. He looked a good deal more thickly set now, and the muscle had barely started to grow from what Lewis could see.
“Fucking hell Lewis…” Oscar said as he felt the changes push his body further along.
Now he’d gotten broader, the magic had far more room to start to pile the muscle onto his body. Oscar’s shoulders grew wider still as they became two thick boulders, a powerful looking frame that was almost double what he’d been moments ago. This in turn pulled his back outwards as his lats flared out to keep up with the massive increase in size. The lines of muscle that ran across the massive expanse of flesh that was now Oscar’s back could be seen under the slight layer of fat there; a sign of what was to come. His arms didn’t miss out either, as biceps and triceps beefed up just like his back and shoulders had. They were forced out to the sides as his new biceps warred for space with his back muscles; he’d have to walk with that familiar swagger of a bulky jock that couldn’t quite fit his arms down by his sides.
Lewis could instantly tell what was next and he watched Oscar reach up and start to grab at his chest. The muscle pushed out around his fingers as he kneaded the two slabs, larger and thicker until it was like two watermelons had been shoved under his skin. Oscar’s new pecs were large and heavy, soft as he squeezed them, but Lewis knew they’d be hard as a rock if his lover flexed. Added to that was a strong core. He didn’t have visible abs under the slight layer of fat that covered them, but along with the hair that was starting to grow up and over the front of his body it gave Oscar a very sexy muscled torso.
Along with the hair that had started to cover his new torso, the hair on his head wasn’t spared either. Everything took on a lighter blond tone as it thinned out a touch on top of his head, shaved almost completely. His facial hair grew fuller too, an even layer of blond hair across a stronger jaw that Lewis couldn’t wait to feel as it scratched against his skin.
“I can’t believe… You had this idea too…” Oscar panted as the changes to his face finished up. “Haven’t noticed… Have you…?” He continued when all he got from Lewis was a very confused look.
Lewis couldn’t work out what his boyfriend was going on about. He glanced down, fully expecting to see his regular self, only to find a pair of massively muscular, hairy thighs in place of what he knew should be there. Lewis ran his hands over them, though the dense hair and new muscle as he marvelled at the sight. He’d always wanted to be bigger, hence why he attempted to workout when he could, but had never made enough progress to have thighs easily bigger than his head.
“W-What the fuck??” He exclaimed. “Libby was supposed to do you, not me!”
Oscar huffed out a laugh. “You too huh? We really do share the same brain cell don’t we?”
“B-But you don’t know-”
Lewis didn’t get a chance to say anymore before both men’s changes continued. Now Lewis was aware of them he could watch in awe as his body grew just as Oscar’s did. Though going in opposite directions, both had reached the point where their cocks, balls and asses had come time to change. Lewis still couldn’t feel anything despite being able to see that his ass was expanding before his eyes, unlike Oscar who was once again back to groaning in a mix of pain and pleasure. Two large muscular cheeks topped off the massive thighs that had appeared out of nowhere, whilst Oscar’s own larger ass was just the beginning of the change to his lower body.
The pair watched as their cocks grew to their full hardness. They were both fairly average in that department, somewhere between five and six inches for both. Only, once they were both as hard as they knew they could get, their cocks kept going. Their lengths continued to get harder, a few more inches of length at least were added on if either man had to guess. Along with that, their balls grew swollen and heavy with cum, and rounded out the changes that left the two with huge packages between their legs.
Now that part of their bodies had finished up, Oscar and Lewis were back to changing in opposite directions. For Oscar whose upper body had completely transformed, all that was left for him was his legs. He could hardly be expected to hold all the new size with his comparatively tiny legs, so they soon followed suit with his ass and grew muscular and thick just as Lewis’s lower body already had. Oscar had finally finished growing. The new jock flopped back on the bed and panted a little more as he caught his breath, and enjoyed the sight of his massive chest as it heaved up and down with each gulp of air.
Meanwhile, Lewis was still watching himself. Massive hairy thighs and a well above average cock already gained, he got to marvel at the sight of the transformation as it continued its way upwards. His stomach was a little more defined than Oscar’s was from what he could see as it hardened, but it was becoming hard to see clearly under the pelt of hair that was growing up his torso past his abs. He’d always loved body hair, so the thick layer of it over his legs and now upper body was a welcome sight to Lewis.
Although he didn’t have the same intense feelings, Lewis was actually a little glad for that as his chest started to swell as he’d watched Oscar’s do moments earlier. There was a noticeable difference in how his chest felt the bigger the muscles grew, a delicious weight to them that Lewis knew he wouldn’t ever get bored of. As he reached up to grab at two hairy mounds, Lewis realised his arms too had grown substantially bigger as he’d been distracted by his chest. He folded his arm up and flexed, unable to help the grin that spread over his face.
“Looks like you’re almost finished.” Oscar said from where he laid to watch Lewis grow. “Enjoying my present to you then?” He continued with a knowing smirk on his handsome face.
Lewis looked up from his body. “You fucking bet I am! Did… Did you go to Libby too? How did you know she was a witch?” He asked, since he hadn’t known that Oscar knew magic even existed.
Oscar shrugged. “It was an accident honestly. I walked in on her doing magic to fix her makeup at that party we had last summer, and apparently she ‘couldn’t be fucked with more damn mind wiping bullshit that month’, so just sat me down at showed me everything. Swore me to secrecy, and I guess she didn’t think to mention you knew about her abilities too. I asked her about a week ago if it was at all possible to do this to you, and she said yes.”
“I’ve known since I was ten babe, when she made me float whilst babysitting me.” Lewis snorted with laughter at the memory.
Oscar sat up and reached out to cup Lewis’s cheek with one hand. “Now look at you, all grown up into a big strong man thanks to her magic…”
The hand against his face made Lewis realise two things. Firstly, that Libby had already known about Oscar’s request when he’d asked and never mentioned it, or that he now knew about her magic. Secondly, was the full, bushy beard he now apparently had. He could feel the hair under Oscar’s hand pressed against his skin, and had once again not noticed himself change. He’d have to ask Libby about both of those things when he got a chance, but right now he was more focused on his gorgeous boyfriend.
Lewis twisted around and grabbed a couple of valentine’s day themed teddy bears off the nightstand they’d given each other last night, then turned back to face Oscar. “Well.. This was certainly the best Valentine's day ever, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I think these two were absolutely my favourite gift today…” Oscar held his arms out towards Lewis, but just when he thought his lover was going to grab at the teddy bears, instead he gave Lewis’s pecs a hard squeeze.
Lewis moaned. “Oh fuck babe… Don’t stop!”
Oscar happily complied. He shuffled a little closer on the bed and continued to squeeze his boyfriend’s new hairy pecs. Lewis couldn’t stop himself when he pushed his chest forwards a little and closed his eyes to enjoy all the new feelings; the even denser layer of hair over his chest, the juicy pecs his lover was playing with, everything about his new self felt unbelievable.
Things heated up from there. Oscar enjoyed Lewis’s pecs, but there was something else his body was urging him to do as well. He let go and got even closer, then before Lewis quite knew what was going on, Oscar had lifted up one of his boyfriend’s arms and pressed his face into his armpit. Oscar breathed deeply once there, then sighed as he took in the new intense smell.
“God you smell fucking good…” Oscar mumbled into the dense bush of hair as he took it all in. “Don’t you dare fucking shower today, god damn…”
Lewis raised an eyebrow as he watched the curious scene of his boyfriend going crazy for his scent. “Then you better stay down there and enjoy it babe, make the most of it today, because I’m gonna have to shower one day.” He said as he brought a hand to the back of Oscar’s head and held his lover deep under his arm.
Oscar’s cock was pressed tightly against Lewis’s leg as he inhaled the delicious smell. It was ripe and musky, an intense stink that fogged up his brain and had his cock leaking all over the skin it was trapped against. Oscar thrust his hips gently as he took it all in, which inadvertently made his furred stomach rub up against Lewis’s cock, and drive them both harder towards their orgasm. They were both already rock hard from the transformations, and both knew it wouldn’t take much more to tip them over the edge.
“Come on babe, take it all in… You love it don’t you? Me finally stinking like a real man should.” Lewis said as he started to rock his hips back in time with Oscar’s movements. “Maybe I just won’t shower for a while, let it get real strong. Would that be a good Valentine’s day gift for you?”
Oscar nodded. Just the idea of his boyfriend’s smell growing even stronger drove him insane with lust. He pressed himself deeper and continued inhaling, then before he realised he was so close, he came all over Lewis’s hairy thigh. He moaned into his boyfriend’s armpit as he rocked his hips a couple more times and felt a splatter against his stomach, accompanied by a deep groan from above him. Lewis had cum too as the pair got lost in their new selves.
~~~
Three days later Oscar and Lewis were sitting in the same magic friendly cafe Lewis had met Libby in a week ago. The witch once again sat across the table and sipped a coffee as she admired her work. Both men had turned out even better than expected, and were dressed appropriately for their new selves too. Both had gone for sleeveless hoodies, partially unzipped to show off every inch of their new hunky bodies.
“So you like how you’ve ended up? No notes on anything you’d like different?” Libby asked, even though she had a good idea of the answer already.
The pair shared a look, and both shook their heads at the same time. “No, we’re actually great as is I think.” Oscar said.
“I was wondering one thing actually…” Lewis leant forwards in his chair a little. “Why didn’t I feel myself changing? Oscar was moaning up a storm, but I didn’t even notice it happening.
Libby waved a hand dismissively. “Oh that’s quite simple. You’re used to what magic feels like, mine in particular. You’ve been surrounded in it since you were a child, so it was only natural you didn’t feel it working on your body. You’ve never felt it before when I’ve helped you get over illnesses faster than usual without telling you, so why would you have felt this?”
Lewis blinked. “You… You really did that?” Lewis paused as he thought about it, and realised she was telling the truth. He’d never been ill for very long for as far back as he could remember. “Huh, well thank you I guess.”
“It’s no trouble dear. Now, you two be sure to enjoy those bodies okay? Reality will settle around you, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed. So have fun!”
Both men smiled warmly at the witch. “We will Libby, we’ll make the most of it, you can be sure of that!” Oscar said and tucked his hands in pockets. The small, velvet box inside there felt like it was burning his hand as he stared at Lewis. He had been waiting for just the right moment, and something told him that moment would be coming up any day now.
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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.
Quick to agree with Blaine’s appraisal that the four of them would certainly be less than popular on the app if this is the clientele, Guy certainly sees the benefit in downloading it for a constant stream of eye candy if nothing else. He’s halfway to drooling at dancing bodies when Clint turns the screen off, the debate apparently having come to a head without his input.
Blaine’s unsure if he’s arguing against the app for Clint’s own good or if he’s just jealous that his friend has the confidence to throw his hat into a ring of men who live in a different bracket of existence. Either way, he swears his friend is going to regret trying to sign up. “Look babe, I just don’t want you to be hurt or embarrassed if they don’t take your application to ‘join the Gandr’ or whatever the fuck their little tagline is.”
For the first time hearing anything of substance about this app, Guy shakes out of his horny stupor. “Ohh, so you need to be approved or something?”
Blaine and Clint respond at once, the former squinting in irritation while the latter nods peaceably.
“Girl have you just been mindlessly ogling at those probably ai-generated PNGs??”
“And agree to their terms and conditions, but you need to do that before literally going into, like, a Claire’s these days.”
Sven nods along sagely while nursing his second drink and the group devolve into their more standard shenanigans. Discussing board games, reality tv, and the ongoing petty grievances from their everyday jobs, no one watches as Clint taps away at his screen applying to make a profile on Gandr.
When at last brunch ends and they go their separate ways, none are the wiser as Clint’s rushed application launches a series of events that are to land all of them slots on that app he’s so eager to join. The first of which goes to who else but himself. By the time he arrives home there is an invitation sitting in his inbox.
Clint Darwin thank you for your interest in Gandr! We can’t wait to like, share, and spread your profile! To finally join your fellow gay hunks in this online paradise there are only two final easy steps!
Ecstatic to be accepted and welcomed into an exclusive community alongside men so hot they boggle his mind, Clint agrees to the terms without giving them a second thought. Sure they can do whatever they want with his biometric data and obviously he’s more than happy to recommend three of his friends to join!
Typing each of his variably disinterested friend’s contact information into Gandr, Clint impatiently clicks more than a few boxes signing off on whatever the app asks of him as he rushes to finalize a profile. When he finally reaches that fabled grid where he can add the five or six expertly curated pictures of himself, he sits up straight and grins before a large error sign fills the screen.
We’re so excited to welcome you into the Gandr! Last thing’s last- Our expert team needs to make a few subtle changes so you can fit our desired user base. The better you fit in the more you can show everyone else what they’re missing out on! Remember: What’s good for the Gandr is good for you!
And so the second shoe falls. Self-confidence shot, Clint placidly assumes this is them calling him an uggo. It seems Blaine was right all along and the app is just going to take his application fee and leave him high and dry. Clint reassures himself that at least his friend won’t try to apply so Blaine won’t even know to rub this in his face.
Reading the message again, his eyes latch onto the final motto: What’s good for the Gandr… Clint feels the tagline sink slightly more in to his wounded ego. What’s good for the Gandr. Wondering what ‘a few subtle changes’ even means or how the stupid app even knows what he looks like. Seconds away from closing the app, he believed in for good, his eyes shoot to a swirling loading symbol and half a second later, the screen flashes red.
Unblinkingly staring into the swirling symbol as a thin line scans his face from chin to thinning hairline, the doubt he had of Gandr only seconds ago is forcefully yanked from his mind. How could he ever doubt the app! It wants what’s best for him and he it. When at last his vision recovers from the blinding scarlet light, he sees a small little animation of Gandr’s founder giving him a thumbs up.
Smiling at the chibi man, Clint doesn’t even read the short message explaining the process he is about to undergo to more align with Gandr’s mission. Instead he sees the screen refresh to a profile already fully made and filled with pictures of an almost impossibly buff young man. Perhaps a decade younger than the pushing late 30’s Clint, the man prepares to scroll away and find someone more fitting for his lifestyle before he realizes his name is attached to the profile.
Clint Darwin
Cooper D.
Yeah. Yeah that’s his name. But, that’s not a picture of him, is it?
Slightly woozy as a few of Gandr’s catchier mantras begin to trickle into his mind, Cli Cooper tries to shake off the stupor and nearly falls over. Leaning onto his kitchen counter, the delirious man struggles to pull himself onto a kitchen stool.
“Man… When did it get so, uhh, hot in here?” Reaching to fan his shirt, Coop suddenly realizes how heavy his arms are as even the slightest movement feels like he’s lifting weights heavier than he can conceive. Every twitch is a workout as he tries to wipe sweat from his forehead before it can run down into his stubble. Furrowing his brows, unaware as they begin to bleach and lighten, Cooper’s confused to find his facial hair thinning. Would’ve sworn he had a full beard?
Looking to a mirror he stationed in the corner of his studio for fit checks, Cooper watches as the last of his scraggly beard is sucked into his jawline as his skin tightens and shifts rosier. Lips plumping as his surly brown eyes speckle green like seafoam, Coop can’t help but smile as his dark brown hair starts to bleach into the sunday blonde of a man who lives at the beach.
“God I look good~”
His smile continues to widen as his mind asserts ‘of course I do! Everyone on Gandr is a stud.’ And then he begins to grow. Still clad in the cardigan he went to the bar in, the stitches soon strain as his arms lengthen before beginning to bulk. Bicpes the same size as his needly forearms balloon into meaty weapons earned from countless sessions at the gym.
Seams tear at the first sign of Cooper’s bloating body, buttons begin to fly off his cardigan as his upper body expands into that of a man whose sole concern is looking hot. Feeling the discomfort of fabric holding him back he attempts to wield his bulging arms to remove what is now more scraps of fabric than clothing. Even beginning this movement tears the rest of his shirt to ribbons.
Freed to the air in spite of his pathetic attempts, two massive pecs burst onto his chest as rows of perfect abs pound onto his torso below them. Back widening as his waist tapers into a figure that will always cause needy men to double take, Cooper rubs his sweaty abs and chest as his previously scratchy hair softens into little more than a few blonde curls that may as well leave him hairless.
His hands crack wider as they follow his changes down. Suddenly able for his much larger feet to rest on the floor while sitting on the high stool, his longer legs bloat into heavy thighs as the package in between them throbs into a rod that a jock top like him demands. More rips tear into his skintight pants, leaving a handful of alluring holes for his tasty thighs to catch eyes.
All the while, in between hungrily watching and feeling the power and beauty amassing in his new body, Cooper’s mind has been pushing Gandr’s mission and ideals more to the forefront. Hobbies and work that once belonged to a bygone man are simply washed away so that Cooper may throw himself into recruiting more men to join him on the platform.
After all, who wouldn’t want to be here with a man like him.
Posing in the mirror, what was once just a subconscious desire to get more men on Gandr becomes his driving purpose. Even as Cooper feels his cock throb while flexing his new massive bicep, he knows he would feel even better if he had his gang with him. He needs to usher them into what is going to be the best place for gay men on the internet. In the world.
● ●
While Sven and Blaine may be trickier marks, Guy is an incredibly easy sell. Having received the preliminary invite from Clint’s invitation, Guy was already scrolling through the promo material himself, eyes thirstily taking in every shirtless man thrown his way. Though, even he was hesitant to make a profile as he’s not overeager to beef up his left-swiped statline.
No, he’s happy to just be a lech from the outside. At least that's what he tells himself. Each new sexy hunk chips away more at his resolve. It wouldn't be so bad would it? To be a Gandr Man. But he- He doesn’t really want to be on a dating app. Gandr’s not a dating app. It’s for everything. It is everything. It’s just a place for men like him.
“Oh shit.” Shaking free from his stupor, unwilling to acknowledge the strange almost-ads playing in his mind, Guy looks up to see his bus peeling away. The idea of decency finally returns to the man as he stands to just walk home, adjusting his pants to hide that he has a semi from gawking at men.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that, he tells himself. They submitted these pics to be used in advertising, they want to be looked at. Shoot he would too if he looked like them. You can look like them, you just need to join. This sends a shiver up his spine, he remembers all these studies about subliminal messaging from way back in undergrad. Must be something like that. Pupils quiver as he wonders if he even minds.
Swearing to himself that he’s written off the idea together, his surely impenetrable self-control immediately crumbles when he gets a text from Coop. Guy double takes at the name, feeling like it should be in his phone as something else. Cooper probably? The slight confusion pales in comparison to the message sent
Accompanying a brief text asking that he go ahead and join is a picture of Coop that Guy can’t help but drool at. The shreds of memory of the man who existed before Cooper are blasted away along with whatever hesitation remained as he stares at his friend’s massive thighs and an upper body so built it can’t just be natural.
He’s been right by his friend’s side as he built that killer bod though! All the while building up his own so he can show off and get some with his sq- uh? Guy takes a beat to look at his unimpressive body and is confused why he thought he had a body anywhere nearly as impressive as Cooper’s. All he needs to do is sign up.
Making sure he’s walking in the vague direction of home, Guy returns to his phone to sign up only to find he has already clicked the link sent by Coop and is well on his way to being a Gandr Man. Scrolling past walls of text including diversity statements and waiving application fees for AAPI applicants, Guy clicks every agreement without a beat; As if his hands already knew exactly where every dotted line was.
Before he rounds the block, Guy is already well on his way to being just like the countless men on Gandr he’s been obsessing over. Agreeing to help create promotional material and for them to algorithmically create the perfect profile for him, Guy submits his application and is immediately approved. Seeing the confirmation, he feels a tickle in his chest that he at first mistakes for his usual anxiety.
Brimming with excitement at the idea of meeting his perfect partner and joining a crew of like-minded (more importantly, like-bodied) men, Guy doesn’t notice as his attention is drawn to a loading symbol that fills his mind with algorithmic tricks and the perfect strategies for getting ahead on social media. Head suddenly heavy with far more knowledge about soliciting clicks with a body he doesn’t have yet, Guy’s too absorbed in planning his upcoming deals as his hair lengthens into a dark, trendy middle-part befitting a younger man.
With a twitch his whole head compacts for a far twunkier effect as his baby-blue eyes stain to a shade as dark as the black screen in his hands. The discomfort in his chest only continues to rise as two heavy pecs begin to bounce with every clumsy step homeward. Soon enough he feels two pert nipples, dragging uncomfortable against his shirt.
Need to get a pump on for some pics. No question in his mind, Guy Samlain starts jogging down the street. Hair retracts on his forearms as they brown and glisten under the afternoon sun. So too does his chest begin to tan with his splotchy new skintone as his pecs bulk large enough to pop off a few buttons.
Feeling his hitherto heavy gut tighten and smooth with every strutting step onward, Samlain smirks as he imagines how hot he’s going to look on the profile Gandr makes for him. Getting a little too excited about all the men he’s going to convince to join him on the app, he needs to adjust his gait as his little Samlain starts to help hold up sweatpants starting to sag on his thinner waist.
Panting as he sweats through his shirt, it’s not long before he realizes there’s no need to be wearing one at all. As he yanks it off and bares his muscled up new body, Samlain grins as immediately he starts catching eyes. Reaching up to tousle his hair he realizes he should be catching this on camera for the app!
Setting up his phone on a tripod, like he’s done so a million times, Sam feels his sweaty pits scratch between his bulging biceps and bouncing chest. It’s the only place body hair remains on him and he’s gotta show it off, Gandr knows what its users want and all.
Sam steps back and plays with his hair again, expertly performing cutesy twunk realness despite every move being carefully calculated and controlled. He can practically see the men frothing at their mouths as he tilts his head and plays with his pec. Knowing it’s not long at all before his oversized underwear falls to his feet, Samlain finishes his journey home and takes a quick selfie to send to Blaine. Gonna be all hands on deck to convince that whiny stick in the mud to give in.
● ● ●
Only a few blocks away, Sven is sobering up from their sloppy brunch before a quick shift at a plant shop down towards the beach. Sun shining on his still merry face, the man doesn’t even notice the first few notifications sent to him by Gandr and the man formerly known as Clint.
No, happy-go-lucky as he always is, Sven simply enjoys the morning and reflects over the more pleasant conversations from the time with his boys. For obvious reasons this does not include even a moment of their chat about Grando or whatever that dating app was. At least, not until he sees a massive poster for the platform being actively pasted onto a wall.
Taking a breather to inspect it and relearn that the app is apparently named Gandr, Sven is shocked to see Cl- Cooper’s familiar, gleaming smile looking down at him. He doesn’t know how his paper teeth can even look so shiny. Snapping a pic, for a moment he thinks Cooper looks far more musclebound than he usually is and starts to excitedly text that he saw his in an ad.
But then he remembers just how commonplace it is for him to see Cooper or, uh, Samlain when he’s scrolling or walking the pier. As the thought strikes him Sven sees a similar poster of Sam going up. Scratching his exposed chest as he frowns slightly, Sven deletes his half-typed message and at last finds the texted invite from Coop.
Well shoot, it would be rude not to check out his friend’s whole thing. He’s gotten them to show up countless times to buy pothos or succulents or whatever plant he accidentally over-ordered. And he’s just a clerk! Obviously Coop must be way more involved in Gandr, why else would he be so obsessed with pushing it. Constantly explaining their goals and quoting metrics. It’s so annoy-
“Ah… That’s not very nice…” Sven mutters to no one as he guilt trips himself into starting an application for a dating app he assumes he’s never going to open again. As if he were atoning for this slightest slight, Sven continues down the same digital road oh so recently travelled by his dear friends.
Decidedly the least online of their little coterie, Sven okays the first few boxes before stowing his phone. His intent to join has been taken by Gandr however, and this is more than enough to begin the grand work of user assimilation onboarding!
There’s a shiver down Sven’s spine as he is struck a little woozy. Taking it in stride the beanpole of a man shakes off a slight headache as the closer he gets to work, the closer he finds himself to the earth. Powering through a tightness in his back greater than he felt even after his most intense and draining days from his time as a younger athlete, Sven stretches and staves off overwhelming pressure in his limbs.
Memories flit through his mind of having a group, a crew far larger than that he has now. As his back compresses and his long legs thicken from the sheer half a foot in height lost, the weight quickly shifts upward towards his ass, never a muscle-group favored by the friendly top, causing it to thicken into his main attraction.
Bared to the world, Sveb’s messy patch of chest hair begins to retract into a chest bulking as it bronzes from the afternoon sun. Still blearily stamping towards work as his pants fall over his feet. Sveb- Sveb? Seb starts sweating up a storm, causing his short hair to sag with sweat over his forehead as it darkens and curls into a look far less intentional than he usually prefers.
Shaking his curls as his woozy headache begins to give way to a contented delirium, his lips twitch into a grin as his permanently clean-shaven upper lip darkens with peach fuzz. When it immediately thickens into a trendy mustache, his smile widens further to show off his gleaming pearly whites.
V-neck halfway to exposing his toned abs, Seb takes it off and just stows it in his back pocket as he nonchalantly course corrects to head towards the beach rather than work. Full upper body now exposed to the world, Seb pays no mind to all the aimless eyes caught by his aesthetically maintained body.
None of his body hair remains save two mandatory patches in his pits and his newly paltry happy trail. The latter of which he fingers mindlessly as he steps onto the sand and feels at home. And with every physical change Gandr’s mission sinks in deeper, hiding just out of conscious thought, eager for its newest vector to begin his unique work.
Emanating an aura of thoughtless friendliness, it’s not long before the shirtless man is approached by a couple and offered some trunks to replace his jeans. Headily agreeing, Seb has no modesty at all as he changes then and there, paying only the slightest effort to make sure his loose briefs stay on in the in between.
No modesty in sight, part of him is unaware as the pair of friendly beachgoers blush at his exposed ass and trimmed pubes. Performatively stretching as he feels the trunks hang, some previously hidden aspect of him sees an opportunity to strike “L- let’s get a pic bros!” The words fall from his lips as he throws an arm around one of them and awaits the other to snap a picture of him and his new friends.
So too does his tongue spill out of his mouth like it never has, as if he’s panting like a dog, Seb flirtily smiles and awaits the snap. This is what it’s all about, building community. Community. Helping Gandr Grow. His hand trails down the back of his new friend as his eyes shift far sharper. Still maintaining the effortless appeal of a beach bro, one seemingly focus grouped to lower defenses, Seb sinks his teeth in to do his favorite brand’s dirty work.
“Heyyy, you guys know what? Have you heard of Gandr?” His other hand moves to the back of the other’s neck where he playfully draws circles on his soon-to-be cohorts traps. Both men await his explanation with hunger. Shit this Gandr stuff is just too easy! Feeling his attention span waning, Gandr’s newest ambassador quickly does his plug before getting back to doing this the proper way, being a walking advertisement for the greatest social media app there’s ever been.
● ● ● ●
Elsewhere Blaine is fed up. Anywhere he turns there just seems to be more ads for that shitty app Connor wouldn’t shut up about. His eye twitches as he thinks of his friend, something feels off but he hasn’t the toolkit to even begin to unpack what. Since breakfast he’s received so many texts and DM’s from the ass suggesting he chill out and just give it a try that he’s ignoring the man all together.
This leaves Connor’s tried and true tactic of thirst trapping his friend onto the app of little use as by the time he sends his first selfie Blaine has already muted his friend’s number. He’ll check back in with Connor when the jerk’s done shilling for that stupid shitty app. Like the world needs another platform for conventionally attractive gym-gays to hold themselves as the pinacle of queerdom.
Scowling as he sits in the dark at his desk, Blaine reflects over their time at lunch wondering if he might be acting a tad too dramatic. But when he thinks back now his friends were even more adamant about the app than he had thought. Even Sven- er, Seb and Sam were all about it.
“C’mon bro, it’s such a sweet gig! Just hop on and hang at the beach with me~ Gandr just wants to spread good vibes~”
“You’ve always wanted to be a smokeshow right B-babe?”
Refrains of their arguments bounce through his mind to a point it’s almost difficult for him not to start agreeing. But, powering through, Blaine shakes them off and rolls his eyes, “Multi-level marking dating app bullshit… An MLM MLM heh.”
Letting his guard ever so slightly down as he chuffs at his own joke, Blaine finds no harm in checking just to see what his friends are spamming him with. It’s not like there’s any harm in reading their messages, he’s not some paranoid maniac. They’re just text messages. When he at last grabs his cell however, he finds a video call ringing from Sam. Maybe Samlain has already realized the error of his ways! Assuming as much, Blaine smiles to himself and picks up.
The self-satisfied grin immediately falls to open-mouthed shock as his eyes can’t help but stare hungrily at his friend’s bouncing pecs. Atop rows of abs twitching with his slow breath, his chest is a bulky capstone that almost causes Blaine to drool. Playfully grinning himself as he watches any higher thought vacate Blaine’s head, Sam at last speaks up.
“Yo! Seems like you’re just about on board huh? Gandr’s happy to have you little buddy, just gotta accept and you can finally reach your pinnacle. Help the Gandr Grow.”
The words send a throbbing pang through Blaine’s chest as stray thoughts of ‘how bad could it be’ and ‘could he really get a body like that?’ rise in volume. Then his eyes drift to find the cocky smirk on Sam’s face and he scoffs. “Ugh fuck off! I’m not going to sell-out just because you flexed your pecs at me you ass!”
“Soooo..? This doesn’t turn you on then?”
With a grunt Blaine tosses his phone to the floor and walks away, unaware of the quick-track application sent by the man who did indeed turn him on. Eager for a distraction to get his semi the rest of the way down, a knock at the door provides just that. Or it would have, had yet another shirtless friend not been awaiting him on the other side.
Traipsing into Blaine’s home as soon as the door cracks open, smelling of sex and the beach, Sebastian stretches as he looks around Blaine’s place. “Heyyy babe, feel like it’s been forever!”
“It’s been maybe 6 hours, Seb.”
Looking into the middle distance, Seb starts to think back to six hours ago and gets too bored by the prospect. Shrugging as he instead searches for the perfect light in Blaine’s apartment to highlight his figure, the sunkissed Seb posts up in a doorway and tries to do what he does best.
“You seem out of it B? Something up?”
Clenching his jaw, Blaine tries to make any sense of his situation. Seb is his friend. Seb has always been his friend. Why shouldn’t he trust Seb? God. Seb is so fucking hot.
“You need a hug Blaine?”
Before the man answers Seb already has his arms around him. Body as warm as the midday sun, Blaine’s breath catches in his throat as he smells the heady dried sweat on Seb’s neck. The hunk’s defined arms hugging his thin back. It feels so right to be held by him. He needs this. He needs to hold others just like this.
Hesitantly reaching around, Blaine feels Seb’s burning back, the individual muscles twitching as he can only imagine the man’s strength. He feels his friend’s breath on his shoulder, the scratch of his mustache and the soft kiss of his lips. Seb turns his head to whisper in his ears, “Do you really not want this B?”
Irises twitch in his eyes as he tries to think of any reason to not want this. To not want to offer this to others. To not give in.
“I- Of course I want to join Seb!? I-”
Confirming verbal contract. Welcome aboard Blaze J. Thank you for aiding Gandr’s Diversity objectives and remember. What’s good for the Gandr is good for you!
“I no- Thas not my…” he tries to push free from Seb’s arms but his captor hugs him even tighter, bleary smile on his face. Shaking his head, the man who can already only think of himself as Blaze puts everything he’s got into escaping what was moments ago a friendly hug.
Everything within him strains as he pushes. Blaze’s weary arms burn as his chest twitches with muscle awakening. Eyes forced shut to focus on escape, Blaze opens them to find himself suddenly looking down at a peacefully smiling Seb. Shaking his head in shock, he then shoves Seb away with ease and looks down at his hands.
He can see bones twitching underneath his skin as his forearms tighten and the span of his hands cracks wider. The buttons on his polo pop off as his pecs put on weight at an unfathomable rate. Nipples immediately showing through his shirt as his chest grows with every shaky breath, he moves to feel the muscle and hears his sleeves tear from the slightest movement of biceps bloating into serious weapons.
Sitting nearby, Seb just watches as Blaze’s blond hair begins to darken and curl. Sideburns that never even grew thick enough to be considered peach fuzz race down his cheeks as a stubbly goatee circles his puffier lips. Seb playfully bites his own lip as the newest Gandr user’s shirt suctions against his growing body, his fuzzy treasure trail exposed as his adonis’ belt firms to a degree almost inhuman.
Catching a glance of his own reflection, Blaze can’t believe it, he looks like a model. Like a statue of some divinity. His pale skin begins to speckle darker as his lips continue to plump and his vaguely chubby cheeks sharpen. His foppish updo tightens into a fade as the whole of his lower face is covered with perfectly trimmed stubble that will never leave his face again.
Wandering to his nearest mirror, the effort of moving tears away what remains of his shirt as his chest and shoulders stretch wide enough that they could never be contained. Neck thick with amassing strength joined by traps and an athletic wingspan to support it, when Blaze at last sees his full sexy new self, he can do nothing but smile.
He is a Gandr man. Why did he ever foolishly resist?
Flexing his bicep just to see how high it peaks, for the first time in his life Blaze sees the world as an Alpha does. What sense is there fighting against natural order? Thick fingers trail down his abs carved from stone as his pants struggle to contain a heavy package growing ever-larger.
His legs struggle to put on mass as he keeps inching taller, drinking in his reflection as he stares at individual strands of muscle dancing across his veiny arms and curl-speckled chest. Stepping back to gauge Seb’s reaction he already knows his friend will be all about his new look. His eye twitches at the idea, guess he has a pump from the gym but otherwise he’s always looked like a king. Like the stud he is.
Putting on a show and flexing for Seb he watches as his friend gets visibly more excited, pants a size or two small do quite a poor job hiding one’s erection and all, Blaze delights in his first of many partners on Gandr. Pouncing, when the pair begin making out Blaze’s mind fills with all the proprietary knowledge that every Gandr man needs to perform his mission.
To ensure everyone finds what they're looking for. To grow their user base and show any detractors what they’re missing. To have the time of their lives just as Gandr’s founder envisioned. If perfection is on the table is it not the only right thing to do to spread it as far and wide as possible. Blaze certainly agrees.
Within a day Blaze is on his own beat working to show every gay man what he’s missing out on. Newfound strength and impossible need guiding him like a carrot on a stick, Blaze lures a too-critical influencer home and easily finds his way into the bedroom.
“You know you’re missing out, Hal. You could have all this, just need to say the word.” The twink even whinier than he was but a week ago stares at Blaze’s beyond muscular body, honed for this and this alone. Rationalizing begins to give way to unadulterated lust as he sees the Gandr man’s thick eyebrows raise.
It’s just a quick fuck, he’s slept with worse. Is he above a man putting out for some beyond bizarre brand activation? Why the fuck should he be!? Look at him. Harder than he’s been in years staring at the fuzzy cleft between Blaze’s prodigious, bouncing pecs, Hal feels any scruples just melt away.
Somehow knowing he’s agreed, Blaze walks over and straddles him in bed. Mouth hanging open with need,showing his perfect gleaming teeth above traps thicker than any lesser man’s shoulders. Sticking out his tongue ever so slightly, he raises his head and looks down. “Just need to say the magic words and then you’re all mine.”
Raspy voice like a siren to his ears, Hal would say anything to get this man on top of him. “Please God, whatever you want! I’ll do it!” Blaze smiles down as another job well done begins to form, and now he’s to enjoy his own handiwork as Gandr’s new world grows ever wider.
Alan was a skinny, intelligent twink who couldn't understand why his Grindr inbox remained perpetually empty. Despite his kindness and sweet nature, all the guys on the app seemed to want were men with massive dicks or bubble butts that could crack walnuts.
His attempts at the gym were pathetic - no matter how many squats he did, his ass remained as flat as a pancake, earning him pitying looks from the muscle gods who dominated the weight room.
One particularly frustrating day, Alan retreated to the locker room, defeated yet again. "Why can't I just have a huge ass?" he muttered to himself, staring at his reflection. That's when he noticed it - a half-empty protein shake bottle sitting on the bench, abandoned by some muscle-bound jock.
A voice in his head, one that sounded suspiciously like the grunting, heavier-breathing men he envied, screamed at him. Drink it, you pussy. What's the worst that could happen?
Disgust warred with a desperate, pathetic hope. He picked it up. The cap was sticky. He twisted it open, and a smell like soured milk and artificial chocolate hit him. He hesitated, his rational mind screaming in protest, but then he thought of the endless string of "read" messages on Grindr. He tilted his head back and chugged.
The first sensation was not taste, but texture. It was like drinking chalky, lumpy snot. He almost gagged, but forced it down. Then it hit him. A pressure deep in his gut, a roiling, churning storm that built with terrifying speed. He doubled over, clutching his stomach, and then it happened. A fart ripped out of him. It wasn't a polite puff of air; it was a deep, wet, resonant blast that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. FRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAA
AAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPP! It was the kind of fart that could peel paint, a symphony of decay and protest. And with it, a strange, tingling heat spread across his rear.
He looked down, his eyes wide with a mixture of horror and dawning realization. His gym shorts, which had been hanging loosely, were now taut. He could feel it—a strange, fullness in his seat. Another cramp seized him, followed by an even louder, more violent fart. BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMPPPP!
This one was so powerful it propelled him forward an inch. He could literally feel his glutes expanding, the muscle fibers stretching, thickening, swelling like rising bread dough with each toxic expulsion. The fabric groaned in protest. A third fart, a short, sharp PFFFT! was accompanied by a deep, guttural burp that tasted of the foul shake. BUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRP! As the gas escaped his lips, he felt a corresponding tightness in his chest. His pectoral muscles, once non-existent, were now pressing against his shirt, forming two distinct, solid mounds.
His mind was the next to go. The complex calculus of his thoughts began to simplify. Worries about his thesis on post-structuralist interpretations of queer cinema dissolved into a hazy fog. The intricate social dynamics of his friend group blurred into a simple binary: bros and not-bros. A fourth fart, a long, sputtering hiss, echoed through the empty locker room. Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst.
He watched, mesmerized, as a thick, dark hair sprouted from his forearm. Then another. And another. A forest of coarse, dark hair was erupting all over his body, covering his chest, his arms, his legs, and his now spectacularly round ass. He ran a hand over his new bubble butt; it was firm, hairy, and huge. He smacked it, and the sound it made was a deep, satisfying thwack. A stupid, wide grin spread across his face.
"Whoa," he grunted, his voice sounding deeper, rougher. "Heavy." He tried to form a more complex thought, something about the biochemical impossibility of this transformation, but all that came out was another burp. BUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAP!
This one was followed by a wave of pure, unadulterated horniness. His dick, once a modest participant in his life, was now a raging beast, thickening and hardening until it strained painfully against the seam of his shorts. He grabbed it, a purely instinctual act, and a wave of pleasure so intense it made his eyes roll back in his head washed over him. The old Alan, the one who preferred gentle kisses and intellectual connection, was being drowned in a tsunami of crude, animalistic lust. He wasn't just horny; he was a walking, farting hard-on.
He looked at his hands. They were bigger, thicker, the knuckles swollen and the fingers meaty. His nails were ragged and dirty. He caught his reflection in a mirror. His face was no longer his. The jaw was square, the brow heavy, and a thick, dark beard now covered his lower face, damp with sweat. His eyes, once bright with curiosity, were now dull and clouded with a simple, predatory need. "Need... pussy," he grunted, the words feeling both alien and profoundly right. The very idea of being with a man now seemed disgusting, unnatural. "Fags," he sneered at his own reflection, the word tasting good in his mouth. "Gross."
The final wave of farts was the most catastrophic. They came in rapid succession, a machine-gun barrage of wet, thunderous blasts that left him panting and covered in his own sweat. FART! FART! FARRRRRRRRRT! BRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPPP! With each one, he grew dumber, meaner, more disgusting. Sweat poured from him in rivers, soaking his now-tight shirt and making his new body hair mat down.
He smelled rank—a toxic combination of intense body odor, protein farts, and cheap cologne he hadn't even put on. He was a monument to masculine excess, a walking slab of foul-smelling meat. His magnificent bubble butt, the very thing he had craved, was now just a biological fart cannon, a source of constant, noisy, smelly eruptions that he found hilarious. He let out a long, satisfied sigh that ended in another deep, resonant burp. He was complete. He was Axel.
Axel stomped out of the gym, leaving a wake of disgusted stares and a trail of foul air. He didn't care. His new, simple brain was focused on one thing: finding a woman to dominate with his new body. He spotted two women walking ahead, talking and laughing. "Check out the bubble butts on those two," he bellowed to no one in particular, his voice a crude boom. "I'd bend 'em both over and make 'em squeal." He let out a sharp, loud fart for emphasis. PFFFFT! The women jumped and turned, their faces twisting in revulsion. Axel just grinned, a flash of white teeth in his dark, sweaty beard. "What's the matter, ladies? Never smelled a real man before?"
He spent the rest of the day at a sports bar, farting freely, burping his orders at the waitress, and loudly explaining to anyone within earshot why women were biologically programmed to make sandwiches and why "political correctness is for pussies." His massive bubble butt spilled over the sides of the booth, and every time he shifted to emphasize a point, he'd let out a little fart, a punctuation mark to his Neanderthal opinions. He was disgusting, obnoxious, and dumber than a box of rocks, but he was also radiating a raw, animal confidence that was, to a certain type of person, unnervingly magnetic.
That night, he took home a woman who was clearly too drunk to make good decisions. He didn't talk; he just grunted and farted. He manhandled her, his massive, sweaty body enveloping hers, his new bubble butt flexing with each crude thrust. He finished with a triumphant roar and a final, earth-shaking fart that seemed to rattle the windows. The next morning, he woke up alone, reeking of sweat and sex. He scratched his hairy ass, let out a long, wet fart, and grinned. He had the body he'd always wanted, but it wasn't for attracting men anymore. It was for farting, sweating, and fucking women. And in his simple, stupid mind, that was a trade worth making
“Over in Europe, the European Flu seems to keep getting ground more and better. Every European entering the country is forced to go into a mandatory quarantine. Since we still don’t have any tests available, the travellers will be observed for symptoms. The president says that travel limitations will remain in place for at least another two months. He also extended the prohibition on digital contact with the European Union. We are trying to get our correspondents back as soon as possible, but this has proven to be hard.
Related to his, the European band Meisennbach has just left their quarantine to start their series of concerts throughout the country. Their first concert will be held in Minneapolis tonight, despite conservative protest. Now that their quarantine is terminated they can start their tour. They agreed to strict conditions. Their quarantine was strict and longer than the usual day or two to just monitor for symptoms. They also agreed to not say a word about the situation over in Europe.
And now we go to Bill for the weather. Can we expect more of the nice weather we saw last week, Bill?”
Jackson turned the TV off as the camera shifted to Bill. The glittering white teeth of the newsreader seemed to be burned in his TV screen as it slowly went black.
Jackson sighed and stretched his arms. He should be getting ready to go to the Meisennbach concert. Jackson himself didn’t really like the music of the German metal band. Metal formed too big of a distraction for him as he was studying. However, since most of Jackson’s gamer friends were from Europe, he couldn’t reach them. Instead, he was hanging out with Christian. Christian was just as nerdy as him, but to get rid of the anxiety that his studies brought him, Christian liked listening to Meisennbach. Jackson only agreed to join his friend so Christian wouldn’t need to go by himself.
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