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Mi lindo novio trans: Allí estábamos los dos, tirados en el sofá intentando poner atención a la película que habíamos alquilado para pasar juntos el fin de semana, aunque el ambiente no lo permitía, todo estaba tenso y realmente no había las caricias que usualmente compartíamos. Él se sintió estresado e inquieto últimamente, algo decaído debido a su apariencia física y algunas experiencias que sucedieron el lunes pasado, déjenme darles un poco de contexto: Yo soy Gabriel, y él es Ángelo, mi novio. Nos conocemos en nuestra universidad a en los momentos finales de nuestras respectivas carreras, a pesar de estar en clases distintas y no tener ningún amigo en común, la química fue inmediata. Ángelo siempre ha sido una persona callada y algo insegura sobre sí mismo, pero en el fondo era alguien determinado y apasionado con lo que le gustaba, deporte, arte, diferentes temas que aproveché para sacar diversos temas de conversación. Empezamos a hablar de nuestros libros favoritos, series que seguíamos, incluso en algún punto lo que buscábamos en una pareja. El gradual cambio de conversaciones de cualquier tipo de amigos a los coqueteos hizo que todo se sintiera bien, sano y de alguna forma, conmovedor. Nunca había tenido este tipo de contacto con alguien, ya pesar de siempre haber tenido la idea de que mi tipo de hombres eran los tipos musculosos que veía en sitios porno o en el gimnasio cercano a la universidad, aprendería a amar cada detalle pequeño y delicado de su cuerpo moreno. Ángelo era un hombre trans, pero eso nunca fue algún impedimento para poder ser su amigo, y eventualmente su novio, definitivamente era mi tipo. Él fue quien se declaró hace más de dos años, y hemos sido muy felices desde entonces, cada uno en su trabajo, y cumpliendo nuestros compromisos en el departamento que alquilamos juntos. Y ahora pasamos a las ultimas semanas, han sido momentos difíciles para nosotros, ya que a pesar de tener una comunicación increíble y nunca apagar la llama del amor, hay cosas que no son tan fáciles, como la disforia corporal y las inseguridades que Ángelo tiene a sus espaldas. Yo estoy seguro que en realidad nunca pude dejar atrás de todos estos temas, pero ha aprendido a sobrellevarlos y poder crear metas a futuro sacando inspiración de los fantasmas que lo persiguen. Una de esas metas fue entrar a un gimnasio hace un año, de hecho, yo le ayudaré a acostumbrarse a su nueva rutina y enseñarle diferentes ejercicios y posturas correctas. No soy una persona muy musculosa, pero definitivamente estoy en forma y en un buen momento de mi juventud. Ha habido un gran progreso con su pequeño cuerpo, mi niño está comenzando a ganar algo de músculo y quemar la grasa de su barriga que tanto le causaba ansiedad. Obviamente sigue siendo el jovencito de 1.66 con una tez delgada y ágil, pero ver que su cuerpo tuvo muy buenos avances en este año que me pasó hace sentir orgulloso de él. Ángelo siempre fue muy modesto por no decir negativo con sus resultados, pero allí estaba yo para animarlo siempre que pudiera, y no había más problemas, hasta que llegó el lunes anterior. Un idiota que quería usar la misma máquina que mi novio empezó a acosarlo por su aspecto físico delgado y frágil, diciéndole cosas como “para qué vienes a este lugar si ni resultados tienes”, nunca comprenderé del todo a esos hombres con un pensamiento tan machista. La cosa se puso peor cuando se dio cuenta que mi lindo Ángelo era un chico trans, el tipo se puso aún más agresivo respecto a este tema. Allí es donde me di cuenta y corrí para auxiliar a mi novio. No será el más fuerte, pero no iba a dejar que le hablaran así a mi pareja. En resumen, la discusión atrajo al personal del gimnasio y amenazaron a ese tipo con expulsarlo del lugar. El idiota pasó a regañadientes, y con una cara de prepotencia le dio un empujón con su hombro a mi novio. Nos fuimos unos momentos después de ese incidente, la recepcionista le dedicó unas amables palabras a mi novio y le dijo que no se rindiera, aunque él estaba en estado de shock. Han pasado unos días desde el incidente, pero Ángelo no lo ha podido dejar ir, se siente “poco hombre”, yo le he dicho muchas veces que tener una visión tan tóxica sobre lo que significa ser un hombre no es bueno, pero creo que mis palabras no logran llegar a su mente atormentada. Esa misma noche Ángelo se quedó dormido en el sillón dejando su laptop encendida en la mesa de la sala. Tuve curiosidad de ver qué era lo que estaba haciendo antes de dormir, así que entré a su ultima pestaña visitada y descubrí que era una tienda en línea de una empresa de suplementos, aunque no eran cualquier tipo de suplementos, era HyperBeast, eran unas cosas caras del tipo de mierda que toman los fisicoculturistas profesionales. Últimamente ha habido muchas caras nuevas en el mundo del fisicoculturismo, e incluso a personas como yo que no le llama tanto la atención este tipo de espectáculos me termino enterando de todas sus novedades, en redes sociales se han hecho destacar estos temas. Hay un caso en específico de un influencer de moda que empezó a competir hace unos meses, desapareció de las redes por un año y cuando regresó estaba irreconocible, era una bestia que había devorado a su versión anterior, siempre patrocinado por la marca “HyperBeast” y contenido relacionado a ellos. ¿Esto era lo que Ángelo quería? Sinceramente me daba un poco de miedo la idea de mi pequeño intentó tomar este tipo de cosas, los posibles riesgos para su salud, y ni hablar de la incertidumbre de cómo lo cambiaría esencialmente si funcionaban estas cosas en él. Pero por otro lado, quería apoyar a mi pequeño en cualquier sueño que tuviera, claro que me excitan los hombres musculosos, pero independientemente de eso, amo más ver feliz a Ángelo. Tomé mi decisión. Unos días después de llegar nuestro aniversario, Ángelo estaba un poco más animado que antes, ya que los sentimientos negativos al nosotros celebramos a lo grande nuestro amor se iban disipando. Decidimos cenar afuera en un bonito restaurante, y al regresar al departamento saqué una caja de regalo muy grande de debajo del ropero. Al abrir la caja Ángelo estaba sin palabras y con su boca muy abierta, saltó a mis brazos y me abrazó con una fuerza que no sabía que él tenía. A la mañana siguiente nos despertamos y nos preparamos para ir a entrenar, no sin antes Ángelo tomar un poco del polvo del contenedor, mientras lo tomaba, yo me puse a leer el envase: Posibles efectos secundarios Aumento de la libido Cambios de humor Aumento del bello corporal Sinceramente nada de esto me hubiera parecido raro, de no ser porque esto se trataba de un suplemento, no de esteroides, ¿Qué tenía esta cosa y como era legal venderla? En mi prisa por hacer sentir bien a mi novio, descuide este tipo de detalles, debí consultar algún tipo de sitio web o preguntar a algún experto del tema. Pero mientras estaba pensando en todo esto, Ángelo había terminado de tomar su primera dosis del polvo mágico.

This is a fictional story. Any semblance to any person, thing or concept in the particular multiverse in which you live may not correspond to the universe of this story or may be purely coincidental. PART ONE “So did you measure it to make sure it’s as big as he claims?” asked Dr. Piro. “Yes, sir. And it’s as long and wide as he said it was,” answered Simon, his lab assistant. “And he agreed to do it for the price?” “Yes. He said that he felt erotic just thinking about it. He said it was the chance of a lifetime to use his great prowess to take down a superhero,” replied Simon. Rubbing his hands together, Dr. Piro said, “Now we are ready.” The 6 -foot three, 245 pound, brown haired alien with bulging muscles in his skintight suit known as Powerman had long been a thorn in the side of right wing, libertarian, coke-addict billionaire Lonnie Mucus. “Too much all-American, goody-two shoes for my taste,” he was quoted as saying to a magazine about Powerman. When Powerman offered to take a new communications satellite into Space for the US Government to replace an old one that had suddenly failed, Mucus saw a superhero that was now competing with his new Space launching satellite business that the American government had become dependent on. He decided Powerman had to go. So Mucus hired Dr. Piro, a scrawny but brilliant scientist, to do whatever it takes to disable Powerman as a threat to his own values and businesses. “Kill him if you must, but if you can preserve him for lab study, that would be even better,” he told the scientist. With almost unlimited funding, Dr. Piro began his task but after five years of hard work, the scientist had been unable to discover a way to kill or disable the superhero. During that time, Powerman had become more outspoken in terms of promoting the values of truth, justice, and community and against the “freedom to say and do whatever you want” attitude of the billionaire, anti-regulation, laissez faire libertarian philosophy of the billionaire further angering him. Powerman received a secret message from an FBI agent, who was secretly on the payroll of Mucus, that an informant in the campaign of the presidential candidate that Mucus was helping to bankroll, was willing to pass on damaging information about the candidate and Mucus. But he would do it only if Powerman met him secretly and alone at a powerplant, which just happened to be owned by Mucus. Powerman agreed to meet the informant at the powerplant and flew there for the meeting. Powerman scanned the industrial building on the plant site from the sky and saw a large room with a lot of electrical equipment and then an adjacent room which contained four burly men and a smaller man. “Humm,” thought Powerman, “everything looks safe and nothing seems unusual for a pwoerplant.” Following the instructions he was given, Powerman landed outside the front entrance of the building and entered through large metal door. Once inside the main, well-lit room, he saw large disks of what looked like heat lamps all over the walls and ceiling of the room. He stepped deeper into the room and shouted, “Hello, I am here.” Suddenly, he heard a loud humming noise. Then the lights lighting the room went out and it was dark. Unbeknowst to Powerman, at that same moment there was blackout in the city surrounding the powerplant and for about 5 seconds all the energy created by the plant was directed into those disks that surrounded Powerman. The light created by that energy filled the room bathing Powerman with it. “Uggh,” cried the super strong hero. Never before had he felt so weak and drained. He suddenly face-planted onto the floor unconscious. Watching the entire event through security cameras from the adjacent room, Dr. Piro and the four muscular men then entered the main room. Looking at the prostrate, white-costumed superhero with his bubble butt protruding into the air, he said, “It worked just as predicted. Now boys, carry our friend down the stairs to the laboratory underneath this building. His transformation has just begun!” PART TWO Dr. Piro’s mobile rang. It was Mucus. “How is it going, my good doctor?” “Just as I planned, sir. Powerman is currently unconscious and we are set up to start the process," Dr. Piro responded. “Good. Good. I like your plan. Humiliation and captivity are even better than death.” “Well, if all goes as planned, you’ll have a new breed of bodyguards and henchmen at your service.” “There is no if, good doctor. There is no fail,” retorted Mucus. “You had better make this happen.” Mucus then hung up. Powerman was stretched out on his stomach spread eagle in some device that looked something like a flat operating chair used for colonoscopies. His legs were separated, each one strapped in with metal bands. His thick bulbous ass pointing slightly up with his torso slightly raised making a slight arch in his muscular back. Each powerful arm was flared out from his body and slightly bent at the elbow while being held on place by metal bands. His head was secured inside a metal cage attached to the device but his face was open and visible but the head harness permitted only his mouth to move. The device hinged at his hips and torso permitting it to move if he were to hip thrust or arch his back further. The arms did not permit movement except to move slightly forward with this torso and the leg braces also permitted some abduction but not much. His red and white suit remained intact except it had been stripped off his back and his ass leaving him naked there and revealing a back of tan rippled muscles like waves on a sea. Slowly Powerman began to return to full consciousness. Groggy, he began to mumble, ”Where, what, how.” “Well, my favorite alien is beginning to wake up and join our party, Simon,” mocked Dr. Piro to his assistant. Powerman tried to raise his head but the metal straps held it down. His muscles swelled as he struggled to free both his arms and legs but the device held him firmly. He felt so tired and exhausted. He could see his super strength was gone. He decided he needed the stall Dr. Piro and recover from whatever he did to him. “Simon, let’s make our guest more comfortable so we can talk. Raise the chair.” Simon pressed several buttons on a wireless controller. The device holding our superhero raised Powerman higher from the floor and tiled his body vertically so now he was face to face with his captor. PART THREE Powerman was now eye to eye with the old, short, bald, eyeglass-wearing doctor and his assistant, the young, brown-haired bespectacled Simon. “I suppose my caped spandex hero is wondering how you got in his predicament. Well, I am going to tell you my soon to be neutered muscleman. It goes to my own ingenuity and brilliance and that of humankind in general over your alien race. You see, Powerman, it seems you would occasionally connect your computers in your mountain liar to the satellite Internet network owned by my employer, Mr. Mucus. Yes, your Internet defenses were very strong and my Russian hacking friends were frustrated after trying to penetrate them. But with some additional help from Chinese hackers and AI we were finally able to get in. From there we were able to download the history of your society and all the biological information about your alien race. Although written in your alien language, our AI was able to decipher it in less than three months.” Powerman listened carefully to Dr. Piro. He wondered if he could have really penetrated his systems. How then did he manage to neutralize his superpowers? He then noticed he was feeling less tired and the grogginess of his mind had cleared. “And what an interesting history and biology it is!” continued the scrawny doctor. “I learned your society is divided into three castes—the female caste whose primary purpose is reproduction, a eunuch working class whose role is to serve as workers for the entire society and finally the super powerful male warrior class, of which you are a prime specimen! The females seem to be 300-400 pound, essentially immobile creatures who have a lust for sex constantly except during the 13-month period of pregnancy. So they are basically sex slaves cared for by the eunuchs. Meanwhile the warrior class men rule your society where everyone serves them and they maintain the harmony and order. Might not seem all that interesting at first given human history but then I learned that all members of your race are genetically hermaphrodites! Apparently whether a female gives birth to another female, a eunuch or a warrior is determined by what foods are given the female during her pregnancy. By controlling the nutrition of the captive pregnant females, the warriors control what type of person is born based on the warrior class’ needs.” Now Powerman was getting worried. He realized that Dr. Piro had been successful in obtaining information from his liar. But with each passing minute he was feeling less and less exhausted. Perhaps his superpowers were returning, and he would eventually be able to break free. He needed to stall whatever Dr. Piro planned next. “But….” interrupted Powerman. “Shut up! No interruptions!” shouted the doctor and he slapped Powerman across his face. Powerman winced in pain with the blow and decided it was best to keep quiet for now. Simon looked pained seeing Powerman slapped. He admired the superhero’s chiseled jaw and straight narrow nose. He had a handsome face as well as a well-proportioned muscled body. The epitome of human maleness in his view. Now trapped in the clutches of his ugly old boss. He found Powerman’s helpless predicament sad but yet wildly erotic and exhilarating at the same time. His member stirred. “Now where was I?” Dr. Piro queried. “Oh yes. While your warrior class with their superpowers kept your planet peaceful once in a while a warrior or two would rebel and would need to be neutralized. But given those superpowers that was not easy to do. Fortunately, it appears that there is a biological failsafe mechanism built right into your genetics.” To be continued

Hey, y'all! It's been a while since I've written a story on this site. I miss writing, so, here is the thing: Gimme a picture of a nice, buff guy, or a morphed up guy, or something, and I'll write a story for the picture! It'll be a short story, but I'll do it! Cause I feel like it would be fun! So, don't hesitate to share!

Luka doesn’t remember much of last night. It’s all a bit of a blur after about five drinks and when his buddy Dylan ditched him for some girl he just met. Some designated driver! From then, he remembers getting progressively more undressed as he flexed for random girls at the bar. Luka was the type of man who stood out in a crowd with his broad shoulders and strong physique. Luckily, he’s a fun drunk. If he was the type of guy who got in fights after a few drinks, someone would more than likely end up in an ambulance. But Luka prefers to just show off his strong muscles and let strangers tell him how big he is. Being admired turns him on. Eventually, he stumbled the five blocks back to his apartment after his DD had abandoned him. The semi-hard cock poking down the leg of his tight khakis forced him to walk with a slight limp. Usually, the walk isn’t too bad, but Luka was drunk and his bladder was full. About halfway home, he had to pull into an alleyway to take a leak. Still visible to the street, he pulled out his slightly hardened dick and pissed on the side of a black-bricked building. His penis is his least impressive muscle, but it does what it needs to. Leaning up against the wall, Luka holds his cock in his hand, mindlessly thumbing the shaft. Strangely, that was the last thing he managed to remember from the previous night. • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Luka wakes up in the morning in his bed. Seems he got home just fine. Guess whatever happened the rest of the way home was of no importance. He sits up on his mattress, his thin bed covers slipping down his naked body. He scratches his wide back lazily. Still waking up. His morning wood jumps, pushing up the bed sheet playfully. Half asleep, he scratches his balls too before he winces. The quick sting of pain confuses Luka more than anything. He lifts the sheet to examine his penis. Two scrapes scratch down the length of his shaft. They aren’t too bad, but enough to break the skin. Red marks around the wound make it tender. Luka gently grabs his penis and slowly feels up the marks with his thumb. His dick throbs reflexively, plumping up in his palm. “Huh, that’s weird,” Luka mutters to himself. He shifts his legs over the edge of the mattress and stands to head to the shower. The sheets fall behind Luka, pulling from his naked body as he strides toward the door. His nude build is fully revealed, his bulky chest and thick arms swinging gently. His tight abs are at a near-constant flex. The sheets fall from his legs and reveal his thick ass and impressive thighs. His morning erection rocked with each step, dwarfed by his powerful build. Luka steps out of his room into the common area of his apartment. His bare muscles are exposed without caution as he walks past his roommate Paul who is sitting on the couch with his late afternoon tea. “Well, rise and shine, big guy! Have fun last night?” Paul teases. Luka just lets out a grunt of agreement as he slumps into the bathroom. The whole naked roommate bit was never an issue between the two of them. Paul is a proud, and sometimes forward, gay man. Luka is comfortable in his heterosexuality, even more so in his sculpted body, so he never really saw any issue with their living arrangements. Paul gets a common area with a view, and Luka gets to dress (or lack thereof) comfortably in his own home while getting the occasional ego boost. The only slight issue that has ever come up was the volume of Paul’s night company. But Luka can’t really say much. He’s brought in his fair share of ladies back to the apartment when his roommate was trying to sleep. Both just have to live with the fact that their roommate fucks. After a shower, Luka comes out in a towel. His morning wood is now quelled thanks to the load he just sprayed all over the cold shower tiles. He falls back onto the couch and lets out a deep sigh. “So, did you have any fun while I was out drinking last night?” Luka says, making conversation. “Yeah, I had Riley over last night. Wine and fucking.” Paul turns over towards Luka. “You know, the usual.” “That’s good. I know that kid is packing some serious dick too. Saw it bulging last time he was hanging around the apartment.” “Oh, I know. Young and hung! Those study abroad students get so pent up,” Paul laughs. “So, the bar was fun?” “Yeah, it was! Dylan ended up ditching me for some girl, but it was all fine. Got felt up by some American girls after a couple of drinks. The bar was pretty handsy last night.” Luka smiles at the thought. “Although, I did end up with a scratch on my penis. I don’t remember how I got it. I don’t think any of the girls touched my dick. They all seemed pretty focused on my gains.” “That is strange. It’s not like a rash or irritation?” “No, it’s an actual scratch,” Luka clarifies. He stands up and puts his hand on his towel, about to pull it off. “Do you want to see it?” Luka asks, realizing he should’ve started with that. “Yeah, let’s see it,” Paul chuckles. Luka drops his towel. His soft penis hangs on top of his heavy balls. All of which still seem small in comparison to his tree trunk thighs. Luka is clean-shaven to make sure his genitalia is well presented. He likes to make the most of what he’s got. Paul leans closer, examining the side of Luka’s penis. He sees the two scratch marks that follow down the length of the shaft. The irritation has gone down since Luka woke up, but it is still slightly red. “May I touch it?” Paul asks. “Yeah, it’s okay.” Paul’s warm hand cups Luka’s dick. Holding the shaft up and to the side to get a better look at the scratches. Luka fights a shiver as Paul’s fingers wrap gently around his penis. “These look like teeth marks. Like if someone didn’t have their jaw open wide enough,” Paul explains. “What? But I didn’t get any head last night. Not that I remember at least. My dick also isn’t even that big! I’m not cracking any jaws with this thing.” Luka swings his hips and makes his penis slap against his thighs a couple of times. “I don’t know what else to say. That’s what it looks like to me. And I’ve seen a few scratched-up penises in my time.” “Huh, strange…” “But I will say,” Paul smiles as he drops Luka’s dick from his palm. “You do have a very handsome cock. Being uncut is a bonus.” “Oh, please. It’s not that impressive,” Luka blushes. “Oh, trust me, aesthetics are impressive! Like Riley for example. That kid has a massive cock! But it’s big and veiny like a sweet potato,” Paul chuckles. “Still love taking it, but it’s not the most handsome penis. Monster cock is an apt descriptor for what he’s packing. But you, you’ve got the looks.” “Well, thank you,” Luka accepts the compliment. “And I guess these scratches aren’t too much to worry about.” “Yeah, I’d say you’ll be fine. Just keep that dick clean. Don’t want an infection or anything.” • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Later that night, Luka returns from his room dressed in a pair of tight grey briefs, the ones that hug his muscular ass and lift his penis to give some definition to his bulge, as well as a fitted muscle tank that’s stretched out by his full pecs. “So, what are we watching tonight, big guy?” Luka says with a smile before flopping on the couch. Paul steps out of the kitchen with two glasses of scotch. He’s dressed in a black silk robe, opened to reveal his smooth chest and the pair of bright pink briefs he wears under his robe. He is a skinny guy with a runner’s build, so his above-average dick fits awkwardly on his waist. All 8 inches looking oversized in his tight briefs. Despite his impressive penis, he was a strict bottom, always looking for a bigger cock to put him in his place. “I was thinking about Suspiria. Get in the spirit of the season,” Paul suggested as he handed a glass over to Luka. “Sounds good, P,” Luka says, bringing the glass to his lips. “Why don’t you pull it up while I work on this drink.” Paul starts up the movie while Luka takes a big swig of scotch. They both lounged on the sofa, enjoying the movie and finishing their drinks. About 15 minutes into the movie, Luka stands and grabs the bottle from the kitchen. A couple of glasses in, Luka lazes into the corner of the sofa, nursing his third drink. At this point, he’s a little too drunk to understand the movie, but he enjoys spending time with his roommate. Luka shuts his eyes with his hand lazily slumped over his bulge. Then, out of nowhere, he feels his chest start to itch. The same way it does after he shaves. Luka slips his hand under his tank and lifts it to scratch at his chest. His body hair slips between his fingers. And then his stomach turns. His muscles suddenly start to ache. Luka sits up and lets out a groan. His biceps cramp and flex. “You all right, man?” Paul sits up as well. Still only on his second drink. “Yeah, I think so.” Another cramp makes Luka’s pecs flex against his tank top. And the itching moves down to his crotch. He moves his hand down and slips his fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs. Scratching the base of his flaccid cock roughly. “Ah, fuck!” And then Luka starts to get hard as he scratches. Against his will, his dick starts to swell up. Getting fatter. Pushing out against the tight fabric of his underwear. Throbbing, getting bigger with each flex, stretching out the pouch until the sides of his hardening shaft peeked out. “Holy shit! I didn’t know you got that big when you were hard,” Paul said slack-jawed. “It… doesn’t… oh, shit…” Luka groaned. The moon shines through the balcony window, casting its gossamer glow on the floor of the apartment. Luka stops scratching and stares as his penis grows erect and then continues to grow. His grey briefs stretch out past his usual 6 inches. Luka’s dick repeatedly flexes, pushing up and out and out. Bigger and bigger, and all he can do was watch. Must be at least 9 inches now. His cock tugs on his briefs, stretching them further out until they hear some of the stitches start to pop. Still no sign of slowing down. Luka’s balls start to swell up too. Precum stains the fabric as Luka’s dick continues to grow. So big now that his briefs hardly cover his cock. In an effort to save his underwear, Luka pulls his waistband down and strains the stitching to pull it over his growing cock. A couple more stitches pop, but he manages to unleash his penis. It stands upright from Luka’s waist. Thick veins pumping along the side of his meaty shaft. His cock starts to turn red as it swells up. Foreskin pulled back so tight that he almost looks circumcised. Luka struggles but sits upright. His cock doesn’t stop and throbs up to his chest. Must be over a foot long now. Standing tall and rigid from his waist. Slowly, he reaches toward his beastly endowment and wraps his palm as best he can around the swelling girth. With just a touch, his dick twitches and flexes until a glob of precum squirts out, dripping down his overheating cock. “Ah… oh… fuuck…” Luka whines like a dog. And then his cock throbs again. Only this time, it doesn’t just grow larger. Luka’s cock head swells and morphs. It stretches out into a point giving it an additional inch. More precum leaks down the new head of his cock, slicking up his transforming penis. Luka lets out a strained whine as his dick continues to morph. The pain is immeasurable but euphoric. It feels like the best erection no man has ever felt. His dick gets so hot, physically hot, that the precum dripping down his cock begins to steam. His dick just continues to get bigger and harder, ignoring all human limitations. He was more than a man now. The base of his dick pulses, throbbing with more girth. Getting thicker and thicker. And then, suddenly, his penis erupts from his waist. A thick, veiny knot forces its way out from his body, pushing his cock out another four inches. Luka can’t hold back his howl as his new cock grows to its full potential. “Ahh… Ahh, fffuck… Oh, fuck yeah!” Luka just falls back on the sofa, huffing and fighting to catch his breath as the pain subsides partially. “What the fuck… Luka? Are you a fucking werewolf?” Paul just stares in astonishment. Admiring the entire process of Luka’s cock’s transformation. “I… I don’t… know…” Luka huffs. “But it feels fucking great!” Paul looks over the beastly dick sticking up off of Luka. Massive and swollen red. It stands like a living pillar, throbbing idly. Paul lifts his forearm next to the true monster cock in front of him to compare its size. With his elbow on Luka’s thigh, his fist does not even reach the head. Just over 16 inches of wolf dick, even thicker than his arm. “Can I touch it?” Paul asks cautiously. Luka gives a slight nod, “Please…” He rests his head back on the sofa. Paul places his hand on Luka’s new cock, wrapping his palm around the shaft just below the head. His fingers stretch to try pathetically to wrap around its girth and don’t even come close. Paul then slowly begins to stroke, rubbing his hand up and pressing into the ridge of Luka’s cock head. It is so hard that it barely moves against Paul’s touch, but with each stroke, it throbbed and milked out another pulse of precum. Luka squirms as Paul lightly strokes his now huge and very sensitive penis. Huffing and whining under his touch. “Oh yeah… that’s fucking gooood…” Paul likes the way he moans, so he takes his other hand and places it around the base of his shaft. He begins to stroke just a little faster. One hand massaging up and under the ridge of the cock head, the other pushing down and putting pressure on Luka’s thick knot. Luka whines louder as Paul milks his giant cock. Precum now constantly streamed out from the tip of his red rocket, pulsing with each stroke. His cock glistens as precum coats his shaft. His massive balls hang over the edge of the sofa and shift from Paul’s touch. Precum pours out from Luka’s dick like a hose. A pool of it building up around his balls and on the floor. Luka suddenly sits up and leans forward. His dick reaches up to his chin without even trying. He comes face to face with his wolf-like endowment. “Don’t stop…” Luka orders with a growl. Paul doesn’t even slow his rhythm. Stroking and milking more precum out from Luka’s cock. Luka then leans closer and runs his tongue up the pointed head of his cock, licking up and drinking his own precum. He uses his tongue like a dog, tasting himself. His new self. It tastes so good. Luka wraps his lips around the tip and attempts to take the entire head in his mouth. The sensation of his tongue on himself makes him throb in his own mouth. Drinking up his precum as it continues to squirt out from his cock. He never knew he wanted to suck his own dick, but seeing this monster cock in front of him, he can’t help but taste himself. His milky precum overflows in his mouth and spills off his lips and down his cock. He just can’t believe this is really his cock. It’s fucking massive and it feels so fucking good. Luka never really thought size mattered. He was happy with his just above-average-sized penis. But feeling how it is to have a fucking ginormous cock makes him so horny, he can hardly take it. Paul, while still stroking, gets down to the floor on his knees. He continues stroking the beast in front of him. It almost completely obscures Luka from this perspective. Paul is rock-hard himself. He’s a size queen, but he never thought he’d get to live out a fantasy like this. His cock reaches out from the waistband of his underwear as it throbs happily. Paul gets closer, using his forearms now to stroke Luka’s lycanthropic endowment. His arms put pressure on the sensitive beast in front of him. He moves forward and presses his hard cock against Luka’s massive testicles. His bulge fits so nicely between those giant balls. Rubbing up and dry fucking them like a pair of pecs. “Ugh… AH… ahh… fuuckkk,” Luka growls. He pulls off of his dick, precum coating his chin. He feels itchy again. All up his chest and arms. Paul lets go of Luka’s cock, letting it slump forward slightly under its own weight. And then he grabs one of Luka’s fat nuts in each hand. Weighing them in his palms like big coconuts. He can almost hear them sloshing with an awful amount of cum. Then he presses them together on either side of his dick. So big and heavy as they squish his shaft. Then he starts fucking them, sliding his 8-inch cock between them. Slowly at first, but it’s not long until Paul starts vigorously fucking the tight space between Luka’s balls. It’s such a perfect sensation, using these werewolf nuts like a fleshlight. Luka moans in response. His giant cock spurts out even more precum that now drips onto Paul’s face below it. “Oh, fuck, that’s hot… Keep playing with my huge balls… Fuck, that feels good!” Paul licks the dripping precum off of his face, so lost in the fantasy. His cock is stimulated by Luka’s massive, hairy balls as he slips it up and down his scrotum. His own precum starts to mix with Luka’s. Luka scratches at his chest as the itching gets worse. He feels his tank top getting tighter against his torso as well. He looks down, finally pulling his attention away from his attention-stealing cock, and stares at his pecs. They stretch out his shirt even more so now, swelling up with more mass and thick hair sprouting all over them. As his pecs widen, his shirt stretches down tightly, and his nipples are revealed. They are big and sensitive, islands of pink in a sea of dark brown hair. Luka grabs his shirt and tries to pull it up and over his chest, but tears it off in the process. Now bare, his chest flexes and swells into two giant slabs of meat. His pecs hanging over his now thick abs. He raises his arms and flexes both his biceps beside his head, now also covered in thick hair. Luka already looked like a gym rat, usually one of the biggest guys on the gym floor, but now he was a muscle beast. His body still looked human, just bigger. Only his cock had transformed into something truly beastly. Still flexing, Luka leans down and huffs his overgrown pit. The scent of man and beast musk overwhelms his nose. But it makes his cock jump. He takes a bigger whiff, this time picking up the scent of something else. Perhaps someone else. “Hooo, fuuuuck…” Luka huffs. “Damn, I smell fucking good.” Paul slows down from fucking Luka’s balls and leans toward the giant cock in front of him. He presses his face against the shaft, his skin sticking to the coat of precum pouring down the length of Luka’s cock. He gets a good whiff of Luka’s musk. “You’re telling me, big guy,” Paul moans. He stands up, hands sliding up Luka’s dick as he rises. Even with him standing and Luka sitting on the sofa, the cock between them reaches up to Paul’s chest. He wraps his arms around it and presses his inferior man-penis against the beast-cock’s shaft. He uses his hand to massage the pointed tip of Luka’s dick. Squeezing more and more precum out as his thumb edges the urethra. “Fuuck…” Luka growls. “I need to cum so bad. My cock is so big and hard, I can’t take it. I need a hole. I need a hole so fucking bad.” Before Paul can respond, Luka stands up from his seat, now standing slightly higher than usual above his roommate. His cock flumped forward against Paul’s chest. If he wasn’t so turned on right now, Paul, like any rational person, would probably be terrified. But feeling this giant werewolf cock slumped against him brought him to the edge. “On your knees now, pup,” Luka commands. Paul grabs the tip pathetically in his hand, massaging the sensitive underside of the ridge. Petting it like it alone was a wild beast. A spurt of precum shoots out onto his face. He licks it off his lip slowly. “I thought you would never ask,” Paul moans. “Stop talking,” Luka barks sternly. He grabs Paul, moving him easily with his new werewolf strength, and positions him bent over on the sofa. Paul’s knees spread out, his arms steadying him on the back cushion. His silk robe drapes lightly over his round ass that’s arched back for Luka. He knows this position well and his dick still throbs in anticipation. Luka lifts Paul’s robe to reveal his beautiful ass. Pink briefs cling tight to his butt, getting swallowed between his thick cheeks. Luka bends down, getting his face close. With one hand, he tears the briefs effortlessly from his body. Paul’s ass jiggles and spreads as he arches further back in response. Paul’s hairless hole is so perfect, Luka grabs his hips and pulls his face between his cheeks. Sloppily licking and tasting his hole. His tongue pushes past the threshold and into Paul which makes him moan. Luka makes out with his hole, using his tongue to push open and loosen Paul’s ass. “Oh, fuuck… I didn’t know you ate ass like that,” Paul whines as his ass is devoured. Luka gets lost in his meal, feeling Paul’s prostate against his tongue. Loosening up his ass as much as he can. He leans back, admiring the pink, spit-coated hole in front of him. His cock is going to tear that shit open. He sits up on his knees, lifting his heavy cock from the ground. Using both hands, Luka positions his dick against Paul’s begging hole. “Oh, doggy style? Really?” Paul jokes. “Shut it.” He starts slow. He gently pushes the pointed tip of his cock into Paul’s ass. It stretches open and accepts the head first. Precum already starts to flood his hole. Luka moans as Paul’s tight hole wraps tight around his cock. He needs more. Slowly pushing another inch in. Then a couple more. He stretches Paul’s ass open even wider, making room for his excess of dick. Paul whines as his ass is forced open. No signs of slowing. Just more and more dick pushing into him. He can feel the tip pressing into his stomach, making his skinny stomach bulge up towards his chest. His hole squelches as Luka’s flood of precum pushes out from his ass. Finally, he feels the thick knot press against his cheeks, preventing Luka’s cock from going any deeper. But Luka is not done yet. Luka grabs Paul’s waist and starts to thrust. Slowly at first. Long, steady strokes push his dick into Paul’s chest. The tight, warm sensation makes his dick flex inside of him. “Oh fuuck… Such a good hole,” Luka moans, lost in a sexual trance. He starts to thrust faster. Pushing deep rhythmic strokes into Paul. His cock throbs and swells. More precum oozes out from between his cock and Paul’s hole. Luka could feel his cock starting to grow again. It flexes as if begging to release its load. He pushes faster and deeper. His knot pushes up against Paul’s ass, slapping his meaty girth against his hole, and then it finally forces its way in. Paul’s hole is forced open, stretching wide until he can almost feel it tear as it takes the fat knot of Luka’s magnificent cock. “Oh, shiiiit!” Paul cries out. Luka’s werewolf dick locks itself balls deep into Paul. Throbbing and pulsing as it dumps its load into him. It flexes as it shoots cumshot after cumshot against the walls of his stomach. Its balls flex and lift themselves, rubbing themselves against Paul’s legs like an affectionate pet. They bounce happily as wave after wave of cum is emptied. Luka loses count of how many shots he pumps out, but his orgasm continues for nearly a minute. Eventually, he starts to catch his breath. His knot is still squeezed tight by Paul’s hole. He huffs, slowly trying to catch his breath. He sits up to readjust his position, but then he feels his cock twitch again. He can feel the cum pouring through his shaft. More of his hot load ready to bust. He whines, leaning forward onto Paul’s back as his dick pulses again as he shoots another wave of shots against his will. Hot, steamy cum spills out from Paul’s ass and drips down Luka’s giant balls. “Whew… fuuck! God damn, I needed that. Thanks for letting me use your ass, P,” Luka huffs. “Didn’t know your ass felt that good.” His knot is still lodged in Paul’s tight hole. “Fuck yeah…” Paul struggles. “So… please tell me this is gonna be… a monthly thing…” “I hope so, pup…”

Steel and Stone – One Forged, One Chiseled, Both Powerful A Riverton City Gym Story set in early 2023 (This work was written with the support of AI in regards of editing and paragraph revision.) Joe and Jake took different paths in bodybuilding – Joe focused on sculpted definition, while Jake chased sheer mass. When their old training rivalry resurfaces at Riverton City Gym, it quickly escalates into a test of strength. A friendly arm-wrestling match turns into a deeper challenge, pushing them both to test out their own limits. Introduction Joe had always been serious about training. A student of nutrition science, he knew the science behind muscle growth, but his passion for lifting had started long before his studies – back when he was just 14. Now, at 22, he had built a physique that turned heads: lean, sculpted, and balanced. His usual gym was closed for renovations, so he had been visiting Riverton for the past few weeks. That was where he ran into Jake. Jake was four years older and had taken a different path. Back in school, they had occasionally trained together, but while Joe had focused on proportions and cuts, Jake had gone all in on sheer size and strength. Now a powerhouse of a man, he was bigger than ever—thick, broad, and undeniably strong. The moment Joe stepped into Jake’s gym, their old training dynamic reignited. Their friendly rivalry turned into a game of constant one-upmanship, pushing each other harder every session. And then, after some time of challenges and banter, there was only one way to settle it. A match. A test of strength. Arm wrestling. The first Match Joe and Jake locked hands, their grips tightening as they braced themselves for the match. The tension crackled between them, both men exuding confidence – until Joe's gaze shortly but truly scanned Jake’s arm. His green eyes widened slightly, betraying a flicker of surprise. Jake smirked, noticing the reaction. His biceps, thick and full, swelled as he flexed slightly, making the bulge stand out. “Didn’t expect that, did you?” he teased, his deep voice carrying an edge of amusement. Joe, who was used to be the biggest guy in any room, recovered quickly, rolling his shoulders back. “You’ve got size,” he admitted, his own sculpted arm tensed and ready, “but let’s see how that translates to strength.” Their muscles strained as the match began, veins popping, tendons tightening. The contrast between them was stark—Joe’s chiseled, lean power against Jake’s sheer mass and brute force. Neither man gave an inch at first, their arms trembling with effort. Jake grinned, pushing harder. “Not bad, bodybuilder,” he said through clenched teeth. Joe smirked, sweat forming on his brow. “Likewise, big guy.” The match was far from over. They both remained locked in their arm-wrestling battle, muscles tensed, veins bulging, sweat forming on their brows. Joe gritted his teeth, his lean, sculpted arm trembling as he fought against the sheer force of Jake’s massive biceps. Jake, still smirking, applied steady pressure, his thick forearm flexing as he pushed down. Joe knew he was in trouble. The sheer size of Jake’s arm wasn’t just for show—it was raw power. But he wasn’t out yet. Digging deep, he shifted his grip slightly and twisted his wrist, using technique over brute force. Jake’s smirk faltered for a split second as Joe pushed back, regaining lost ground. “Not bad,” Jake grunted, adjusting his stance. His smirk returned, but this time with a hint of effort. Joe exhaled sharply, locking eyes with Jake. He could feel his strength draining, but he refused to go down easily. With one last burst of effort, he surged forward—but it wasn’t enough. Joe’s biceps swelled as he pushed with everything he had, but Jake barely budged. The powerlifter smirked, his strength overwhelming. With a slow, deliberate motion, he began forcing Joe’s arm downward. Joe gritted his teeth, but the difference in power was undeniable. Jake let out a deep chuckle and, with a final flex of his monstrous arm, slammed Joe’s hand to the table. The impact echoed, and for a moment, there was silence. Then Jake leaned back, rolling his shoulder. “Damn,” Joe muttered, shaking out his arm. “I thought I had you for a second.” – “You almost did,” Jake admitted, still grinning. “But size does matter, after all.” Joe huffed a laugh, rubbing his forearm. “Maybe. But next time, I’m coming back stronger.” Jake clapped him on the back. “I’d expect nothing less.” The match was over, but the rivalry? Far from it. That night, Joe lay in bed replaying the match over and over. He took the defeat harder than he had expected. The match had been friendly, yet losing in the public of a gym stung. He hated how easily Jake had overpowered him. It wasn’t just strength; it was dominance. And worst of all, Jake had smirked through the whole thing. He had underestimated Jake’s sheer force. But he wasn’t going to let it end like this. He needed to grow. To come back stronger. To win. Months Later Joe’s heart pounded with anticipation as he stepped back into the Riverton City Gym. Months of relentless training, grueling workouts, and strict dieting had transformed him. His arms were thicker, his chest broader, and yet he had maintained his signature lean, sculpted look. He ran a hand through his now slightly longer hair, feeling the confidence radiate through his stronger frame. He scanned the gym, searching for Jake. The moment he spotted him, his breath caught. Jake was bigger. Much bigger. The strongman’s frame had expanded considerably, his arms and shoulders thicker than ever. But with all that extra mass, there was also a noticeable softness to him now. His midsection carried more weight, and his once purely powerful physique now held a bulkier, more massive look. His five o’clock shadow remained, but there was a new ruggedness to him, a presence that made it clear – he hadn’t been slacking off either. Jake turned, and their eyes met. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face. “Well, well,” Jake rumbled, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “Look who’s back. And looking … bigger.” Joe smirked back, rolling his shoulders. “Had to even the playing field. Didn’t want you thinking I’d let that loss slide.” Jake chuckled, patting his stomach. “Yeah? Well, I’ve been busy too. Maybe not as ‘cut’ as you, but let’s just say—” He flexed an arm, the sheer size of it still overwhelming. “—I didn’t lose any strength.” Joe stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “Only one way to find out.” Jake grinned wide, already moving toward the arm-wrestling table. The Re-Encounter The gym buzzed with excitement as the crowd gathered around Joe and Jake. The air was thick with anticipation, and the energy was electric. Before the rematch could even begin, voices from the crowd started calling out. “Pose down first!” someone shouted. Joe grinned. This was his moment. He knew that while Jake might have sheer size on his side, his own physique was sharper, leaner, and more dramatic under the lights. He stepped forward, raising his arms into a classic double biceps pose. His muscles popped with deep cuts, veins running like a roadmap over his arms. The crowd reacted instantly, murmurs of appreciation spreading as his defined physique was on full display. Jake, however, didn’t flinch. If he was uneasy about this kind of contest, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smirked and simply raised an eyebrow. “Let’s measure”, he said, flexing his massive arm. A measuring tape was brought out, and Joe went first. He flexed hard, his biceps swelling to an impressive 21 inches. The crowd let out an approving murmur. Then it was Jake’s turn. He casually raised his arm, flexing, and the sheer mass of it dwarfed Joe’s. The tape stretched over 23 inches of thick, powerful muscle, even pushing the 23.5 mark! The crowd gasped. Even without the same deep cuts as Joe, the sheer size was overwhelming. Joe refused to back down. He took a deep breath and started pumping his arms, flexing harder and harder, willing every fiber of muscle to expand. The veins along his biceps bulged, his skin tightening over the growing peak. The tape measure inched forward. 21.5 inches. He gritted his teeth, pushing further. 22 inches. The crowd watched in awe. He was closing the gap. Joe kept going, his muscles burning, sweat forming on his brow. The tape measure crept higher… Would he match Jake’s size? The gym held its breath, waiting for the final measurement. The tape measure stopped at 22.5 inches. Joe flexed harder, pushing with everything he had, but that was his limit. It was an incredible measurement – easily among the biggest of bodybuilders – but Jake’s still held the edge. The crowd erupted in cheers for Jake, their longtime gym hero, but Joe noticed something they didn’t. A shadow flickered across Jake’s face. It was subtle, just a moment of realization, but Joe caught it. And then he understood. That extra inch Jake had on him? It wasn’t all muscle. There was a layer of fat covering the strongman’s biceps, softening the definition. The gym-goers might not have picked up on it, but Jake had. And he knew exactly what it meant – Joe was going to be serious trouble in the arm-wrestling match. Jake took a deep breath and tried to summon a pump of his own. He flexed, rolling his shoulders, clenching his fists, but it didn’t do as much for him. The tape shifted slightly, maybe 0.1 or 0.2 inches, but that was it. His mass was undeniable, but the sharpness, the dramatic muscle pop that Joe had? It wasn’t there. Joe smirked. Now was the time to press his advantage. “Alright,” he said, stretching his arms. “That was fun. But now … let’s do what the crowd asked for. A pose down.” Jake hesitated. He hadn’t minded the measuring contest – he knew sheer size was on his side – but this? This was different. Joe peeled off his gym shirt effortlessly, revealing his chiseled, deeply cut physique. The crowd reacted instantly, murmurs of admiration rippling through the gym. Every muscle on Joe’s body was visible, his abs looking like they were sculpted from stone, his vascularity adding to the effect. Jake exhaled. He wanted to pose with his shirt on, but one look at the crowd told him they wouldn’t accept that. They wanted to see it all. With a reluctant sigh, he grabbed the hem of his gym shirt and started pulling it up. But it wasn’t so easy – his sheer size made it a struggle. A few guys from the gym stepped in to help, peeling the tight fabric over his thick arms and broad torso. Finally, the shirt was off. Jake stood there, his massive frame exposed. His size was undeniable – his chest, shoulders, and arms were huge – but the extra weight was obvious now. His abs were blurred under a layer of bulk, and compared to Joe’s razor-sharp definition, the difference was clear. Joe stepped forward, confidence radiating off him. “Let’s do this.” The contest was on. The Pose-down Joe and Jake hit pose after pose, the crowd watching in awe. Joe started strong, knowing exactly how to play to his strengths. He flexed into a front double biceps pose, his arms peaking high, veins running like lightning across his skin. His waist was so small, so tight, that it made his V-taper look almost unreal – his lats flaring wide, his shoulders broad and perfectly capped. Some of the gym-goers whispered among themselves: Joe wouldn’t just hold his own against top bodybuilders – he would outclass many of them. Jake mirrored the pose. His arms were bigger, no doubt, and his chest and shoulders created a massive silhouette. But there was a struggle in his stance – his midsection was harder to keep in check, his flexes less refined. His muscle bellies were full, but without Joe’s razor-sharp cuts, they didn’t pop in the same way. He adjusted, trying to pull in his stomach, but it was clear that he wasn’t as comfortable in this kind of contest. Joe transitioned into a side chest pose, puffing out his pecs, his obliques slicing into view, his hamstrings deeply striated. The crowd murmured again – his proportions were elite. Jake followed, but his execution was different. His sheer size was impressive, but his movements were less fluid, his stomach not quite cooperating with the tight flex. He knew it. And so, just as Joe was about to transition into the next pose, Jake changed the game. Instead of standing next to Joe, he stepped behind him. The effect was immediate. Joe, who had been commanding the stage with his precise, dramatic flexes, suddenly looked overshadowed – literally. Even though Jake was two inches shorter, his sheer thickness created an illusion of dominance. It was like watching the sun emerge from behind a rock – Joe’s chiseled form was still stunning, but now it was framed by something even bigger. The crowd reacted. There was muffled laughter, a few whispers. Joe’s confidence wavered for the first time. Jake had just turned his own strength against him. Joe tried to redirect the focus. He subtly shifted his stance, angling to highlight his midsection, the one area where Jake couldn’t compete. But the problem was clear – when a group of men saw bigger arms, wider shoulders, and sheer size, a few love handles didn’t matter. Jake saw Joe’s frustration and smirked. He relished the moment. Then, after a few more moments of soaking in the attention, he clapped his hands together and stepped forward. “Alright,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the gym noise. “Enough flexing. Let’s get to the real competition.” The Arm-wrestling Rematch Joe could still feel the weight of the posedown’s outcome lingering in his chest. It wasn’t just the fact that he had lost that round – it was how he had lost. He had walked in expecting to dominate, expecting to leave Jake shaken before they even locked hands at the table. But instead, Jake had turned the tables on him, using his sheer size to shift the crowd’s perception. Joe had watched himself be dwarfed, outmaneuvered not by superior muscle definition, but by sheer mass and clever positioning. That was not what he had intended. The mind game was supposed to be his. Now, as they sat down for the real fight, an unfamiliar feeling crept up his spine. Frustration. It was unwelcome, almost alien to him. This was supposed to be fun, just another battle between friends, yet he couldn’t shake the sting of being outplayed. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe, to reset. Jake hadn’t won anything – not yet. He had just gotten into Joe’s head for a moment. Joe exhaled, shaking the doubt off his shoulders. He remembered the look of sorrow on Jake’s face during the measurement. Jake knew. No matter how much bulk he carried, no matter how much the crowd roared for him, he knew Joe was a real threat. That was what mattered now. Joe needed to shake Jake’s confidence again. The crowd might be on Jake’s side, but the measuring tape didn’t lie – Joe’s biceps was a force to be reckoned with. Joe stepped forward. He flexed his right arm, bringing it close to Jake’s face, veins pushing against his skin like cables beneath marble. "You ready to lose to the smaller guy?" Joe taunted, his voice carrying enough edge to make the gym go quiet. Jake didn’t flinch. Instead, he raised his left arm, rolling his wrist, loosening his fingers, then flexing just slightly – his biceps, nonetheless thick and overwhelming, remained softer than Joe’s, but the sheer mass was undeniable. "Let's start with this one," Jake said coolly. An unusual move. Right-handed arm wrestling was the norm, and Joe briefly wondered if this was a bluff. But the look in Jake’s eyes wasn’t one of arrogance. It was strategy. Joe accepted the challenge. They clasped hands – Jake’s grip was immense, swallowing Joe’s fingers whole. The referee, a fellow gym-goer, steadied their arms and counted down. "Three... two... one... GO!" The second their muscles engaged, it was an explosion of power. Joe’s forearm ignited in resistance, his entire arm tensed like steel cable against Jake’s crushing grip. He expected an immediate struggle, but Jake’s left arm – perhaps weaker than his dominant right – wasn’t the wall he thought it would be. Joe pushed hard, his defined arms surging with effort, and the crowd gasped as he gained the early advantage. Jake’s wrist tilted, his knuckles bending ever so slightly toward the table. Joe’s heart pounded. He could win this. Jake, however, didn’t panic. He gritted his teeth and adjusted his stance, shifting his weight forward. His massive frame pressed down, forcing Joe to fight against sheer mass, not just strength. Joe grunted, his elbow burning as Jake slowly started reversing the momentum. The match became a war. Joe shook his head, refusing to let Jake’s mass overpower his technique. He twisted his wrist slightly, adjusting his leverage, and suddenly Jake’s forearm trembled. "Not so easy, huh?" Joe growled through clenched teeth. But Jake didn’t reply. He only dug in deeper. His breathing slowed. His smirk faded. He wasn’t playing anymore. With a sudden, violent surge of power, Jake ripped the match back in his favor. Joe fought tooth and nail, his arm trembling with resistance, but it was like trying to hold back a landslide. His biceps, shredded and defined, couldn’t outlast the sheer weight of Jake’s monstrous frame bearing down on him. His hand slammed to the table. The Aftermath The crowd erupted. Jake leaned back, rolling his shoulder, flexing his fingers, and shaking off the effort like it was never in question. The gym-goers surrounded him, clapping, congratulating. To them, the winner was clear. But Joe knew better. He saw it in Jake’s face during the struggle. This wasn’t dominance. This was survival. And Jake knew it too. As the noise settled, Joe wiped sweat from his brow and looked at Jake. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, Jake’s victorious smirk flickered. Joe grinned. "Let’s run that back. Right arm." Jake exhaled slowly. He didn’t say no. He tried to hide the exhaustion in his arms. He knew that Joe was more dangerous than ever. The guy had trained for months, and while Jake still held the edge in sheer power, he could feel that edge slipping. Joe had the better technique. The better stamina. Jake had thrown everything into his left arm in the previous round. But Joe had held on, weathered the storm, and fought back with better technique and endurance. That was where his real advantage lay. Now, as they switched arms, it became visible in Jake’s breathing, in the way he rolled his shoulders, that he was already tired. He could feel the dull ache creeping into his forearms. He wouldn’t be able to summon that kind of force again. Not easily. Not for long. Which meant this time, he couldn’t afford to let Joe play around. He had to end it instantly before it turned into a war of endurance. One final push. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out. They both locked hands. Their grips tightened. Then—the ref’s hand dropped. And Jake exploded like a thunderstorm, unleashing a surge of power so overwhelming that Joe barely had time to react. His arm was driven down in bullet time, his wrist bending dangerously, his muscles straining as he fought back with everything he had. It wasn’t enough. Jake’s sheer force barreled through his resistance, crushing his defense. He was going to lose—any second now, his forearm would hit the table. But then—it didn’t. Just one inch from defeat, Joe somehow stopped it. He didn’t know how, but he held firm. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest, his joints locking, his muscles straining to their breaking point. Any second now, he would crack—Jake’s sheer strength should have been enough to finish it. But it wasn’t. Joe was still there, still holding, defying gravity, defying the force bearing down on him. Jake adjusted, his grip tightening, his elbow bracing as he tried to reinforce his leverage—but it wasn’t working. That last inch wouldn’t move. Then, just as suddenly, Joe felt something change. The pressure in Jake’s grip wavered, the force against him ever so slightly receding. Joe felt the tremor in his opponent’s fingers, the hesitation in his movements. Jake wasn’t stopping on purpose—his strength was failing him. He had thrown everything into his first attack, and now he was running on fumes. And that was all Joe needed. And slowly, he pushed back. Jake resisted, every fiber of his being straining against it. But Joe’s arm didn’t stop - it rose, inch by inch, until they were back at twelve o’clock. And then - a standstill. Both men were locked in place, their arms trembling violently. Joe’s biceps were on fire. Jake’s shoulders were locking up. Neither of them could move an inch. And then Joe saw it - Jake’s smile. A quiet, knowing grin. Like he’d figured something out. Joe didn’t have time to wonder what it meant - he gritted his teeth, dug deep, and gave everything he had left. Jake’s arm wavered. His elbow shifted. Joe felt the last resistance crumble beneath him. The next moment - it was over. Jake’s hand slammed against the table. The gym erupted. Joe barely heard them. He was staring at his own hand, disbelieving. He did it. He actually did it. He was breathing hard, his entire arm shaking from exhaustion, but the only thing that mattered was that Jake was smiling up at him. Not disappointed. Not bitter. Just… happy. Joe let out a breathless laugh and clasped his friend's hand. “Hell of a match.” Jake chuckled, rubbing his forearm. “Yeah. You got me.” Joe didn’t notice the glance that passed behind him. One of the gym-goers - a longtime veteran - met Jake’s eyes. There were no words exchanged, just a slight tilt of the head. Jake smirked, looking away. And that’s all that was ever said about it. Aftermath Reflections Joe lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his body still buzzing with the remnants of adrenaline and effort. The victory felt good - undeniably good. He had won against Jake in his own field, proving that technique and endurance could triumph over raw power. Especially after the posedown, where Jake had so cleverly shifted the advantage, this win tasted even sweeter. And as he replayed the events in his mind, his original frustration started to fade. Instead, admiration took its place. Jake had outmaneuvered him in the posedown, just as Joe had outlasted him in the arm wrestling match. They had each conquered a field that wasn't their strong point, and Joe liked that. It made the rivalry more than just strength versus size; it made it a battle of wits, adaptability, and strategy. He smiled to himself, feeling a deeper respect for Jake than ever before. In his own home, Jake stood in front of his bedroom mirror, clad only in his underwear, surveying his reflection. He had always been confident in his strength and his look - his sheer size, his thick, structured frame. The extra fat didn’t bother him; it was part of the package, part of what made him the powerhouse he was. But something about that day had struck a chord. He had focused so much on growing bigger that he hadn’t realized what it had cost him - not just in added softness, but in control and presentation. The clumsiness he had felt during the posedown lingered in his mind, and he didn’t like it. He never cared about competing, but that moment of awkwardness had made him reconsider. Still, he smiled. He had wanted to win, but Joe had needed the victory more. And in the end, that was what mattered. His strength had been real, but so had his struggle. That knowing look from one of the gym-goers had told him he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. But it was fine. Joe had earned it. Jake exhaled and flexed, watching the way his muscles shifted under his skin. He had never cared for posing, but that day had shown him something new - being big didn’t mean you couldn’t carry yourself with power and confidence. Maybe it was time to learn. Joe had his victory. Now, Jake had a new goal of his own.

Everyone deserves a break, even a man who works only one day a year. But this might not be exactly the vacation he expected and it will leave him a changed man. (A late Christmas present to you all from MisterXIX and HunkLover!) Mid December… At this time of year, you might have expected him to be busily working away; preparing for the most hectic night of his year - but the reality was far less exciting than you might have pictured. After months of gentle prodding and poking, the team around him had finally convinced the old timer to take a couple of weeks away; to relax and unwind somewhere far away from the stresses his unusual job provided. As his thick boots crunched into the soft snow under his feet, he took a moment to soak in the beauty of the forest all around him - sure, he’d flown over it so many times he’d lost count, but being deep in the middle of the lush, snow-capped trees was a new experience to him. He wasn’t exactly a stranger to snow - after all, think ‘Santa Claus’ and your mind immediately conjures up images of snowmen and soft white powder falling from the sky. Think ‘Santa Claus’ and your heart immediately softens and warms at the joy he shares across the world all in one evening. Think ‘Santa Claus’ and you think of someone who embodies the concept of ‘goodness’… and perhaps that was the reason jolly old Father Christmas had no idea what was about to happen. Watching the hot air of his breath create small clouds in front of him, Santa took a moment to realise just how far he’d strayed from his simple cabin in the German Black Forest, he also took note of how dark the sky above him had become. Glancing down at his watch, a look of concern flushed upon his face - it was far too early for the sun to be setting. His eyes rolled back up to the sky; barely visible through the dense woodland and suddenly he felt the first flake. Within seconds, snow began to fall from the clouds in large, solid clumps. The more that flew down, the heavier it seemed to become and, before long, the winds were whipping the falling whiteness all around the portly man. He wrapped his thick red coat tighter around his large belly and reached into his pocket for his trusty compact torch, but as he fumbled through his thick gloves to turn it on, it fell from his grip and sank into the rapidly deepening snow. By the time he reached down to retrieve it and switch it on, to illuminate the forest around him; the snow had fallen with such pace that it had completely covered his previous footsteps. “Oh dear!” He spoke out loud, to himself if to no one else. A small bubble of panic began to rise within him; whilst he’d circumnavigated the globe many times in his life; this was one of the first times in all his years he’d felt truly and completely lost. Every snow-blasted tree looked identical to the last and, as he nervously began moving in what he thought might be the right direction, the snow continued to fire into him; pelting his bushy white beard and making his cheeks glow even redder than usual. Before long, he’d unwillingly trudged further from safety. The raging snowstorm showed no signs of slowing down and what little sunlight the day might have offered was slowly fading away. But there was something else… something… wrong about this place. The trees around him twisted and curled in strange directions, almost as if bent over in pain. The darkness that covered the whole area seemed to grow more and more intense with every passing second. Santa shivered, and not from the cold that was fighting against his thick, fur-lined coat. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly he was feeling, but something told him he’d somehow stumbled into a place where he didn’t belong. The wind howled around him and as the cold sank into him, he swore he could feel it snicker and chuckle in a cruel and sinister way. He quickly turned in all directions as the uncomfortable sensation of being watched grew within him. With every passing second, his normally jolly and happy soul sank deeper and deeper; an aura of dread and darkness filling his heart and chilling him from within. It was almost as if he could feel the dark power this part of the forest held in a tangible way - it wrapping around him and squeezed tightly, as if trying to force the kindness out of him and literally crush his spirit. “Hello!?” He called out into the dense woodland, as snow continued to tumble down. “HELLO?!?” His normally warm voice cried again, this time tinged with urgency and fear. And then, barely more than a whisper, he heard the voice reply directly into his ear. “Hello.” It purred in a coarse and gravelled tone. Father Christmas snapped around to face the creature that had somehow managed to sneak up behind him. As his eyes fell upon the beastly figure his mind lost any semblance of speech. “Guten abend, Weihnachtsmann.” It grinned. Noel’s mouth fell open as he gasped in shock. “Kr.. Krampus?” He stammered. “The one and only.” It smiled once more. “What.. are you doing here?” The rosy-cheeked man asked, fear soaking the words. Krampus chuckled softly. “Where do you think we are? This is my land, my home.” Santa’s eyes widened in horror, he tried to speak again, but the words failed him. “I agree, it’s not much… but it’s mine.” Towering over the elderly man, Krampus folded his powerful arms across his thick and bulging chest. His clawed fingers pressing gently into his intimidatingly large biceps. His eyes seemed to glow unnaturally, illuminating his pitch-black, fur covered torso. What little light escaped the small torch the portly man carried glinted upon the beast’s long, curled horns that swept backwards over his head and arched around to frame his face. His long, thick tongue swept across his sharp fangs as he drank in the opportunity before him. “What do you want with me?” Santa asked, his eyes not daring to break away from the creature before him. “Oh, that’s simple.” Krampus smiled, wider than ever before. “I’m putting you and everyone else permanently on the ‘naughty’ list.” Santa’s confusion only lasted a second. Before he had a chance to speak, Krampus whipped the chains that he held forwards, looping them around the poor old man’s boots before yanking them forward and forcing his legs to fly out in front of him; sending the old man onto his back and into the snow. He groaned momentarily as he tried to raise himself, but without warning one of Krampus’s powerful, ebony hooves pressed into Noel’s chest, pinning him to the forest floor. “For generations children have been raised to think of me as nothing but a cautionary tale. ‘Be good’ their parents would cry, ‘or Krampus will take you away’. Meanwhile, you soaked up the glory of being the world’s ‘Mr. Nice’; bestowing gifts upon those who made their beds, brushed their teeth or behaved for their babysitter.” Krampus leaned lower to Mr. Claus, their faces getting closer but his hoof remained in place, forcing the air out of the man’s lungs. “Well, now it’s time for me to give the world MY gift, starting with you.” He raised his leg away from the scared, present-bringer and stepped to one side. “Strip.” With tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, Santa struggled to comprehend what he’d heard. “Strip?” he asked, met by a slow nod from Krampus. “But… I’ll freeze.” “I wouldn’t worry about that.” Krampus sneered, loosening the knot that held his loincloth. “I’ve already figured out how to keep us… hot.” Slowly, but out of fear of what might happen if he didn’t comply, Santa disrobed until he stood naked, his hands covering his genitalia in shame. His feet pressed into the snow beneath them, and he shivered as the cold seeped into his flesh. In one sudden movement, Krampus was behind the older man, his solid chest and toned, fur-covered stomach pressing against his back. Two thickly corded arms coiled around Santa; not in a loving or protective way, but like a pair of cobras wrapping around their prey. Krampus breathed in Santa’s scent - the smell of newly baked cookies mixed with fresh pine and sighed contentedly. “W… what are you going to do?” Santa nervously whispered, simultaneously thankful for and repulsed by the heat given off by Krampus’s body. Krampus chuckled another cruel little laugh and purred into his captive’s ear. “You know damn right what I’m going to do.” As he spoke, his left hand flowed from Santa’s white, flabby chest up his neck and to the top of his head, his brutal claws scratching slightly as they climbed higher. For a second it rested there, until with one sudden push, Krampus forced Santa onto all fours. “No!” The old man cried. “Please, no!” Krampus’s long tongue lolled out of his mouth, the saliva falling from it and dropping onto his rapidly stiffening cock. Veins littered the jet-black surface as it expanded to full size. It looked nothing like a human dick, instead having the overall shape and size of a horsecock, only littered with a series small barbs and pointed ridges; there to coax out toe-curling bliss and inflict sexual torment upon whomever he chose to ride. With one hand holding his latest victim in place, the other slowly rubbed along the inches that made up his length; spreading his thick drool along it. As he did, he took time to embrace the pleasure of the moment, the bliss his own fingers could give him, but he knew it would pale in significance to what would come next. He released his cock and placed both hands around Santa’s rounded waist. “Krampus, please! I beg you, don’t!” He cried again. “Shhhh…” The beast whispered in response. “This is supposed to be a gift.” With a brutal push forwards, the fist-sized head of Krampus’s dick pressed against and into the virginal arsehole. A sharp intake of breath was heard, followed by a pained cry and whimpers, and yet the powerful black figure pushed forwards. Inch after inch forced its way inside, stretching and spreading open the warm flesh as it went, and with every little thrust another groan or sob escaped Santa’s lips. It was only when he felt Krampus’s furry nuts resting against his buttocks that he knew he’d been hilted, and he felt small relief that there was nothing more to come. But the relief was short-lived. With a smooth and forceful motion, Krampus pulled out almost all the way and then rammed back in, balls deep. A howl pierced the silence of the forest. Krampus’s smile turned wider. “You dared to drive my name into the mud? Allowing me to be the yin to your yang? I’m gonna show you now who’s truly the naughty one, Mr. Good!” His fingers dug deeper into Santa’s thick, flabby skin, causing the old man to wince as it added to the already horrible pain he was feeling. “I’ll make you regret all the years you let those horrible, one-sided rumours spread around the world, my time has finally come and I will serve justice upon this wretched world!” As he spoke, he began to build up pace; his thrusting settling into a steady, powerful yet sustained rhythm. With every word his hips rushed forwards or back. Sweat was building up; adorning Krampus’s marble pecs and huge guns. “I hope you’re liking this, you ancient, fat slob. Even if you don’t, you better start doing, ‘cause this is only the beginning! I’ll make you my bitch until the end of all time!” With that, he arched his back, putting his weight on his muscular legs forcing his throbbing cock to go deeper into the poor man’s hole. “A new era is about to rise. A time where I decide what is good and bad. I shall reward all the naughty boys who never got a gift because you couldn’t see what their goodness WAS their badness. I will restore order and give the world what they truly deserve; a world without your fucking rules to restrain them from doing what their hearts desire. I am gonna give the people of the earth the freedom you so merrily deprived them of.” Santa could barely breathe, let alone respond. His mind cried out for the onslaught to be over; he wanted the intolerable pain to end, but he couldn’t muster the strength to fight back. Even if he could have, Krampus was built like an infernal beast with seemingly supernatural strength and endurance. With every thrust and push into his body, he could feel his resistance and will to defend himself crumbling away. He tried to beg once again for Krampus to stop, but shock and fear overwhelmed him. The sound that escaped his lips sounded more like a cry of pleasure than anything else. “There it is!” Krampus cheered in delight. “There’s the gratitude I expected!” he grinned again. “THAT’S what I’m going to give the world. I will infuse their hearts with darkness, make them forget all about kindness, mercy, forbearance, benevolence… and all of that unnecessary… shit. After they receive my gifts, their souls will be consumed by evil. For the first time in their lives, they will be truly free from the bonds of humanity. Their inner desires emerging and blooming into a pool of long-suppressed wants and needs.” Krampus slowed his pace, his movements became slow and deliberate, and the rolling of his hips became less frantic and more deliberately forceful. He could taste his moment of victory was near, and he wanted to savour it. “All of humanity will be free of their mundane burdens. And so will you! You will be the first to know the new world as my eternal, infernal whore! Prepare yourself… I’m almost there!” Precum began to flow from the blunt tip of Krampus’s monster cock, slowly lubricating Santa’s passage into a slick and smooth pleasure tunnel to be claimed. “I can see in your heart; you always wanted to help people, to serve the right side and make sure it prevailed. Well Santa, that’s exactly what you are going to do in your new life… as MY faithful whore! I’m gonna paint your insides with darkness and strip you of your light.” Krampus’s clawed hands clenched tighter into Santa’s flabby belly as he humped away. A steady, brutal, forceful motion which continued on with the precision of the ticking of a Swiss watch. Within him, he could feel the delicious sensation of a rising orgasm; the familiar tickling in the pit of his stomach and a series of electric chills running up his spine. This combined with the victory he was soon to claim made the experience all the more enjoyable but the cherry on top was the series of squeals and groans that escaped Santa’s mouth - rewarding him for the effort he was putting in to corrupting him. Krampus would almost say it sounded like Santa had learned to enjoy it - but whether that was the case or not, it really didn’t matter. “I’m… hnnnh… going to make you pay for all these years of neglect.” He continued as he pumped away at the man beneath him. “I was cast away from humanity as if I was a devil trapped in this dark forest. For centuries I pondered all alone in this wretched place until finally I became a truly twisted creature, a devil longing for the power that could bring down all of this disgustingly sweet planet of yours.” Krampus stopped moving, wrapping one of his hands around Santa’s neck and pull his head closer, so he could speak directly into his ear. “I learned to relish my dark gifts and to love the immorality. Darkness became my sole friend and only companion and now that I’ve embraced the beast you turned me into, the beast you were so afraid of, I’m ready to play the part on the world’s stage.” He thrust once more, deliberately with more ferocity than he had ever inflicted upon Santa so far, making him gasp in pain and fall forwards. “You made me into a monster, now I’ll return the favour.” A series of beastial grunts and barely intelligible words leaked from Krampus as he continued his assault. His movements became less focussed and more animalistic as instinct took over. He could feel his testes throb and pulse and his whole body felt as if it were charged with power. Every inch of his cruel, athletic body hummed with pleasure as his nerves lit up with sexual energy. His hands tensed tighter still and dug into the flesh of the weak, old man under him as he threw his head back and roared in triumph. Pulse after pulse of thick, power-laced, demonic spunk shot through his cock and blasted into Santa and still he continued to pump and pump. Santa’s already distended gut began to strain at the sheer volume of liquid flowing into it. He groaned in pain and disgust - with every passing moment he felt more and more full and yet Krampus still wasn’t finished. As another three jets of his magma-hot spunk fired from his cock, the beast finally became sated. He panted heavily, his heaving muscular chest slick with sweat, despite the freezing temperature of the forest. Unceremoniously, he fished his cock out of Santa with a sickening ‘pop’ letting the used man drop to the floor. He ran a claw over the slit of his massive, softening cock and lifted a blob of his black, tar-like jizz to his mouth. His tongue coiled around his finger, drinking in his own juices as he rested against one of the nearby trees and let out a contented sigh followed by an almost surprised chuckle… he’d finally done it. Meanwhile, Santa could feel the warmth of Krampus’s load sloshing around inside him. As he pulled himself to his feet, he could feel a small amount of it trickle out of him, flow down his leg and pool at his right foot. His stomach gurgled uncomfortably as his hands rubbed the distended skin. “What have you done to me?” He asked, the words barely a whisper. Krampus looked down on him once again, his dark smile never faltering. “I told you, I gave you a gift.” Santa bent over as the pain in his gut intensified, he clutched his tummy and let out a wounded yelp. As he attempted to soothe the pain by rubbing his hands across his belly, he became quickly aware that there was rapidly less distance for his palms to travel. As the seconds passed, any trace of fat that had ever graced Santa’s midriff continued to literally melt away. Shock flushed through his body as his hands began to trace the subtle curves of a rapidly forming series of abdominal muscles. He watched as the cobbles beneath the skin seemed to rise like loaves of bread baking in an oven, pushing back against his hands. The fingers continued to trace across his flesh, but now they danced across the ridges that had formed, almost hypnotising him to the point that he barely noticed the other changes slowly spreading across his body. He watched as his chest followed the same process; the flabby man-tits he’d known for so many years slowly melting away before two solid, concrete-heavy slabs of beef burst into the space; his pecs expanding like two party balloons being inflated with pure masculinity. The white fluffy hair that covered his stomach and chest slowly started to darken and as his fingers brushed against it. He marvelled at the thick black pelt he now sported, at the same time, his rosy skin began to deepen into golden, all-over tan. Meanwhile, the heat that had started in his arse and stomach now radiated out to every inch of him, flowing up and down his spine. He involuntarily cramped up, his body doubling over as a new sensation flushed through him. It was a feeling of might and supremacy - an energy he’d never felt before. As he straightened back to a standing position, he revelled in watching the ground beneath him fall further away as he grew. Always standing as a relatively short man, he’d never considered a connection between standing tall and literally feeling above other people, but now he knew that his height was a demonstration of his strength; strength that still hadn’t fully manifested. His arms and legs ached and throbbed as if soaked in ice. He couldn’t resist clenching his fists as his biceps and triceps expanded and bulged; a finger-thick vein wrapping around each one and flowing down towards his hands. What he couldn’t see was how his formally friendly and loveable face had hardened into a cruel and domineering sneer; he now sported an admittedly handsome face, but it would always be fixed in a look that showed no joy or mercy. Between his legs, his testicles churned, visibly hopping around inside Santa’s sack. Krampus laid a hand against them and leaned towards Santa, whispering seductively into his ear. “Fill them. Fill them with your goodness.” That was all it took for the mental dam to break. Santa’s thoughts turned to the joy and happiness he’d created and shared over the years. The look on the faces of all those he’d ever left presents for; the beauty of the act of giving love to the world… and suddenly it all poured out of his mind. He could feel it flushing down through him, flowing towards his balls. His eyes darted down to see Krampus’s clawed fingers cradling his testes which began to glow with a soft golden light. With every passing second, his nuts swelled larger and larger - filling up with all the goodness he’d ever possessed. “Now…” Krampus whispered, softly but forcefully. “…release it.” Even if he’d wanted to resist, there was simply no way for him to do so. It was less of a request and more of a command that etched into his brain and overwrote his impulses. Within seconds, the man formerly known as Santa felt his cock sprung into life and began firing out load after load of his positivity charged spunk. It shot out of his mushroom head glowing with ethereal golden light, but as it hit the ground and sank into the snow, the light faded away never to be seen again. His dick continued to shoot over and over until the stream of glowing spunk began to dissipate and finally his last splutter of cum; normal, milky white cum, hit the forest floor with all the others. For a moment he said nothing, merely trying to catch his breath and regain control of his thoughts. He looked at Krampus with a face that told the story of his confusion. “I feel… empty.” He shrugged, and Krampus simply smiled once again. “It’s fucking freezing!” He said reaching for his famous red coat when a clawed hand stopped him in his tracks. “Ah, ah ahhh.” Krampus purred. “That doesn’t belong to you any more.” The confused man looked at the coat he held in his hand and then looked to Krampus. He didn’t fully understand what Krampus had meant… of course it was his coat. But the longer he held onto it, the more uncomfortable he became with the idea of wearing it ever again. “Do you…?” He started to ask. “Yes?” Krampus smiled once again, releasing his grip on the man. “Do you… want it?” The muscular man asked, holding it out towards the beast. “Are you sure?” Krampus’s grin widened further than the man had ever seen, he was struggling to hide his excitement. “…I… think so?” “Well then, put it on me.” Krampus commanded. The naked man raised one of the thick red and white sleeves in the direction of the monster and his arm weaved through it. In just a moment the fabric was wrapped around his back and then his other arm was sheathed… and then it happened. Krampus let out a shuddered breath. His hands clenched as he released a pleasured sigh and involuntarily hunched over. As he raised his head and opened his eyes, the glow they once had intensified to the point where they seemed to illuminate the forest around him. “Mmmmmmm” He sighed again, squeezing his fists tighter as warmth began to spread inside of him. He stepped over to where one of the boots had been abandoned and forced his hooves into the leather openings as far as they’d go, letting out another hiss of satisfaction as he did. He snatched up the rest of Santa’s discarded garments and struggled to fit his hulking frame into some of them, whilst others such as the coat and pants were practically tents for his slim body. But it didn’t matter, the outfit wouldn’t stay that way for long. Santa’s familiar velvety, comfortable, soft, warm, red suit seemed to want to unwind at the seams and stitches whilst at the same time, it appeared as if it desperately wanted to cling onto its new wearer; trying to fit perfectly. The bright brass buttons and buckles dimmed and darkened. The leather being forced apart by Krampus’s hooves split and tore and as soon as the entire outfit seemed to be on the verge of falling into scraps, it began to shift and move in unnatural ways. The leather of the gloves flowed up his arms and towards his crotch where it stretched and mixed with the fur ruffles of his coat to form a pair of tightly fitted, tantalisingly revealing leather trousers that clung to every inch of his strong, powerful legs, like a second skin. In the middle, was a huge pouch, specifically created to hold and perfectly frame his impressive package. The red fabric that made up the bulk of his jacket shifted into a leather-like material, winding around his chest and framing his pecs in a tight leather vest. The power of Santa’s suit was clearly wrestling with Krampus’s monstrous figure. It seemed to want to hunt out any element of humanity. But, his beastly nature seemed to fight it every inch of the way. For a second, his gigantic hooves tingled and throbbed as the magic worked to force them into the boots… realising it couldn’t, it started to rework the flesh. The thick pelt of fur that covered Krampus’s legs began to fall out in clumps as his powerful hooves began to weaken. In a sudden falling motion, the monster felt himself drop into the boots he’d tried to push himself inside - his hooves shrinking and sliding into them. Once inside, new digits began to form and without a moment’s thought, he wriggled his newly formed toes inside the thick leather soles he now wore. At the same time, his animalistic snout and inhuman face began to warp and twist too. He clutched his skull as he felt the bones shift under his palms - once again Santa’s power tried to humanise the beast…but Krampus fought it once more. You might think a person’s face becoming, if anything, more human, would make them less threatening, more welcoming and put you at ease whenever you saw them. But Krampus’s beastial appearance was something he’d grown proud of, and he wasn’t prepared to let go of it so easily. As the metamorphosis of his skull finished he raised his hands away from it to reveal a brutish, powerful and devastatingly handsome grin. His eyes were now set deep above a strong nose and thick pouty lips. Above them a thick brow almost immediately quirked so that one eyebrow raised higher than the other as he sneered down at the man who’d so easily given up his role. He wanted to take a moment to relish in his victory over the charms and incantations that had tried to soften him and make him into a ‘new Santa’, but the transformation hadn’t finished. The horns that had always adorned his brow were joined by another smaller pair in the middle of his forehead as the bone splintered again; a series of spikes rose beneath from under his skin to line his eyebrows. At the same time his whole body ached and began to twitch and rumble; in an instant, he felt unsteady on his new feet and dropped to the ground. Santa watched as the creature before him pulsed and throbbed as he struggled to breathe regularly. With every inhalation, his body seemed to expand and stretch. The new garments that covered his body groaned as they were pulled ever tighter under muscles that rose up and inflated with increased power and might. Veins littered Krampus’s skin; flooding his newly enhanced body with all it needed to continue its demonstration of victory. He gasped again as the belt that was around his waist was forced to split in two, his waist thickening in proportion with his growing body. The scraps of leather flowed up his torso and along his arms to form a new pair of thick, protective leather bracer armbands; the material shifting from black to blood red as it settled into place. Krampus let out a gasp of surprise as the metal that formally adorned the jolly suit as bells, buckles and buttons heated into a molten state and flowed up to his right palm, dancing around his hand as if searching for a suitable home, but not finding it. Finally, the hat he’d barely rested upon his head began to liquify and wrap around his horns, dying the bone into a threatening and terrifying crimson. Throughout all this, the man that was once known to the world as Santa stood open-mouthed at the transformation, staring at the changes as they happened before him. He couldn’t help but wish that he’d been able to cover himself in some way as he stood naked in the snow, shivering. He continued to stare at Krampus, his eyes almost pleading with the creature to keep him warm. Krampus looked upon the sorry excuse for a man before him and sighed. “Okay, I suppose you deserve a couple more gifts, for being a very naughty boy.” He closed the gap between the two and pulled the man into a kiss, his thick tongue invading the human’s mouth forcefully, wrapping his right hand over the muscular chest. In an instant, the metal leapt from his palm and separated, half rushing towards each perky nipple. The hulking man gasped into Krampus’s mouth as the metal forced its way through his flesh, and formed two spiked piercings. As the two continued to exchange saliva, a skintight, black fur and leather harness wrapped itself across the human’s powerful body. A pair of bright, ruby-red latex trousers wrapped around his legs and he was lifted up a couple of inches by the soles of the thick biker boots that suddenly encased his feet. Krampus stepped backwards to inspect his handiwork and tenderly ran a hand over the man’s shoulder. The man smiled contentedly, but Krampus suddenly clenched his hand around the hunk’s neck, forcing out a choked gurgle. Seconds later, he removed his clawed fingers to reveal a thick, spiked collar wrapped around the muscular neck. The man ran his fingers over it, catching his breath again. Santa was no more. The hot brute now standing proudly, his thick cock pointing menacingly at the sky, was nothing more than what the tag on his neck clearly stated. Hundreds of miles away, back in Santa’s workshop, dozens of elves continued to tirelessly work and craft toys for the world’s little ones; those who were good, anyway. Their aim was as simple as it had always been, to make toys that would bring good cheer and put innocent, pure smiles on the faces of people all around the world. As they worked, festive music, carols and whistles echoed through the workshop, the smell of rich hot cocoa and fresh gingerbread wafting through the air. Without warning, an incredible boom echoed through the elven factory as the double doors were forced open brutally, slamming into the walls and shattering the stained glass windows either side. Ice laden, Arctic winds and snow quickly flushed inwards, invading the workshop. In the middle of the white flurries stood two dark figures; one heavy and tall, a pool of thick muscles, with a strong jawline, curled red horns and a menacingly thick shaft encased in leather between his legs, the other one on all fours, the head proudly cocked upwards, looking at his master, and the body posture the same as a proud dog. From his collar a thick leather leash was attached, running a short length before ending in the beast’s firm grip. From the collar three words glowed with an unnatural crimson red; “Property of Krampus”. Of course, the elves didn’t recognise Santa; he’d changed so much during Krampus’s assault that he was barely the same person anymore. Chaos washed across the workshop floor and soon the tiny creatures ran in many directions, desperate to save themselves from the intruder and proclaiming aloud that they needed to inform Santa. As panic and pandemonium seemed to take over the North Pole, Krampus merely strode into the middle of the work space, his new pet at his side. As the elves continued to rush around, unsure of what to do, he raised a finger to his mouth and spoke, barely more than a whisper. “Silence.” The workshop ground to a halt. The elves quietened and frozen in place. All heads turned to face the stranger in the middle of their home as his eyes softly glowed a malevolent red. He glanced down to one of the small creatures that had been rushing by him and was now looking up at him. “Wh…Who….who are you?” It nervously whimpered. Krampus’s new lips curled into another sneering smile. “The new boss.” He snickered. “We’ll see about that.” A voice in the crowd cried out. “Santa will be back soon and he won’t stand for this!” Another joined in. The small elf at Krampus’s feet never looked away from the domineering, horned man. Mustering every ounce of bravery he had, he spoke again. “You shouldn’t be here. You don’t have the authority to be here.” “Oh but I do.” He chuckled “I have power over you, and all the other creatures here… it’s amazing… all I had to do was put on a certain suit, and it gave me complete and utter authority on your whole existence!” He finished, his maniacal cackle piercing the vast room, punctuated only by a series of gasps of the elves all around him. “Now prepare to accept me as your new master, owner and commander of your petty, miserable lives.” With that, Krampus started sucking the air out of the room. One would only expect him to suck for several seconds, but Krampus didn’t seem to stop. In fact, he gulped in the air with such ferocity, no one could ever deny his strength was evident of a beast straight from Hell. Out of the blue, with a single motion, every last elf felt a huge wave of paralysing agony course through their bodies. They all fell to their knees and used their hands to support their weight to avoid falling further. An excruciating piercing pain rocked their bodies forcing them to arch their back and face upwards. To an outside observer, they might have looked like a pack of wild dogs ready to submit to their new alpha. Abruptly, something within each of them felt wrong. Their stomachs ached… something was not ok. The pain increased with every second as if something was moving inside them; rising from their very depths and crawling upwards. This ‘something’ continued forcing its way out. It passed their larynxes and suddenly as if in perfect sync their mouths were forced open as wide as they could go. It didn’t matter if they didn’t want to do it or tried to hold back in any way, whatever curse this devil had inflicted upon them, they simply couldn’t resist it. A bright, warm light rose from within them appearing inside each of their mouths. It moved slowly, but steadily, leaving their bodies. The instant those bright, shimmering milky balls passed the gates of their body temple they stopped moving. The became once again frozen to the spot. The pain was not subsiding; quite the contrary, it intensified and grew continually worse. The elves couldn’t comprehend how they were able to endure their collective assault. Only a few seconds had passed, but it felt like an eternity. Brusquely and without any sign of what was about to happen, the glowing orbs wound together into one large mass that hoovered in the centre of the room; its destination undeniable. With tears forming in their eyes, the elves witnessed the beast sucking it inside of him and in one steady stream, their souls flowed into the beast that stood before them all. When the last proof of light was consumed, Krampus closed his demonic mouth, gulped down the last of their very souls and smiled contently. “Well, that was the most satisfying meal I’ve had in all my years!” The elves around him felt… empty. As if their meaning to exist had been stolen away from them. Whatever positive, happy or joyful thoughts that used to drive them forwards and brighten their days had been snatched away and now all that remained was a hollow, darkness. “Fear not my little friends, I know you must be feeling pretty low…” Krampus roared in delight. “…but we can always go lower”. A small, shaky voice in the distance croaked out nervously. “What about Santa?” “What about him?” Krampus smiled and looked down, pulling on the leash. “Say ‘hello’ to your former friends, slave.” For the first time since his transformation, the man who had once been Santa felt a moment of reluctance and his head dropped to the floor; not daring to look at any of the elves who’d once been some of his most trusted and loyal friends and colleagues. “Not in the mood?” Krampus snapped. “I said. SPEAK!” His eyes glowed a fiercer red, almost burning into the poor man at his feet. The puppy man’s face rose from the floor and his expression melted into one of complete and genuine contentment. He turned to look at his audience. With a wide smile and overwhelming pride the muscular slut exclaimed “Hello boys! I am afraid you’ve all been really good this year, which is now very, very bad… but, don’t worry, it’s ok. Master will take care of you all. He’ll punish you until you fall to your knees and worship him as your new Lord and commander for all eternity!” With those words the muscled dog smiled once again, a malicious grin, turning his face up to meet his master stare who also smiled ever-so contentedly! Krampus dropped the leather lead in his hands and strode casually through the workshop, running his fingers over the lithe bodies of the elves as he walked… his new subjects. “Now, little ones. I can sense how bereft you feel, how you crave a reason to be. That reason is now me.” He spoke in an almost melodic way. “Let me take that emptiness you feel within you… and fill it up.” Around him, every elf clutched its stomach and cramped up in renewed agony. They cried out for relief and begged for the torture to end. “Feel my darkness grow within you, let the first seeds of your badness take root and free you from your, so-called, morality.” Krampus preached. As his words echoed around the wooden framed toy-factory, the creatures all around him writhed and rolled on the floor. The small, fragile bodies becoming endowed with unnatural strength they’d never known; their tiny frames rapidly disappearing, giving space to something bigger, more majestic. Their bones cracked as they elongated, becoming fuller and firmer. Each molecule of their tender, milky-white skin stretched and expanding as pound after pound of marble hard flesh poured out of nowhere. Glorious pectorals rose up, standing fierce and menacing; glistening with fresh sweat. The odour of endless hours in the gym emanated from every pore leaving behind an intensely strong musky stench. As their skin glistened under a thick layer of their intense body fluid, rock hard biceps and triceps broke free from their unseen prisons. Their teeth extended and sharpened to match the very demons they were becoming. Horns bursting through their skulls and their eyes darkening until they were entirely pitch black. As the elves turned from short, weak, child-like beings to thickly muscled adult -sized demonic entities filled with depravity and an ever-lasting craving for flesh, their clothes started feeling extremely restrictive, as if it were caging them away from their new temple of filth. The battle was lost even before it was started. Seams stretched to their very limit, fibres entirely distended, eventually giving up. The flesh had won! Demonic muscles finally burst out of their materialistic prison. A glistening 8-pack adorned each one of the wondrous creatures of lust. The remained on the floor, curiously exploring their bodies with their claw tipped hands; realising that almost the entire room was naked. Their Hellish rods sprung forward, committing to a life of perversion; virile and throbbing, full of the seed of corruption and depravity. The cavernous space was filled with a series of incredibly sensual moans, making it the perfect porn scene with each being an incredible specimen of masculinity. It was a marvel to witness. Where once toys, happiness and cheer occupied the thoughts of the elves, new thoughts started filling the minds of the damned creatures: Lust and filth, sweat and brutal, cruel, hard sex were now the only thoughts in their mind. Their heartwarming smiles suddenly warped and twisted to evil grins. Within seconds any semblance of anything good had left the building forever And for Krampus, it felt so damn right. With their hearts tainted black, they stood proud and fierce in front of their new Lord; soldiers eager to obey his every command and satisfy his every whim. Consorts and sluts to their new king; their chutes twitching lustfully in anticipation. “Well my filthy slaves, we have walked through the threshold into a new era, I say it’s only right that I claim everything I’m due!” Krampus snapped his fingers and a loud crack broke the silence. Immediately, the famous sleigh which sat in the centre of the room rose into the air by an unseen force. Krampus started walking towards the magnificent vehicle which was bathed in a bright, golden aura. With every step he took, his boots landed forcefully on the ground sending chills through every last hellish elf in the room. They all moved closer, curiosity in their stares as they looked at their new commander, anticipating to see how he’d take yet another symbol of joy and happiness and make it crumble once and for all under the power of darkness and depravity. Krampus closed his eyes tightly and focussed, as he did, the whole building started to shake. Beneath the North Pole, the ice that formed the entire landmass was rocked by an unprecedentedly strong earthquake. The elves were on the verge of panicking when they noticed their Lord smiling, his teeth showing as his grin spread across his demonic face. Under the sleigh, the floor cracked and black sludge started emerging from under the red, obsidian marble. The ooze grew larger and larger by the second, building up in frenzy and emanating a filthy aroma - something the elves and their former leader had only just learned to appreciate; the foul smell of pure sex and sweat. The lust that filled the workshop intensified. Depravity was throwing down another anchor to the cursed place; formerly a centre of purity, kindness, innocence. “It must be coming directly from the deepest pits of Hell.” One of the elves thought, and he wasn’t mistaken. Straight from the heart of the infernal regions, black gooey tentacles and tendrils crawled up the magnificent craftsmanship until they swallowed the entire thing. As if the sleigh were alive, it started to quake, trying to hold onto the final spark of the golden aura that it had always been adorned with… but the power of darkness was simply too strong and within moments it surrendered, ceasing to exist. The metal structure lost its golden brilliance as it darkened to a rich obsidian, and the bright red and green darked to a deep, dark grey. The golden details, such as the lamps that had illuminated the way for so many trips around the world, lost whatever rounded edges they had and sharpened. At the same time, the beautiful, hand-made curved wood that made up the body of the sleigh splintered and cracked; it’s form being forced into something more fitting. Sharp, highly defined creases and folds formed until it looked as if the sleigh were now something an evil Italian supercar designer would dream up. Lines intersected and the whole structure looked like a gigantic pair of robotic, angular bat wings had folded and wrapped around it. As the sleigh lowered back to the ground, Krampus couldn’t help but run a clawed hand across the surface of it. In an instant, he felt a shiver of new power and a connection to the vehicle - it would be this that would allow him to truly change the entire world to suit his twisted desires. He took a moment to look around the workshop and he grinned widely. Already the magic he now possessed was warping it to work towards his needs; the warm tones of the lighting, the smells of cookies and cinnamon, the conveyor belts carrying newly crafted toys… they all began to fade and ripple out of existence - a new warped version of each element slowly forming to take their place. The North Pole would continue to make toys… they’d just be more ‘adult’ than they’d ever been. And only for the bad boys who truly deserved them. At that thought, he couldn’t resist climbing up and taking his place in his sleigh. As he did, he felt his cock stiffen again against his leather trousers. His mind danced at the delicious corruption he’d soon be able to unleash upon an unprepared world, his balls churning as he pictured how he’d reward the bad boys and punish the good ones. Mounting the sleigh, by his side, the newly crafted, everlasting pet to his new master, sat Naughty Claus; a former bringer of joy now reduced to an insatiable whore, ready to roam the Earth, but with a different purpose this time. A purpose aligned perfectly well with his new owner’s filthy plans. A arm-thick dildo magically rose from the material that now made up the seat of the sleigh under his cheeks and forced its way into Santa - locking him in place and ensuring he’d remain seated for the entire experience beside his new master. At last, the time had come when Santa would roam the globe seeing all those despicably good and kindhearted people who he favoured in the past getting EXACTLY what they deserve. An evil grin appeared on his face. With an everlasting look of adoration in his eyes, he turned to admire the one and only Master of Darkness gazing upon this wretched world; a joyful, yet fierce and piercing smile adorning his demonic face. There was no question whatsoever about what Krampus was smiling at. His mind painted the picture of the bad becoming worse and the good… well they’d get what they deserve and learn to like it; under the hard sweaty muscles of the truly ‘bad’ boys; a huge thick dick ploughing into them and ravaging their arsehole turning them into little more than cuntboys. His growing power slowly, but surely, corrupting the world; simply making men into depraved playthings in the hands of those who had been wronged for so many years. He clenched his clawed hand tightly and as his fingers curled open, the scroll magically appeared in his palm. The naughty list was finally his.

Frank's In Control Part One “Fuck him, Boy. I’ll do it.” Shai turned slightly to his right to fully see the man who had just spoken. “So… what are you… some mad scientist?” The man grinned at him. Shai had seen him before. Often. He was one of those guys you always saw at the gym no matter what time you went and always wondered if they had a job or a home to go to. While working out, Shai had caught his eye several times, and it had always been Shai who had been the first to look away. Yeah, even standing half dressed in the locker room at 10.30 pm on a Friday night, there was no doubt that the guy thought highly of himself. Seeing him again without his shirt on, Shai’s brain went primal; thinking to himself that he was positive the guy was incredible in bed and fucked like a machine. That type of guy always did… and they never gave Shai the time of day. Shai was guessing, but he placed the man at around 53, or possibly 55 years of age. He looked to be in great shape… no… amazing shape, actually, for his age. He was taller than Shai, probably a little over 6 foot. His hair was salt and pepper, with a little bit more salt than pepper in the mix, and it would have fallen to his neck if it wasn’t tied up in a small ponytail. He had a bit of a beard, and behind the hair surrounding his mouth were pearly white teeth and a shit eating grin that reached up to his blue eyes. He could definitely pass for an amateur bodybuilder. His sleeveless T-shirt showed off a hairy, wide torso with pecs that pulled against the fabric, and a solid neck connected to incredibly broad shoulders. Shai guesstimated that his chest was in the range of 48 to 50 inches if measured, while the delts connected to it were round and substantial. They were the perfect beginning to thick, veiny arms with an estimated 18 inch bicep. Standing in his tight, black briefs. Shai could tell that it was obvious that the man never skipped leg day. His thighs were solid with beefy quads and substantial hamstrings. The roundness of his glutes pulled at the fabric of his briefs, showing off a package that appeared to be as sizable as its owner. Remembering suddenly to talk, Shai said the first thing that popped into his head: “Excuse me?” “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt… but couldn’t help overhearing what you were saying to Mitchell.” The man’s Texan twang surprised Shai, but it seemed apropos. The man settled himself onto the changing room bench next to Shai. He was close enough that the scientist could smell the leathery scent of the man’s body and feel the warmth he was giving off. “Actually, you were both pretty loud, so it wasn’t like I was snooping or anything. These changing rooms have a serious echo to them. So… what is this about some new PED you’ve been working on?” The guy smiled again, slight crows feet highlighting his eyes. “That was… kind of a private conversation.” “My advice, Boy, don’t have private conversations in locker rooms if you don’t want anyone to hear them.” “Thanks for that. I have to get going.” Shai stood up, grabbing his gym bag in the process. “I said I’d do it.” “Do what?” “Be your guinea pig for trying out this new PED. Mitchell said he changed his mind. I won’t change my mind.” “What you heard… just… forget it. It doesn’t concern you.’ “What if I don’t want to forget it? What if I want it to concern me? I’m interested, and you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially when your funding is being pulled and tonight is one of the last chances you have to test it. Sorry. I have ears like a hawk, but you did come off pretty strong with Mitchel. You almost sounded desperate. I can see why the pup skedaddled. Never appear desperate… even if you are. That’s another lesson for the day.” The guy smiled broadly, opening his legs slightly wider, taking up more room in the bench. “Even if you were interested… I don’t know how your body would process the formula.” “Why? Too old? You ageist?” “No. I’m not ageist. This has nothing to do with…” “I get it. Mitchell’s 23. I’m 54. Mitchell looks better on paper, but my guess is that this ex-Marine could handle whatever it is better than that kid.” “I’m sure you probably could.” “I know I could. Why don’t you try me out.” “Look. I have nothing against you.” “Good to know.” “I just… thought… with his symmetry… with his body composition… he’d be perfect. He was all set last week. I don’t know why he backed out now.” “Like I said, you sounded desperate with the whole, ‘it has to be tonight! They’re taking my credentials in the morning. We have to do it tonight!’ shit.” “Fuck.” Shai collapsed into the bench. “I must have sounded like a lunatic. It’s just, The Company have cut my funding and they will be taking the keys and my work away from me in the morning. This might be the only chance…. Fuck.” “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Kids get scared. When you've been in combat like me… in a fucking insane war zone over and over again… not much scares you. Semper Fi do or die.” “I bet.” “Look. I could blackmail you into getting what I want, but I don't want to be that guy.” “Thanks.” “It wouldn’t be a good way to start our relationship.” “I didn’t know we had a relationship.” “Look. Our relationship can be mutually beneficial. You want a guinea pig… and I want size.” “I hear what you’re saying…” The guy stood up. Yeah, Shai thought, he has to be about 6’1. Grabbing onto his t-shirt, he pulled it over his head and threw it onto the bench. His chest was pumped, his torso was tan, his pecs coated with hair that had obviously been trimmed a week or so ago, and he had the muscular build of someone who spent every day in the gym, yet didn’t deny himself a couple of beers or slices of pizza. Over his heart, directly on his left pec, he had a jet black Marine Corp logo tattoo which he subconsciously bounced as he displayed himself for Shai. “Thought you might want to see what you could be working with.” He lifted his left arm and flexed his bicep. “Looking… good.” “Thanks.” The guy moved closer to Shai. “You know, I’ve seen you checking me out. If you would have had the balls to approach me… who knows what we could have gotten up to.” “Oh yeah?” The guy smiled. “Let’s both admit that I’m taking Mitchell’s place in your experiment tonight.” The guy walked closer to Shai until his crotch was directly in front of him. “I…. I can’t… guarantee that…” “You said to Mitchell… I just need to see it work. Imagine. You can gain 15-20 pounds of muscle in one night. I just need to know my hypothesis was correct.” “Yeah… I think I said that…”. Shai could smell the musky scent of the guy's crotch from where he sat, and it was making him hard. “Can you imagine this body with 15 more pounds of muscle. Hell. I’d let you go further. Give me 20 more pounds of muscle… or more. I’m not some Tik Toc influencer worried that my fans are going to think I’m not natural like Mitchell was.” “You’d still be natural… it’s your DNA.” “I would be… huh?” The guys smile grew broader. “No… I mean. Mitchell still would have been natural. It’s his DNA we would have been working with.” The guy reached out his thick hands and grabbed Shai under his armpits, standing him up. Shai was so surprised that he simply allowed the man to manhandle him as he pleased. Moments later, he had leaned over slightly, and the two men were suddenly kissing. Fuck, Shai thought as it was happening. He’s an incredible kisser. Shai felt The Guy’s hand move down to his crotch , and soon he was beginning to massage it, feeling that it was already extremely hard even before touching it. “Just admit it, Boy, we’re gonna be great partners. Right?” Shai groaned. “Right.” “How big can you make me?” With one hand The Guy had undone Shai’s pants and had his cock out, slowly stroking it. “How… how big do you want to get?” “30 pounds more… 35 pounds? Can you imagine me at 250 lbs of muscle?!” Fuck!! He was so horny!! “Yeah… I can.” “I’ve always wanted to be massive like… stupid massive.” “I… I… oh fuck… I can do that. Bigger… stronger...” “Now you’re talking my language. I had a feeling you could.” “I… just don’t know… if we should…” The Guy began playing with Shai’s ass as he continued stroking his cock. “You let me worry about what you should or shouldn’t do. You want me in control… don’t you?” “I… I… maybe we can… talk more… first….” “Say it.” “I want you in control.” “Tell me how big you’re gonna make me.” “I’m going to make you massive.” “Keep going “ “You’re… you’re going to be so muscular… people will question if you’re still human.” “Fuck yeah. Right, Boy?” “Yeah. Ungodly huge. Exactly what you want.” “Say it. Who’s in control? “You’re in control.” “Yeah. We’re gonna be great partners. Aren’t we? You’re gonna give me what I want… and I’m going to give you what you need.” “I…” “Just say, ‘Thank you, Frank’.” “Thank you, Frank.” “Good boy.” Frank went to his knees and took Shai’s throbbing cock in his mouth. “Oh fuck!” “Now… you’re gonna cum in a few seconds… and then I’m going to follow you to your lab which you already had set up for Mitchell. There… we’re gonna get started making me more muscular than anyone ever thought could be possible… and then some.” Just as he was told, Shai came a few seconds later in Frank’s mouth. As he came, he thought… I made a deal with the devil. I don’t care though… Frank’s in control. To Be Continued...

Part One "Yeah, come on, coach, you've got this in the bag!" James was not the only one cheering at the small, but powerfully built men on stage in the over 60's class of his local bodybuilding contest, but he was certainly the loudest, and with good reason. His coach, Larry, was almost certain to win his fifth regional title in as many years and as he finished off his routine with a most muscular that defied his size, he smiled, bowed to the audience and strode off back stage where his student picked him up and grunted "You may only be ten stone, but this is how much I want to congratulate you!" As he placed Larry on the ground a few seconds later, Larry just smiled and said "Remember, this time last year you couldn't even pick me up, but I thank you. It's nice to get some positive feedback from a student" and with that they went off to prepare Larry for the presentation. Larry and James really couldn't have been more different if they tried. Larry was 69 years old, had been training since his 14th birthday and although only standing 5ft 2 tall and weighing 138lbs, his 38½ inch chest, 33½ inch waist, 13 inch biceps, 21 inch quads and 14½ inch calves looked hewn from granite. James, on the other hand, was not only ten inches taller, but worlds apart. He weighed 220lbs, but with a 46 inch chest, 45 in waist, 13 inch biceps, 23 inch quads and 14½ inch calves, it was obvious that he had a long way to go to match his coach, but that did not dampen his enthusiasm for his coach and what he lacked in muscle, he more than made up for in cleverness. Indeed, it was his idea to create a social media account for his coach's bodybuilding exploits, accounts which were regularly shared by the stars of bodybuilding although James made quite sure that everyone realised that Larry's muscle development was following the "PHS method" of training which Larry explained as the "Porthos, Hercules and Samson" method of training until he couldn't do anymore and without any drugs whatsoever. That evening as the two drove home, James nursing the trophy like a baby, he looked at it and said "Larry, did you really mean what you said last year when I joined your gym. That in the space of three years I could win one of these myself!" Larry chuckled "Of course I did, I mean look at your progress. Your bench, squat and deadlift have increased exponentially from nothing to 104lbs, 94lbs and 84lbs respectively, you can pick me up for at least thirty seconds when you couldn't managed it before, and might I note that you've become more confident as well" and with that smiled at him. "Yes" smiled James, "my naked posing sessions after we train" and with that added, "I can't help myself, I say. After I train I feel, well, like, like the biggest and strongest man in the world, I want to rip off my posing suit and flex, flex, flex" "Tell you what then" smiled Larry, "special treat this evening. Before I tuck into my post contest ice cream, we'll pose down together, naked, and you can show me what poses I should do for my next guest posing session next weekend, Deal?" "Deal!" nodded James, frantically.

Chapter 1 - Ryan life Ryan Mercer was an ordinary man—or so he appeared to everyone who met him. At 24 years old, he worked as a server at a small café tucked away in the heart of Manhattan. The job wasn’t glamorous, but Ryan liked the rhythm of it, the endless ebb and flow of customers, and the opportunity to observe the people who passed through. Standing at 5’10” with a lean frame, Ryan blended into the background with ease. His brown hair was short and slightly unruly, his green eyes quiet and observant. He moved with an unassuming grace, balancing trays of drinks and plates of food as though it was second nature. He dressed simply: jeans, a fitted t-shirt, and the café’s black apron tied around his waist. Most people barely noticed him, and Ryan preferred it that way. He had always been good at fading into the crowd. But Ryan noticed others—especially the men who came through the café. He couldn’t help it; his eyes naturally lingered on broad shoulders, strong arms, and chiseled jawlines. He admired the way a well-built man filled out a shirt or how defined calves flexed beneath fitted trousers. It wasn’t just attraction—though there was plenty of that—it was also fascination. Ryan found himself studying the way muscles moved under fabric, the power and confidence some men carried in their bodies. He often wondered what it would feel like to command that kind of presence. Not that anyone would guess this about him. Ryan’s shy smile and quiet demeanor gave him an air of harmlessness. He was the guy you’d trust to keep your coffee order straight or lend you a hand if you dropped something. Polite, reliable, and invisible. This morning was like any other. The café was bustling with its usual morning crowd: businessmen in sharp suits, gym-goers fresh from their workouts, and students with laptops and headphones. Ryan moved between the tables with practiced efficiency, but his attention was drawn, as it often was, to the more striking customers. At the counter stood a man in his late twenties, dressed in a snug athletic top that showcased his sculpted chest and arms. The fabric clung to him, outlining every curve and ridge, from his powerful shoulders to the taper of his narrow waist. Ryan’s eyes lingered, tracing the way the man’s forearms flexed as he tapped his card against the reader. He had the kind of physique that turned heads without trying, a presence that seemed effortless. Ryan couldn’t help but steal glances as he worked. “Ryan, can you take table five?” Clara’s voice snapped him out of his reverie. She was bustling past him with a tray of muffins. “Sure,” Ryan said quickly, grabbing his notepad and heading over. At table five sat a pair of students, deep in conversation over their textbooks. Ryan took their orders and smiled politely, though his mind wandered. As he moved through the café, he wondered how it would feel to be different. To walk into a room and have every eye drawn to him. To command space, not with loudness or charisma, but simply by existing. What no one knew was that Ryan could do exactly that—if he chose to. Buried deep within him was a power unlike anything most people could imagine. It wasn’t something he flaunted; in fact, he had spent years hiding it. But it was always there, humming beneath the surface, waiting for the moment when he might need it. For now, though, Ryan was content to live his quiet life, admiring others from the sidelines. Little did he know, the day would soon come when he would have no choice but to step into the spotlight—and reveal just how extraordinary he truly was. The night was cool and crisp as Ryan made his way home from the café. Manhattan's streets were quieter at this hour, the usual hustle of the day replaced by the hum of distant traffic and the occasional clatter of footsteps. Ryan pulled his jacket tighter around him, his thoughts drifting to the events of the day. Turning a corner, he entered a narrow side street lined with dumpsters and dimly lit by a single flickering streetlamp. He’d walked this route countless times without incident, but tonight something felt different. The faint echo of footsteps behind him grew louder, and Ryan’s heart quickened. He glanced over his shoulder and saw two figures following him. The first man was tall and wiry, with sunken cheeks and a sharp, angular frame. His dark hoodie hung loosely over his gaunt body, the shadows accentuating his hollow features. Beside him walked a shorter, stockier man with broad shoulders and thick arms that strained against the fabric of his jacket. His shaved head caught the faint glow of the streetlamp, and a smirk played on his lips as he exchanged a glance with his companion. “Hey, buddy,” the stocky man called out, his voice low and mocking. “Got a second?” Ryan stopped in his tracks, turning to face them. His pulse raced, but he kept his expression calm. “What do you want?” he asked evenly. The wiry man chuckled, stepping closer. “Oh, not much. Just a little donation,” he said, gesturing toward Ryan’s pocket. “Hand over your wallet, and we’ll call it a night.” Ryan’s eyes flicked between the two men. “You don’t want to do this,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension building in his chest. “Oh, really?” the stocky man said with a sneer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, the blade snapping open with a metallic click. “And why’s that? You gonna stop us?” The wiry man laughed, crossing his arms. “Look at him. Skinny little guy like you? What are you gonna do, huh?” Ryan’s jaw tightened. He took a step back, his shoulders brushing against the cold brick wall behind him. “I’m warning you,” he said, his green eyes locking onto theirs. “Walk away while you still can.” The stocky man laughed, the sound echoing through the alley. “Oh, I’m so scared,” he said, taking a step closer. He twirled the knife in his hand, the blade catching the faint light. “C’mon, let’s see what you got.” The alley grew colder as the tension thickened. Ryan steadied his gaze on the two men, his breaths deep and deliberate. He tried one last time to avert what he knew was already inevitable. “I’m warning you…” His voice was calm but carried an edge of something that made the wiry man’s smirk falter. “Walk away. You don’t want to see what happens next.” The stocky man tightened his grip on the knife, stepping closer. “Enough of this crap!” he barked, but his voice wavered as he noticed something strange about Ryan’s stance. His shoulders seemed broader now, his chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths that sounded deeper than before. Ryan exhaled sharply, his body trembling slightly as the change began to take hold. He could feel the heat spreading, growing more intense with each second. His muscles tensed involuntarily, their fibers pulsing with energy as if they were coming alive. The first audible crack echoed in the alley—a sharp, startling sound as his shoulders began to broaden further. The seams of his jacket strained audibly, the fabric groaning under the pressure. His chest pushed outward, the lines of his pecs becoming visible beneath the taut fabric of his shirt. Another crack followed, this time from his back, as his spine straightened and his frame elongated subtly, lifting him from 5'10" to 6'1". “What the hell…” the wiry man muttered, taking a hesitant step back. Ryan clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening as his hands began to swell. The veins on his forearms became more prominent, snaking across the thickening muscle like ropes under his skin. His shirt sleeves tightened, the fabric pulling taut over his biceps until a loud ripping sound broke the silence. The sleeves split apart, revealing the bulging curves of his arms, which now measured nearly 24 inches in circumference, impossibly thick and defined. The stocky man’s bravado faltered as he took a shaky step back. “What… what is this?!” he stammered, his eyes wide with disbelief. Ryan’s chest expanded again, his pecs now pressing against the strained buttons of his shirt. With a resounding pop, the top button flew off, clattering against the alley wall. The rest followed in quick succession, the shirt falling open to reveal the sculpted ridges of his abs. Each block of muscle deepened, forming an eight-pack so sharply defined it cast shadows under the flickering light. His torso widened further, his chest now a full 60 inches around, making the stocky man look comically small in comparison. Ryan’s jacket tore along the seams, the material shredding as his shoulders grew broader still, his traps rising like hills to frame his thickened neck. His lats flared out, the triangular shape giving his upper body an almost otherworldly width. The wiry man’s mouth hung open, his eyes darting between Ryan’s swelling frame and the remnants of his clothes that now hung in tatters. “This… this isn’t possible…” he whispered, his voice trembling. Ryan’s legs began to change next. His thighs swelled, each quad ballooning outward with raw power. The denim of his jeans creaked under the strain before the seams gave way with a loud tear, the fabric splitting to reveal legs that seemed carved from granite. Each thigh measured nearly 35 inches, the muscle striations visible with every slight movement. His calves followed, growing into diamond-shaped pillars of muscle that pressed against the shredded remnants of his pant legs until they fell away completely. His feet grew larger, pressing against the confines of his shoes. The leather groaned under the pressure until a loud, dull crack echoed through the alley. The soles split, the seams bursting apart as his feet broke free, leaving scraps of ruined leather and fabric scattered around him. His bare feet planted firmly on the cold ground, larger and more solid, perfectly balanced to support his massive frame. Every movement of Ryan’s body was accompanied by the sound of tearing fabric and the low, rhythmic crackle of his expanding frame. His breathing deepened further, each inhale sounding like the rumble of a distant storm. Sweat glistened on his skin, catching the dim light and accentuating every curve and ridge of his now-massive form. “No… no way…” the stocky man muttered, stumbling backward. His knife fell from his trembling hand, clattering to the ground as he stared at the towering figure before him. Ryan’s transformation wasn’t done. His shoulders surged outward once more, his traps rising higher, his biceps swelling into peaks that looked larger than the wiry man’s head. His chest heaved, the deep groove between his pecs casting shadows as they jutted out proudly. His waist remained narrow, creating an impossibly dramatic V-shape that emphasized the sheer breadth of his upper body. His lats extended so wide that his silhouette seemed to fill the alley. Finally, Ryan’s face began to change. His jawline sharpened, a short, dark beard sprouting across his face, adding to his already commanding presence. His green eyes burned with intensity, their color more vibrant than ever, as if lit from within by the power coursing through him. The alley fell silent again, the only sound the ragged breathing of the two men, now frozen in place. They couldn’t look away, their expressions a mixture of terror and awe. Ryan stood before them, towering and imposing, his body radiating an almost primal energy that defied explanation. The tattered remains of his clothes lay scattered at his feet, leaving him clad only in his boxer briefs, which somehow clung to his impossibly muscular frame. Ryan rolled his shoulders, the simple movement sending ripples through his massive physique. He took a step forward, the ground seeming to tremble slightly beneath his weight. “I warned you,” he said, his voice low and resonant, carrying a gravity that sent chills down their spines. As Ryan stood motionless for a moment, his body adjusting to the completed transformation, the sheer magnitude of his new form became evident. His frame had nearly doubled in mass, going from his initial lean 75 kilograms (165 pounds) to a staggering 150 kilograms (330 pounds) of pure, sculpted muscle. The weight of his presence alone seemed to fill the alley, his body more massive than even the most accomplished professional bodybuilders. Every inch of him was perfectly proportioned yet impossibly exaggerated. His shoulders, now spanning nearly a meter across, dwarfed those of any mortal man. His arms hung at his sides, thick and powerful, each one larger than the stocky man’s torso. The deep cuts and veins snaking along his forearms added to the almost surreal image of strength. His chest jutted forward like twin slabs of granite, rising and falling with each slow, deliberate breath. His pecs alone were broader than the wiry man’s entire body, and the faint glow of sweat accentuated every curve and groove. His abs, stacked and perfectly symmetrical, seemed more like a fortress wall than human flesh, each ridge casting sharp shadows that made them appear even deeper. The remnants of his transformation lay scattered at his feet. His jeans had been reduced to shredded strips of fabric, his shoes obliterated by the sheer size of his feet, which were now planted firmly on the ground like the roots of a great tree. His boxers clung tightly to his hips, the only garment to survive the explosive growth, barely preserving a sense of modesty. The stocky man’s eyes darted from Ryan’s feet to his head, his jaw slack with disbelief. “H-he’s not human,” he whispered, his voice trembling. The wiry man nodded slowly, his face pale as if the sight before him had drained him of all strength. Ryan took another step forward, the sound of his footfall reverberating through the narrow alley. The ground seemed to compress slightly beneath him, as if even the earth acknowledged the force of his new weight. Despite his size, his movements were graceful, controlled, and purposeful, a predator fully aware of its dominance. The energy coursing through his body was intoxicating. He could feel the power in every fiber of his being, the strength to lift cars, to tear steel apart with his bare hands, to reshape the world around him if he chose. And yet, he stood there, composed, his sharp green eyes locked onto the two men who now looked like frightened children before him. The wiry man stumbled backward, his legs shaking. “W-we didn’t mean it,” he stammered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own panicked breathing. Ryan tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. He raised one arm, flexing it deliberately. His bicep swelled, a peak of muscle so large it seemed almost surreal, the veins along its surface throbbing like rivers of raw power. The motion alone was enough to make the stocky man drop to his knees, the knife forgotten as it clattered to the ground. Ryan’s voice, when he finally spoke, was deeper and more resonant than ever, carrying an unshakable authority. “I warned you,” he said, the words rumbling through the air like distant thunder. “You should have walked away.” The wiry man tried to turn and flee, but his legs refused to cooperate. Ryan’s gaze shifted to the nearby stack of discarded construction materials—a pile of rusted pipes and scrap metal leaning against the alley wall. Without a word, he strode toward it, each step punctuated by the dull thud of his weight against the pavement. The stocky man watched, wide-eyed, as Ryan reached down and picked up a thick iron bar with one hand. The metal groaned in protest as he lifted it effortlessly, holding it up for them to see. It was at least two inches thick and clearly heavy, but in Ryan’s massive hand, it looked like a mere twig. He turned back to face the two men, his towering form casting a shadow over them. “I gave you a chance,” he said, his voice cold and unwavering. With a slow, deliberate motion, he gripped either end of the bar and began to bend it. The iron resisted at first, but Ryan’s muscles tensed, veins bulging across his forearms as he applied more pressure. The groaning sound of metal yielding filled the alley, and within moments, the bar had bent into a perfect U-shape. The wiry man whimpered, frozen in place as Ryan stepped forward. “No! Please!” he begged, his hands raised defensively. Ignoring the plea, Ryan grabbed both men with ease, hoisting them off the ground as though they weighed nothing. He positioned them back-to-back, their terrified protests falling on deaf ears. With one hand, he wrapped the bent iron bar around their torsos, securing them together. Then, with a final surge of strength, he twisted the ends of the bar into a tight knot, the metal screeching in protest. The two men squirmed helplessly, their movements restricted by the makeshift restraint. The wiry man’s breath came in panicked gasps, while the stocky man’s face was flushed with a mixture of shame and fear. Ryan stepped back, crossing his massive arms over his chest. He regarded them for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You’ll stay here until someone finds you,” he said simply. “Next time, pick your target more carefully.” With that, he turned and walked out of the alley, his towering silhouette fading into the night. The two men remained behind, bound and powerless, the sound of their labored breathing the only thing breaking the silence. Ryan slipped through the streets of Manhattan, his towering frame cloaked by the dim glow of streetlights. He kept to the shadows, avoiding the occasional passerby. The adrenaline from the confrontation still coursed through his veins, but his focus was singular: getting home before anyone noticed his impossibly massive form. The remains of his clothes clung to him in tatters, his bare feet pressing firmly against the cold pavement. When he finally reached his apartment, he unlocked the door swiftly and stepped inside, locking it behind him with a heavy sigh. The quiet hum of his small living space was a stark contrast to the chaos of the alley. Ryan leaned against the door for a moment, his massive shoulders rising and falling as he caught his breath. The weight of his body—both literal and figurative—felt heavier than ever. He walked into the bathroom, the floor creaking slightly under his immense weight. The mirror above the sink reflected his hulking figure, barely contained within its frame. For a moment, he stood there, examining himself. His chest heaved with every breath, the deep grooves of his pecs and abs still glistening with sweat. His arms, impossibly thick and veined, hung loosely at his sides, while his lats flared outward, giving him an almost inhuman width. His beard, thick and dark, framed his sharp jawline, a testament to the primal power that coursed through him during the transformation. Ryan placed his hands on the edge of the sink, the porcelain creaking under the pressure. He closed his eyes, taking a slow, deliberate breath. He could feel it—the energy that had transformed him now beginning to subside. The process of reversing the transformation required focus, much like initiating it. He centered his thoughts, his breathing slowing and deepening. The changes began subtly. His shoulders, once impossibly broad, started to narrow slightly. The powerful traps that framed his neck softened, receding as the lines of his upper body became less exaggerated. His chest, still massive, began to lose its over-pronounced thickness. The deep grooves of his pecs became less sharp, though they remained well-defined, and his abs, while still visible, flattened slightly as they lost their unnatural depth. The veins that snaked along his arms and shoulders began to fade, retreating beneath his skin. His biceps and triceps, still muscular, shrank to a more human size, though they remained undeniably powerful. His hands, which had felt like they could crush steel, returned to their lean, calloused form, capable of precision and control. As his body shrank, the hair that had sprouted during the transformation began to thin. His forearms, once covered in a fine layer of dark hair, smoothed out, and the light dusting across his chest and abs receded. Even his beard, thick and wild, began to shrink back into his skin, leaving only the faint shadow of stubble that was his normal look. Ryan opened his eyes and glanced down at his legs. His quads, which had once torn through his jeans, were still muscular but no longer the impossibly massive pillars they had been moments ago. His calves, diamond-shaped and oversized, now softened, returning to the lean, defined shape of his natural form. His feet, which had burst through his shoes, returned to their usual size, though the faint ache of the transformation lingered. When the process was complete, Ryan stood there, his reflection now that of the man he had always been—lean, athletic, and unassuming. He ran a hand through his hair, his breathing finally even and steady. Despite the relief of returning to his normal form, he couldn’t help but feel the residual hum of power just beneath the surface, waiting for the next time he might need it. Stepping out of the bathroom, Ryan made his way to his bedroom. He grabbed a plain black t-shirt from a drawer and pulled it over his head. The fabric clung slightly to his toned chest and shoulders, a reminder of the strength that never fully left him, even in his human form. As he adjusted the hem, his mind wandered back to the alley. The thought nagged at him—the growing violence in the city, the desperate faces of the men who had attacked him. He’d spent years avoiding conflict, hiding his abilities, but tonight had felt different. Necessary. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning, that his transformations might soon become less of a choice and more of a necessity. For now, though, the quiet of his apartment offered solace. Ryan sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand over his face. The city outside buzzed on, oblivious to what had happened, but he couldn’t help but wonder how long he could keep his double life intact. As he sat there, a faint noise from the street below caught his attention. It was distant but sharp, the unmistakable sound of raised voices. Ryan frowned, moving to the window and peering through the blinds. In the dim light of the streetlamp, he saw a group of men arguing near a parked car. One of them shoved another, and the confrontation grew more heated. Ryan’s first instinct was to step back, to let the scene play out. It wasn’t his problem. But something gnawed at him—a sense of responsibility he couldn’t ignore. He clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the edge of the blinds. The events of the alley were still fresh in his mind, and he knew the city’s undercurrent of violence wasn’t going away. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to step back from the window. “Not tonight,” he muttered to himself, though the words felt hollow. He turned away and headed toward the kitchen, hoping a glass of water might clear his mind. Yet as he filled the glass and took a long sip, Ryan couldn’t shake the thought that his transformations, his power, might be needed far more often than he’d anticipated. Manhattan was a city that never slept, and its shadows were growing darker by the day.

Long time lurker - finally got my fingers down to write a story, and hopefully many more to come. Posted in WarpMyMind (leejhaw) and MuscleGrowth.org (shawnkid). -Chapter 1- Meet Charles "Sup," my roommate nonchalantly greeted me as he walked out his room. My eyes almost fell out of its socket. The reason is apparent - my body-conscious roommate is walking around half naked. Beneath his grey sweatpants, his VPL proves that he's freeballing too. That could only mean one thing - it worked. What I did actually work! It's true - some of us are more susceptive to hypnosis. And it comes in many forms, you have the usual suspects: binaural, subliminal, and the trance, which opens up a wide array of possibilities, especially for a closeted gay man like me. It's financially impossible to live in the city nowadays, especially when the rental is through the roof. Since I'm the only occupant in the one-room studio, it's natural to resort to renting out the room to another person to offset the cost to enjoy the convenience of the centrally-located apartment in the city. The first time I met Charles, he wasn't much of a looker. I blame it on his hair, which is in need of serious professional help. He was wearing an oversized t-shirt that did not do justice to a man of his size. He works at the local coffee shop down the road, which explains the coffee scent in his hair whenever he walked past me. I reckoned he's around 25 years old, though I did not actually ask. He promised to clean the entire place once a week, I couldn't be any happier. Truth to be told, I was kind of desperate, and he looked decent enough - at least he has a job - so we shook on a deal. When I stumbled upon the whole new concept of hypnosis, I was thrilled. But, how would I know if it truly worked if I have done so on myself? It wouldn't take anyone much to consider the case of convenience, right under the same roof. I went to the local hardware shop and bought some speakers and downloaded some audio software on my computer. It wasn't easy to get this figure out, but I was really eager to try. When Charles left for work at 7 am, I set my plan in motion. I equipped his room with speakers over the plastic ceiling and wired it across my working desk. So, it would play whatever I needed it to play for an extended period of time, albeit needing to run in and out just to check if the volume is optimal for subliminal tracks to play without causing any distress and potential fallout before the plan see the day of light. I move quickly, knowing that he will come back in the evening after dinner. And the rest will happen throughout the night. My moral conscience would reprimand me if I ruin one's life for my own pleasure. So I decided to start off my experiment with something light. After going through tons of hypnosis books, I attempted to write a hypnosis track that focuses on confidence and preferences. Charles would sleep naked because it's more energy efficient as such - less laundry and less electricity needed to keep cool. He would be more comfortable with his own body, and perhaps begin pay attention to his body more. That should be relatively fine and not qualified as manipulative? I have my doubts, especially on my ever-changing standards. Heh - oh well. I let the track run for a week until one faithful morning - I see my roommate walking out of his room with nothing over his bare torso. I must say, he definitely look better with his shirt off. Why would he hide his toned body over all the baggy shirts - and that would be the next thing to go. And now I know my proof of concept works. I sat back down on my computer and prepared the next script for my dearest roommate, Charles.

Tyler was busy at work in his basement, slaving over his lab on the project that has been taking up most of his free time. His husband, Trent , worked long hours as a truck driver, leaving Tyler a couple of hours to work on his passion project, a formula to help build muscle in elderly people and people with degenerative diseases. After months and months of cramming as much of his time as possible, he was ready to try human tests, as he had tested his formula on his house mice to great effect. The tiniest fraction of a drop of the formula had a dramatic effect on muscle mass and fat percentage. Being a personal project, Tyler had no access to the money to offer people to help him with human tests, so he decided to use himself as the test subject. He did his calculations to get the dose to body weight ratio of what he gave the mice, then re did them 5 times to make sure there where no horrific accidents. With this all set, Tyler proceeded to grab the formula out of the fridge, where it has resided in a used coke bottle and took it upstairs. He measured up the exact amount that his calculations told him, then diluted it with some Fanta. The dark liquid made the orange soft drink a odd brown colour, and took nearly all the bubbles out of it. Tyler took a large breath to steady himself for what might happen next. “Well, I guess who dares wins” he said out loud to himself, and with that drank the murky concoction in one go. The taste wasn’t nearly as bad as expected. He put the two bottles, the formula and Fanta into the kitchen fridge, and just then his stomach began to ache slightly. “Oh shit” he said as his stomach cramped, as he rushed to the toilet. By the time he got there his whole body felt hot and started to cramp. He started sweating and that’s when he noticed his clothes looked abit tight. “Fuck yeah” he said to himself riding out the cramps What Tyler didn’t notice during his transformation was Trent coming home “Hi sweetheart, I’m home” the burley trucker called out, as he walked to the kitchen. He opened up the fridge and opened the bottle of what appeared to be coke and poured himself a glass. He looked at the flat liquid, a little puzzled at it then shrugged his shoulders, nothing wrong with a little flat coke, and he downed the glass. In the bathroom, Tyler had taken his shirt off and was now flexing his now ripped, underwear model type physique when he heard a noise in the kitchen, then he heard the fridge door close. His blood ran cold. “TRENT, DONT DRINK OUT OF THAT COKE BOTTLE” Tyler yelled out while sprinting to the kitchen. As he rushed in, Trent was just putting down his glass. “What’s wrong” Trent asked his distressed looking husband “How much of that did you drink” he stressed “Like a glass, it’s only flat coke who cares, what the hell happened to you by the....aaaaeewwwee fuck” Trent trailed off as he doubled over. Tyler rushed to grab his husband, who was now in a ball on the ground “I’m so sorry baby, fuck I’m so fucking sorry” Tyler said while crying as his husband screamed out in pain on the floor. Then all of a sudden all of Trent muscle started flexing and his body felt like he was on fire. “Oh god if a tiny amount transformed me from a skinny nerd to a ripped hunk, what will this do” Tyler lamented our loud. Then as if on que, Trent started to moan, and Tyler noticed his clothes starting to rip. Trent got to his knee, as his body continued to swell. His shirt was the first to completely rip off, first splitting up the back , exposing knotted muscle like Tyler had never seen before. Then the sleeves exploded as his formally normal sized arms turned into softball sized biceps and horseshoe triceps, covered with finger thick veins. The shirt fell off him, exposing monster pecs and a eight pac that could second as a brick wall. His pants where next, splitting down in front of his thighs, exposing freakish, ripped and horribly vascular quads, and diamond calves. Then his glutes ripped out the back of his pants, exposing a ripped thick ass that was thicker then all the kardashians combined. “Awwwww fucccckkkk” Trent moaned , as he straightened himself up, with a voice that had dropped two octaves. He looked down at his still growing god body and grinned, “ Babe I don’t know what that was, but FUCCCKKKK I FEEL GGGOOOOODDDDDD” Trent bellowed as he hit a double bicep shot that caused his body to surge in its final growth, exploding his pants and underwear off , leaving him completely naked Tyler looked up at his godlike husband, the transformation was incredible. Trent was 5’10, burley 95kg, was now at least 6’6 and closing in on 200kg of mutant muscle. His traps nearly touched his ears, his chest was a inhuman self of ripped grotesque muscle. His shoulders looked like basketballs. His arms had to be easily over 30 inches, and were held out straight by his bat wing lats. His quads where looked like monster red wood, and swinging inbtween them swung a 12 inch cock, completely flaccid. “Ooohhh my.... ohhh my god” is all Tyler could muster, one hand instinctively on his cock “Awww, we are gonna have a lot of fun tonight” cooed Trent, as he hit a crab pose , his monster cock started twitching to life. End

_______________________________________________________________________ colaboration: mutabear & alakazam1988 Coach has started me on the best new supplements. It grew my muscles and body hair, but most importantly it has given an enormous fat cock. Plus, when I start cumming I can shoot as much as I want. My favorite thing to do now is fill up cups and glasses with my loads, and then chug it all down. It gives me a nice head rush, instantly hardens me up and makes me horny as fuck. I can keep cycling my loads through myself, but it’s way better to give it to other unsuspecting man. Not only are they drinking my jizz, but they were immediately ready to fuck after they swallow it. Nothing is hotter than a man with a cum mustache, bending over and begging me to shove my thick cock inside so I can fill him up from both ends. Coach says he will keep me on the supplements as long as I provide him with plenty of my man milk for the rest of the team. Sounds like a win-win.

Author Note: This is the first time that I am doing a "Monster Transformation Muscle Growth' story, this is also will be my attempt at making a longer series, I hope you guys like it!", also sorry if that was somewhat rushed a bit Gills And Muscles Episode 1- Metamorphose. 10 years before... I was sitting at the dock, as I, as a 18 year old was asked by policemen about what happened with my friend J.P, he was missing when we were doing a college trip to some lake...I don't remember the name...the cops were asking so many questions, I stayed quiet, nodding positively or negatively depending on the question and sometimes i said i didnt know when they tried to inforce me a question, The case hasan't been solved and it archived...I miss my friend but i decided to move on. (OR DID YOU...) Years Later... "Woah... How beautiful!" - were the only words I could say when I finally saw the island in the middle of the almost clear blue sea, it was the first time I had taken a vacation since I went to college, unfortunately work didn't let me take many vacations and when I did they were too short to do any kind of trip ,A few hours later, the boat managed to board the dock... which seemed rustic to say the least, the beach looked beautiful - the sand was white and soft although it was quite hot due to the sun, the sea was clear and blended with the sky, there were lots of palm trees with their leaves displaying a vibrant green... besides me, there were other tourists on the boat, all going with their guides. My tour guide was a little late but he arrived and man... he was one hell of a hottie: Tall, beefy with biceps that were the size of mountains, rock-hard abs, huge chest that showed beneath his white tank-top and shorts that left little to the imagination, my body compared to him seemed small- I was very skinny, had short brown hair and while I was somewhat tall, due of not being that althetic I looked like more like a bean pole. I was obviously really horny...but I had to compose myself, after all I only met this person and not only that, but he was also a professional "Sorry I'm late, man...are you ready to explore Kowoko Island?" - he said with a laid back expression that made me even more excited "Y-yeah..." - I said shyly, trying not to look at his chest. Then, the handsome tour guide, whose name was Kahi, gave me a tour of the island, showing me the natural beauty of the island... until we arrived at a place full of wooden statues of giant, muscular men. "What are these?" - I asked curiously, Kahi looked at me with a serious expression, unusual for his usual expression up until that moment... these are the gods who protect the island, legends say that people who enter here can receive curses if they are not careful. "I-I see....well good thing, they aren't real"- i said, slightly chuckling, then Kahi looked at me with a angered expression, there was tinge of fear on his eyes but mostly anger, Kahi then walked away...leaving me alone with the statues. they were looking like they were alive and angered at me for some reason... "That must be my imagination"- I thought. Hours later... I'm in my hotel room, thinking about what happened earlier..."What's his thing with the statues...?", I decided to take a shower to clear my head and maybe apologize to him, but then a voice starts echoing on my head... "Pay for your sins, turn into a monster..."- the voice sounded like a man's, rough and deep... The voice echoed in my head, non stop...I ran into the shower...not even stripping my clothes out...I turn on the shower with all my clothes... I Just wanted to that Voice get out of my head...My body then started to feel real weird...my muscles starting pumping non stop....My arms start to sprout veins...turning larger and larger till they were Very big like bowling balls, My chest growing larger, My shirt feeling tight.. My skin turned scaly, like with fish scales and had greenish-white color... A fin sprouted out of my back ripping my shirt, My jaw extends and my teeth grows sharper....a light-producing organ starts to grow on my head, my abs become more defined, looking like huge beans , my eyes turned full-on white, a fish-like tail grows out of my butt, gills surge out of my neck, I become even more taller, my hands gained powerful claws. I roar in pain and arousal....and then the voice just stops.... "Fuuck...what happened...?", i said as my voice was lower than a rumble... I look at myself on the mirror and I saw...not me....i saw, instead a powerful, beefy sea monster...I look at myself, horryfied with my new apperance. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"- i screamed and broke the mirror acidentally as i punched it, in a somewhat involuntary reflex, "That can't be happenning, it's inpossible right?!', i tried to pinch myself, to convince myself that it was a dream... it wasan't, it was real...I turned into a monster.

Author's Note: This is My first muscle Growth story that i wrote myself, so please leave some kind of feedback so I can do better stories in The future, Also there's age Progression, thanks for @Lutz for encouraging me to write my own stories. Title: "Television" It was a rainy night in the small town of Westfield, usually in the month of June it would be hot but due to global warming doing its ways on the planet... The weather got reasonably crazy... Among the residents of the quiet Westfield, there was a boy of about 10 years of age named Jonathan, it was the first time that Jonathan was alone at home, his parents had left to buy stuff at the market...so he had The house for himself for some hours This however, made little Jonathan angry, since he had nothing to do, he had already done his homework and chores, his little sister was still a baby so he couldn't play with her... Until he had an idea - watch TV in his parents' room, his parents usually wouldn't let him do that but since he was alone and they left the door unlocked (mostly because They were in a hurry) So...he entered their Room which was adorned with Green walls, a big, white double bed and the so-called television which was a square television from the 90s, it had a VHS that didn't work underneath Jonathan grabs the TV remote and decides to put on the cartoon channel he liked, but while he was flipping through the channels... one thing caught his attention - a bodybuilding contest that was live on a fitness Channel... He decides to watch it, unaware of what would happen to him... The first bodybuilder arrives, his skin had an almost golden tan, he was bald, his muscles were reasonably huge...he had a purple thong, hiding a Huge Bulger underneath. From that moment Jonathan's heart beat strongly... something he hadn't felt before, his breathing became abnormal. "What's Happening?"- Jonathan thought to himself...he still watched The bodybuilding contest... Another Man arrived, his tan tone more bronze rather than Gold, he wore only a pink thong His hair was jet black, and had BLUE eyes, Jonathan was in a trance watching the bodybuilder flex his muscles, posing with a tinge of dominance and strenght. Without him realizing it, his bones begin to crack, he becomes taller... Jonathan now stood 6'5 tall, his appearance still resembling that of a child tho, making him look lanky and awkward "What...?"- Jonathan Said, in his high-pitched, boyish Voice... Then as soon the other bodybuilder in The contest arrived, he started to scream and moan at the same time, as his Muscles start to grow... Veins pop out of his arms and legs, his body taking a manly shape with Huge muscles, The plumpness of his child face starts to disappear Replacing with a square and symmetrical face, with dimples appearing on his face Jonathan's muscles now weighed 350lbs...his puny manhood grew huge, ripping his little black shorts...his skin tanned, his short blond hair fell out leaving a bald Head... Jonathan's mind was now mature and he was feeling quite horny as he had gone through puberty in just one day... He began to dry hump the nightstand eventually Cummings on It, his Voice was now deep and raspy "Fuuuuck~" He flexed his Muscles, like he was used to It...imitating the bodybuilders on television.... The little boy has turned into a Man... -The End-

Hi all. Been offline for WAY too long now. I hopefully have a bit of spare time again, so I’ve revisited some of the characters and continuing Vaccinated. (And, yes, I have other stories on the go - haven't forgotten.) If you haven’t read it, you’ll almost certainly get more out of this one if you read that one first. A refresher might be helpful too, as there will probably be lots of callbacks and interwoven story lines. Obviously heavy spoilers here if you haven’t yet read the first one. Consider this a continuation following on immediately from the events in the first story, before the Epilogue. Events here may or may not progress matters to the same point in that Epilogue - so a sort of alternate history. Hope you enjoy. As before, I only have a vague outline of a story - I’m making the rest of it up as I go along, so fair warning, the story could include almost anything. If you’re easily offended or triggered, then maybe avoid this one. I welcome any feedback and will work in any suggestions you might have as it goes along. Delivery will likely be a fair bit slower than in the past, but I’ll try my best to keep chapters coming in on the regular. ~~ONE~~ Jake’s timing was exquisite; perfection. He could feel the crescendo, the approaching tsunami about to break, and he wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to experience the pleasure his partner’s ejaculation was about to unleash on his dick. Undulating, peristaltic waves of muscular contractions milking his shaft, coaxing the breeding load from deep within his heaving, roiling balls. Jake’s cock fully plugged the tunnel, his cock’s sensitivity heightened by the tight embrace along the entire shaft from tip to pubic bone. He pulled back slowly, deliberately, the head of his massive cock raking against the tunnel’s walls, tweaking the prostate, eliciting a deep, resonant growl in his partner that vibrated throughout his entire body, increasing the sensations and bringing the coming flood to the brink. He stopped as the head reached the opening, enjoying the feeling of the ring of muscle quivering against his fraenulum, his partner’s growl increasing. Jake’s heavy, pendulous balls seethed, ready to unleash their prodigious load. Squatting slightly, he adjusted the angle of his cock so the head would smash his partner’s prostate as he rammed in all fourteen inches down to the pubic bone. The separate muscles of his massive quads stood out in stark relief, vascularity pulsating and engorged, the massive root running along his inner thigh branching out to feed power to every muscle. He flexed his cock, watching, enraptured, as it swelled even bigger, became even harder, the veins flooding it with blood, steeling the shaft and sending bolts of exquisite pleasure spreading throughout his godly body. Jake’s core tightened, the globes of his perfect arse contracting and squeezing as he slammed his cock in as far as it would go, and then further. As he smashed past the prostate, the tsunami was triggered. It was Jake’s turn to groan, as his partner’s orgasm and ejaculation began, massive waves spreading up his shaft, tingling, more bolts of electric pleasure sending him wild. As Jake slammed in as far as it would go, his balls slapped into his partner’s arse, his orgasm contracting and pulsating muscles throughout his pelvic floor. The hole clamped shut around the base of Jake’s shaft, a natural cock ring further swelling and hardening the already diamond-hard cock. As it swelled, his massive cock pushed harder against the walls of the tunnel, increasing the strength of the muscular contractions as it struggled to contain and eject the monster invading its depths. Jake’s eyes rolled back as his partner’s cock pumped out splashes of thick, creamy cum. As the first few arcs of cum splattered against his partner’s pecs and abs, a large glob settling in his thick, dark beard, Jake allowed himself to ejaculate, his own muscular contractions mingling with those of his partner, heightening their ecstasy. Jake’s balls, so eager to unleash their load, rose up, and his cock somehow swelled and hardened even more as his ejaculation began. The pressure exerted along the length of his cock, and especially by the ring of muscles clamped around the base of his shaft made it more difficult for his cum to make it through all fourteen inches, causing high pressure spurting jets of cum to spray deep within, the massive load contained by the swollen head plugging the tunnel. Even as they both continued ejaculating, Jake leaned in for a deep, passionate kiss, the taste of cum on his lips adding to his explosive wave of orgasms. *** “Get out,” Jake said, as he stood up and went to shower. “Fuck, mate,” he breathed heavily, still recovering from the orgasm, “you were mind blowi–” “I said, get out.” He didn’t even turn back. “Can I at least get your number? I don’t even know your name…” He trailed off, distracted by the incredible view of Jake’s naked body walking to the en suite. The X shape, his glorious arse cheeks, sitting atop massive ham-hock hamstrings, the sweep of his quads visible even from behind, his back muscles mounding and rippling as he walked, roadmap veins - everywhere he looked, splendour upon perfection. Jake ignored him. The cumrag, having served his purpose, already forgotten. Despite his swelling dick - how could you not get hard at that view, he thought? - he hurriedly dressed, the cum covering his abs and chest already drying, sticking to his shirt, and left. **** Brad, Amber and HE were sitting in Brad’s living room, regrouping and discussing the recent events and the fallout. “Can you still sense him?” Amber asked. They all knew which 'him' she was referring to. “Yes…” He hesitated, “…he’s having sex.” It was a very odd sensation, having his best friend’s subconscious as a stream in part of his brain. Despite everything, Amber and HE both blushed. Amber, in particular, was still trying to process her feelings about Jake. She could not let go of the fact that they meshed perfectly, their sex on a level she had never, and almost certainly would never, experience again. But, equally, she could not forget his treatment of her. His callous disregard, the violence against her without so much as a second thought. Yes, he was under the effects of the vaccine, but was that merely amplifying an existing tendency? She did not know, and the conflict was gnawing at her. What made it worse, she could never discuss it with him. Jake could not - must not! - ever know or be reminded of his rampage. They all feared if he learned what they did – what he did – that he would try to regain his abilities, and his reign of terror would resume. She nuzzled into Brad’s strong, comforting embrace, his Herculean arm around her. He was no Jake, it was true, but he was kind and loving, the sex was fantastic (though, of course, not the perfection she had with Jake), and his body was phenomenal. And, yet, she still could not shake the thought and feelings - he was no Jake. **** As Jake’s orgasm erupted in a corner of Brad’s brain, his own dick chubbed, and his mind wandered, lustful thoughts – of tits, of arse, of legs for days, of vascularity and muscle – flooded his brain, like cumshots pumping hot man cream, flooding holes. Amber nuzzled into him, the feel of her pert, luscious tits pressing into him causing lustful fire to tingle through him, making a beeline for his cock. He smiled. Not for the first time he silently thanked Jake, his best friend and, in many ways, his saviour. If Jake had not convinced him to break his vow of celibacy, he would not have met Amber. Not since Angelina had he felt such feelings for a woman. Amber would never replace Angelina - nobody ever could - but Amber was a mighty fine substitute.

My contribution to the forum however I never wrote it. It was something I found on my computer. Some FanTCMan/FanTCDude wrote it. Let's just say I never make it to the end of the story Hope you guys enjoy! Mr. Tucker Forrest had every reason to think that he was as powerful as his position. His company had remained small by ad industry standards, but by specializing in sports related accounts, and landing several of the largest, T. Forrest Inc. had become a significant player. His select staff were all sports devotees of one kind or another, and knew better than most just how to service their accounts. One area that Tucker had not yet locked up was sports nutrition and supplements, but he thought he was about to nail that one, too, with the help of one of his top account execs, Larry Littleman. Tucker had hired Larry based on the fact that he was a personal fitness trainer with serious qualifications in physical therapy, nutritional therapy and non-traditional supplements. Larry also had the outgoing personality and the looks to be successful as an AE. Tucker had, in fact, secured Larry's services not only as an AE, but also as his own personal trainer. Tucker was strikingly handsome and well built and he had every intention of maximizing those attributes professionally. After several months, Tucker discovered that Larry was not just into maintaining a fit, toned, cut physique. Larry was really more into bodybuilding. Eventually he told Tucker he didn't care at all about competing as a professional bodybuilder, but he did have a personal goal of building himself up to where he could. Tucker wasn't about to let himself be pushed in that direction, and he wasn't sure how that kind of body would be received on one of his AEs. When Tucker hired Larry, even before he saw him in workout clothes, he could tell he was built, but having a great looking staff of athletes was what he wanted. Larry was one of those guys who would drive women crazy. He had the face of a daytime soap opera star and a head of thick, dark blond hair to go with the face. Even in business clothes, he had the posture of a man proud of his body. His loose fitting slacks showed a great butt, and his dress shirts showed a pair of nicely developed pecs and arms that pretty much filled his sleeves. When, in their talks about workout goals, Forrest realized that Larry was serious about building himself up to the proportions of a bodybuilder, he felt he needed to say something. He thought that Larry's credibility as an AE might be compromised if people thought he was becoming some kind of freak. But Larry said, very respectfully, that he felt that how he developed himself was his business, and that it shouldn't get in the way of his effectiveness. In fact, he told Tucker, he was working on landing an account that could become huge. Tucker was intrigued. Larry told him that some new bodybuilding supplement had been developed, and the inventors were looking for test subjects and an agency to represent their product. T. Forrest was a natural, and they had sought out Larry to get to Tucker. Larry told Tucker that they needed to complete just a couple more tests, and they'd be ready to go to market. He also told him that he, himself, was to be a test subject. Tucker immediately thought about having his own in-house testimonial, if this supplement worked. Larry told him he was scheduled to meet with them that night and would report back the next day. These guys were anxious to get moving and get rich. The next day Larry called in to say he couldn't come in that morning. He told Tucker that he'd taken their stuff the night before, and it did work. In fact it worked so fast and so well, he had to get some new clothes to wear. He said that the prospective clients had asked to meet with him, Tucker, at lunch to discuss plans for a media launch of the product. Larry said he'd meet him there, and named one of the top restaurants in town. Larry thought about it all morning. Would he be able to see a difference on Larry? He knew, if it worked, the market for this kind of thing could be vast. When he walked into the restaurant, escorted to the table by the maitre d', his mouth dropped open. Facing him was Larry, flanked by two men he assumed to be the clients by their extraordinary physiques, obvious even in business suits. Larry was grinning with pride as he stood to greet Tucker, the source of his pride clearly manifested. Tucker openly stared at Larry. So did almost everyone else in the restaurant. He was not wearing a jacket; just dress slacks, shirt and tie. He was huge. His arms more than filled the sleeves and strained the material of the extra large shirt. His back was so wide Tucker could see from the front how his lats flared thickly, pulling the fabric tight, causing it to cling to the huge pectoral muscles that sat broad and massive on his chest. Larry apologized for not wearing a jacket, saying that when he tried to get into his this morning, he couldn't get his arms into the sleeves. But, he said to Tucker, who cares when it's obvious that the product works. He acted overjoyed, showing Tucker how dramatically it had worked on him since about five thirty the night before, flexing one of his huge arms so that the shirt looked about to split open from the strain. And, he told his boss, it's still working. It takes twenty four hours to do its complete job. And it feels absolutely wonderful. Tucker's emotions bounced around as he sat discussing ideas for a campaign, convinced by what he saw that the potential for the product was huge, but not convinced that a physique like Larry's, or even these clients', would go over with the average guy. In fact, he felt a little embarrassed by Larry's size and his uninhibited display. Larry, meanwhile, maintained an infectious level of enthusiasm about the results he was experiencing and how he felt. He said he could almost feel his clothes getting tighter. As Tucker listened, he couldn't help but imagine what that must feel like, to have such massive muscles that they could be too big to be contained by a shirt, even an extra large tent of a shirt like Larry was wearing. They all laughed about various scenarios of guys using the product and growing huge in different situations, like at the beach or during an airplane flight. Or sitting in a fancy restaurant at lunch. Imagine some guy in his business suit suddenly getting too big for his britches. Tucker laughed, but his imagination was working too effectively all of a sudden. He could imagine how strange that would feel, the trousers becoming tight on the legs, tight in the crotch. Or the jacket sleeves feeling too tight when bending the arms to lift a bite of food or a glass. His imagination was producing such vivid pictures that he could actually feel what that would be like. He could imagine his reactions, a combination of panic and exhilaration. Suddenly the restaurant felt stuffy and hot. Just thinking about that made him feel jittery. His skin was itching. Just a little, when he first noticed it, then growing stronger, like he had hives creeping up his arms and legs, then all over his groin, then spreading from his groin all up his stomach and chest. He couldn't let himself sit there and scratch or sweat in front of these new clients, and he felt embarrassed that his reaction to thinking about what this product could do was so strong. He excused himself and went to the bathroom. When Tucker got into the bathroom, the mirrors gave him evidence that those sensations of his clothes feeling tighter were not just his imagination. As soon as he was inside the door, he frantically scratched the raging itching of his chest and stomach, and he thought, strangely, that his pecs felt bigger to him. He looked at his reflection and saw that his jacket looked too small, too snug. Maybe he just hadn't noticed this morning. After all, he had been building up with Larry's training routine. The itching was feeling out of control. He scratched all down his arms to the back of his hands. He looked at them in shock. The backs of his hands were covered with short, dark hair, hair that hadn't been there before. He unbuttoned his cuff, pushed up his sleeve, and saw the same kind of dark hair growing on his forearm. This couldn't really be happening! He quickly unbuttoned the front of his shirt. All that itching was being caused by dark hair sprouting thickly all over his chest and stomach. He looked just like one of those hairy guys who shaves and lets it grow back It was short and lay flat on his skin, but already he could see the swirls and pattern it was making. It wasn't his imagination at all. And it wasn't his imagination that his clothes were getting tighter. His arm muscles were bigger, and so were his pecs. They must have slipped him some of their product. He pulled himself together, buttoned his shirt, which was now almost tight across his chest, and returned to the table. There, he asked them what was going on. Larry told him that they had all felt the best way for him to understand the product was to experience it himself. Tucker tried to hold back his panic. He asked how much they had given him, and one of the clients, Jake, told him they had given him a basic, full dose, like Larry had taken. Now Tucker stared at Larry with a new and different kind of interest. Panic subsided and curiosity set in. His mind could barely grasp the fact that he could soon be as massively built as Larry. He looked at the way Larry's arms, at rest, strained the material of his huge sleeves, filling them up tight and full, and bulging insanely when he lifted or bent his arms at all. Across his gigantic chest his pecs stood out like pillows filled with steel, straining the fabric, pulling the buttons. He noticed that, at his collar where he had loosened his tie, there was hair creeping up and out over the collar. Tucker knew that Larry had had a completely hairless torso. It looked good, he thought. What a strange thought to cross his mind, that hairon a guy's chest would look good. Or not. But it did look good to him, kind of darkly masculine and sexy. Tucker felt himself sweating as the conversation at the table continued as if nothing strange were happening. His itching had not abated, and he guessed that he was feeling hair continuing to grow. Strange, but suddenly he found the idea growing of body hair very hot. He wished he could look. He tried to act casual and continue to eat and talk and drink, but every time he lifted something to his mouth, he could feel his arm a little bigger inside his sleeve. Soon, even the arm at rest began to swell against the fabric of his shirt and jacket. His clothes were becoming uncomfortably tight. He felt his slacks becoming tighter and tighter. At first he just felt the tightness in his thighs, but soon he could feel his calves filling the fabric. At the same time, the material grew tighter around his hips, and he figured his glutes must be getting bigger, too. And he also realized, to his astonishment, that the crotch of his slacks had started to constrict him in his groin, crowding his genitals. With the hand in his lap, he felt himself, confirming his most outrageous suspicion. What was inside the crotch of his pants was also growing bigger, and with his thighs pulling his pants tight, his dick and balls had no place to fall, and suddenly, there was his meat making bulges in his slacks. His meat! How big was it getting? He could feel that there was more there, crowded, sensitive, even his balls making their own bulges with their swollen size. He began to feel extremely self conscious and, at the same time, extremely turned on by what he felt. He felt his dick starting to swell and grow hard in his pants. With his hand, he could feel the size of its head and it didn't feel real as it crawled, growing bigger and harder, along the side of his groin, over his thigh toward his hip bone. He couldn't stand up now without showing the whole restaurant the effects this transformation was having on him. He wanted to be angry. He couldn't believe they had done this without telling him first, and he told them so. Larry asked if he would have gone along with it. He said probably not, and Larry said that's why they hadn't asked. But his anger was being quickly swallowed up by his growing feeling of excitement. Strange, he thought, but even as he was sitting there, he knew that something was changing, not just in his body, but in his head, too. He had been on Larry's case about getting too big, with his bodybuilding, to keep his place as an acceptable ad man, and now, suddenly, he was looking at Larry's enormous size and finding it exciting, even desirable. In fact, he was sure he could see Larry getting even thicker and more massive as they sat there, his shirt tighter, more revealing, causing increasingly strong waves of erotic stimulation to radiate through him. His collar grew tight and he felt hot. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the collar button, and when he did, he felt hair growing at the base of his throat out of his collar. The waiter cleared their plates and brought coffee while Larry and the other two discussed the incredible potential of their product, once its ability to transform was made public. The one called Ted joked that they seemed to be making it public right now. Larry sat up tall in his chair, grinning, swelling his chest, replying that they sure were. His huge muscles strained the fabric of his shirt. He was enormous and Tucker couldn't believe his eyes. But he knew that they didn't mean just Larry when they talked about going public. He could barely move his arms, the back of his jacket pulled so snugly against his back and shoulders. It felt as though he were wearing a child's jacket and slacks. The sleeves were so tight with his arms relaxed, that he couldn't bend them without the material straining like a leather restraint belt. The top several buttons on his shirt, over his chest, were pulling, straining, about to pop. Tucker was filled with a confusion of emotions. He wished he were any place but a public restaurant. He could no more hide what was happening to his body than Larry could. He knew he must be starting to look ridiculous in his clothes. People around the restaurant were looking at them, commenting in whispers to each other. But he also felt a certain envy at how Larry seemed to be inviting the stares, how he not only didn't seem to care, but looked proud to display his transformation, his increasingly massive size. Oddly, he realized, he sort of felt that way, too. He felt like some deeply hidden desire, some drive he had never acknowledged, was being forced into his reality, and he had no choice but to accept and embrace it. There was no sense fighting what was happening, since it was happening for all to see. A growing sense of enjoyment, an intense, profound, erotic satisfaction crept through his consciousness as he began to admit to himself how hot he felt, his muscles growing big and hard, becoming like those of a real bodybuilder. Tucker reached for his coffee, and felt the seam down the side of the jacket under his arm, where his lats were swelling beyond the jacket's capacity to hold them, start to rip open. When he bent his arm to lift the cup, the seam down the back of the sleeve also began to give way with a tearing of the threads. If he didn't get out of the jacket right now, he would be treating the other diners, who were already watching, to the sight of his clothes splitting open before their eyes. He asked one of the men to help him get out of the jacket. He struggled his arms out of their confines, and when he twisted to hang the jacket on the back of the chair, the second button of his shirt gave in to the strain of his mounding pecs and popped off. He had to loosen his tie more, and since it was obvious to him that the other buttons over his pecs would soon give way as well, he unbuttoned them down to below his chest, where his lats angled in to his hard, slender abdomen, and the buttons had room to hold. The shirt spread itself open over his pecs, the tie covering only part of his exposed chest. He saw the thickness of his pecs dive into a deep crease of cleavage, dark hair covering the skin. His dick reflexed against his groin with the sudden thrill of what he saw. He could no longer deny that he was extremely turned on by what was happening to him. He felt wave after wave of intense erotic stimulation flood his body and his brain. He had never felt so horny in his life, so hot, so sexy, with a totally new, powerful sensation of maleness. This was making him feel deeply, intensely masculine in a way so overpowering that he had never imagined possible. He was beginning to understand Larry's pride. How could he have thought that being massive and freaky would be weird and embarrassing. He wondered briefly what his girlfriend would think if she could see him now, but he realized he didn't really care. He wanted to feel another person touching his muscles, but it wasn't his girlfriend. He looked across the table at Larry. His account executive was saying to the two clients that it looked like both he and his boss were about to grow out of their clothes, and that they should probably be getting out of here and going to someplace more private while they completed their transformations. Tucker stared at Larry, and he realized that the sight of his friend's massive muscles almost exploding inside his shirt was making his cock throb. He had never felt the slightest sexual attraction for another man before, but now, when Larry said they should get to someplace more private, his mind flooded with images of Larry taking off his clothes, of seeing all of his incredible body, of touching it, feeling those massive muscles. What would the hair on his body look like? How big would his cock and his balls be? And what about his own? He couldn't wait to see what he looked like, too, to see himself packed with muscle, hairy, amazingly hung. The thought of them naked, together, made him so much hornier he thought he might come, uncontrollably, right there in the restaurant. His hand reached under the table again to feel his crotch, and he realized that his cock, jerking with his erotic thoughts, rock hard and straining the material of his slacks, now extended past his hip bone and felt thicker than a giant cucumber. It was growing bigger still. How could he get up and leave? The other two said that Larry was probably right. They would pick up the check and get in touch later. They said everyone would have a clearer picture of just what they would be marketing and how to use Larry and Tucker as spokesmen for the product. If respected advertising executives could transform themselves and enjoy their new look, why not the average Joe on the street. Go home, they said, enjoy the rest, and call tomorrow when it's all finished. Tucker held his jacket in front of himself as they left the restaurant. Walking was a revelation. He could feel the size of his ass in his slacks, the mass of his legs. His slacks were tight as skin. His thighs not only rubbed together, they forced his legs to move around each other with each step, the way he had seen bodybuilders walk. He could feel the material of his shirt stretched so tight across his back that his lats felt pressed and crowded. The sleeves clung tight to the mass of his arms. He knew that the people in the restaurant must be watching them as they left. He certainly didn't look like this when he came in. But he didn't care now; he found it kind of exciting. Wait, he thought, till they went public about what those people had just witnessed. They decided, waiting for their cars, to go to Larry's place. It was close. Larry drove ahead and Tucker followed in his Jag. On the way over, to his shock and growing excitement, Tucker felt the seam in the back of his slacks and on the legs start to split open. For one brief second, he thought about his suit being ruined, but he realized he would never be able to get into it again, and his uncontrollable arousal only increased with the idea that he was growing so big so fast as to rend the fabric of his old image. His shirt sleeves had become uncomfortably tight, and he bent first one arm, then the other, flexing his biceps until the sleeves burst, ripping open and exposing the massive peaks of his hard, swelling guns. Oh, yeah, he thought. This was too hot. He flexed his lats and felt the sides and back of his shirt rip open. It was as though he was being released, his muscles unbound. His lats felt so thick and wide under his arms, and his arms felt so dense and huge resting on the swelling, hard cushions of his lats. He looked down at his chest, pulled off his tie, felt his pecs with one hand. They were becoming absolutely huge now. The front of his unbuttoned shirt had pulled apart even more to expose a broad expanse of his bare chest. The plates of his pecs were becoming so thick that the crease of cleavage between them could swallow his fingers up to the second knuckles. And they were becoming truly hairy. Just the kind of hair, if he had grown up with body hair, that he would have wanted to have. It had become much denser since his trip to the bathroom, but it still was not too long, and it lay flat on his skin, silky and dark. He ran his hand under his shirt feeling how the hair grew all the way over to the broad sides of his pecs and down to the deeply overlapping cuts beneath them. His pecs were growing, not just massively thick, but broad and square, and they were almost totally covered with hair. His dick was throbbing inside what was left of his slacks, and a dark, wet spot of precum was growing by its enormous head. He let his hand continue to feel the hair that was growing down his abs. They were dense and hard as bricks, and their ridges and valleys were growing more extreme, harder, deeper, and the hair that converged down their center felt unbearably hot. With a reflex that never passed through his conscious mind, he grabbed his shirt, which had remained buttoned and intact where his waist was still tight and small, and he yanked it open, popping the buttons off, tearing it out of the waistbandof his slacks so he could see more of his hard, increasingly sexy hairy stomach. Between the awesome growth of his muscles and body hair, he felt an unexpected sensation, a deep, intense, overwhelming explosion of masculinity, a powerful building of raw erotic animal maleness. He was about to pull open his slacks, to grab his cock and bring himself to the relief that he felt himself relentlessly building toward. He was so hot he had to come. He had to come NOW. But just then Larry pulled into a driveway and into his garage. Tucker followed. Larry jumped out of his car and came around to Tucker. His own clothes, while still intact, were straining to the point of giving way. He was unbuttoning his shirt. He opened Tucker's door, saying he had to get out of his clothes, and he laughed when he saw how far out of his Tucker already was. Tucker followed Larry inside. By the time he had reached the living room, he was out of his shirt and had undone his pants. Tucker followed suit, getting out of his own shirt and undoing his belt and zipper. He didn't even care that his cock was hard and huge and obvious for Larry to see. So was Larry's, now, and he didn't seem to give a fuck. Larry had Tucker help him pull off his pants, the thighs were so tight. His bikini underwear came off with them. He jumped to his feet, spread his arms and legs, then flexed every muscle on his body as he moved slowly and deliberately into a double biceps, enjoying the freedom of his gigantic muscles being released from the restrictions of his clothes. His cock projected straight out from the dense big bush of his pubic hair, thicker than his wrist, and longer than his forearm. His balls hung almost halfway to his knees and looked the size of large oranges. His arms, his legs, his pecs, his abs, and his groin were covered with short, silky, dense hair that swirled and plunged in patterns that emphasized the size and shape of his body, his muscles, his exaggerated male equipment. Tucker looked in awe. Was this what would happen to him? Larry was bigger that any professional bodybuilder Tucker had ever seen. Noticeably bigger. Everything about him was insanely massive. Somewhere deep in his brain a faint thought of panic, or fear, or possible regret flitted by, but it was fast submerged in an tsunami of deep, intense, profoundly erotic arousal. He had never seen anything that turned him on so much as the sight of Larry and the thought that the same thing was happening to him. With a few violent rips and tugs, and some help from Larry, Tucker released himself from what was left of his clothes. in front of a full length mirror in Larry's bathroom, he saw the mind-blowing sight of his own reflection for the first time. He was magnificent. With Larry standing beside him, he could see how much farther he had to grow before he would be done. His mind reeled. He was big like the bodybuilders that he never let himself think about becoming. It wouldn't have been the right thing for a big ad exec. The thought made him laugh. And now he was that big, and he didn't give a fuck if people thought it was strange. Not only that big, but he had body hair that looked like a porno illustration. Where the line of hair had disappeared into his pants, now he saw it continue, spread thicker, and merge with his pubes which had spread on his groin, a major thick, dark tangle of luxuriant growth. It grew up his belly to where he knew that anything low cut that he wore would show groin hair. It spread out onto his upper thighs and joined uninterrupted with the hair that covered his massive legs. And from that sexy bush hung a pair of balls the size of lemons surmounted by his rod, a stiff, jerking, throbbing rod of veiny flesh at least a foot in length and so thick he could barely get his hand around it. He grabbed it hard with one hand while he stroked his unbelievably hot bod with the other, across his full, gorgeous, hairy tits, and down the furry peaks and valleys of his abs. Next to him, he saw Larry grab his own cock with both hands. He saw how Larry had to reach around his humongous pecs to get hold of his dick, how it made his pecs mound up with insanely thick mass. He noticed the beyond-human flare of Larry's back, the wide-spread stance of his tree trunk legs. He thought how much hotter Larry looked with his even more perfect, outrageous body hair, and the size of his equipment. He was out of control with the thrill of what he saw and what was happening. He couldn't wait to get like Larry. He couldn't wait. And suddenly, without a stroke, his groin exploded with the start of an orgasm that radiated through his body, contacting him into a total body spasm that traveled back into his groin, down the length of his wonderful cock and finally rocketed him into space, a space he never even imagined possible. He thought his joints would fly apart as he shot volley after volley of hot, thick cream, jerking with ecstasy as it hit the mirror so hard it splashed all over him and Larry. And it just kept coming, and coming, pumping up from some place so deep he didn't know it existed. It hit him in the face and all over his chest and stomach. He saw it hitting Larry, matting the hair on his gargantuan chest, plastering it down as it ran down his abs. Finally, after what must have been more than a minute of full ejaculation, it slowed and stopped. Larry was laughing, rubbing the cum into his hair, massaging his tits with its slippery lubrication. Tucker did the same, taking his lead from the hunk beside him. He felt so good, his body felt so good under his hands. His cock was still hard, still, to his amazement, throbbing, wanting more sex. Then Larry reached for him, pulled him over, and began to massage the sticky fluid into his pecs and all the way down his abs. As soon as Larry touched him, he knew he had waited his whole life for this. He sucked in his breath and Larry leaned forward and placed his mouth on Tucker's. The feel of a firm mouth surrounded by stiff, scratchy whiskers made him suck his breath in again, almost to the point of fainting with passion, and he felt Larry's tongue press in to explore. He let himself lean hard into Larry's body to hold himself up, felt his pecs press against the hard, enormous mass of Larry's. He felt Larry's huge cock find his abs and start to work up them as they moved closer together. Then his own cock touched Larry's pubic hair and the base of his dick. Larry pulled him closer until both their cocks were pressed between their rock hard bellies, rubbing against each other, stimulated by the hair on their bellies. Tucker felt almost weak, swept into a tide of erotic, male passion. Larry kissed him hard, moving from his mouth and pressing his lips and tongue into the soft flesh under Tucker's jaw line, his chin, sucking on the cleft in his chin, working it with his tongue, then down his throat to his chest, where he buried his face in Tucker chest hair, licking deep into his cleavage and cuts, sucking and nipping at his nipples. He grabbed Tucker's hard, round butt and pulled him closer still, pushing their groins hard together. Then, before Tucker knew what was happening, Larry had wet his fingers with Tucker's spunk and was working it between his buns and into his asshole. Tucker realized what Larry intended to do, and there was no way he could make himself want to stop him. He was so hot and so horny that he wanted more of everything, wanted to do, to know everything that could be done with and to the male body. He worked on Larry's pecs, massaged them hard, pressed the heels of his palms into their dense mass, lifting their incredible weight. He couldn't believe his own would soon be this massive, and he couldn't wait to feel it on himself. Larry turned him around, reached under his arms, around his lats, and grabbed his pecs to pull him close from behind. Tucker felt the head of Larry's cock against his butt, pushing between his buns, separating them with its fist-sized head. He was so hot he didn't care how much it hurt; he wanted to feel Larry deep inside him. Larry was telling him how hot he was getting , how big. He told Tucker to flex for him, and Tucker felt hot and powerful as he raised his arms in a double biceps. His arms were getting huge. He looked in disbelief at the size of his biceps, how they peaked. He heard Tucker saying what great fucking arms, what great fucking tits, as he massaged his pecs harder. And then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, Larrywas inside him. He slid the entire length of his cock in, slowly, filling him, deeper, deeper, until Tucker felt himself stop against the dense hair and hard flesh of Larry's groin. He closed his eyes and a groan escaped his lips. Larry held him there for a minute, not moving, just pressing himself hard into Tucker. Tucker felt the fullness of Larry in him. Then Larry slowly moved his hands down Tucker's torso, across his swelling, growing muscles, until he had taken Tucker's cock in his hands. As he slowly began to stroke the length of Tucker's cock, he withdrew himself and pressed himself back inside Tucker in the same rhythm. He gradually increased his tempo, withdrawing himself slightly more each time, until he was pulling out past the rim of his cockhead, feeling the flaring edge pop out and back in again, slamming Tucker's hard ass each time he rammed himself in to its full length. Tucker felt the heat increase until he felt white hot. His moans became open mouthed groans, increasing in volume and intensity with Larry's pounding rhythm. He felt Larry's breath, hot against his neck. He was nearing orgasm. He could feel it building in him until he felt himself rocked by another nuclear explosion, like before but stronger, squeezing him to the center of his cells, his body alive with pulsing, shocking, jolting sexual electricity. And as he watched thick streams of white cream jet out of his cockhead he felt Larry inside him jerking hard, convulsing with his own release, filling him with hot juice. He felt himself fill up until Larry's cum was leaking out and running down his butt and dripping off his balls. When their convulsions finally subsided, they both collapsed on the floor in the pools of their cum, laughing, rubbing handsful of it onto each other, plastering down their hair, slipping and sliding their hands over each other's incredible muscles. Larry suggested a swim in the pool, and they went out to his patio. Tucker felt magnificent. He could feel himself still steadily swelling bigger, harder, denser, his body hair filling in, his dick and balls growing more and more like Larry's. Then, suddenly, he felt his muscles start to cramp. Deep in his bowels, where he had taken Larry's load, he felt heat building and radiating. It felt kind of good, kind of sexy, but it also felt strange. He felt his muscles draw into themselves in a deep, but not a painful cramp, and then relax for a second or two, and then draw up again, almost like mild convulsions. He told Larry how he felt, and he went to the side of the pool where he could stand and lean against something for support. He laughed at himself for reacting, but the feeling of convulsing grew stronger, even though he was not outwardly convulsing. He looked at Larry watching him, and he saw amazement, maybe fear in his friend's eyes. And then he knew what was happening. Somehow, taking Larry's cum must have increased the activity of whatever was causing his transformation. The rate had increased. He was growing so fast he could see it, and so could Larry. He could feel it. Suddenly he was on a rocket. He could feel his arms getting thicker and heavier, even as his lats flared and pushed them out, up. His pecs were ballooning inside his skin, broader, thicker. They were growing so big so fast he thought his skin would split. He could hardly see over them. He could feel his butt, where he was leaning, growing bigger, thicker, harder, literally pushing away from the side of the pool. His thighs pushed away from each other as they grew bigger and bigger, until he had to bend his knees to stand. His cock throbbed, reaching a spontaneous orgasm again, spraying his cream into the pool. He heard himself saying Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! over and over again. And his orgasm didn't stop; he just kept shooting spurt after spurt, and his cock kept growing, bigger than Larry's. He could feel the weight of his balls against his thighs, almost to his knees. He had to see. It was hard to get his arms around the mass of his torso to reach them, but he lifted them and they were bigger than Larry's, too. They were the size of softballs. He wished he could get to a mirror. He knew he was bigger than Larry all over, and he was still swelling, exploding with mass. Christ! This was incredible! Would he be able to walk? Did he care? Larry was voicing his amazement. As Tucker continued to grow, his mass swelling, adding to itself, his orgasm going on and on, Larry could see that Tucker was lost in the sensations of what was taking place. No wonder. He could tell that Tucker was in a place beyond ecstasy, that he was flying on an orgasmic rocket. His traps threatened to engulf his head and his delts surpassed the size of bowling balls. Larry wanted him, wanted his muscle, his unbelievable display of manhood. Tucker seemed not to be able to stop feeling his own muscle as it grew thicker and denser. Larry stepped up to him and began to join his monster friend in feeling, massaging the gigantic boulders of hairy muscle hanging on his incredibly broad and growing chest. He grabbed the throbbing, spraying cock. There was no way he could get his hand around it and it had to be over two feet long now. He heard Tucker breathlessly crying for him to take it, take it. He held the gigantic head to his face, then licked around the spouting slit. His lust and hunger overtook him, and he drank as much of Tucker's cum as he could, and when he was full and still crazy with desire, he turned and positioned himself asshole to cockhead and began to push back onto Tucker's rod. As soon as he made contact, he felt Tucker grab his waist and thrust hard. He was sure he screamed. It felt like he was being impaled on someone's leg, but his lust was so intense that the very size of the gigantic tool inside him was driving to the heart of his insatiable need for more. Tucker was still pouring cum out of his cock, and he held Larry tight against him as he flooded his gut. Even when Larry had been filled to the point that he could feel his belly distending and cum running out of him and down his legs, Tucker held him hard against him. The more Larry felt filling inside him, the more he wanted it. There was no way he could get enough. Until he began to feel the heat in his own belly and the convulsing in his muscles begin. Tucker could barely catch a breath from the relentless orgasm he was having. It didn't seem to matter how much he came. He just felt himself getting more and more turned on, hornier, constantly more erotically charged. Even as he pumped a steady stream of his juice into Larry he could feel himself growing bigger, thicker, heavier. He was so in love with the feeling of his muscles growing so much more massive so fast that there was no way now that he could have enough of the feeling, no way he could ever get big enough. It seemed like the juice he had taken from Larry was even more concentrated in its effect than the original dose he had been given. It was incredible. If only he could get more. And then, when he saw Larry, still impaled on his churning cock, begin so show the signs of convulsing, he knew that they were each producing a more concentrated version of the formula by its very action within them. No wonder it was such an intense sexual sensation and experience. The whole thing was sexual in its most basic nature. The muscles, the body hair, the amazing growth of their genitals, all of it was the expression by the body of an unleashing of the deepest essence of physical male sexuality. Even as those thoughts were crowding in on his consciousness, he saw them confirmed. Larry began contracting, his already huge glutes squeezing Tucker's cock so hard he thought he might burst, if it didn't feel so good. Tucker saw, immediately, that Larry's lats and delts were swelling again. From his position behind him, Tucker couldn't believe how Larry's back began to flare like a cobra's hood, how his bowling ball delts began to look more like basketballs. He put his hands on Larry's butt to slide himself out, and he could feel the iron pulsing of those glutes swelling into larger boulders. When he pulled his cock out, he was shocked at how much it had grown inside his friend. He turned him around. Larry was grinning, his eyes rolling up into his head with the extreme ecstasy he was feeling. He could only keep saying how incredible he felt, how unbelievable this was. He was massaging his own pecs, feeling their hard, swelling contours, pressing the heels of his hands hard into their sides, pushing against them as he felt them pushing out, broadening, thickening. They were beyond enormous. His arms were so huge it was difficult to bent them very far before his forearms were stopped by the ham-like biceps bursting on his upper arms. His lats had pushed them above forty-five degrees. His thighs forced his legs farther apart even though his quads firmly pressed against each other almost to his knees, to where his balls rested now, two very large grapefruits churning with his sex. His cock projected straight out from his increasingly hairy groin, more than two feet of thick, veiny manhood, and as his cries of ecstasy increased, he began to shoot, just like Tucker. Now both of them were standing in the pool, Tucker bigger than the biggest bodybuilder, and Larry bigger than him by half, both of them still swelling, and both of them shooting non-stop volleys of heavy cream. They laughed and they moaned with constant, growing erotic animal pleasure. They shot all over each other. They rubbed the slippery cum into the hair that was still growing thicker on each other's torsos, enjoying the feel of their mass, their deep cuts, the mounds and boulders of harder, denser, bigger muscles. After a few more minutes, when Tucker saw how enormous Larry was becoming, still swelling, veins popping all over his body, his skin thinner and thinner as the muscle beneath stretched it like tissue, He realized that Larry's growth was even more extreme than his after he had taken a belly full of Larry's juice. So the combination of the original dose plus Larry's cum had magnified the strength of the process in him, and what he gave to Larry had been that much stronger. That meant that what Larry was shooting out of his cock now would probably be stronger still by that much more concentration. He looked at Larry's cock, which was like the thick end of a baseball bat and nearly a yard long, he guessed. Could he take it? He wanted to. He wanted it bad. He playfully forced it down below the water, feeling how it was so stiff that it felt spring-loaded, and let it go. It sprang up, to their delight, with a thwack hitting Larry in the face. Tucker reached up, took its frighteningly huge head and brought it down as he turned around to his own huge, hard bubble butt. He pushed back onto it, felt it stretch him until he thought his flesh would tear. But something about this transformation also seemed to increase his capacity to open and accommodate such a tool, because he felt Larry's hands on his waist, then the pressure of his friend pulling his back as he thrust forward, and with a blinding flash of hot, erotic pain, he felt himself fill with Larry's hot flesh. He could feel the juice pumping into him. It was so hot that he tried to stand still and just experience the sensation. His own cock was still ejaculating. He had been ejaculating for at least an hour, and he couldn't believe he wasn't exhausted, but the intensity of the orgasm kept growing stronger and energizing him. He would let Larry fill him for as long as he could stand it. If he could, he would stay on this giant cock until he felt himself growing more, growing faster. The water in the pool was becoming cloudy with their cum. Tucker had no ideas how long he had stayed on Larry's cock. He remembered that when his arms were resting almost straight out to his sides and had grown bigger than a bodybuilder's legs, Larry had been forceful about having another turn himself. He vaguely remembered that they each took several more turns. He remembered that, no matter how big their cocks had grown, they seemed to be able to stretch to take them in, even when they were much too long to take more than half their lengths. He remembered, at one point, that they were going to get out of the pool and try to pose for each other, but they found that they were so heavy that it was almost impossible to balance themselves and stand up without the help of the buoyancy of the water. So they had stayed in the pool. Their cocks grew too long to reach the throbbing, insistent cockheads themselves, but that was not problem since they couldn't get enough of doing it for each other. They didn't give a fuck about the consequences when they realized their dicks extended over their heads; it was just too fucking hot having such gigantic cocks. They completely lost any sense of time as the night wore on and they took turns impregnating each other with stronger and stronger doses of the growth factor, and getting more and more lost in the intensity of the erotic sensations of their growing mass. They never even heard Larry's phone ring, late the next morning, when they hadn't shown up at the office. About ten o'clock, Sean Gallagher came to check. The new potential clients had shown up for a nine o'clock appointment. Sean had first checked at Tucker's house and found no one home. So he came to Larry's. He found them in the pool. Sean was in shock at what he saw. He had talked to Larry about the new product, and had known more than Tucker about what these guys were up to. He had even been kind of excited to see how it worked on Larry, because, deep, secret truth be known, he had always wanted to have a body like a bodybuilder without having to do all the work to get it. But in his wildest imaginings, he had never conceived of anything like what he saw that morning. The two of them were oblivious to him when he walked onto the patio. They were facing each other, leaning against the side of the pool for support. They stood there, the two most grotesquely, monstrously muscular men ever conceived in the brain of the most obsessed muscle freak, massaging, caressing, feeling each other's bodies, lost in the sensations. Projecting from the groin of each of them, resting on the shoulder of the other like a pair of crossed swords, lay their cocks, projecting above and beyond their heads, spurting thick, heavy cream like fountains into the water. Sean didn't know what to do. He was terrified. He called their names. When they finally took notice of him, they said he would have to help them out of the pool. They obviously wouldn't be getting dressed and coming into the office. Sean noticed they weren't at all upset about the freaks they had become. He didn't know what to do about getting them out of the pool, since he was wearing his suit. Tucker told him to just take his clothes off. He'd need to take a fast shower anyway, since the pool water was a swamp of milky juice, a layer almost coagulated on the surface. Sean was mildly disgusted by the prospect, but he couldn't leave them there, so he laid his clothes neatly on a chaise. He also felt a little, dark thrill at the sight of these two hairy muscle monsters with their monster dicks. As he tried to help them move out of the water, they got him laughing at the difficulty of maneuvering such mass. He was immediately slippery, too, with the juice surrounding him. They slid around, Sean having to grab their immense muscles as he tried to help them balance. It was impossible to stay out of the way of the fountains of spunk that were still spurting into the pool. He was soon so covered, in his flailing attempts, that he had to accept getting some in his mouth. He didn't swallow much, but the concentration level had increased so much that it didn't take very much before he felt a strange heat in his belly. To be continued....

It had been a very hectic day, but it was soon coming to a close. Moving from the university town where my lab was located to a big city, doing the paperwork, getting everything in the building, more paperwork, directing the movers, more paperwork, worrying about the opening day, and finalising the paperwork. But, the last piece of equipment (a rack of dumbbells, in cast you were wondering) had been hauled up the stairs, and the last document had been signed. The people who worked on this collaborative effort all left, leaving me alone with my brand new gym. I’d been laughing to myself all day when the movers stopped to comment on my business model. “This place seems a bit remote, I wouldn’t know where to find it.” “Are you advertising this place?” “Maybe I’ll get a membership, my misses thinks I’m packing in the pounds” Oh how innocent they were, none of them new the extent of my true intentions with this place, but that was kind of the idea. They were correct that there was no sign outside of advertising that told a soul that this place was a gym, or any way that the average Joe off the street could discover it, but that was the general idea. I walked through the gym area, marvelling at the amount of weightlifting stations I’d managed to pack into such a small space, and the array of weights that accompanied them. I peeped inside the men’s changing room, and fantasised about the men who would soon fill it. I also peeped into the women’s changing room, but only for a quick chuckle to myself. The only other place was the reception area and my cramped office in the back, where I had already set up my device. It stood proud in the middle of the room and looked like something right out of the future, which in a way it was. I checked the message I’d already coded, and sure enough it was ready. “If you want to be big, to be powerful, want muscle, and love muscle, come closer, come to the fourth floor.” I turned the device to its most powerful setting, and waited for my first client. In fact, my first client would walk down the street that day. I’d conveniently placed my gym near the local gay bars and the general gay scene, so it was only a matter of time before someone to my liking would stroll past. Samuel was on his way to drink away his sorrow at his local place, and maybe shack up with someone. His job was a miserable slog through hours of bullshit that he only had the slightest grasp on, and the rest of his life was suffering. His mid section looked as if it has been inflated by a bicycle pump, and he began to get out of breath just walking to the nearest fast food restaurant, which was a trip he often made. While there were guys willing to get with someone of his disappointing build, few were the guys he dreamt of, the muscle guys. They were all interested in others like them, the ones who looked like they lived in the gym; but Samuel wanted to be like them, and to have them. As he walked from his work, still dressed in the suit that barely contained his swinging belly, he started to feel strange, but in a good way. His cluttered mind cleared of all the bad things rattling around, and he felt both a sense of calm, as well as a magnetic pull towards the building to his right. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d never seen what was up there, and needed to find out. He heaved himself up the stairs, stopping at the forth floor, and pushed against the unmarked door into whatever was behind it. When he came barrelling through the door, I was stood there waiting for him. Seconds before he entered, I’d switched to the second message on the device, knowing the first had done its job. “You want to be big, you want muscle. This gym is doing it. Don’t question, just lift, eat right, and lift.” He looked around, a little confused, and finding no other source of information, approached my desk. “He-hello, um, I know this is a strange question, but what is this place, I’ve never noticed it before?” “It’s a gym, Mr...” “Sam. Well that’s my first name.” “Nice to meet you Sam. We’ve just opened this morning, and you’re the first to come through our door. If you’d like to look over our membership options, I’d be happy to make you our first client.” “Oh I see, well it sounds great.” Brilliant, the second message was taking hold. This guy looked like he’d barely walked into a gym in his life, yet he was already signing on. He looked over the memberships, but I could tell he’d already made up his mind. He bought a month’s membership, and left, promising to come tomorrow morning. I didn’t need a promise, I knew he would. When I opened up the place the next day, it was scarcely twenty minutes before Sam came through the door. He was clearly nervous, but had a gym bag over his shoulder. He said hello to me, and went into the changing room. The walls were covered with pictures of muscled bodybuilders, and even a couple of morphed ones beyond human potential. They all turned Sam on, but he thought better than trying to jerk off there. He began to pull a shirt out of his gym bag, but saw a sign displayed prominently on the wall. “For hygiene purposes, we ask all our male clients to exercise without upper-body clothing.” Sam slid the shirt back, and left the room with the air on his bare chest. When he walked into the gym area, I’d already switched to the third message that provided instructions on how to perform the main lifts. I watched him like a hawk as he flawlessly performed a bench press set, then another, and another, and another. He moved on to another exercise, and another, and another, and another. Soon multiple hours had passed; sweat was running down Sam’s uncovered upper body, but he was still desperate to keep going. As the months passed, Sam became morphed into the very definition of a “gym bro”. He was eating like a train, but if was all beans, lentils, of whatever protein he could get his hands on. The idea of eating fast food seemed like swallowing a live rat, and his belly soon vanished until he had a slight gut protruding. Despite his rapid weight loss, the muscle mass kept on coming. I was shocked at his increasing size that didn’t seem to have an end; the weights he put on the bar climbed higher and higher. Also, he always had a story of the latest guy he’d taken to bed, often with pictures of guys with bulging muscles to accompany them. One day, I saw the true change in him. His shoulders looked like they’d almost doubled in width thanks to the many exercises and the lack of fat below them, and the seemed to crown the pecs that had began to form a gorgeous shelf above the last whimpers of a gut (which I knew had chiseled and beneath). I don’t know what about that day had told me that the experiment was a success, but my pilot trial had gone without a hitch, and it was time to expand the operation. “Sam, can I ask you something?” “Go ahead dude.” Sam replied, his voice seeming much deeper than when we met, possibly from some bodily change, or his new confidence. “You involve yourself with a lot of guys who are into fitness. I don’t want to put you on the spot, but it would be great if we could drum up some business around here.” “Sure thing bro. I’ve got guys that would put my progress to shame, and they’re constantly looking for a place with a lot of lifters.” He was nice to consider my request so thoughtfully, but the machine was giving him another message. “Get ones like you used to be. Convert the hopeless. Make them into gay adonises like you.” And he did. Soon, a guy called Blake was walking sheepishly up my steps. His thin physique was a product of years of neglect, and it was thanks to his dislike of food that he wasn’t as fat as a planet. But the messages guided him along, and he soon found himself shirtless and heaving weights in my place. Then another called Peter, who was too nervous to step foot in a gym, but laughed along with his bros and flexed for them after some conditioning. Then Bertrand, and Viraj, and Michael, and Paul, and Rohaan, and Julien, and another Michael, and so on. Soon, my gym was stocked full of beautiful adonises. They were all as shirtless as swimmers, showing their chiseled bodies on display, and I suspect I didn’t need the rule to get them to do it. Their shoulders were so broad they could barely walk around the place without bumping into the others, their pecs were striking and big enough to bounce with considerable force (which they loved to do), their arms showed mountains of muscle that rose into beautiful peaks when they checked their progress in front of the mirror, their legs forced them to waddle and their asses strained the largest jeans. In total, they were perfect. But the best part was the lust for each other that they soon discovered. I’d morphed their interests had always been towards the muscular, but I’d changed them to accept the biggest guys, and accept little less. This, combined with their rising testosterone, meant they could barely perform a session without slinking off to the back. They hammered away at each other which such ferocity, and I loved it when it became a battle of strength for who could take the most. They wouldn’t give two shits when I’d sit in on their sessions, and watched their muscles collide and stick together from the beads of sweat that rolled down the many crevices of their new bodies. My experiment had worked better than I could have ever expected, but I wanted more. The device could be scaled up, and so could the results of my clients. Of course, their progress was less than natural, a fact they would of learnt if they’d only stopped to consider why the liquid in the water cooler seemed to have such an odd taste, not that they would question it. This was only the beginning.

Teleportation was not a form of travel Jalveth enjoyed: when expected it was a jarring experience, but when it came out of nowhere it was nauseating. The problem was that the Magisters of the Collective operated on their own schedule with scant regard for others. Jalveth took in the sumptuous furnishings of the Magister’s parlour as he tried to keep the remains of his lunch from adding to the decoration. “I take it you know why you are here?” stated the figure sat at an expansive desk without looking up from his paperwork. “No my lord,” replied Jalveth meekly and with good reason: a Magister’s word was law and they had enough power to administer any punishment they so chose. Childhood stories of what they do to those who wronged them leapt to the forefront of his mind, which he tried to repress as he hadn’t done anything wrong that might justify any form of punishment, had he? A piece of parchment levitated from the cluttered desk and floated in front of his face; it was a fairly long list: ‘Silver Goblin Trading’, ‘Griffin Claw Holdings’, ‘Black Root Alchemicals’ and others were written in a clear hand. “This is a list of accounts I administer.” said Jalveth confused, but in a contrite a fashion as he could muster. “Did you think it wouldn’t be noticed,” said the figure, looking at Jalveth for the first time since his arrival. “A crystal here, a couple of crystals there, not enough for one organisation to really notice but overall they do mount up…” “But I…” Jalveth began before a wave of paralysis suffused his entire being resulting in sudden breathlessness and a stiffness through his muscles, and to his embarrassment a similar reaction from his genitalia. “Do not interrupt,” admonished the Magister, “I am told you have a head for figures, I would have thought you more capable of covering your tracks than this; and so unoriginal, such scams have been around forever, they are even older than I.” Jalveth unable to respond was unsure how he would have if he could: he had known nineteen summers and the figure before him barely looked much older; but this was a Magister and appearances were almost certainly misleading. “We expect our computers to be intelligent, so what made you think you could get away with it?” the Magister asked looking directly at Jalveth. If the rest of his appearance did not bely his age the same could not be said of the Magister’s eyes: the black pools looked as though they had seen stars die and possibly caused them to do so. “There must be some mistake,” Jalveth squeaked, “those accounts were fine, with no crystal unaccounted for.” “Are you saying a Magister is wrong?” the man said in what seemed to be a friendly inquisitive tone. Jalveth knew better than to trust the friendly demeanour; his heart was racing as his body felt like it was betraying him: it felt hot and constrained in his clothes, not to mention he was so hard it was throbbing despite the situation, was there something about the Magister’s voice that made him feel this way? Jalveth couldn’t discount the possibility. Not that his mind was faring much better, it kept speculating on what punishments the Magister may enforce that Jalveth had trouble focusing on the situation he found himself in. “Of course not my lord,” he found himself saying, “merely that you have not been given all the information,” and wondered to himself just how he would justify that claim. “So enlighten me,” said the Magister with a tone that suggested there was nothing he didn’t already know, “who else had access to those accounts? One of your colleagues perhaps?” “No-one at the Counting House could have done it, would have done it,” replied Jalveth emphatically, “they are my friends, my family they have been nothing but helpful since I arrived at the Collective.” “And you are sure of this?” said the Magister clearly showing his view on the matter. “Only one bonded to the accounts would be able to change them.” said Jalveth firmly, “the only one bonded is…” and he trailed off as he realised the implications while the Magister just smiled at him. “Please,” Jalveth begged, “let me speak to my colleagues, maybe they will have some idea how this has happened.” “Oh you won’t be returning to the Counting House.” said the Magister, “By your own admission it is clear you are responsible: either it is deliberate for which you need punishing or accidental which shows you to be a liability; either way you cannot be trusted to look after the finances of others.” “But my smarts, my skill with numbers, that’s all I have,” wailed Jalveth as he prostrated himself before the Magister. Bringing his hands together in a begging gesture caused an audible ripping noise from his tunic and Jalveth looked at his body for the first time since his arrival. The reason for the constrained feeling was now obvious: he was larger than he should be, his slim scrawny build was replaced by a somewhat more athletic one. “There are many ways to serve the Collective,” said the Magister, “and if your suitability is wrong then we can easily change it, there are many positions that require less cerebral acumen and more physical presence such as soldier or labourer or…” “Please don’t make me a pleasure slave!” Jalveth begged crying. “Oh so you know about the pleasure slaves then,” the Magister stated, “just by reputation, or have you partaken?” “My colleagues organised it, they said it was a rite of passage.” replied Jalveth but his focus was diverted by the figure that had magically appeared in the chamber. He was magnificent: large powerful legs supported a strongly defined core, but still with a fairly narrow waist, which in turn were surmounted by a pair of pronounced pectorals that competed for space with a pair of massive arms, but the crowning achievement was the huge organ protruding from his groin. It arced up through the deep valley of the pecs and stopped just below where a beautiful face was waiting. It was only the expression and look behind the eyes that let the figure down for Jalveth: there was little sign of intelligence or even awareness there. The figure had not reacted to its translocation and it seemed was awaiting any sort of instruction for a while, which means it stood motionless for some time. Eventually, whether it finally realised nothing was forthcoming, or more likely just following its baser instincts moved to take the massive head of its member in its mouth and started pleasing itself. Jalveth watched mesmerised as the figure bounced its pecs, together and separately, to stimulate the shaft of its immense penis in complete oblivion to its surroundings. Not that the figure was the only one. “I said what was it like to be fucked by a pleasure slave,” said the Magister testily, completely ignoring the figure’s arrival. “Huh,” said Jalveth distracted, “but I didn’t…” and when his brain caught up to his mouth felt the need to clarify: “I wanted to but it was so large and I got scared and just spent the time worshipping his body.” “You do know they are ensorcelled to provide only pleasure and no pain?” Asked the Magister in a flat tone to which Jalveth gave a slow calculated nod. “Ensorcelled by a Magister, so which is it you doubt, our skill or our power?” Jalveth doubted neither as both were clearly evident in the way his tunic burst in multiple places from the strain, he could feel his bulging biceps resting on his protruding chest, neither adjective would anyone have considered attributing to Jalveth before now. His breeches had so far still remained intact but it was clear they would not remain so if he underwent another growth spurt. The bulge at the front was large and the confined space was beginning to pinch uncomfortably. “Ah I see how it is, this all makes sense,” said the Magister looking at Jalveth who was exploring the changes in his body with his hands, but his eyes were still focussed on the activities of the third person in the room. “It is because you are jealous of the pleasure slaves.” the Magister said as a statement of fact and not a question. “Well who wouldn’t be?” replied Jalveth, “after all they were made by the Magisters as perfect physical specimens. Are you doubting the Magister’s skill? Or their power?” Jalveth groaned internally as he realised what he had just uttered, how stupid was he to rile one who had so much power, Jalveth braced himself for the inevitable consequences. Which never came, instead the Magister just laughed, “I suppose I could have phrased that better, tell me were you happy in the Counting House?” Jalveth nearly blurted out ‘of course’ but thought better of it, “I had a job I could do easily, colleagues that supported me, and it paid enough to meet my needs.” Jalveth eventually said carefully choosing his words. “But did that make you happy?” said the Magister in a tone that was clear that he knew the answer but wanted to hear Jalveth say it. “No,” Jalveth admitted, “the work was dull, I did it because I could and not because I wanted to; my colleagues were friendly because they were my colleagues and not because of me and while my needs were met there was little extra for anything else.” “And then you met a pleasure slave, you thought you would be the superior one in the situation despite his physical attributes you were the free one, the one with the intellect; however, you realised that of the two of you only he was happy with his life and you were envious of that.” explained the Magister. “But he was so stupid,” retorted Jalveth, “all he could do was grunt or talk in a monosyl…, a mono…, in one word answers and only then about his body or sex.” At the mention of the word sex the third person in the room ceased their self-ministrations and moved towards Jalveth seductively; the giant ever-erect penis bouncing back and forth as he moved until he came to a stop in front of Jalveth and took up a pose that showed off his muscular body. Jalveth gulped involuntarily as he forced himself not to lean forward, not to touch and was fighting an impulse to join him in flexing. The Magister continued to act as though the other man was not even in the room. “Really, you were stuck in a role you despised in a life you thought had no meaning, whereas he was someone who really enjoyed his work, who would be thrilled to be in the company of his colleagues and whose needs and desires were both met without his input. That is what you were jealous of, that is why you wanted to be him.” elucidated the Magister. “But I don’t want to be dumb, my intelligence, my skill with numbers is all I have, it’s all I am!” Jalveth exclaimed, tears running down his face. “But has that intelligence ever made you happy, or is it what is holding you back from getting what you really want?” The Magister began. Jalveth opened his mouth to respond but stopped when the Magister raised his hand. “It was your ‘intelligence’ that stopped you experiencing the joys of that pleasure slave. It is the same ‘intelligence’ that is trying to plan a way out of this but is ignoring your desires, it is not even realising they are showing themselves anyway.” Jalveth looked confused and was surprised when the pleasure slave gently wiped the tears from his eyes. The Magister continued, “ You were the one to suggest being turned into a pleasure slave, in fact it is what you have been thinking about since you arrived in my chamber; I wonder if your subconscious forced you to make those mistakes to bring us to this outcome.” “But I didn’t, I wouldn’t…” Jalveth sobbed, “I don’t know what you want from me?” “Simple,” answered the Magister, “I just want you to tell me what you want, what you really want.” Jalveth knew he was stuck, his strategy had been to tell the Magister exactly what he wanted to hear, but clearly what the Magister wanted to hear was what was clearly something that was not intelligent to say; as such his thoughts led in circles as his brain tried to find a way out of the contradiction. In the confusion this meant that his mouth was operating unsupervised, “I want to be a pleasure slave,” Jalveth mumbled quietly. “Sorry what was that?” said the Magister who had clearly heard what he said. “I want to be a pleasure slave!” Jalveth said louder and with more conviction, “I want to be so dumb that I don’t know what a number is, let alone what to do with one! And I want to be so big that anyone who sees me will be awestruck to the point where they can’t think of them either! I want to spend my days having sex with anyone, with everyone! But most of all I want to be happy!” “There, that wasn’t so difficult,” said the Magister, “I think you deserve a reward for your honesty.” and with that the pleasure slave moved behind Jalveth with clear intent. Jalveth was confused, how did that make any sense? Just saying what should have been a bad idea somehow was going to see him receive the sex he had foolishly denied himself in the past? Magisters may have tremendous power but Jalveth wasn’t entirely sure of their sanity. Not that was his most pressing concern: he was harder than he’d ever been before in his entire life; but as his breeches burst from the strain the nature of this ‘reward’ became obvious. His erection was growing at a rate that was clearly visible to the eye and from the heat that pervaded his body that growth was not limited to his sex organ. Jalveth’s mind was not willing to go without a fight, and following his earlier declaration was repeating simple random multiplication to prove it couldn’t be banished that easily. ‘Four by twelve is forty-eight’ The pleasure slave removed the remains of Jalveth’s tattered clothing by ripping them off his body ‘Seven by eight is fifty-six’, the pleasure slave put his hand on Jalveth’s surprisingly hairy rear and Jalveth shot the biggest load of his life which stopped him thinking of anything for a while. When he came to his senses he looked down to see that his cock had reached his large hairy pecs. Jalveth had always been ashamed of his body hair and considering that both the pleasure slave in the room and the one he’d encountered earlier had smooth bodies it was a surprise that he not only retained his body hair, it was not thinned out by the muscle growth, but if anything was denser, thicker and more widespread. ‘Eight by five is fuckty… er forty’ Jalveth thought as he reached down to check on his balls, his stance had widened to accommodate the size of his legs and that gave his balls which were significantly larger, and hairier, more room. Jalveth gave them a squeeze and was rewarded with another large load. ‘Seven by four is… forty?’ Jalveth thought as he flexed a large hairy arm and watched as it grow before his eyes. ‘Six by nine is… six by nine is…, six by… sex…, sex!’ Jalveth thought as his cock was now at a point where he could easily take it into his mouth; which he did so with gusto. What looked up after he shot yet another huge load, this time into his hungry mouth which he slurped up greedily, was in no way bothered by multiplication; with numbers at least. It looked down on the pleasure slave before it and realised he was bigger than the man in all aspects including height. “Me big,” it said eventually. The pleasure slave took the opportunity to caress Jalveth’s furry bulk: gently stroking the soft hair across the bulging muscle. Jalveth wanted to tell him how attractive he found the man, what he wanted to do to him and what he wanted from the man but the words weren’t there. Eventually he settled on a single word that expressed all his feelings: “Fuck” “Fuck?” came the reply from the pleasure slave. “Fuck!” replied Jalveth with a smile and pulled the other pleasure slave into a passionate embrace. “Oh Boys!” called a voice from near a large bed, the only furniture in the room. For some reason Jalveth had a feeling something was wrong about that, but he couldn’t see what would be wrong with a hot guy calling him over to a bed. The Magister moved his hand and his clothing vanished revealing a tight muscular body and what would be considered a large cock in any other company, he kneeled on the large bed pushing his rear seductively in the air. A test for the new pleasure slave, which was on the way to scoring high marks as the Magister felt the tickle of a soft beard before a tongue masterfully worked at his hole. The other pleasure slave was before him and the Magister had no hesitation in taking as much of his manhood into his mouth as he could. In other circumstances the Magister would have grown his body to match them and switched off for a night of mindless debauchery; alas he had other duties that needed attending beforehand, primarily figuring out just who had framed Jalveth in the first place. If the young man had used the intellect he’s claimed to possess to be more suspicious of his colleagues then maybe he wouldn’t be in this position, using his tongue to devastating effect, as his naivety must have played a part in being chosen as the scapegoat. That and his appearance: Jalveth may not have realised with his insecurities but he was a very attractive man; to the extent that the Magister had little to do to his countenance in his transformation, essentially just making sure his face fit with the massive hairy muscle-bound moron he’d become, and frankly the beard had done most of that work for him. People think that magic can do anything, and by and large it can, but it still has its limitations. Even with knowing what was done the Magister could think of seven ways that Jalveth’s credentials could have been faked and was not arrogant enough to consider that to be an exhaustive list. Add to that not knowing who, when or why led to too many variables. The Magister had a spell trying to resolve it but with the lack of information would take a long time to report; it would be very surprising indeed if framing Jalveth was the whole point of the endeavour, so it was a matter of time before the real plot revealed itself and may well do so before his spell had concluded. So the Magister was relying more on a non-magical ploy: Jalveth. He felt the bulbous head of the new pleasure slave’s massive prick teasing his hole and the ecstatic thrill when it pushed home. Once the fate of Jalveth was announced to his colleagues the Magister expected them to lay low for a while, time they are likely to spend enjoying this very position with the new slave. Whether it will be regret about what they have done to Jalveth, or to gloat about it and fooling a Magister the culprit will have no qualms in confessing everything to someone they know doesn’t understand what they are saying. Pleasure slaves have a built-in aura of isolation that protects their clients from attack or interference when they are at their most vulnerable. The feeling of absolution at disclosing their darkest secrets and only receiving pleasure as a response was nearly as big a draw as the pleasure the slaves could bestow. Of course the slaves may not be able to understand but that didn’t mean the couldn’t listen, and repeat everything they heard to any curious Magister, but the populace would rather assume any information was discovered by magic. Jalveth would have his revenge, even if he now didn’t care about it, and his guilty former colleagues would learn there are worse punishments than becoming a pleasure slave. As for Jalveth, the Magister thought as both slaves unloaded in him simultaneously, he was too exquisite a prospect to relinquish. The Magister had considered his personal harem big enough but knew that when this was resolved there would be a place for Jalveth, one where he would have the very happy life he wished for.

This is my first ever paid commission, written from a client's prompt and guidance of specifics he hoped to see - but definitely in my writing style and voice. After reading it, he suggested I post it here, where I've been a long-time lurker. Also the longest single story I've ever written. Hope y'all like. If so, I'll look at bringing over some of my other stories, too. Looking forward to hearing what you think. Comment or check my profile on how to contact. Thanks! ----------------- WARNING: This story has a lot of references to tobacco and smoking. If that's not your thing, I totally understand. All of the images are also AI generated. ----------------- SMOKEY'S GYM It was a great party. Josh and his buddies hung out, drank beers and some partygoers enjoyed cigars. It was late into the night and things were winding down when one of Josh’s friends called him out. “Why do you look so bummed, dude?”, Hunter asked. “Hell, I don’t know,” Josh said, “I’ve just been out of it lately. Stuck in my head.” “There’s no reason, man,” Hunter said, “You’re a catch, bro. Good job, cute as hell, great personality.” “I hear you, but I don’t feel it, man,” Josh said, “I’m pissed at myself for comparing myself to you guys, but it’s hard. Some days I just don’t want to be ‘cute’. I’m tired of being a wing man.” “Look, man, you are as important to me as everyone in this group is,” Hunter said, “But if it’s important to you, I may have an idea.” He took a long pull on his cigar, exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling. Josh winced. Hunter knew Josh wasn’t into cigars like some of the others. Josh only tolerated them for the good of the group. “Are you willing to compromise a few things?”, Hunter asked, “How far are you willing to go for what you want?” Josh thought before answering, but the alcohol had gotten to him a bit. “I need something to change,” he said, “I’d do just about anything to have what you guys have.” Hunter pulled out his phone and texted someone. “Done, bud,” he said, “Hope you’re ready for an exciting ride.” Josh heard him, but in his inebriated state he didn’t really listen to what was said. He just smiled and said, “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Hunter smiled, opening his arms wide to signal Josh to come in for a big bear hug. Josh leaned into the hug and his friend’s big arms enveloped him. “It’s all good, bro,” Hunter said, “I got you.” The next morning, Josh shook off his hangover. It was a fun, if not retrospective evening. It’s not that he was unhappy with his life, but that he just wanted “more”. What that “more” was, he wasn’t exactly sure. But as he looked at his group of friends, he saw how confident they were. They worked hard, played hard, and fucked hard. That just wasn’t him. He wished it could be, though. As he worked through his morning routine, he knew one thing – it was time for Josh to head to the gym. It had been a few weeks, but he had a little more pep in his step today. He was actually excited to work off some of his stress. Hunter was right. Josh wasn’t a bad looking guy, at about 5’9”, and depending on his diet at the time, weighing between 185 to 200 pounds. He is what most men would say is cute or handsome, but not built or “hot”. Like most gay men in the world, he wished he could be more than he currently is. He hated that about himself, however. He had a great education, good job, decent life, but there’s always that x-factor he couldn’t define as missing. Whatever it was, Josh pushed it aside today as he got ready to head out for the gym. Hopefully he would be able to escape for a bit as he listened to some Kylie Minogue, Arianna Grande, or – don’t tell his friends – Spice Girls on his playlist. After parking, Josh started his lazy walk toward the gym’s entrance. However, he noticed something he’d never seen before. There was an extremely fit-looking man smoking a cigarette near the entrance. Josh couldn’t help but stare. This guy just stood there, proud as he could be, hauling on his smoke. As other patrons walked by, he knew they were talking about him – often scrunching their noses in disgust – but this dude just did not care. As he got closer to the man, Josh’s internal struggle became more pronounced. He wondered how someone so in-shape looking could be smoking out in public, where he knew he’d get stared at and chastised, but not look like he gave a single fuck. The guy was basically daring someone to say something to him about it. Josh could never. As Josh neared the entrance, the man looked over to him and nodded, as if to acknowledge his existence, while in mid-haul on his cigarette. After his exhale, the bro motioned toward Josh to get his attention. “You want to talk to me?”, Josh questioned. “Yeah, man, are you Josh?”, the dude asked. Josh said he was indeed the man he was looking for. “Perfect!”, the man said, “I’m Dylan. I’m waiting for you.” Not saying anything, Josh’s first thought was, “Of course this guy who looks like an older version of a frat-bro who never really left his undergrad days and probably works in Finance is named Dylan.” But he never said that out loud. The only thing Josh could blurt out was, “You’re waiting for me?” “Yeah, bud,” Dylan said, “I was told you’d be here. I am sort of a brand ambassador for an elite gym. We cater to dudes with special interests. I got a 911 text from a friend who said you might be interested.” Josh reflected for a moment, then blurted, “Oh shit! You’re the one Hunter texted last night.” “Guilty,” Dylan smiled as he took the last drag off his cigarette before depositing the extinguished butt in the nearby trashcan. “He said you could use a change,” Dylan continued, “And I can make sure that happens. Interested?” Josh took a moment to think, then threw caution to the wind saying, “Fuck it! I’m in! If Hunter trusts you, I trust you.” Dylan smiled as he pulled out his cell phone. “Give me your number,” he said, “I’ll send you a pin on where to meet me tonight.” “Tonight?”, Josh asked with concern in his voice. “Yeah, man, tonight!”, Dylan said, “Gotta pull the band-aid off. Come ready to workout. I promise we’ll get you on the right path.” With that, Josh pulled out his phone and texted his number to Dylan. Josh’s phone pinged with a location he wasn’t familiar with and a note to meet him at 9:00pm. “See you soon, stud,” Dylan said as he lit up another cigarette and walked away, leaving Josh to ponder what he agreed to. After doing some cardio, Josh texted Hunter, inquiring about Dylan. Hunter wouldn’t give more information, just encouraged Josh to have fun and told him it will be a life-changing experience – whatever that meant. Josh was distracted all day long, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. Once the time came to leave, he thought about bailing. However, a text came in from Dylan reminding him that he would see him soon. “Dammit,” Josh thought, “Why couldn’t he just ghost me like everyone else?” As Josh made his way to the location, it seemed that the GPS took him to a “less-reputable” area of the city. He would never come down here by himself on a normal day. However, after finding parking on the street, and taking a deep breath, he walked into the alley where Dylan told him to go. As he got closer, a bright neon sign illuminated the alley. It said “Smokey’s Gym”. As he stared at the inviting sign, he noticed several buff men outside – all smoking some kind of tobacco product. “This is so crazy,” he thought to himself, but none of them seemed concerned about anything or anyone else. A few seconds later, Dylan’s form came out of the shadows as he was hauling on a cigarette. “Hey, bro!”, he said cheerfully, “Glad you made it! Hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the place.” “Not at all,” Josh said, “I’m not familiar with this side of town, but your directions were perfect.” “Great,” Dylan responded, while offering out his hand for a typical slap and shoulder hug greeting. Josh was still confused, but followed this ritual on auto-pilot. “Let’s get inside,” Dylan said, “We’ve got to get you signed up and oriented. I know you’re going to love this place.” Josh followed Dylan like a lost puppy through the door, as Dylan stopped to make quick pleasantries with the other men outside enjoying their tobacco treats. Each man acknowledged Josh in some way, whether saying welcome or providing an acknowledging head nod as they exhaled smoked from their chosen method of obtaining it. Upon entering the door, Josh was taken aback. He was hit in the face with tobacco smoke that made him cough slightly, which Dylan noticed. “Sorry, bud,” Dylan said, “I may have forgotten to tell you that members here can smoke inside. I promise you’ll get used to it.” Josh squeamishly smiled at his new friend – maybe this was a bad idea. Josh remembered that most, if not all, of his friends smoke. He’d been at many a house party where his friends smoked their thick cigars, which he definitely found pleasant. However, if it became too much, he could always retreat outside. That wouldn’t be the case in this gym – there was no escaping it. And it was clear that he would be smelling like an ashtray after his workout. Josh didn’t have much time to think as a gruff and buff older man got his attention. “So, Dylan,” he said in a gravely, yet masculine voice, “What sort of project have you brought me today?” “Josh, this asshole is ‘the’ Smokey of Smokey’s Gym”, Dylan said in a jovial tone, “He’s actually a nice guy who really cares about the clients, despite his attitude deformed appearance.” “Fuck off, Dylan,” Smokey said as he took a drag off his cigar, exhaling the smoke as he said, “I’m not deformed, just substantially bigger than you. And don’t go telling the fresh meat that I’m nice. You’ll ruin my image. Now, kick rocks. The kid and I have some things to discuss.” “Aye, aye, Captain,” Josh said as he faked a salute with his lit cigarette in his mouth, “I’ll be over in my area working on getting a big as you, old timer. Will see you later, Josh.” With that, Dylan turned and headed to the gym floor. “So, Josh,” Smokey said, getting Josh’s attention back toward him, “How can I help you?” Josh said, “A friend of mine apparently knew Dylan and he hooked me up for the opportunity to see your gym.” “Ahh,” Smokey replied, “Do you know exactly what you’re getting into?” “I assumed I was here to try out the gym and decide if I’m joining,” Dylan replied. Smokey gave a slight look of concern as he took another pull on his cigar, exhaling the smoke toward the ceiling. “Either your buddy or Dylan were definitely not clear with you on what this place is,” he said, “but there’s one thing I can promise you – you’re no longer the person you walked in as.” Josh gave a quizzical look toward Smokey as he reflected on the ominous statement. “Alright, kid,” Smokey said, knocking Josh out of his stupor, “It’s time to go over the membership rules.” Smokey then whipped out a clipboard with several pages of paperwork and a pen. “First off,” Smokey said, “Members are encouraged to smoke here. That might be a bit different than what you’re used to at other gyms, but it’s actually important. Smokey’s is a gym for smokers. Most of the men in here can’t go long without their nicotine fix, so I created this place so they can smoke while they’re working out.” “Hold up,” Josh said, “The gym is only for smokers?” “Well, I should have been more specific,” Smokey replied, “Guys who use nicotine products. We also have a section for the guys who dip or chew, too. However, we don’t allow vaping in here because it’s lame. You can do whatever you like to do when you’re not in the gym – but none of that shit in here.” Josh could feel himself becoming more and more uncomfortable. “I just don’t understand,” he said, “I…I…I don’t smoke. I’ve never been a smoker before.” “Well, shit,” Smokey said, “I hate to tell you this, but you are now. Or at least you’re going to start having cravings by the time you leave. There’s no way to be in this place and not get addicted. That’s why my street team is supposed to only bring in smokers or people who are likely to become smokers. Wait…do most of your friends smoke?” Josh replied with a simple, “Yeah.” “OK, this is making a lot more sense,” Smokey said, “I bet one of your friends is either a client or knows some clients. They’re either trying to give you a make-over or thought you were a smoker.” Josh couldn’t wrap his mind around the situation and what he was being told. “Look, it’s clear you’ve got some thinking to do,” Smokey said, “But one thing is very true, the life you knew before coming here is going to be different. It’s not over or anything – far from it. There’s going to be a lot for you to learn, but I promise you’ll come to love it. Look at all of the men here – they’re more than satisfied.” Josh turned around and looked onto the gym floor. All he could see were men smoking something, whether a cigar, cigarette, or pipe. They didn’t look to be struggling. There was a confidence in their movements, some might even say a strut. And, fuck, they looked good. “Well, if my fate is already sealed, I may as well sign the dotted line,” Josh said, with trepidation in his voice. “That’s my boy,” Smokey said as he handed the pen to Josh. “You’ve made the right decision,” he continued, “I have a feeling you’re gonna be a cigar man eventually. Trust me, I can pick them.” Smokey smiled around the fat cigar shoved in his jaw. Josh felt like Smokey’s eyes were looking him up and down in a predatory fashion. All he could think is, “What have I gotten myself into?”, as he signed his name on the dotted line. “Alright, now that you’re officially a junior member of Smokey’s Gym,” Smokey said, “It’s time for your orientation period. Over the next several days you will have the chance to experience the options available in the gym.” Josh interrupted, saying, “Well, I’m looking to bulk up. So, I assume I’m going to want to use more of the free weights and powerlifting equipment.” Shaking his head, Smokey asserted, “That’s not what I’m talking about, boy. You’re going to have to decide what kind of man you want to be. Trust me, it will make more sense over the next several days. For now, I’ll take you over to Dylan and his crew since you already know him. Grab your shit and let’s go.” As they walked, Josh realized that the gym was actually huge inside. It kind of reminded him of the inside of that British police box spaceship from the show he used to watch. The outside just didn’t look like there would be so much space. The longer they walked, the less he coughed. He assumed he was just getting used to filtering the smoke through his lungs. He wasn’t particularly excited about that, but it was what it was. Approaching a corner of the space, there were several buff men checking themselves out in the mirror. All of them smoking cigarettes as they lifted free weights with their sculpted arms, chests, and visible abs. That’s when Dylan’s familiar face caught him. “Hey, buddy!”, he said, “Glad you’re here to join us.” “He hasn’t made up his mind yet, Dylan,” Smokey said while blowing a cloud of cigar smoke into the area – causing several of the men to shoot him dirty looks, “He didn’t even smoke before he came in here today, so he’s got some exploring to do.” “No shit?”, said Dylan, “I had no idea! I guess I just assumed. Well, you’re here now so let’s make the best of it!” Dylan put his arm around Josh and pulled him in to meet some of the other cigarette bros as Smokey stared momentarily before turning away to head back to his rightful place at the desk. “All of the guys in here look like runway or fitness models,” Josh said. “You’re pretty much correct. Most of the guys in ‘The Pack’ are,” Dylan said while making air quotes and chuckling slightly at the pun, “I guess most of us started smoking to keep from overeating and wanted to maintain our muscularity.” “I guess I’m just still stunned by all of this,” Josh said, “I still don’t quite understand everything that’s going on. Smokey just told me I’m going to have to choose eventually. I don’t really know what all of that means yet.” “It’s pretty much what he said,” Dylan said, “You have some time to decide if you’re a cigarette, cigar, pipe or dip man, for the most part. We all have different goals in our workouts and how we want the world to see us, so you have to ultimately discover your tribe. They’ll help you discover your full potential.” As Josh allowed Dylan’s world percolate for a moment, he kind of liked the sentiment. However, he was still uncomfortable with the whole smoking and tobacco use part. Oddly, though, the longer he was here and talking with Dylan, his anxiety seemed to settle. Dylan turned to Josh, saying, “Bro, let me introduce you to Marco. He’s the lead trainer of The Pack.” As Josh made eye contact with Marco, he could barely contain himself. He was an Adonis, a body carved directly out of marble, with a hot shoulder tat. His dark and brooding appearance made Josh’s loins twitch. “Hey, man,” Marco said, “So you’re interested in joining The Pack?” Dylan interrupted, “He is definitely going to join us. He just has to do the full orientation as a formality, isn’t that right, bro?” Josh wasn’t sure how to respond, but he timidly said, “I definitely want to see what I would have to look forward to.” “Well, no time like the present, dude,” Marco said while holding out a pack of non-descript cigarettes. “I will warn you that I’m going to kick your ass tonight. A lot of people tap out of my full-on workouts – but if you stick with me, you will get the best results. Even if you’re not sure, I promise I will give you a lot to think about afterward.” “Well, I suppose we should get started then,” Josh said, “What do I need to do?” “Just take a cigarette, bro,” Marco said. Josh took one from the pack and put it to his lips. Dylan pulled out a lighter and sparked a flame. “Glad I could be your first,” he chuckled, as Josh sucked in his first lungful of smoke. “This is awesome,” Josh said as he exhaled. “You’re just having a nicotine high, bud,” Marco said, “it’s going to be like that for a bit as your body gets used to it, but it’s going to make your transform much faster.” Transform? That was a new terminology to Josh. He thought he’d just be working out. In high nicotine high, Josh became very compliant to Marco. Marco kept the cigarettes flowing as he and Josh worked upper body for the rest of the evening. Shoulders, chest, biceps, triceps, abs – which he explained would be most of the workouts. The Pack focused on upper body. Not that they had chicken legs, but their bodies were meant for looks, lean to showy muscularity, and aesthetic athleticism, not power and strength. They were to be admired. Other men wished they were them. As the workout continued, Dylan stopped by to check on the progress. “Holy shit, bro,” he exclaimed, “Have you seen yourself?” Taking a draw on his cigarette, Josh stopped for a moment to look at himself in the closest mirror. He was absolutely ripped with broad shoulders and a tapered waist. Veined, shredded muscles as far as he could see. Definitely disproportionate on the bottom for now, but after only one workout, he was more than impressed with himself. “Damn,” Josh said, “I’m fine as hell!” He couldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirror. He put his cigarette in his mouth, allowing it to dangle from his lips. He gave his best model pose and flexed his arms. Both Marco and Dylan laughed until Dylan broke the silence as he quipped, “Someone’s feeling himself!” Josh turned to Dylan, then rushed toward him, planting a huge kiss on his lips. “This is fucking awesome, bro,” he said, “I can’t thank you enough. I can’t believe how I look and feel.” Marco interrupted, “And this is just after one workout. Just think what we can do over time. And – I think I deserve a little thanks, too.” Josh went over to Marco, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips, as Marco placed his hands on his tight, firm, ass. Smokey appeared out of nowhere to say, “No fucking on the gym floor, boys! Take it to the steam room or go get your rocks off somewhere else.” “He’s just jealous we got you first,” Marco said as he grabbed his new creatin by the wrist and led him toward the locker room. The next morning, Josh awoke with a splitting headache. He reflected on the night before and how great he felt. He immediately ran to the bathroom to see that the gains he’d made from the night before were gone. He looked as mediocre as he did prior to stepping inside Smokey’s Gym. He pulled out the contract and noticed in the orientation section that initial changes are only temporary until the client commits to his choice. He was sad about that, but he looked forward to his workout this evening. Now, what to do about his headache. He knew it wasn’t just being hungry or dehydrated. This was nicotine withdrawal. He also noticed a smell. It led him to his workout bag and the clothes he’d thrown haphazardly into the corner of his room. They smelled like cigarette smoke…sweet, sweet cigarette smoke. Fuck, he wished he had one right now. That’s when he saw them. Someone – probably Dylan or Marco – stuffed a fresh pack in his bag. As he pulled them out, there was a note saying “We know you’ll be needing these about now! Smoke up! -The Pack.” Those guys are awesome, he thought. After digging through his kitchen junk drawer, Josh found a lighter typically used for candles, grabbed the pack and headed out to his apartment’s patio. He pulled out and lit a cigarette, taking the smoke into his lungs. It satiated his need, at least for now. Josh opened his phone to see a missed text message from Hunter. It read simply, “So?” Josh took a long, exasperated drag, responding with, “Fine. FU Dick! TTYL”. A few minutes later, a single emoji of a purple horny devil appeared. Josh couldn’t help but chuckle a bit to himself as he headed back inside his apartment to get ready to leave. Going to work for the day was a challenge. Josh could only think about later tonight and what his next choice and transformation would be like. Throughout the day, he would spontaneously get hard thinking about it, especially after the experience he had with Marco. He just hoped no one would walk by his cubicle. Several times, he excused himself saying he needed to “clear his head”, but he was finding the perfect place to hide and smoke. Even though the smokers from his office all went to the same place, he couldn’t yet come out as a smoker. It just wasn’t something he was ready to do. Josh headed home for the evening, contemplating smoking a cigarette in his car, but he held out until he got home. After a quick pee, he headed to the patio where he sparked up in relief. Without the nicotine flowing in his system, his nerves would probably have been shot by now. His mind still fought against his growing addiction, but he couldn’t resist knowing what further experiences he would have. Josh walked back into Smokey’s Gym at his scheduled 9:00pm appointment time. He took a deep breath, inhaling the atmosphere that reminded him of last night’s escapade. Smokey gruffly greeted him, smelling the smoke on Josh’s clothes. “Welcome back, kid. Looks like you’re coming around,” he said with a bit of a smirk around the cigar nub shoved in his jaw, “Glad you had some fun with the boys last night, but tonight’s the night you meet the real men. I hope you’re ready.” Smokey came out from behind the desk and proudly walked Josh toward the next area. As they walked, Smokey described “The Cigar Lounge”, as he called it. Josh was excited to hear there were many more free weights and barbells than in The Pack’s area. He really did look forward to the chance to lift more. As they turned the corner, Josh’s eyes went wide. This was a familiar looking group of men. It seemed as though he was back at one of the many parties with his buddies, like Hunter. The men here were much beefier than the guys from The Pack. They had large muscles and exuded power and confidence. Many had beards, with tattoos covering their bodies. These guys were sexy to him. He was looking forward to this. “Like what you see, kid?”, Smokey joked as he jabbed Josh on the shoulder, “Cuz it surely looks like little Joshie does.” Josh realized he had a chub and was embarrassed that Smokey pointed it out. As he grew a bit red in the face, Smokey said, “Nothing to be shy about. Cigar men like us don’t care. It’s normal human nature.” A hirsute man approached the couple saying, “Jeez, Smokey. Are you trying to recruit him or make him run screaming back over to the butt heads?” Smokey let out a smile as he and the man shared a quick bro hug. “Kid, this is Omar. Omar, this is Josh,” Smokey said. “Why do you insist on calling every new client ‘kid’, Smokey?”, Omar chuckled. “Because you are all kids to me,” retorted Smokey, “At least until a client makes his choice and knows where he belongs.” “You’ll get nothing but respect over here in the Lounge, Josh,” Omar said, “So what do you say you and I have a little talk about your goals while the old pervert heads back to his hole?” Smokey flips Omar a bird as he turns, walking away in a huff. All the bodybuilders who saw the exchange chuckled around their cigars. “Don’t worry about him, Josh,” Omar said, “He means well. I think he sees something in you and hopes you belong with us. How about we get down to some business?” “Sounds good to me!”, Josh exclaims excitedly, “This area looks like it has everything I’m looking for. I really want to do some bodybuilding to see what I would look like.” “That’s good to hear,” Omar said, “But we’re not just about looking like a bodybuilder. To be a member of The Lounge, you need the right attitude. I won’t say that we’re better than everyone else, but I do think we’re a lot more balanced than the others. We’re not just big. We take up space. We’re confident. People can’t ignore us, even if they try.” Listening intently, Josh couldn’t agree more. The further Omar went into his pitch, Josh felt like he was at home. Omar extended his hand, “I promise to give you my best if you’ll give me your best.” Josh immediately shook Omar’s gigantic hand, saying, “I promise!” Omar guided Josh over to the walk-in humidor installed in their area of the gym. “I think we’ll go with the Asylum 13 Ogre,” Omar said, while passing the girthy, long cigar under his nose, “You’re going to love this. It may look a bit intimidating, but I’m sure you can handle it.” After a flirty wink, he continued, “I’ll walk you through how to prep it this time, but I’ll expect you’ll do your own from here on out.” Through both his fascination and fear, all Josh could muster in response was, “Yes, Sir!” “Nice, a boy with respect,” Omar coyly responded, “I think we’re going to be fast friends.” With that, Omar clipped and toasted the cigar perfectly, lightly pulling to ensure an even burn. With that, he handed it over to Josh. “Start slowly,” Omar said, “Small puffs until you get used to it. Don’t inhale yet. I don’t need to be cleaning up any vomit at the start of our workout.” As Josh chuffed on his stogie, he swore he could already feel its power coursing through him. He felt taller, broader, more confident in himself. He wondered if it was because of the sheer amount of nicotine flooding his system. “How are you feeling there, Josh?”, Omar asked. “I’m great,” Josh responded, “This is awesome. I never knew what I was missing when my friends were smoking these around me. I always liked how they smelled, but actually smoking one is amazing.” “Yeah,” Omar agreed, “They’re pretty powerful. Not every man is meant to be a cigar man. It takes a special man to not only smoke them, but to handle the looks you’re going to get while smoking them. Men wish they were us, to have our confidence and the ability to handle that big stick for possibly hours.” Josh continued listening to Omar, hearing every word as it sank into his very soul. Josh could relate to this experience much more than he could with smoking cigarettes. Last night seemed like a distant memory to him, a passing fad. However, he could live in this moment forever. “It’s time to get started, little one,” Omar said. Josh followed him immediately, like a big brother he’d never had. They began the evening with squats, helping Josh develop a strong foundation. By the end of the night, Omar put Josh through a full body workout – chest, delts, and core work. Josh hadn’t even cared to look at himself all night. Where The Pack was constantly checking themselves out in the mirror, The Lounge men prioritized the workout. They didn’t need to look in the mirror to constantly check their progress. They worked hard and Josh had a feeling from the looks he was getting as he walked the floor that they played even harder. When Josh finally caught a glimpse of himself, he couldn’t believe it. He was huge. His boyish looks were fully obscured by a super-masculine profile. His newly angular jaw was framed perfectly by a short beard. Josh hadn’t even realized he’d parked the cigar in his jaw, as if it was an extension of him now. He had substantial pecs – at least twice as large as he gained the previous night – and his shoulders were massive. His gigantic arms were covered with of sexy tattoos. His thighs, quads, and calves matched his upper body, allowing him to feel balanced rather than top heavy. He absolutely loved how he looked. He confidently smiled at himself now, something he had never done previously. Taking a satisfying pull on his cigar, Josh exhaled exclaiming, “Holy fuck, I’m hot!” “Yeah, you are,” said Omar, “I didn’t want to tell you, but it was very hard not to.” “Thank you, Sir!”, Josh said, “This is beyond my wildest dreams. I don’t know that I ever want to go back.” “Unfortunately, you will have to,” Omar said, “It doesn’t mean you can’t come back, of course, but you know that you still have other tribes to test out.” Josh was almost sad thinking about the truth. “There’s no reason we can’t give your new body a ride, just to see how it performs,” Omar said with a coy smile, “You’ve been calling me ‘Sir’ all night and it’s taken all of my energy not to jump your bones. Are you up for it?” “Hell yeah, Sir!”, Josh said taking a long draw on his cigar and exhaling it with confidence. “Steam room, boy, now!”, Omar said as Josh ran to make sure to be there to hold the door for his superior. The next morning, Josh woke up with less of a headache than the day prior. He immediately reached to his right, where he felt for his pack of smokes and a lighter. As he pulled a cigarette out of the pack and put it to his lips, he began raising the lighter to spark it. He suddenly realized what he was doing and stopped in his tracks. “What the hell am I doing?”, he blurted. He was upset that this action seemed so normal to him, as if on autopilot. After running to the bathroom and splashing some water on his face, Josh stared at himself in the mirror. He really missed the gains from last night. He’d never felt so powerful and in-charge. Now he was back to square one again – the same old Josh. As he headed toward the closet to pull out his work clothes for the day, he passed his clothes from the night before. It smelled so good to him. He loved the much more substantial smell that the cigar smoke left. He wanted to be bathed in it. It was then he knew that he did not want to be a cigarette smoker any longer. That ship had sailed, except in emergencies. Unfortunately, Josh was craving a smoke. His addiction was growing at a rapid pace. He hated the thought, but knew he had no choice but to feed the monster now. Eyeing his bag, he noticed a metallic glint, finding an aluminum tube. His heart began fluttering because he knew what it was. As he opened the cylinder, it was another Asylum 13 Ogre, with a note wrapped around it. “It’s clear where you belong. - Omar”, the note read. Josh blushed, but also exhaled realizing he wouldn’t need to smoke a dreaded cigarette. Josh knew he didn’t have time to enjoy the cigar at the pace it should be smoked, so he made a decision. After getting ready for work, he snipped the end with a scissor, grabbed his lighter, and took the cigar with him to his car. After rolling down his window, he lit the end as Omar taught him and was immediately taken back. “Oh yeah,” he thought, “This feels right.” Josh could see and feel the people staring at him with his thick cigar in his mouth or hanging out the window. But Josh didn’t care. All he focused on was how he felt and enjoying the experience – the experience of being a cigar man. By the time he reached work, he had only made it through about half of the cigar, so he extinguished it and put the rest back in its tube to enjoy later. Throughout the day, his co-workers commented that he was carrying himself differently. “Have you lost weight?” “Are you dressing differently?” “Are you using a new cologne?” “There’s just something different about you, I can’t put my finger on it.” Josh just smiled to himself thinking, “If they only knew!” Around mid-day, a new message from Hunter came through. “U mad?”, it said. Josh responded with, “Not today. Ask me tomorrow,” with a winky emoji. Hunter replied with a both flexed bicep and lit cigarette emojis, followed with “Any gainz, bro?” Josh thought to himself, “That bitch! He knew the whole time!” Pissed, he responded with “CUNT. We will talk later”, flipping his phone over. After enjoying most of the rest of his cigar on the way home that day, Josh was not as excited to go to the gym tonight. He certainly wanted to go, but realizing that he wasn’t going to have the same experience as last night drug him down. “It’s OK, only a few more days,” he said to himself. Josh saved a nub to smoke on his way to the gym that evening. As he walked in, Smokey gave a wide smile around his own cigar. “Well, well, well,” he said, “I smell that sweet smoke on you, kid. I can see by that walk that I was right again. It looks good on you.” Josh smiled coyly in Smokey’s direction. “Now, now, Smokey,” a voice said from behind Josh, “That’s not fair. You know the boy needs the opportunity to experience all of his options before making a decision.” Upon turning around, Josh was met with a stout, yet imposing figure. He was beefy like a cigar man, but possessed a thoughtful and intriguing face that drew Josh in. “Oh great, Santa Claus has come to town,” Smokey said as he rolled his eyes. The silver daddy rolled his eyes and retorted, “Jealously never looked good on you.” Josh, feeling the tension between the two men, immediately jumped up extending his hand for a shake, “Hi,” he began, “I’m Josh. Looking forward to my workout tonight.” The man pulled Josh in for a full-on hug, placing his head against his supple chest. “Sorry there, little man,” he said, “I don’t do handshakes. I believe in big old bear hugs.” Upon releasing him, Josh almost felt drunk. This man’s musky pheromones, combined with aromatics of tobacco and possibly sweet, woodsy, and perhaps even fruity smells, was overwhelming. Josh found this very appealing. Observing this exchange, Smokey became more and more visibly agitated. “Get out of here, Wesley,” Smokey asserted, “Go work the kid out so he can come back home after.” Wesley turned and glared at Smokey. Motioning to Josh to pick up his bag and follow him. Josh would normally never respond like that, but he was drawn to this man for some reason. As they walked, Josh broke the silence, “What was up with all of that?” “Oh, nothing,” Wesley said, “Let’s just say that Smokey and I have history. It was a long time ago, but some people can’t move on.” Josh chuckled to himself. “Now that we’re past all of that gay drama,” Wesley said, “Let me introduce you to what we pipe men call ‘The Rack’.” Josh’s eyes grew wide as he took in the environment. There we no young men in this part of the gym, however there was something about these men that he found very attractive. They were perhaps the most varied body types – some ripped, some portly – but this area felt the most comfortable of all. The men all seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. Taking time between their sets, hugging, and taking puffs on their large-bowl pipes. Each pipe was as unique as its user. “I assume you didn’t come equipped with your own,” Wesley said, handing Josh a pipe. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” he said. “No need to apologize, son,” Wesley said, rubbing Josh’s head while tussling his hair, “I’m sure you’ll graduate to something more ornate in the future, but for now this is what is called a bent pipe. It’s shaped to make lighting fairly easy as you hold the stem in your teeth. Go ahead, put it in your mouth.” Something about this man and the men around him made Josh feel very “at home”. They were gentle, welcoming, and taking the time to teach him things. As Josh placed the pipe in his mouth, it felt as though it was meant to be there. There was weight to it, but he quickly managed to balance it. “You are a quick study, my boy,” Wesley said, “It’s time for us to decide what kind of tobacco you like and get to your workout.” With that, Wesley placed his heavy arm around Josh’s shoulder and led him to the mahogany cabinet where the men of The Rack stored their loose tobacco. As they stopped for Wesley to open the cabinet, Josh almost missed the feeling of safety and comfort the bear’s arm provided - covering him like a warm blanket. As the doors opened, a variety of tins and pouches came into view. Wesley expertly opened several, wafting their scents to find the right combination until he settled on one. “You see, boy,” he said, “A pipe man has so many options. The pipe is your vessel, but the combinations are endless.” Wesley opened the tin he chose, placing it under Josh’s nose. Josh smelled a rich tobacco with sweet vanilla and cherry notes. His eyes opened wide. “That smells great,” he said. “Well, boy,” Wesley responded, “Let’s get your pipe packed and go to town.” After teaching Josh how to sprinkle the loose tobacco in the bowl of his new pipe, then compress it for the perfect burn, Wesley gave him suggestions for lighting. After taking his first lungful of the creamy, sweet smoke, Josh was in heaven. He was surprised at how easily he took to what he always thought was a complicated process. With that, the men went to work. This was honestly the least physically demanding workout so far, but Josh just enjoyed being the presence of the other men. It was a very communal experience. Each of them shared some stories, while talking about the various tobacco blends they enjoyed. The combination of smoke was fragrant, with everyone’s individual contribution making a difference to the whole. As time moved on, Josh found himself gazing longingly into Wesley’s experienced eyes. Wesley wished he could be this man. So confident, comfortable in his skin, powerful yet caring. He quickly developed an admiration for who he was and what he stood for. Wesley eventually approached Josh from behind, wrapping his arms around him. Josh barely flinched as he felt as though he was being wrapped in a comfy robe. Wesley removed his pipe and nibbled lightly on Josh’s earlobe. Josh turned toward him, now fully transformed into a slightly shorter, yet stockier version of himself. Upon seeing himself in a mirror, he imagined he was a younger version of Wesley – when he was in his prime. Thick arms, pecs, and mid-section with a dusting of hair. Less defined than the night before, but perfect for cuddling. He felt a maturity beyond his years as he pulled on his pipe. “So, what do you think, Papa Bear?”, Josh asked with a come-hither look on his face. “I could just eat you with a spoon, young man,” Wesley replied as he took a toke from his pipe and leaned in to exhale directly into Josh’s mouth. As Josh exhaled, he said, “I liked that very much!” “Swapping smoke is a ritual we pipe men share,” Wesley said, “It’s very erotic, don’t you think?” Josh immediately took a pull on his pipe and locked lips with a not-so-surprised Wesley. Wesley smiled as he exhaled the young bear’s smoke. “A little too sweet for me,” Wesley said, “But I think it’s time I introduced you to some other blends – in the steam room.” “I love trying new things,” Josh replied, “And it’s always better to share the experience.” From there, Wesley led Josh toward the steam room. When he woke the next morning, Josh groggily reached for his pipe. He remembered to put it in a location where he could find it. He stepped out onto his patio, lighting up. After a few puffs, he exhaled the thick, rich, creamy smoke. While enjoying the experience, and reflecting positively on his workout last night, it all seemed just too complicated. Gone were his concerns about tobacco in general. Honestly, Josh didn’t even think about his addiction this morning. He was centered on whether or not he liked the experience of using the pipe. That’s when he remembered he still had a cigar nub in his car from last night. Surprisingly, even to him, Josh walked out to his car in his pajama pants and slides to grab the nub. Without even thinking about it, he pulled the nub from its location in his console and lit it right away. “This still feels right,” he thought to himself. He moved the nub to his jaw as he walked back toward his apartment door, savoring every millimeter along the way. He was smoking in his apartment now – not even realizing it! As Josh got ready for work, the smoldering nub stuck out of his bearded face. He no longer cared, as his mind told him it was always meant to be there. The nub wouldn’t last long, however. Unfortunately, it was too early to go by a cigar shop on the way to work. He’ll have to make it at least until lunchtime. By lunchtime, Josh was having his first true nic-fit. His head was throbbing. This scared him a bit, but there was no way he was going to give up the feeling he had with a cigar in his maw. As he walked into the tobacconist that Google recommended, his confidence floundered. He was out of his element. As he wandered around looking for what he knew in his limited experience, Josh attempted to look as if he belonged. He observed the men, some in suits, others clearly working class, but each of them had an aura about them – very similar to what he experienced in the gym. He wanted to feel that again, yet here he was, reduced to feeling like a fish out of water. He lowered his head, as if to admit defeat. A moment later, there was a tap on his shoulder. As he turned around, an older man with a with a solid build was standing there, chuffing on a cigar. “Oh, I’m sorry, Sir,” Josh stated, “Am I in your way?” “Not at all,” the man said in a calm and direct manner, “I’m Sarge, I own the place. Just wanted to check to see if there’s anything I can help you with.” Josh’s knees suddenly became slightly weak. Sarge had eyes like gunmetal and a handsome face. He definitely gave off vibes of being either former military or law enforcement. Josh could feel an instant attraction to this man, which confused him. He was never previously into older men, but maybe his experience with PipeDaddy Wesley had changed that. That’s when it hit him! Sarge was a blend – to borrow a term from the men of The Rack – of Omar and Wesley. And what a fine blend he was. Josh could fall into his arms right now and be a very happy man. “Hey, kid!”, Sarge said, startling Josh back to reality. “I’m so sorry,” he responded, “I was off in dreamland. Been out late the last few nights at the gym. Just distracted.” “No problem,” Sarge said, “Looking for anything specific that I might be able to help you with?” If Josh knew for certain Sarge was gay, he would have jumped right in with some perfect innuendo, however this was not the time to test his luck. “Yes, Sir,” Josh said, “I’m looking for some Asylum 13s.” “I can help you with that,” a grinning Sarge said, “Any idea on length and girth?” Josh’s eyes immediately went wide open, as Sarge leaned in and whispered in his ear, “I know Smokey very well.” As the words sunk into Josh’s brain, the stress of the situation dropped immediately from his shoulders. “Sorry, I’m just new at this,” he said, “I’m still learning.” “It’s OK, we all started sometime,” Sarge said, “Now that you’re comfortable, let’s get you hooked up.” With that, Sarge led Josh into the walk-in humidor. A few minutes later, Josh was at the register with his haul. After paying, Sarge reached under the counter and pulled out a store-branded clipper and lighter. “On the house for the new customer,” Sarge said as he dropped them in the bag and smiled, “And hopefully a regular.” “Thank you, Sir,” Josh said, “I really appreciate your help today.” “A stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet,” Sarge said, reaching out his hand for a shake. As Josh felt Sarge’s strong grip, he nodded a thank you. “Oh, by the way,” Sarge said, “I put my card in the bag, too. And one last thing, don’t call me ‘Sir’ – I work for a living – but you can call me all sorts of things later.” Josh turned beet red as he turned to leave, as Sarge let out a belly laugh. When Josh got to his car, he reached in to find the shop’s card. He flipped it over to find a handwritten phone number and the words, “I expect you to use this.” Josh smiled again as he pulled out a cigar to smoke for the remainder of his lunchtime. He certainly needed the time to calm down after the escapade in the shop. However, he did have a lingering thought. Hunter, now Sarge, both knew Smokey? Was he the only person that didn’t know about the gym and its secrets? At the end of the day, Josh pulled into his complex assigned parking space with about half a cigar in his jaw. Some of his neighbors walked by, noticing the smell and giving him a bit of a side-eye. Josh thought about saying something, but he couldn’t be bothered. He needed to relax a bit and get ready for tonight’s workout. Josh noticed he’d missed a text from Hunter at some point during the day. The message briefly inquired, “How goes?” Josh replied with an atypically passive aggressive response, “All is good. Last night of orientation. I’m sure you remember.” Almost instantaneously, three small dots pulsed at the bottom of his screen. Hunter stated, “I do. I hope you know I did this for you. Forgive me?” Josh responded with a red heart emoji, which Hunter liked. A few hours later, Josh emerged through his front door with a fresh cigar in his mouth. He stopped momentarily to rotate and light it, then threw his bag on his shoulder and headed to the car. He may not be a cigar man yet, but he was certainly enjoying whatever this was. As Josh walked into Smokey’s Gym for his last night of orientation, he was pretty certain which tribe he was going to join. His experiences over the last few nights – and today with Sarge – had more than galvanized who he believed he was meant to be. With a little extra pep in his step and a smile on his face, he approached Smokey to check in. “Wow, kid,” Smokey said, “You fall in love or something?” Josh snapped back to reality, “What?” “Nevermind,” Smokey said, “I was just messing with you. You know me!” “Unfortunately,” Josh quipped. “Whoa, spoken like a true smartass,” Smokey responded in a terrible Southern accent – unsuccessfully attempting to copy the famous line from Steel Magnolias – which completely flew over Josh’s head. “Do I smell cigar on you?”, Smokey beamed, “Is our boy becoming a man?” Josh feigned laughter. “Well, tonight’s your last night before you have to commit,” Smokey said. “Tonight’s the night you hang out with the real wierdos of the gym.” “You’re a real piece of shi-it, Smokey,” a pitbull of a man with huge delts and bowling ball sized shoulders said in a deep Southern accent, “First, you dishonor one of the best movies of all time and now you try and steal my recruit.” “Josh, this is Nash,” Smokey interrupted, “Just tell him to slow down when you don’t understand his Alabama gibberish.” “For the thousandth time, Smokey,” Nash retorted, “I ain’t from Alabama. I’m from Mississippi.” “Same difference,” Smokey said. “Don’t mind him none,” Nash said, “He clearly getting forgetful in his old age. Might be time for the home.” After dropping the nasty burn that left Smokey dumbfounded, Nash abruptly turned and darted toward the very back of the gym. Josh chuckled as he picked up his bag and ran to catch up with Nash. As they approached the area where the smokeless tobacco users hung out, Josh could see he was going to love it here. These guys were the powerlifters and strongmen of the gym. They all had thick bodies, made for moving weight and utilizing raw power. Nash could see Josh’s eyes lighting up. “Like what you see so far?”, he asked. “Definitely!”, Josh responded. It was also kind of nice that it wasn’t as smoky in their area. Sure, some of it drafted over, but it was clear these guys weren’t inhaling anything substantial. “The boys over here train heavy,” Nash said, “We’re not so worried about looking good, but making sure we get the job done.” He ended the statement with a sly smile. “But seriously, most of the guys in our crew work in blue collar jobs,” Nash continued, “Construction, police and corrections officers, etc. Roles where it helps to be strong and not really care too much about what other people think of you.” Josh thought this all sounded really good to him. He knew he wasn’t working out just to show off or look a certain way. He wanted to use whatever gains he made – whether in his day-to-day work or for play. “Trust me,” Nash said, “You’re not going to be able to lift the amount of weight most of us throw around in a day. But we can certainly give you the chance to experience it.” With that, Nash drew Josh’s attention to the cabinet just off the floor. “We probably have the biggest options of all the tribes,” Nash said, “We call ourselves Lippers, even though not everyone uses their tobacco that way. It just makes sense. Some of the assholes call our area ‘the spitoon’. I mean, it’s shitty, but not gonna lie that some of the boys miss their bottles now and then.” Nash chuckled, giving Josh a slight tap on the arm to emphasize the joke. Inside the cabinet was a wide variety of things Josh had never seen before. “In here, you’ve got a bunch of types of dip in the cans – natural, long cut, flavored, and pouches,” Nash said, “We also have some of that stuff that the rednecks and old school baseball guys like in the big pouches. They call it chew, but where I’m from we call it chaw.” Nash continued, “For you, being new, I think we should start you out on come Copenhagen Wintergreen, long-cut. The flavor is milder and the texture is easy to manage in your lip. I’m more of a Cope snuff man, but you’ll figure out what you like.” Nash held out a can of the Cope Wintergreen for Josh to take. He also handed him a water bottle. “I’m assuming by the way you’re looking that you’ve never dipped before,” Nash said, with Josh giving him an affirming nod. “You’re gonna need this bottle, too,” Nash continued, “Cuz you’re new, you’ll want to spit a lot. Some of these hosses gut their spit, but you won’t want to do that until you’re used to it. Some people never do.” With some trepidation, Josh took the can and bottle from Nash. This ritual seemed the most foreign to him, so he was definitely going to need some coaching. “Just take a healthy pinch and put it in your lip, like this,” Nash said just before demonstrating, “Use your finger or tongue to make sure it’s in a spot where you’re comfortable. That’s it.” Josh followed suit. It was a very odd feeling at first, especially having a bulging lip. Then the saliva started building up. “Just spit in your bottle,” Nash said, “Otherwise it’s gonna end up on your shirt.” Josh followed Nash’s instructions. “This is going to take some getting used to,” Josh said with a bit of a lisp, with his lip not allowing him to fully close his mouth yet. “You’ll be fine,” Nash said, “Just like those other guys get used to talking around a cigar or pipe in their mouth, same goes for dip.” Josh’s brain began to tingle as the nicotine hit his system. He actually felt a bit dizzy for a moment. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you that it can be a little intense for a bit,” Nash said. After a few minutes, Josh got his sea-legs back under him and Nash led him to the floor. They started with heavy squats, then deadlifts, then overhead presses. Josh was wrecked by the time they were done. Nash had definitely put Josh through a great full-body workout that would help him become a powerlifter like Nash. “Shee-it, kid,” Nash said, “You definitely fit in with the boys. I think you’re gonna like it.” With that, Nash took Josh over to a mirror. Josh could not believe how he looked. He did a double-take, looking at Nash for confirmation. “Are you kidding me?”, Josh asked in excitement, “This is incredible. I’m so big and strong looking.” “Glad you like it,” Nash said as his bulging lip formed a smile, “I could get used to seeing you around here. It looks good on you and you look very comfortable in it.” Josh took a moment to spit in his bottle, then said, “I could get used to it, too. And you!” Josh leaned in to give a tobacco-laden kiss. “Now, now, boy,” Nash responded, “As my momma used to day, don’t go using a check you can’t cash.” Nash grabbed Josh’s now ample, but firm ass. Josh took Nash by the hand, pulling him toward the steam room. Taking the hint, Nash said, “I ain’t even had the chance to tell you how you can creatively use dip spit as lube.” Josh responded with a smirk, saying, “I guess you’ll have to show me!” After the conclusion of both “workouts” for the night, Josh gathered his stuff to head out. As he walked by the desk, Sarge called him over. “Looking good there, kid,” Smokey said, “This is a pretty good look on you, I have to admit. Just remember, when you come tomorrow it will be time to make your decision.” Josh obviously knew this was coming, but Smokey pointing it out didn’t make things any easier. “Understood, Boss,” Josh responded in a deep, throaty tone. “Damn, boy,” Smokey responded, “That voice and body could get an old man aroused.” Josh opened his bottle and spit, adding to the dark liquid. “And that was a boner killer,” Smokey said with disdain in his voice, as he replaced his cigar in his maw. “If I’d known it was only that easy, I would have started earlier,” Josh said while smiling, then said, “I will be ready. See you tomorrow.” He then headed out the door. As Josh sat in his car, he looked at the unspent cigar in his console. He really wanted to light it up, but he was perfectly satiated with the Cope in his lip. This was the first time he’d truly been in conflict. He liked the experience with both cigars and smokeless tobacco. “I don’t need to decide right now,” he told himself, “I’ll need to sleep on it.” With that, he started his car and headed home. The next day, Josh woke up like the rest of the week, missing the changes he went through the evening before. However, he especially missed the muscularity and mass he had. He felt powerful after his session with Nash. Lifting all of that weight. Maybe it was just the fact he wasn’t inhaling smoke for a change. This was definitely confusing to him. One thing he did need to do was feed his addiction. Having finally given in to the growing need, he internally said “Fuck it” to himself and reached for the can of Cope in his workout bag. He thought about searching for another cigar nub, but he didn’t want to be bothered. At least with dip, he could stuff in a lipper and not have to worry about the ash when he was in his apartment. It was convenient and easy. While getting ready, Josh heard his phone ping. Upon reviewing the new message, it was Hunter with a simple, “Good luck tonight! Call me later!” Josh finally let a smile unleash across his face. Yes, he had been slightly upset that he was tricked – no, not told all of the facts – about the situation, but he did enjoy it. It was nice to escape hid normal life a bit and try out all of these different options. He responded with, “Thank you. I will, promise!” When he was about to leave, Josh almost dreaded having to remove the tobacco from his lip. He was really enjoying it. Sure, it was probably still the “new user high”, but it seemed so simple. But he wanted to make sure he brushed his teeth. He wasn’t ready to reveal this particular habit to everyone at work yet. He took a last stare at his options – the cigarette pack, his pipe, the can of Cope, and the couple of cigars he had left from his visit to Sarge’s shop. Shunning the pipe and cigarettes, he grabbed a cigar and his Cope can, throwing them in his work bag. Decision made, he left for work. While enjoying his cigar, he passed Sarge’s shop on his way to the office. He briefly reminisced about their meeting, wishing he had talked to him more. Sure, he could obviously talk to Hunter because he knew all about the process. But Sarge was a stranger. He didn’t have any history with him. He could be whomever he wanted with him. Not to mention, he was very sexy. By the time he pulled into the parking lot, Josh had to calm down. He was horny and could have rubbed one out right there. After a few deep breaths to calm down, he took the last draw on his cigar for now and extinguished the remainder for later. Josh did nothing more than go through the motions of his day. If you’d ask him to recall what he did or what was said to him by his supervisors or co-workers, he would not have remembered. All he could focus on was the fact he had to make a decision tonight – a decision that would impact his life permanently. While it should have been stressful, he had an eerie calm about himself. The hard part was done, he just wanted to go into this situation with a clear head. At the end of the day, Josh decided he’d put in a dip for the road. After throwing a pinch in his lip like a seasoned pro, he felt the nicotine rush. “That’s the stuff,” he thought to himself, “I needed that.” He continued home, passing the smoke shop once again, tempted to stop – but didn’t. Once he got home, Josh instinctually grabbed a cigar and went to his porch. Not that he was concerned about smoking in his apartment anymore, but he wanted to just relax, scroll on his phone, and hear the birds chirping outside. He stoked his cigar, taking several pulls, then realized he got extremely light-headed. Confused, he touched his face and realized he forgot to take out his lipper of Cope! “Holy shit!”, Josh exclaimed. He was freaking out, concerned that he may overdose on nicotine. After a few minutes and some deep breaths, his heart rate came back down and the wooziness subsided. That is when Josh came to a realization. He didn’t have to choose. He could do whatever he wanted. This was his life. He didn’t have to be exclusive to one vice. Not to mention, it was kind of hot that he could handle two at once. Now it was just a matter of preference. With this thought unlocked, he finished his cigar with his dip in and went to take a rest before leaving for the gym in the evening. As Josh arrived at Smokey’s that evening, he knew what his heart desired. Walking up to the desk, he was nursing a lipper and placed his spit filled bottle on the counter. “Disgusting,” Smokey said, glaring at the young man with a disappointed look. He lifted up his cigar to take a puff, then said, “So, am I to take this as a sign of your decision? If so, I’m disappointed you’d choose that shit over a real man’s stogie. Guess I pegged you wrong.” Josh took a beat, then pulled out his can of Cope, placing it on the counter. Then, in a surprise move, he pulled out a tube with his precious Asylum 13 Ogre, placing it next to the tin. “This is my decision, Smokey,” he said, “I choose both. Cigarettes and pipes just weren’t for me. But I won’t be without these options.” With a curious look, Smokey took an uncharacteristically long pause, then said, “Well, that is a bit of a surprise. I didn’t take you for a double-dipper, pun intended. Looks like you grew some balls during your time at the Gym.” Josh assertively retorted, but with a hint of apprehension in his voice concerned Smokey would get upset with him, “Will this be a problem?” “Absolutely not,” Smokey responded, “It is rare. Most guys here find their tribe and just stick with what they know. Every once in a while we get a divergent like you, someone who likes more than one and can live in both worlds equally. I don’t get it myself. I can’t live without my cigars. But if that’s the path you choose, all I honestly care is that you made the decision on your free will.” “Definitely,” Josh said, “I came to this realization myself. It’s what I want.” “As long as I get to see you smoking a fine cigar,” Smokey said, smiling around the stogie clamped in his jaw, “I pegged you as a cigar man from the start. At least I wasn’t completely wrong.” “So, what do I do now?”, Josh asked. “We just have a little pomp and circumstance for the newbies,” Smokey replied. He leaned over to the intercom mic to his side and tapped the button. “Attention everyone. Little Joshie here has ended his orientation. He is a full member, with all rights and privileges, effective immediately. If anyone has a problem with that, you’ll have to answer to me.” There was a thunderous applause from the members in the gym recognizing that Josh had become one of them. After the applause died, Smokey tapped the mic once again, “Nash and Omar, please report to the desk.” That announcement seemed foreign to the room. Josh could hear people mumbling, looking at him, and pointing. This is the first time he’d really felt “on display” in this environment. Nash and Omar arrived within seconds of each other. The were cordial, but had quizzical looks on their faces. Nash broke the silence with, “Does this mean he is a switch-hitter, Boss?” They all momentarily chuckle, but Smokey brought them back together with, “Yes, boys. The kid has decided he’s into both. So, you’ll have to share him. Do y’all have a problem with that?” Nash and Omar look at each other and shrug. “No issue with me, Boss,” Omar responded. Nash shook his head, while squeezing out spit into his bottle. “Then it’s settled, Josh,” Smokey said, “Welcome to the family. Boys, will you please take him back to the locker room to change for the last time?” Nash perked up, “Only if I get him in the steam room first after he changes!” Omar interrupted, “That’s not fair, bro! He was a cigar man first!” Smokey rolled his eyes, then asserted, “See, Josh. This is the issue. My horny staff never like to share. But they’ll get over it.” Josh turned a bright red from embarrassment – he’d never had guys fight over him before – but he liked it. “We’re just messing with ya,” Nash said, “Omar and I have, um, shared before.” Nash winked at Omar, who slyly looked away. Omar then said, “Yeah, it’s perfectly fine. Just consider us your daddies, now.” Josh responded, saying, “I’m proud to have you guys as my dads. So, how about we get to it?” With that, the 3 men headed to the locker room. On their way back, they stopped to get some gear. Omar grabbed some extra Asylums, while Nash grabbed a couple cans from his stash. “If you’re gonna use both at times, you probably don’t wanna dip a flavored tobacco cuz it might throw off the taste. I suggest you get used to something straight,” Nash said. He handed him 2 cans, one Cope Long Cut Straight and the other Cope Snuff. Josh thanked both of them, but couldn’t help but joke about Nash’s comment, “There’s nothing straight about me!” They all laughed as they arrived at the locker room entrance. Omar quipped, ”This is it. Head on in there, thrown in a lipper, then start hauling on a cigar, and let the magic happen. We’re not sure exactly what the combo will do to you – but we’ll be here for you on the other end. Are you ready?” “As I’ll ever be,” Josh responded. Before heading inside, Josh turned to the massive men, embracing them in a 3-way hug. “Thanks again,” he said, and walked inside. For the first time, Josh was nervous. There was no backing out now. He opened the can of Cope snuff, spilling a portion on the floor. After loading up his lip, he then worked on prepping the cigar – almost forgetting to clip off the end. Following this comedy of errors, he finally got the hang of it and chuffed away. There he was, allowing the combination take its effect on him in this magical place. Josh’s head was obviously swimming from the high level of nicotine in his system. Ironically though, he felt a sense of calm. A few minutes in, he could feel a dull pain all over body – in his bones. He watched as his feet lengthened and widened. His legs and arms extended, even his fingers. Even his skull felt as though it was shifting. Placing his new hands on his face, he could feel a more angular jaw. Josh kept chuffing his cigar and expunging saliva, allowing the process to continue. Once his frame finished developing, he ran to the mirror. He’d grown in height to at least 6’3”-6’4”. It was a completely different viewpoint from his former 5’9”, as well as the now size 14 feet looked like boats in comparison to his former 10s. He more or less looked like a skinny basketball player. He wasn’t upset, just hoped there was more coming – and that’s when the next phase kicked in! Still looking at himself in the mirror, with a bulging lip and pulling on his cigar, Josh’s entire musculature exploded around the new frame. Pecs ballooned as his shoulders, delts, and arms inflated. Quads expanded, calves bulged. He finally understood why his feet were so large now – his old ones would have never supported his new weight. Finally, he watched his mid-section shrink, leaving a cobblestone road of abs, as his formerly chunky hips and butt became firm. In the final stages, Josh lost even more body fat. This left him with vascular, defined muscle all over his body. He had the upper-body of a seasoned bodybuilder and the lower-body of a powerlifter. The mid-section was the biggest surprise. He assumed he would have some kind of bulging or undefined belly, but for whatever reason he was very athletic looking. As he took another pull on his cigar, Josh’s head began tingling. This was the only time he was scared in the process, because he couldn’t physically see what was happening. All he knew was that whatever it was made him feel surprisingly good. His previous self-consciousness melted away. A never previously known wave of confidence filled his mind. Then, as if going through a second puberty, Josh felt his entire body as his erogenous zones seemed to reset inside this newly formed body. Simply touching his nipples seemed to push him over the edge. But once he looked down to see his thick 10-inch dick standing at full mast, he really knew things would be different from here on out! It was then he heard a voice, “Hey, kid,” Nash yelled, “Are you OK in there?” Josh responded with, “Yeah, I’m good. I think it’s over,” with a deeper, almost rusty, tone to his voice that shocked him more than anything else. He had to talk again just to hear his voice, “Sorry, not used to hearing myself like this. I’ll be right out.” When Josh looked up at the clock to see how long he’d been there, what had seemed like at least 2 hours had only been about 30 minutes. With a new swagger and confidence, he placed his cigar in his jaw, grabbed his spit bottle, and walked toward the exit into his new, improved life. Omar and Nash waited at the exit when they heard a rumbling sound. Omar caught the first glimpse, as his jaw nearly opened causing him to drop his cigar to the ground. “Holy shit!”, exclaimed. As Josh re-entered the gym floor, the pudgy young man was gone. Now, he was an athletic, powerlifting, bodybuilder, who could have anything and anyone he wanted. He confidently pulled on his cigar, exhaling a cloud of smoke, then took a moment to extricate some tobacco spit into his container. “Well boys?”, Josh asked in his new, booming voice, “What do you think?” Both Omar and Nash walked up and gave Josh a big hug. Other gym members also walked up to give a typical bro-slap and half hug. Everyone told him how great he looked. After a few minutes, Josh heard an announcement over the intercom. “Josh, please come to the desk”, rang out in Smokey’s indistinguishable tone. As Josh headed toward the desk, a familiar face came into view over Smokey’s shoulder that made him smile. Smokey interrupted the moment saying, “Well damn, kid. You clean up nice!” Josh swore he could hear Smokey salivating. “You have a visitor,” Smokey continued, as Josh smiled in Sarge’s direction. “I wanted to surprise you,” Sarge said, presenting Josh with a box of his current favorite cigars, Asylum 13 Ogres. “How did you even know?”, Josh asked. “I told you I knew Smokey,” Sarge responded, “I had a feeling something was up when you didn’t call me. So, I called Smokey to see if he knew anything. Luckily, he did – so I thought I’d surprise you.” Josh said, “Yeah, I’ve been a bit distracted. Even though that seems a bit like stalker behavior, I’m really glad to see you.” Josh leaned over to give Sarge a big kiss on the lips. “Wow. My transformation wasn’t as dramatic,” Sarge said, “I mean, I was certainly glad to no longer be a skinny, depressed, recently discharged soldier. But, you are a masterpiece!” “Well, I have to give credit to Smokey and the other guys here at the gym,” Josh said, “Without them, I don’t know that I would have ever trusted or lasted through the process. But, I’m definitely glad I did. Not just because I got this rockin’ bod, but because I definitely learned a lot about myself.” Josh stopped momentarily to dig in his bag for his cell phone. “Oh shit! I almost forgot about Hunter. He’s the one that introduced me to Dylan. He started this whole thing. Do y’all mind if we take a quick selfie to send him?” Both Smokey and Sarge agreed. With that, Josh held out his phone and snapped a pic, sending it to Hunter. As the men in the gym were stopping by to congratulate Josh on his official membership, he heard a notification on his phone. “AWESOME!”, then, “CONGRATULATIONS!”, following with “Who’s the hot daddy?” with eggplant and droplet emojis. Josh responded with, “Tell you later. Just needed to say thank you.”, then “You’re buying the first round tomorrow night!”. Hunter’s final response was “You got it! Love you!” Josh smiled as he put his phone away. “So”, Josh said while turning to Sarge, “What do you say we head out?” Smokey interrupted, “But you haven’t even worked out tonight.” Momentarily flustered, but quickly standing, Sarge said, “Oh, I’m sure we can get you sweating a bit.” Josh took a draw on his cigar, picked up his gym bag, and grabbed Sarge by the wrist. All Smokey could do was smile around the cigar stuffed in his jaw, observing the men walk away. One of the gym patrons said, “And the Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day!” Snapping back, Smokey said, “Fuck off!” Arm in arm, Josh and Sarge headed out the door. Just outside, Josh noticed Dylan hauling on a cigarette while speaking to a lanky young man who appeared to be around 21 or so. Josh said, “I’ll see you at your place in a bit…Daddy,” smirked, planted a kiss on Sarge’s cheek, then followed-up with a quick smack on the ass. Sarge was momentarily surprised, responding with a sultry, “Woof! You better be!” As Josh walked away, heading toward Dylan, he said, “I’m going to introduce myself to the fresh meat.”

It was the first days of September, summer was giving way to fall, and the summer heat was still being felt, but already some of the trees began to change their green clothes for more ochre and copper. The fruits were ripening, and the harvests were about to start. The crops were coming to fruition while the students returned to the classrooms after a well-deserved vacation. Some were very anxious to go back to school, for they had just started a new period in their lives, such as starting college. Sabrina Spellman was one of those young women who, on this day, would enter the university that, fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, was close to her home. She chose this college because, apart from teaching the usual mortal subjects, it was indeed one of the country's few witches and wizard colleges (a fact unknown to most attendees), as well as the most prestigious. These were the main reasons her aunts were so insistent that she go. Sabrina finally agreed, because deep down she was very fond of them, which did not prevent her from deciding to rent an apartment to live alone, although she managed to do so after swearing a thousand times that she would visit them often. That morning she woke up excited, she didn't loll around in bed much after the alarm went off, she immediately went to get cleaned up, change her clothes, eat some breakfast, grab her backpack, and hit the streets with her skates like she used to do in high school. The area where the town was located was also on the outskirts of the city, but more populated than the neighborhood where she had grown up, with a few buildings here and there, the streets a little busier with passersby walking back and forth and cars following the same behavior. The witch moved briskly but smoothly through this influx of people and streets until she stopped at a small apartment building. She stopped before the door, pulled her cell phone from her backpack, and dialed a number. “Harvey, I'm here," she said, glancing at one of the floors above her, before hanging up and preparing to wait. Her dear friend had also decided to attend the same university as her, which made her overjoyed, it was always good to have a familiar face in new places. “Hello, Sabrina” greeted Harvey a few moments after he came downstairs after Sabrina had called him. He was carrying a skateboard and the backpack on his back, like the witch, a helmet protecting his head. “Ready for a new stage in our lives?” “More than ready, even eager," Sabrina replied, seeing the enthusiasm in her friend's eyes. "As far as I can tell, so are you.” Harvey smiled broadly before answering, "Of course, I want to try something I've wanted for a long time. “What is it?" Sabrina was curious. “You know that the college we're going to has a wrestling team, right?" the boy replied. "Well, I want to try out for it, today is the tryout.” Sabrina couldn't help but be concerned when she heard her friend's wish. Although he had grown a bit since high school, he was far from being considered a robust boy, he was rather thin, of average height. “Are you sure about that," she said worriedly. "Don't you think you should wait a bit, maybe gain some more muscle?” “Ha, don't worry about it," Harvey interrupted her. "I've been training during this vacation and eating an egg-based diet to gain muscle mass, I'm not so weak anymore.” Sabrina's heart shrank when she saw her friend's practically nonexistent biceps when he flexed one of his arms. “Well, if you say so," she continued. “Also," he added, "I bought an amulet to bring me luck. Look, it has a rabbit's foot, a lucky stone, and a feather.” Sabrina knew very well that those amulets sold among humans were completely devoid of magical power, so her worries only increased, but she did not say anything, she did not want to hurt her friend's feelings. “Well, we're late, we'd better go to college," she said trying to change the subject, luckily Harvey agreed, so they both left immediately, she with her skates, he with his skateboard. The trip was not very long, just a few minutes, both of them gliding smoothly through the streets of the city, slipping between the morning passersby, the wheels making a soft sound as they rolled on the asphalt and sidewalks, until they stopped in front of the university gates. The university had a conservative architecture, similar to traditional New England’s one: a rectangular nave formed the main building, with two rectangular extensions, perpendicular to the ends of the nave. Several towers, crowned with pyramidal roofs decorated with pennants and spires, rose imposingly in the center. A large window with exquisite stained glass welcomed students and faculty, and below it was the great gate. Sabrina and Harvey said their goodbyes at the gate and went to their respective classes for the day, meeting again in the afternoon at the indoor stadium where the wrestling team tryouts would be held. It was almost 3:00 p.m. when the selection process began. A few spectators were sitting in the stands, all eager to either see their friends or just to have a good time and have some fun, Sabrina was as close to the field as possible to get a good view of Harvey. On the track were the coach and the competitors of the moment. Harvey told her he would be the fifth match of the evening, so she waited patiently at her post, flanked by two other people. She may have been the only one cheering for Harvey as he entered, not so for his opponent, who from a distance looked much stronger than her dear friend. No sooner had the fight begun that Harvey, who had moved quickly toward his opponent, ended up on the ground, crushed by the other boy, with little chance of escaping the confinement in which the other boy had trapped him. He tried to use some of the techniques he had learned, but to no avail, the other boy did not move an inch, on the contrary, he used more force in his grip. Harvey's face turned red from the effort, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead, he clenched his teeth tightly, tried to anchor his feet to the floor and push himself up, and tried to force with his arms, but it was useless. “One!" the referee announced. Harvey redoubled his efforts. “Two!" he continued. Tears of helplessness threatened to fall from his eyes. “Three!" Harvey already knew he had lost, but he still tried to pull away from his opponent. “Four! We have a winner!" the referee shouted, a chorus of cheers rang out from the stands, Sabrina remained silent, her gaze fixed on Harvey who was still lying on the floor, tears running freely down his face. “Cry outside this ring," the trainer shouted at Harvey. “I don't understand," Harvey said as he stood up. "What did I do wrong? I trained; I ate eggs..." “Some people just aren't cut out for this," the trainer cut him off. You could see that he was holding back a smile, which those who had already been selected and some of the audience were not doing at all "Some are just good at being simple tadpoles.” “You should have been called Shrimpzilla," he openly mocked his former opponent, and the stadium burst into laughter. "Really, Harvzilla? Have you ever looked in a mirror?” Harvey couldn't stand the humiliation any longer and ran out of the stadium, his hands covering his eyes in a desperate attempt to hide the tears of shame. Sabrina immediately got up from her seat and ran after him, trying to comfort him. The rest of the day was just as sad, and it didn't take long for the news to spread like wildfire among the students, Shrimpzilla's nickname flooding the hallways and social networking sites themselves. “I'm done," Harvey said, his eyes downcast as he played with the spoon of his favorite ice cream that Sabrina had given him to cheer him up. “Maybe you can do it later, maybe if you concentrate better and...” “No, Sabrina," Harvey cut her off, his brow furrowed, gripping the spoon tightly. "It's like they say, I'm not good at it.” Sabrina debated what to say next, it hurt her soul to see her friend in that state. It was no less true that his small and thin frame would have to work hard to achieve his goal of becoming a wrestler. Maybe if he got a little help, things would be different. That night, she lay on the bed, pensive. She couldn't stop thinking about how she could help her friend. “If only she could use the Spookypot” she whispered to herself, but not so quietly that Salem, who was lying on the mattress next to her, would not hear her. “What are you going to do now, Sabrina?" the talking black cat asked as he stretched out. “Harvey wanted to join the wrestling team, but due to his constitution it was impossible for him, plus he's the laughing stock of the entire university because of his terrible match," the witch explained. Salem could not contain himself and a laugh escaped his lips, but he quickly controlled himself after Sabrina's curious look. "Don't take me wrong, but I don't need to be an expert to know that he's not fit for that, he's too small!” “I know," Sabrina snorted. "I'd like to help him anyway, but isn't there a spell or something to make a person stronger?” “Of course there must be," replied the cat. "But I don't know any, not even your aunts.” “I doubt they would help me anyway," Sabrina admitted. “But I know someone who will," the cat smiled. “Really, who?” Sabrina's eyes lit up. “A magical newt who lives in the basement of your old house," the cat replied. “There is a newt under my aunt's house," Sabrina was puzzled, "how come I never knew that? “Even your aunts don't know," Salem admitted, putting his paw to his head in embarrassment. "It's something only he and I know, we have... an agreement.” “Well, I don't care what you do or don't do in your private life. You introduce me to him the next time we go home," seeing that her problems were probably solved, Sabrina turned off the light and closed her eyes with a smile on her face. A week later, Sabrina and Salem visited her aunts, who greeted them enthusiastically. After a round of questions about how she was doing in school and some lunch, Sabrina and Salem went downstairs to the basement, taking advantage of a moment when her aunts were distracted. It was like any other basement, dark, dusty, with even more cobwebs than in the entrance of the house, full of old things that had not been used for a long time, but were probably kept there for their possible "usefulness". “Newton!" called Salem as he put his paws on the basement floor, immediately a small but male voice answered from somewhere in the basement. “What do you want?" the voice replied. "You haven't been here for a while.” “That's right, I don't even live here anymore," Salem laughed. "I came to ask you something.” “Oh, that's very strange of you.” “Well, it's not exactly for me," Salem and Sabrina walked slowly through the basement towards the place where the voice came from. “It’s for my friend Sabrina Spellman.” “Spellman," the tone of his voice took on shades of terror by the time both Salem and Sabrina had reached their interlocutor, a small blue-green newt, lacking one of its eyes, a patch covering it. He wore a small conical blue hat, with a few yellow stars, and a red tunic “Did you bring me a witch?” “Easy” Salem tried to calm him down, in fact, he had to stop him because he was already in a race to get out of there. “How can I be calm when you brought me a witch?" the newt kept shouting from the paw Salem had trapped him in. “Oh, don't worry, I didn't come here to hurt you," Sabrina approached Salem and the newt with a comforting smile on her face. "I just came to ask you a favor.” “I won't give you my other eye," the amphibian cried as it wriggled in the cat's paw in an attempt to escape. “Why would I want your eye," Sabrina was a little confused. “Isn't it obvious," Newton asked. "Don't you know that the eye of a newt is a popular ingredient in witches' potions?” Sabrina was about to say something else but decided to remain silent for a moment because the newt was right, she only had to look in her potion book to realize that most of the recipes contained this ingredient. “Well, I didn't come here for that," the witch finally said. "But for you to help me with a friend of mine. The newt seemed to calm down a bit after hearing Sabrina's words, so Salem decided to put him back on the table where they had found him, which resembled a small miniature laboratory, with various flasks and liquids of different colors bubbling due to the heat they were exposed to or the chemical reactions they were experimenting with. “You see," Sabrina continued. "There's a friend of mine who wants to be bigger and stronger..." “Oh, is that all?" interrupted Newton. "Don't worry, I have what your friend needs.” He immediately began to search his downsized laboratory. He rummaged through every inch of it, the shelves, the corners, the trunks until he finally came upon a red clay jar sealed with a cork. “Let me just pour some of this into a perfume bottle," the newt said as he tweaked the knob with his tweezers. "This is very concentrated and, therefore very strong. If you use it once, it will be enough.” He took a perfume button he found in a corner of the lab and poured a small amount of the greenish liquid that was in the bottle into the flask, later he gave the perfume flask to Sabrina. She thanked him and they both said goodbye. Harvey was still depressed about the embarrassment he had suffered the previous week during tryouts for the wrestling team. Sabrina found him sitting on a bench, his head resting on the table in front of him and his arms outstretched. “Hi, Harvey," Sabrina greeted enthusiastically when she found her friend. “Hi, Sabrina," Harvey replied quietly and without much enthusiasm. “I have good news for you," Sabrina continued, not letting her friend's long face affect her in the least. She was carrying the potion Newton had given her in her backpack. Harvey only raised his head slightly in response to what Sabrina said. “Oh, come on, cheer up a little," Sabrina said as she sat down next to Harvey and searched her backpack for the bottle. “How can I do that if I can't fulfill one of my dreams”, Harvey said with some annoyance. “On that note," Sabrina finally pulled the vial of potion out of her backpack. "I think I can help you. I'm going to put some of this lucky perfume on you and you'll see how much better everything gets.” “Sabrina, please," Harvey didn't believe Sabrina's words at all. "Even if it works, the tests are over, there's no way I can get in.” “You may be right," Sabrina said. "But you don't lose anything by trying, maybe you can get in next year or next semester.” Harvey thought carefully, Sabrina was right, he had nothing to lose. “Okay, I accept, just for you," she decided and with that Sabrina sprayed some of the perfume on Harvey's body. A greenish vapor rose a few centimeters from Harvey's head, the strange thing was that the top looked like the head of a dragon. This immediately descended onto the boy's body, which glowed with a faint green light, Harvey's eyes staring at an undefined point in space, as if he were in some sort of trance, only to have a slight green flash appear in his irises. Harvey straightened up completely in his seat, his muscles tense, then relaxed, then tense again. With each passing second, he gave the impression that his sweater was getting tighter and tighter around Harvey's body. His usual slender build took on a bit of toning, even a seductive outline of his chest was sketched under his clothing, not to mention the sleeves were filled with the new thickness of his arms. Harvey smiled mischievously at this slight growth, even flexing one of his arms and enjoying the feeling of constriction as his sweater struggled with the new dimensions of his body. “Pfff," someone behind him snorted. "What the hell are you doing, Shrimpzilla? Harvey turned his eyes to where the taunt came from. There he saw the boy he had fought last week. His brow furrowed in anger. He abruptly rose from his seat and moved to confront him. Sabrina tried to stop him, but just as he was about to utter a few words, Harvey grabbed the other boy around the waist with both arms, lifted him with his weight, bent his lower back backward, and slammed the boy to the ground. He immediately lunged at him and grabbed him with a good hold. The boy tried to break free, but Harvey's grip was quite strong, as was his new body. The coach of the wrestling team happened to be passing by at the time, so he had a chance to watch the fight. He saw the boy struggling with all his might to get free, just as Harvey was holding him almost immobile with little apparent effort. When he saw the boy indicate that he was going to give up. He walked over to where they were standing and announced that Harvey was now part of the college wrestling team, which of course pleased both Sabrina and Harvey. The magic of the potion affected not only Harvey but also the amulet he was wearing. Despite what Sabrina thought, the amulet did have some magical power, very little, almost invisible, but with the influx of magic from the potion, it was activated and a new entity began to brew within it, a consciousness that would gain more power and influence over the boy as the days went by. Despite the strength he gained from the potion, Harvey remained small and scrawny compared to the other members of the wrestling team, so the coach himself put him on a strict training and diet regimen: he had to train in the gym for at least an hour every day. At first, as expected, it consisted of full-body workouts without much weight to avoid injury. Then there were the drills in which Harvey gradually learned different fighting techniques. “More” a month had passed since Harvey had joined the wrestling team, and every morning he woke up and heard the word in his head. It sounded like a whisper, like the words of someone far away or behind an extremely thick wall. He didn't think much of it, he took it as his determination to gain more strength, something that was already well on its way. The roar of his stomach was the third (after the alarm and that voice) thing he heard in the morning. He'd been eating a lot lately; the training sessions had left him exhausted and his body was demanding nutrients to grow. He had already gained quite a bit of muscle mass in that one month, but he was still at light weight. Even so, he didn't overlook his athletic image in the mirror: those toned arms, his firm (though still small) pecs, those three pairs of abs over his belly, his broad shoulders, and those round buttocks supported by a pair of strong legs. “More, much more” he heard that voice again, and he agreed, it was still not strong enough. So, he helped himself to a hearty breakfast, the equivalent of two people's ration. After finishing, he went to the university, as usual, with his friend. Harvey's physique wasn't the only thing that changed after Sabrina poured that perfume on him. Harvey began to become more distant, arrogant, selfish, and violent. It didn't help that he started using steroids. After a month of training with the rest of the wrestling team, Harvey realized that his teammates were using these supplements to increase their performance. At another time, he would have refused to use them outright, but that insidious voice in his head convinced him to use them. “More, stronger, you must be stronger," the reptilian voice in his head kept repeating. "Use whatever it takes to get there. The reflection of each morning in his mirror pushed him more to obey the designs of that voice. He saw the changes day after day, his arms thickened, his chest bulging, his back wider, his legs stronger, and even some veins were outlined on his arms. The first doses were administered by his classmates, but it wasn't long before he learned to administer the doses himself. The injection hurt, but that pain quickly turned to bliss as soon as he loaded the weights. He had become addicted to the feeling of power, of pushing his muscles to the limit with each repetition, of seeing his reflection in the gym mirrors as he did each exercise, flexing his muscles, watching the veins carry precious oxygen to his ever-growing muscles, the sweat pooling on his t-shirt, moistening his skin, making it glisten under the light of the lamps. It was extremely orgasmic, in fact, from each session he always had to have a moment alone to release all the sexual tension that built up with each workout, first with the classic method, but as he acquired a more impressive body, it was common that he always found someone willing to "help" him. Sabrina was not unaware of her boyfriend's increasingly radical changes. She hardly spoke to him anymore, they no longer went to school together, and he was always asleep after all the wild parties he had started to attend. Besides, it scared her. Harvey had turned into a monster. He had already witnessed several moments when he had mistreated other students, it was with people who weren't very cordial or nice, so she didn't make a big deal out of it, once in a while you had to know how to put said riffraff in their place. But it didn't take long for him to do the same, or worse, to other students: from hurtful words and insults to more physical violence, to blackmail or extortion. Harvey had become a kind of master to serve, where everyone was his servant. “Is it normal for a person's behavior to change after using the potion," Sabrina asked Newton one day. “It depends," replied the newt, without looking up from some experiments he was doing. "It is very rare that an adult suffers changes, a teenager on the other hand...". “Well, he is 18 years old...” “What do you mean 18 years old?" the newt shouted, almost spilling the substance he was working with on the floor. "There are still some growth and sex hormones acting in his body, maybe not like in real adolescence, but it's dangerous to link that with the potion.” Sabrina didn't say another word, her face had tightened in a mixture of embarrassment and fear. “You only used it once, didn’t you?" the newt asked. “Yes, only once," Sabrina replied. “Then there shouldn't be any more problems, it will calm down eventually," said the newt and went back to his work. "Keep it somewhere safe and out of reach anyway.” “Understood," Sabrina smiled, relieved. It had been three months since Harvey joined the wrestling team. He was already a middleweight, he had to change his entire wardrobe because his clothes were already too small for him, he was already wearing a size M, with a tendency to be a little tight (not that he minded, he loved showing off his body). His routine had changed almost completely: he got up extremely late because he spent most of the night at parties with his new friends, he barely attended classes, he spent more time at the gym working out, he didn't care much about homework, he'd gotten an entourage of privileged students to do it for him in exchange for not bothering them too much, and he even let them enjoy the occasional hot nights with him. He tended to force them to satisfy his sexual needs, although perhaps due to the mixture of hormones and magic in his body at the time, his "mistresses" eventually gave in completely and became mere bitches, eager for Harvey to bend them over. Perhaps because of the enormous amounts of energy he was expending during the day due to his increasingly long workouts, Harvey also began consuming energy drinks. At first, it was only while he was in the gym, but later he added more cans throughout the day, almost completely replacing water. There were times when he would drink an entire bottle in one gulp, and contrary to what others thought, he had no trouble sleeping. Between the training and his accelerated metabolism, plus the magical influence of the amulet, his body easily processed all the energizing drinks. It helped him concentrate on each of his exercises at the gym and kept him a little calmer for the rest of the day. Another habit he developed during these months was smoking. It was unexpected, but, likely, the Dragon's influence that developed in the amulet during those months influenced this new vice. During one of the many parties he attended, he used an electronic cigarette for the first time. The moment the smoke reached his lungs, something inside him was activated. Perhaps the smoke and taste connected him to memories of the natural habitat of the creature that was developing in his mind, a habitat near volcanoes or other places where there were constant fumes, the fact is that he was instantly turned on. Harvey would start his day with a cigarette in his mouth, he would go out on the balcony of his apartment and vape a little, then another little when he arrived at the university, another one during lunch, another one after his training sessions with the wrestling team and at the gym, the last one just before going to bed. “That’s it, give up your personality and become more like me. You have to be strong, intimidating, dominant, a king,” whispered the voice in his head every time he put his electronic cigarette to his lips and inhaled the vapors, every time he injected his dose of steroids or threw someone against the lockers or intimidated them with his threatening look. “That's right Harvey... no, Harvzilla,” the reptilian voice corrected,” You're not like the others, you're better, you're someone superior, almost a god, the others need to know where they belong.” Harvey smiled evilly at these words as he extorted a few dollars from a nobody to buy some protein bars, his stomach wouldn't stop growling, but he knew the reason, he was still gaining weight, and he wanted to make it to heavyweight by the end of the semester. “Why settle for so little?" the voice asked "You can get bigger.” “That's right," Harvey whispered. "I need to be bigger. “A titan,” the voice suggested. “A god," Harvey corrected. The voice did not answer, just laughed at how much it had corrupted the young man's soul. It was no surprise to anyone when Harvey showed up at school with a nose ring piercing. He had done it one weekend in the interest of completely shedding the good boy image (which he had already achieved with all the pounds of muscle he had put on in the past few months, plus this radical change in attitude), although it was no less true that he now had a more animalistic, brutal, threatening air about him. The student body was divided between those who praised him (and sometimes not-so-secretly desired him) and those who felt intimidated. The new Harvey liked both sides. The mid-semester competitions were coming up. Harvey was selected to compete in the middleweight division due to his outstanding performance. A crowd, both from the university itself and from the other participants, gathered at the stadium to watch the various bouts that would take place that day, which began in the afternoon after most classes were over. Harvey was in the locker room, sitting on a bench, holding his amulet. He was fully dressed in his team's uniform, and in a few minutes, it would be his turn to go out into the stadium and fight his opponent. His heart was pounding in his broad chest with excitement, rising and falling with every breath, pressing his skin against the tight latex fabric. “I have to win," Harvey muttered between his teeth. He was convinced that he would, few people dared to face him after he had acquired that ominous physique, but even so, that voice in his head, from his old self, reminded him of all those insecurities from before he joined the wrestling team. “You just have to get stronger," the dragon's voice suggested. "The strongest always wins.” “How?” Harvey asked, he could already hear the call from the audience to enter the ring, his turn was about to begin. “Search for the potion," the voice replied. "The one that unleashed your transformation. You will become even stronger if you take it again, you will be unstoppable.” “Yes," Harvey agreed. "I must find that potion, I must become stronger.” Harvey got up from the bench and left the lockers in the direction of the school to look for Sabrina's locker, something told him that what he was looking for was there. Luckily it wasn't very far, he would be back immediately and before they declared defeat for non-participation. The corridors were deserted, everyone, or at least most of them, were at the stadium watching the fights, and those who weren't were probably at home or in the library. Harvey went straight to Sabrina's locker, as expected, it was locked, but that didn't discourage him, on the contrary, he threw himself sideways against the door, his developed shoulder hitting the metal door hard and it wasn't long before it bent a little, he threw himself at it again, it bent more, again it was open enough to rummage inside and look for the flask. It didn't take long to find it. It was amazing how much he had grown, the flask looked so small in his huge hands... Harvey sprayed some of the contents over his body, inhaled the scent, and felt the first hit. He thought again and decided to open the lid and pour the entire contents on himself. The moment the liquid touched his skin, his nerves sent waves of pleasure to his brain, his muscles tensed, and his heart sent greater amounts of blood to them. “That's it, grow," the reptile's voice said. A green glow enveloped Harvey's body as he writhed in pain and pleasure. He grunted like an animal as his muscles exploded in size, his skin gradually becoming drier and thicker as small scales began to cover it, scales that were purple at first, but quickly gave way to a more greenish color. His ears grew and became pointed, and his pupils contracted vertically, giving him a more reptilian appearance. His torso expanded with each inhalation, centimeter by centimeter, his shoulders growing farther apart and at the same time bulging and rounding with the muscle that was constantly being added. His trapezius became more prominent, almost turning into a pair of mountains that temporarily blocked his head until his neck grew enough (both in length and width) to move freely again. His Adam's apple grew so much that the growls Harvey emitted began to sound more like roars, so intense that the crystals began to shake. The arms wasted no time in growing to a size proportional to the shoulders. They became as thick as a grown man's leg, with prominent veins adorning their surface, sending enough oxygen and nutrients to make them grow even larger. Each muscle became perfectly defined: the biceps looked like the tops of two mountains when the arms were flexed, the forearms large enough to hide the presence of the bones beneath with their magnificence. The hands grew considerably larger, to the point where they could completely encircle a person's head. The fingers also grew thicker, as did the claws that grew from their tips, where nails previously were, which were so sharp they could easily cut through steel. Deep valleys formed in Harvey's back as he gained more muscle mass. His deltoids expanded to such an extent that it quickly began to look more like a palace wall than a simple back. It took a while for the fabric of the uniform to give way due to its elastic nature, but thanks to the continued growth of his pecs, dozens of tears began to appear in his suit. His chest had grown so large that they threatened to block their view, they were so large that even his new oversized hands could not encompass a single one of his pecs, and even his nipples were forced to almost look down due to the incredible amount of muscle his pecs had gained. His abdominal muscles did not waste any time either, the little fat that remained on them was quickly consumed and transformed into pure muscle, eight bricks as strong as titanium alloy appeared under the monstrous breasts. The legs were next to grow, first in length, then, almost immediately, in width. His glutes became rounder and firmer with the perfect arrangement of fat and muscle. His quads exploded in size; it was very likely that he would have to walk with his legs slightly apart as the muscles came to touch at the crotch. Like his forearms, his calves grew so large that any hint of goosebumps disappeared. Finally, his feet grew rapidly, causing them to feel trapped in the shoes that protected them, but not for long, as the toes immediately cut through the socks and rubber of the shoes with the help of the claws that had also grown to replace the nails. “Harvzilla, Harvzilla," shouted the crowd in the stadium. Harvey heard these shouts and followed in their footsteps, unaware that the effects of the perfume were still upon him. Each step he took added an inch to his height, his teeth became sharp as daggers, and a pair of horny bumps began to grow on his forehead, plus a few small ones along the edge of his jaw. Just above his buttocks, another bulge began to grow. Centimeter by centimeter, this structure pressed against the remains of his briefs: bones, muscles, and nerve endings grew under the skin of the nascent appendage, and it wasn't long before Harvey could move it from side to side as he walked. Harvey had to start bending his back as his horns began to hit the roof of the school. His face had stretched forward, his human features completely replaced by those of a dragon. Two types of scales covered his body: larger, plate-like ones on the ventral part of his torso and tail, of a lighter green, almost white, and another one spread over the rest of his body, of a darker green and smaller in size, but no less resistant than the previous ones. A scream of horror flooded the room where the contestants, judges, and spectators were as they saw this reptilian monster emerge from under the door, well, more than emerge, walk through it. Harvey had grown so large that he could not fit through the doors in the normal way, both his width and height were too large to fit through a normal door. “Weren't you here to see me?" Harvey asked, pieces of brick falling from his shoulders to the floor. His voice had grown low, more like a roar than a human voice. No one answered, everyone was too scared to think of anything but running. They all crowded into the emergency exit, pushing and shoving each other in desperation. The only one still on the bleachers was Sabrina, who, no matter how much Harvey had changed in these months, remained his friend. “Harvey, what happened to you?" she shouted, but her scream was drowned out by the roar of the dragon-turned-human as it clawed at the roof of the stadium, trying to get out. Harvzilla had reached the impressive height of 10 meters and it didn't look like she was going to stop. Perhaps it was the new height he had reached, but the Herculean proportions he had acquired a few moments before had completely disappeared. Harvey looked more like a giant Asian dragon than a human, his body was cylindrical, with hardly any difference between his shoulders and waist. His hind legs looked short compared to the rest of his body, a ridge of horny spines had extended down the centerline of his back to his tail, which ended in a huge tuft of hair the same color as the hair on his head. Harvzilla scanned the horizon for a few moments before lifting one paw over the walls of the building that housed the wrestling match she was about to enter. With clumsy, heavy steps, he moved across the university campus, leaving deep pentad footprints and a trail of destruction and terror in his wake. He walked without stopping to think of the poor people beneath his feet, not of the gardens, benches or cars he destroyed on his way. Sabrina finally made it out of the stadium. She had to summon a broom to fly out of the place. At that moment, she didn't care about keeping a low profile in front of the mortals; besides, they were too busy running for their lives to notice if an 18-year-old girl was flying over their heads on a broom. As he made his way across campus, he watched as some of the professors in the Magic Department tried to stop the dragon's advance, but to no avail; for some reason, spells and incantations did not affect Harvey. “I have to get to my aunts’ house right away and try to fix this mess," the little witch muttered to herself as her broom flew across the city at full speed. “More” Harvzilla roared in his seemingly aimless progress through the city. His mind had slowed down, only a few thoughts were contained in this moment, and most of them had to do with being even bigger and more powerful. Cars stopped as drivers saw the reptilian creature approaching, many crashed into each other and were engulfed in flames, others, less fortunate, were thrown somewhere as they were struck by Harvzilla's long tail. Whole houses collapsed completely; buildings were heavily damaged. Neither the fire department nor the police could keep up with the exponentially growing number of incidents in the neighborhood. The screams and desperate cries of the people were drowned out by the periodic roars of the dragon as it sniffed the air from time to time as if searching for something. There were times when it would lean over a house, lift it as if it were a doll's house, and inspect it, oblivious to the screams of terror from the tenants. “Perfume... I need perfume," the beast struggled to articulate, its mouth still unaccustomed to the new anatomy. Sabrina quickly flew to her aunts' house. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she suddenly opened the door and ran out without paying much attention to her aunts, who were astonished by the unexpected visit of their niece. “Sabrina, what is the purpose of this visit?" asked Zelda, her eyes following Sabrina's figure as she opened the door to the basement and disappeared as quickly as she had come in. “I have a problem to solve," the echo of Sabrina's voice answered her as she ran down the stairs to the basement. “What have you done now, Sabrina?" asked her Aunt Hilda, but before Sabrina could answer, the news came from the television that a giant dragon was ravaging the suburbs of the city, near the university. Both aunts decided to go down to the basement to find out more details about what was going on, only to find their niece screaming for someone. “Newton, I need your help," called Sabrina. “Who is Newton?" asked Hilda. “A newt that lives in the basement,” Sabrina replied, still looking for the little one-eyed amphibian. “A newt lives in our basement?" said Zelda in surprise. “It's a long story, but, yes," Salem's voice appeared out of nowhere to answer the question. “And where did you come from?" the aunts were startled. “I'm a cat, appearing out of nowhere is our specialty," the cat joked. “Now you can explain to me what three witches are doing in my basement," Newton's voice was heard. “Newton," Sabrina exclaimed as soon as she heard it. "I'm so glad I found you! I desperately need your help, Harvey, the friend I used the potion you gave me, has turned into a giant dragon and is destroying the town.” “Is that monster Harvey?” Zelda put her hands to her cheeks in shock. “Sabrina, do you have any idea what you just did?" Hilda reprimanded her. “Hilda, you can punish me for all eternity if you want, but now we have to solve this situation," Sabrina didn't take her eyes off the pensive newt. “Dragons are powerful beings, it is very likely that this boy is now under the influence of the creature he has become," the newt replied. "There is little we can do for him, the only thing I can think of is to get rid of what is left of the potion and that you try to get to the bottom of his being and bring him back.” “I'll try," Sabrina replied determinedly. "Then let's get rid of the potion before it does any more damage.” An earth tremor stopped them just as they were about to pour the potion down the drain. The five people gathered in the basement froze, knowing what was going on out there. “Do you, aunts, know any spells against dragons?" asked Sabrina. “Dragons are very powerful beings whose magic is even more powerful than that of most witches and wizards today," Zelda replied. “I'm afraid not, Sabrina, our magic isn't even enough to tickle them," Hilda added. “That must be why the wizards at the university had such a hard time stopping him," Sabrina mused. A rumbling sound silenced the familiar chatter. Those present heard the walls of the house creak and crackle as a force was applied to them. They saw the walls buckle periodically from one side to the other and even heard cracks appear in the walls and other structures. “This is it," Salem said, still shivering. The warmth of the house was invaded by the cold night air, the moon appeared just above their heads, but its argent light was eclipsed by the titanic shadow of a monstrous lizard watching them closely. Strong gusts of air hit them as Harvzilla began sniffing around the cellar in search of the potion, a process that did not take long as the bottle containing it was tucked away in a corner of the newt's miniature laboratory. Without delay, the titanic reptile thrust one of its paws into the cellar, intent on taking the precious liquid. No one moved to stop it, for all were terrified, watching as the reptile lifted and then pulled the bottle, which looked so small between its claws, but was careful not to break it. “Sabrina," the newt managed to articulate, "as far as I can see, the boy is still in the early stages of transformation. Developmentally speaking, he's still just a baby dragon.” “What does that mean, Newton?" asked Sabrina, not taking her eyes off her best friend. “If you can reach him, talk to him, make him remember his human form, maybe he can return to normal," Newton replied. "That is all you can do, as your aunts said, there are hardly any wizards powerful enough to fight a dragon. Even if it is a baby like this one, the magical power these creatures possess is incredible.” Sabrina nodded at the talking amphibian's words, then gathered all her willpower, raised her arm horizontally to chest height, and summoned her broom, which immediately came out of the room. Sabrina grabbed it and mounted it, then gave a little jump and flew up to Harvey's eye level, who was already about to pour the magic substance on him. “Harvey, stop," Sabrina shouted with all her might for the monster to hear her. With apparent success, Harvzilla stopped for a few moments and focused his gaze on the witch hovering in front of him. It was almost as if he was looking at an insect. “Harvey, have you even seen what you've become?" Sabrina continued, her eyes reflecting concern and pleading. "You weren't like this, you were a good boy, kind, sweet, and you cared about others.” Harvzilla continued to watch without even blinking. Sabrina took this to mean that her words were having an effect, that she might be getting somewhere with her friend, which made her smile a faint smile of hope. So, she did not get discouraged, but just as she was about to continue her speech, Harzilla emptied the entire contents over his snout, which, due to a problem of proportions, hardly looked like he was pouring a drop on himself. But it was enough to make his brain work faster. As Newton had said, Harvey had been turned into a kind of baby dragon, so his intellectual abilities were partially diminished, but with this new influx of magic, his intellect returned, even increased. “I'm sorry, Sabrina," Harvzilla's voice was as deep as the crater of a volcano, his breath burning like fire. "But I'm not going back to being the pathetic creature I was before. Not when I have this power.” Harvzilla did a double biceps pose, showing off his arm muscles. “No, I will definitely not go back to being human, on the contrary, I will embrace this new dragon body and bring it to its maximum splendor," Harvzilla continued, at that moment he began to move his arms in the air and Sabrina could see how magical energy began to escape from his hands. “Oh gods, he has gained power over her magical abilities," exclaimed Newton. "We are lost.” “Harvey, what are you doing?" cried Sabrina in horror. “That amount was minuscule, I need more," Harvey replied. “But you don't know how to make it.” “Ha, Sabrina, I have enough capacity right now to make more potion, enough to become the most powerful dragon that has ever lived in this world. I can even make it better,” Harvzilla boasted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, you're in the way.” With that, he shoved Sabrina away with his paw, just like shooing away an insect. Sabrina was able to regain control of the broom and was unharmed, but it was clear that there was nothing she could do for her friend but watch helplessly as events unfolded. “Well, first I need a cauldron to make the potion," Harvzilla said with a wave of his paws, causing the ground in front of him to eject pieces of rock and houses into the air, which began to swirl around a center in front of Harvzilla. Gradually, the pieces of rock and debris began to collide and coalesce, slowly forming what looked like a giant cauldron. “Good, now, some fire,” with another gesture, Harvzilla had several entire trees uprooted and placed under the cauldron, and with the help of his fiery breath, he set the fire ablaze. People fled in terror as hundreds of objects flew through the air above their heads as Harvzilla gathered more materials. Screams flooded the area. “Oh, shut up already," Harvzilla roared, slapping the ground with his huge tail, the roar echoing through the city and instantly silencing the terrified people, "Don't force me to take you as a snack, so many transformations in one day have made me hungry.” No one said a word or made the slightest sound when they heard these words. “That's the way I like it, insects, be quiet and let me become what I am truly meant to be.” The water pipes ruptured and burst through the whole thing to the surface, their contents floating directly into the cauldron until it was almost filled. After that, almost industrial quantities of certain drugs shot out of the pharmacies (and some people) and fell into the water, which was slowly heating up in the fire of hundreds of trees. “Heh, heh, my addition to the formula, steroids, the more the better," Harvzilla laughed, "I'm also going to add something to make it work only on me, I have no interest in fighting anyone else who accidentally gets exposed to this treat.” Harvzilla used one of his paw claws to cut the flesh of the other one to draw out the blood, which fell into the cauldron and gradually mixed into the potion. To this, he added other elements such as sweat, bull's horn powder, his own scales, lion's mane hair, rhinoceros’ horn, oak leaves, and a little Amanita muscaria. Gradually, the concoction began to change color and smell. Harvzilla smiled slightly as he realized his potion was almost ready. After half an hour of preparation, the potion was ready. The greenish substance still bubbled in the makeshift cauldron, its vapors slowly rising into the air. Harvzilla took a deep sniff, letting those vapors stimulate every millimeter of his nostrils, traveling down his very long windpipe and filling his lungs as its magical properties began to take effect, but not content with just sniffing his handiwork, he grabbed the cauldron with his paws and lifted it over his head with one smooth motion, then poured it all over his head. The still-boiling mixture completely bathed his body from head to toe, seeping through his scales and soaking the ground beneath his legs. Enjoying the intense heat, Harvzilla closed his eyes and waited for the potion to take effect. It didn't take long for the potion to take effect, especially with the immense amount and concentration of it. An intense greenish glow covered his body. Harvzilla closed his eyes tightly and arched his back slightly, his body feeling as if an intense fire was burning inside of him, the fire enlivening every cell. “Yes," Harvzilla murmured. "This was what I needed, this power.” The first thing to be affected in his body were his bones, creaking as they lengthened, especially those in his legs, which had become very short concerning his body with the last transformation. Harvzilla groaned as his lower limbs grew longer and longer, his legs also growing in unison, pushing everything around him due to the force of his growth. “This is not enough, I need more," Harvzilla growled. Next to be affected was his torso, which flattened out dorsoventrally, while his shoulder blades and pelvic girdle widened, especially the shoulder blades, gradually giving his body a V-shape. Then his facial features hardened, his jaw became square and strong, and the upper part of his eye sockets became protruding, giving him an ever more serious and intimidating scowl. The horns on his head doubled in length, adding more ramifications to the antlers, while the number of spines bordering his jaw increased in number, some adding a few inches to their length, a pair of whiskers emerged from his snout and slowly descended until they reached the height of his chest. On his shoulders and back, countless spikes appeared, sharp as blades and almost blackish green. “Yes, more," Harvzilla roared, his brain completely intoxicated by the pleasure of his transformation. His muscles tensed again, his veins bursting at the seams, dilated to get as much oxygen and nutrients to his growing muscles as possible. His neck was the first to be affected by the new wave of growth, his Adam's apple becoming even more prominent, irrevocably turning his voice into a mighty thunder that roared with the fury of a storm. Then it was his shoulders that added more and more mass, rounding out, increasing the width of his shoulders while the trapezoids rose like mountains. His chest, flat as a board a few moments ago, began to gain some definition as hints of pectorals appeared beneath his scaly skin. Gradually, they began to take shape, taking on their characteristic four-sidedness, later gaining mass and protruding forward. They grew in both width and thickness, so much muscle mass had they acquired that their nipples began to practically point downward, looking like a pair of pillows to lean back against. Next were his abs, which quickly came to the surface, growing and hardening into three pairs of bricks as hard as titanium. Then his back, already broad, widened even more, becoming an impenetrable wall covered with sharp spikes and decorated with deep valleys where the muscles were inserted. Then came the buttocks, rounded with the perfect mixture of fat and muscle, upon which rested the ominous tail, waving back and forth, destroying any building within its reach. Finally, the limbs exploded with titanic strength, the veins running through them like mighty rivers of vital fluid. His biceps were the size of a small car, his claws powerful, capable of bending steel itself as if it were the finest paper. His legs became as strong as pillars, with mighty quadriceps and spherical calves. To put the icing on the cake, a trail of spikes grew over his torso resembling what it would have been body hair, from his groin to his huge pecs, where it covered almost the entire surface. Some spikes also grew over his forearms and legs. Once the transformation was complete, Harvzilla roared with satisfaction, a roar that echoed in the distant mountains and struck fear into the hearts of thousands of people nearby. He was so big that the skyscrapers in the center of the city looked like toys compared to him. The titanic dragon took his time inspecting his tale, enjoying every muscle, every valley, every scale, every hair, running his paws over every inch of his being, even tasting himself with his now very long tongue. “Finally," the dragon thundered. "This is the body a god like me deserves. No one will dare challenge me; everyone will have to worship me and pray that I will be kind to them and not destroy their pathetic lives.” With that, he swung his paws in the air again. The ground in front of him suddenly rose like a small elevation, but it didn't take long for it to change its appearance and resemble a seat, a throne. Harvzilla prepared to sit on it, in front of him hundreds of people, so small compared to him, ran from one place to another, always casting a glance at the colossus in front of them, waiting for what might happen, Harvzilla on the other hand just watched, enjoying the terror he inspired and thinking about what he would do from now on. Nayar Leng

Eventually, you RELISHED your growth going out of control. Sure, you'd officially flunked out of your second year of college but economic analytics was harder than you anticipated... Thankfully, you were very lucky to have such a strong group of bros to support you. And they certainly did- when you initially told them you'd wanted to start working out more seriously, they actually gave you bags of supplements and 'lifestyle' tapes. The tapes were weird (all about 'motivation', working out, or dieting) and even when you always found yourself waking up towards the end of them you'd watch them religiously. Hell, the guys eventually started making your meals for you, too and it didn't take long for the gym to become second nature for you. You got BIG. Your confidence burst through the roof and you were cocky or even mean; you deserved it! Nobody could have gotten as jacked as you, nor as strong. Regardless, you were always kind to your bros. They were the ones making you big, too. Hell, after a while you started feeling like they worshiped you, in a weird, communal way. Each one would bring you a can of weird beer of a brand you couldn't pronounce and of course you'd end up shotgunning it as a challenge. At some point doorways were becoming a challenge due to your width- that's when the guys would laugh at your wide, stumbling gait but still help you get upstairs to bed. The side effects made EVERYTHING bigger. Some of the bros bought you new shoes every time your feet started getting cramped in your current pair. One day you'd dozed off again after a weird lifestyle tape, waking up with an excess of morning wood and one of your younger buddies sucking on your long toes. You felt embarrassed but there was something about when he asked you to flex for him that kept you laying comfortably on your increasingly smaller bed. He'd ask you questions about wanting your growth and if you liked it; you'd answer with honesty as you milked your fat cock, his chuckle making you smile naively as he moved to massage your huge feet and massive legs. You were getting massive and it felt awesome! All you could really think about was getting bigger and having fun with your bros. After a while it wasn't weird at all to find yourself flexing or working out in the basement, naked, and you consistently found yourself serving the guys however they asked. You almost cried when the school told you you'd failed all your classes; you couldn't even remember the last time you'd even gone. The guys told you it didn't matter, you could still live at the house and to not even sign up for another semester if you didn't want to. So you didn't bother with school. Hell, you used to consider yourself a rather smart guy but nowadays you could barely keep up with complex conversations your bros have at home. The guys would laugh when you gave a ditsy comment and tell you to show of your tits instead. You'd happily peel up (or ripped off) your shirt, showing off your massive pecs. You loved showing off, after all! They called you a good 'himbo' and directed you to administer twice the doses of supplements you were accustomed too. You explained to them your pectorals were seemingly increasing size even faster than the rest of your body, feeling sore almost every day. They gladly began giving you more thorough daily 'massages'. Nowadays you find yourself practically shaking the earth beneath your heavy steps, your quads and hams so wide you have to move in an awkward waddle. Your time is religiously spent in the basement gym or with your loving bros. Sure, they graduate and new ones come in, but you always find tight relationships with them. The guys worship your massive, sweaty body and always make sure you're well-taken care of. You've lost track of how many years have gone by and sometimes wonder if you're not really getting any older, either. You're fucking huge. Sometimes the guys are sweeter and love letting you strut around with a proper alpha male cockiness. Others are meaner, tricking you into tight situations or letting your huge pecs go without milking for days at a time, letting you murmur in discomfort like a proper bull in heat as your pecs start looking overdeveloped even for your massive frame. A rare few actually manage to fit your huge cockhead in their mouths. Some manage to fit you inside them (dangerously) but most often you enjoy feeling a bro sniffing and lapping your hairy, muscled pucker before stretching it out with their fat bro cock. For as much as you have to eat, absorbing protein through your bros' thick cocks is a benefit you gladly enjoy. There isn't often a party where you turn down a proper pose down, letting all the guys worship you as they pump you full of beer and cock.

Lucio Vero was known for his good heart, he was always disposed to help both friends and strangers, and expected in return only to see his good deed made a difference in the person's life, even if a bit. But one day, he was to meet such generosity, that he would never be the same. Walking down the meadow next to his house, he found a man in a bad state. He appeared to have a broken leg, and seemed very beaten. Lucio did not hesitate, he was not really all that strong, but he carry the man to his dwelling, where he took care of his wounds as he could, gave him to eat, and said "My friend, you can stay for as long as you take to recover...". Convinced of Lucio's good heart, the man stood up, and in a bath of light, revealed his true form. In a quick metamorphosis, the man, before frail and weak, transformed into a great muscular soldier. Lucio was surprised and got frightened immediately, but the man, in his new form, said: "Do not fear. I am Mars, the God of war. I have been observing you, mortal, and wanted to see how kind you were capable of being. Your heart is pure, your intentions good, and so, I want to offer you a reward." "M-Mars?!" Said Lucio, trembling from toe to head. "How... how can this be? Ah... ah..." he gaggled a bit "Forgive me, sir, I am so frightened..." "I do not blame you. But, listen to me, I have a reward to offer you, and if you accept it, fright will cease to cause you trouble" Lucio tried to recover his composure, but looking at the naked man in front of him, he blushed: "Sir... Mars, God of War..." "I am aware that my naked form may cause you to feel embarrassed. No fear. My reward will make you comfortable." "Sir, if I may... Can I ask, what is this reward you are offering?" "You may ask, but, I will not tell. You must show you trust me. Mortal, do you want my reward, even if not knowing what it is?" Lucio thought a bit, and the God waited, patiently. "God, I am unworthy, but I would like to have the reward, if you so desire to give me. I don't know what it is, but I trust you." "You are a man of valor, Lucio. If you want to receive this gift, do as I command, and, strip yourself naked, first." Lucio did not ask why of such weird request, but he did just that, a bit embarassed. He took off his shirt, then his shoes and socks, and pull of his trousers, revealing his overall average body, to the God. His form was nothing special, he had no visible abs, though his pectorals were large, his shoulders had potential. The God took notice of the body, studying it silently and quickly. Then, he said: "Now, allow me to kiss you, mortal" Lucio stood still like a rock, not only was he naked, but that handsome soldier-God wanted to kiss him. He could only consent. "I do, Mars, God of war" So, Mars got close to him, and slowly embraced Lucio, while giving him a kiss in his mouth. Lucio was not used to this, and could only kiss back the God, in an awkward, but sincere way. They both smiled, then, to one another. Mars said: "You are a kind, gentle human being, Lucio Vero. I hope this was not too awkward for you." "I trust you, Mars. It is all I can do. I await further instructions." "I will not let you down, on your reward, Lucio. Now, kneel" So did Lucio, trying to hide his puzzled face from the God. The man stood there, awaiting further instructions, while the much muscular soldier-God stood in front of him, his abs and pectorals shining, and his cock, rock hard, bulging and licking a strong-smelled golden gooey of a liquid, almost like a diluted paste. "Lucio, if you trust me, I want you to suck my penis. Take a sip of my semen. Gulp it, and so, your reward will be at hand." Lucio shook a bit, but with his head, he assented to the God. Mars got close to Lucio, and so, first licking the head, as to taste the seed, then, carefully sucking Mars's instrument. The God's liquid was like a salty honey, and Lucio closed his eyes in pleasure, while flavoring it. Mars was also pleased, and caressing the hair of Lucio, said: "It is done, Lucio" Lucio, then, slowly took his mouth away from Mars, and stood up, gazing at the God. "How do I taste, Lucio?" "Mars, God of war, I have never had the pleasure of tasting something as good as your seed." "This pleases me, Lucio. You are one step closer to receiving your award..." "So, this wasn't it?" Mars had to bite his lip not to spoil what wonder he was ready to give to Lucio. Mars was leaking the same liquid from his bulging, strong nipples. "This is the last step, Lucio, you must, now, suck my Nipple, to finish the process" And so Lucio did, putting his hands on Mars's strong pectorals, he licked the left nipple of Mars, and sucked a good gulp of the seed. Mars, then, said: "It begins." Mars started talking on a language Lucio could not understand, but before he could ask, a golden fog surrounded him, and took him out of the floor. Fluctuating, Lucio extended his arms, and felt pain. His muscles awoke inside of him, Lucio felt his body growing, first slowly and painfully. He started to get taller and his pectorals got larger, so did his shoulders, that also were getting stronger. He let out grunts and moans, as the pain begin to turn to... pleasure. His arms grew more muscular, and he saw that with a growing grin in his face. The process was slow, as to make him savor every second of it, every second of his body turning muscular, stronger, more capable. His abs came to life, and soon a 8 pack was bulging, as well as his adonis, getting carved as well as his cock grew in length and width. He moaned and roared as his body transformed, his pectorals getting larger and expanded. When he returned to the floor, he was as strong as the God Mars, his protector. He said, with a deeper voice than before, now more confident, while his muscles bulged and veins were covering them. "Mars... I..." "No, Mortal, it is not over, yet." Said the God, and closing his eyes, he chanted once again. Standing, Lucio felt a surge across his body, and roaring, he arched his back, and extended his arms once again. His face reshaped. He closed his eyes, and as he did, the eyes melted away, but were quickly replaced by enhanced ones, that had multiple lenses, were fractal, multifaceted, like the ones of an insect. He rejoiced as his eyes transformed. But it was not only his eyes. His hair fell off, leaving only a small mohawk on his head, that soon started to connect with his bones. He started to grow horns, and spikes, both on his head and in his shoulders, and even back. He roared, and rejoiced, also as his spine elongated, and soon a tail was forming, and the tail had a thorn, like the one of a scorpio, on his final chord. He roared and rejoiced as his teeths became fangs, and he did rejoice when his skin boiled and was covered in liquid metal. He felt pleasure when his modified nipples started to lick his changed seed through them. He felt pleasure when he roared his human voice one last time, letting it turn into the voice of a beast, as well as his cock expelled his humanity, and his body now produced the blood of the beast, of the God. "My creature" Said Mars, filled with pride and joy in his voice. "My God... you transformed me into this monster" "Do you approve of my reward, Lucio?" "I am Lucio Vero no more, sir. I am your creature, Scipion is my name. I am here to serve as a gesture of my gratitude towards your gift". "I have created you to be your own being. If you desire to serve me, it will be out of your solicitude. This is a reward, not a prison, not a punishment. You are to use yourself as you desire." "Mars, thank you, I am most thankful for your reward" So, Mars presented his creation, Scipion, with a medallion, that the God put on his neck. And so, this was the grand reward of Mars to the kind Lucio Vero, that transformed into Scipion, the strong.

Hello I would like to write a series of stories. Sorry for my poor command of English sometimes. All can be read independently. some of them will perhaps follow one another. Tell me if u should continue, and thank you for your feedback. 1. A new Superhero in the city 2. Ethan and John: - New arrival at school - Ethan nightmare 3. Hicham the paraplegic man A new Superhero in the city Jérôme and Max, a couple of police officers, shared not only their work but also their life. Their relationship had withstood the test of time, becoming a pillar of mutual support. It was a hot summer day, and they had taken a day off to relax and enjoy the sunny weather. Their car trip had taken them on a picturesque road, far away from the concerns of police work. Jérôme, 25 years old, was a tall, blond man, standing at 1.83 meters and weighing 80 kg. His blue eyes reflected his determination to make the world a safer place. Max, his partner and lover, was 23 years old. He stood at 1.78 meters, weighing 75 kg. His blue eyes shone beneath his thick brown hair, and he proudly sported a neatly trimmed short beard. Max harbored a heavy and extraordinary secret, a gift passed down through generations in his family: he was a muscle-wolf. This unique gift allowed him to transform into a powerful bodybuilder of nearly 140 kg, endowed with superhuman strength. However, this transformation was a complex and painful process that involved a series of remarkable physiological changes. As they traveled down the winding road, their peaceful day was abruptly disrupted by the sound of a collision. A woman behind the wheel had crashed into an electrical pole, and her car was on the brink of catching fire. Trapped in the vehicle, the driver was severely injured, and a glimmer of despair filled her eyes. In her state of shock, she was not even aware of their presence. Alarmed, Jérôme immediately grabbed his phone to call for help. He knew that every minute counted in such a critical situation. However, he could sense that time was running out, and the emergency services likely wouldn't arrive in time to save the woman. It was at that moment that Max, with unwavering determination, made a decision that would change the course of their day. He knew it was time to reveal his secret to Jérôme, even if it meant exposing his uniqueness. Max's transformation began slowly, but the process was painful and arduous. His muscles swelled rapidly, and his veins became increasingly visible through his stretched skin. The pain was intense as his clothing's seams strained, ready to burst at any moment. The clothes could no longer contain the extraordinary force that now inhabited Max. His veins pulsed, carrying an increased flow of blood to the rapidly growing muscles. Max's breathing intensified as his lungs worked hard to supply his developing muscles. His once thin arms became massive and powerful, tearing the sleeves of his shirt to shreds. His shoulders broadened, bursting the seams of his shirt, and his chest took on an impressive size. The buttons on his shirt flew in all directions, and scraps of fabric rained down like confetti. Jérôme, initially in shock, was overwhelmed by the incredible transformation unfolding before him. His breathing quickened, and he stuttered, unable to find the words to express his surprise and fear. Max's legs gained size, tearing his pants into pieces. The leather of his shoes burst under the pressure of his growing feet. Each of his muscles became more prominent, creating waves of power throughout his body. During the transformation, his body also became very hairy, with thick and dense hair forming an additional layer of protection and fierceness. The injured woman, in a coma, was unaware of the incredible transformation taking place before her. She had no idea that her fate would be disrupted by a hero with extraordinary powers. Jérôme, astounded and overwhelmed by the situation, abandoned his phone, forgetting about the emergency services. Max, with a voice transformed by the metamorphosis, declared, "Jérôme, it's time for you to know the truth. It's my inherited gift, and I use it to protect others, even at the risk of my own life." The injured woman, in a coma, couldn't hear the conversation. She was oblivious to the hero standing before her. Without further delay, Max used his superhuman strength to clear the wreckage, extract the injured driver, and place her in safety. Flames threatened to spread, but Max acted quickly and decisively, extinguishing the incipient fire and saving the woman's life. Jérôme, astonished, realized that his partner and lover was a genuine hero with an extraordinary gift. Max, exhausted from the superhuman effort, slowly returned to his usual form, breathing heavily, and with his body glistening with sweat. He now stood naked, except for his underwear, as all his other clothes had been destroyed during the transformation. They had succeeded in saving the woman, but now, Jérôme faced a difficult choice: to protect Max's identity and escape before the emergency services arrived, fearing that his secret would be discovered. They discreetly moved away from the accident scene, and Max hid behind a tree, gradually returning to his initial form to avoid drawing the attention of the finally arriving emergency responders. Their future was uncertain, but their love and devotion to each other were stronger than ever as they walked away together to safeguard Max's secret. Their future was uncertain, and the weight of Max's secret hung heavily between them as they walked away from the scene. Jérôme's mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions and questions, but he knew he had to protect Max's identity at all costs. As they found a secluded spot, Max, now back to his usual self, dressed only in his boxer briefs, turned to Jérôme with a mix of anxiety and relief in his eyes. "Jérôme, I know this is a lot to take in," Max began, his voice trembling with uncertainty. "I've kept this secret my whole life, and I've used my abilities to help others, to save lives. But I've never shared this with anyone, until now." Jérôme, still reeling from the shock of witnessing Max's incredible transformation, managed to find his voice. "Max, this is... this is unbelievable. I mean, I've heard of superhero stories, but I never thought..." Max interrupted gently, "I'm no superhero, Jérôme. I'm just a guy who happens to have this unique ability. I've always wanted to protect you, but I also want to protect us." Jérôme's face softened as he looked into Max's eyes, realizing the depth of their connection. "Max, I love you, and I will do everything I can to keep your secret safe. But we need to be careful. We can't risk anyone discovering this." Max nodded, relief washing over him as he pulled Jérôme into a tight embrace. "Thank you, Jérôme. I knew I could trust you." They stood there for a moment, their love stronger than ever, before reality intruded once more. The sound of approaching sirens reminded them of the accident scene they had left behind. "We need to go, Max," Jérôme said, breaking the embrace. "The authorities are arriving. We'll figure out how to deal with this, but for now, let's get away from here." They hurried back to their car and drove away, leaving behind the events that had unraveled their day. As they put distance between themselves and the accident scene, Max couldn't help but think about the fragile balance they had to maintain. He knew that, with Jérôme by his side, they would face the challenges together, and their love would guide them through the uncertainties of their extraordinary life. In the days that followed, Jérôme and Max remained on edge, constantly aware of the secret that now bound them even closer together. They were back on duty, patrolling the city streets, but their lives had taken on a new layer of complexity. Jérôme, true to his word, was determined to protect Max's identity. He used his influence within the police department to ensure that the details of the accident and the mysterious hero who had saved the woman's life were kept under wraps. He knew that any inquiry into Max's abilities could lead to unwanted attention and scrutiny. Meanwhile, Max continued to use his unique gift to help others, always under the cover of darkness and away from prying eyes. He had saved lives and prevented disasters, but his actions left no trace of his involvement. Their love story had taken on an even more profound significance. The unspoken understanding between them, the shared secret, only deepened their connection. They found solace in the safety of their love, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of their extraordinary lives. But as time passed, a new challenge emerged. Rumors of a masked hero with incredible strength began circulating in the city. People started talking about the mysterious savior who seemed to appear out of nowhere, saving lives and averting danger. Max's actions were drawing attention, and Jérôme knew they needed to be even more cautious. One evening, as they sat in their quiet apartment, Jérôme spoke up. "Max, the rumors are spreading like wildfire. We need a plan, a way to protect your identity more effectively." Max nodded, his face etched with concern. "You're right, Jérôme. We can't continue like this, with people getting closer to discovering the truth. But what can we do?" Jérôme thought for a moment and then said, "I have an idea. What if we create a fictional character, a superhero persona, to divert attention from you? We can ensure that this persona is always at the right place at the right time to perform extraordinary feats, while you remain in the shadows." Max considered the suggestion. "It's risky, but it might work. What would we call this fictional hero?" Jérôme smiled, a spark of excitement in his eyes. "How about 'Silver Guardian'? It's mysterious and heroic, just like you." And so, the plan was set into motion. Max would continue to use his abilities to help others, but now, he would do so while disguised as the Silver Guardian. With the help of Jérôme's inside information and connections, they ensured that the Silver Guardian became a legend in the city, a symbol of hope and protection. As the city's residents celebrated the hero in silver, Max and Jérôme kept their secret safe. Their love story had evolved into a tale of two heroes—one hidden in the shadows, the other wearing a silver mask—and together, they would continue to protect the city and their love, forever intertwined in an extraordinary journey.

Commission for Anonymous: After drinking a mysterious shake, Brandon’s crush, Ryan, takes him back to the locker room for a different kind of blowjob. More inflation than muscle growth in this one, you've been warned. Brandon arrived at the gym like every other day he came. Same old weights, same old lockers, same old gym. Brandon was wearing his standard gym attire. An athletic shirt and some basketball shorts. Brandon swiped his card at the front desk and entered the crowded gym. He looked around and saw plenty of regulars working out, but then he spotted him, Ryan. One of the biggest guys at the gym, Ryan was built like a tank. Broad shoulders, massive pecs, boulder biceps, a bit of a belly, but it looked great on him. The big man scratched his bushy beard and spotted Brandon on his way in. “Hey Brandon!” said the big guy as he walked over. “Hey Ryan.” Brandon blushed a little bit when he looked up at the giant. Ryan was wearing a tanktop that was hanging on top of his big pecs as well as some gym shorts that left very little to the imagination. “It’s good to see you buddy. I was hoping that I could get to see you today.” Ryan grabbed Brandon and pulled him into a big bear hug. Ruffling Brandon’s blonde hair. “Really? What’s so special about today?” asked Brandon as he admired the big muscled body he was being pushed against. “I’ve got this really cool new protein shake and wanted someone to try it. And I think you’re the perfect candidate!” said Ryan as he let go of Brandon. “Really? Why me?” “I think it would be perfect for the gains you wanna make,” said Ryan as they walked back to the locker rooms. Brandon went to the locker right beside Ryan’s and started unpacking his gym bag. “That’s awesome man. Sure I’ll try it out.” Ryan smirks to himself and pulls out a shaker. “Great here you go!” Ryan hands Brandon the shaker and Brandon starts drinking it. “Be sure to drink it all so you get the full effects of it.” Brandon nods as he keeps drinking. Chugging it down and letting out a satisfying belch when he’s done. “That was delicious!” said Brandon as the two walked out of the locker room. “Thanks. It’s my special recipe.” “What’s so special about it?” “Oh not much. I just think my recipe is great for guys that really wanna swell up in size,” said Ryan with a bit of a smirk. “Well that’s great then. You know how much I wanna get big. So what are we hitting today? Arms? Back? Shoulders?” “I was thinking chest. You good with that?” “Totally.” The pair walked to a bench press and Ryan started loading up the rack for Brandon. “Woah, that’s a lot of weight for a warm-up big guy. I don’t think I’m ready for that,” said Brandon as he started counting how much weight was being loaded onto the bar. “You’ll be fine, big guy. You have me as a spotter so there’s nothing to worry about. Now come on. Time to lift.” Brandon gave a hesitant look, but ultimately sat down on the bench and got into position to lift. “Alright, here we go big guy.” Ryan put his arms below the bar as Brandon started lifting it up. His arms were a bit shaky with all of this weight, but slowly he pulled the bar down and back up again. Getting in a set of 6. “See! I told you you could do it,” said Ryan as Brandon completed the set and put the bar back on the rack. “Oooof I feel funny though,” said Brandon as he sat back up holding his belly. “Urp!” Brandon’s eyes shot open as the loud burp escaped his mouth. “Oh jeez. Excuse me.” Brandon kept rubbing his belly as Ryan grabbed a couple more 45’s. “Woah Ryan, I really think I need to warm up a bit more. You’re getting closer to my PB with those weights. I’m not ready.” “Brandon, just trust me. You chugged those out like a pro. This will be no different.” Ryan put the weights on the bar and grabbed Brandon’s shoulders. “You can do this. Trust the shake. It’ll give you strength,” said Ryan as he eased Brandon back down to the bench. “Alright, I trust you.” Brandon put his hands on the bar and began to lift again. His arms were on fire from how much weight it was. He breathed in and lowered the bar down. “There ya go. You’ve got it! You’ve got it!” cheered Ryan as Brandon lifted the bar back up. Only to come down with it again to pump out three reps. At the end of the last rep, Brandon pushed himself and put the weight back on the rep then sat up. “UUURRRPPP!” Brandon let out a massive belch that echoed in the gym. “Oooooo I don’t feel so good. I think I need to go to the bathroom.” Brandon got up from the bench and started walking towards the locker room. Once inside, he started rubbing his belly. It felt bloated for some reason. He let out a couple of little belches then looked up when he heard footsteps approaching “Hey, are you okay bud?” asked Ryan as he saw Brandon sitting on the bench. “I don’t know. I feel…funny,” said Brandon as he kept absentmindedly rubbing his belly. “Funny how?” Ryan sat on the bench next to Brandon. His shoulder rubbing up against the smaller man. “I don’t know. Like there are air bubbles inside or something.” Brandon kept rubbing his belly, but then felt a hand go on top of his own. He looked down and saw that Ryan’s big mitt was on top of his hand. Tenderly rubbing his belly. Feeling little gurgles from it every once in a while. Brandon looked back up at Ryan’s face and saw a look of lust on his face. Without hesitation, Ryan leaned forward and planted a kiss on Brandon’s lips. Surprised at first, Brandon relaxed into the kiss. Leaning into it and making out with Ryan. Brandon couldn’t believe it, after all this time, his gym crush kissed him! It was incredible. The way his beard scratched against him was intoxicating. He could kiss him for eternity if he let him. But something seemed off. As the two made out, Brandon felt that same bubbly feeling in his stomach getting stronger. But he could feel Ryan’s strong hand still rubbing little circles on his belly. But something was definitely wrong when Brandon was feeling a tightening of his pants. He felt his gym shorts starting to dig into his sides as they continued to kiss. “Mmm Ryan, it’s not that I don’t love this, because I do, but I think I’m having a bad reaction to that shake,” said Brandon in between their kisses. “You’re fine, big guy. Just give into the kiss. I see how you stare at me all day when we’re at the gym together. You want this. And I want you. You’re gonna be the best balloon.” Brandon arched his eyebrow at that last word, but obeyed Ryan and kept kissing him despite his weird feeling. But Brandon was right to feel different. Ryan’s hands were exploring the man and feeling his handiwork. In just the few minutes they had been making out, Ryan had been blowing Brandon up like a balloon. Ryan reached down and rubbed Brandon’s belly. Brandon was a stocky guy before they started making out, but now his belly was getting rounder as it filled with air. Brandon’s oversized gym shirt made it look like he had stuffed a basketball inside that was quickly turning into a beachball. Ryan would press his hand into it and feel how tight and firm his gut was now as opposed to the pudge earlier. The moment Brandon knew something was really off was when he felt himself pushing into Ryan, but it was just his belly. His chest wasn’t up against him or anything, just his belly was pushing into Ryan on the bench. “Ryan, I think we need to stop. Something is definitely wrong.” Brandon pushed himself off of Ryan and was able to get a look at himself for the first time since they started kissing. He looked down in shock seeing his ball gut. Round and tight. “What the hell!?!” Brandon quickly got up from the bench and felt weird standing with his new body weight distribution. And he felt a new sensation upon standing up. His junk was pushing aggressively against his shorts. He looked down to see what had happened, but couldn’t see under his big belly. “Hey hey hey big guy, don't worry about it. Everything is alright. You look great,” said Ryan as he stood up holding Brandon’s hand. “What do you mean everything’s alright? I look overdue with twins!” Brandon waddled his way over to the mirror in the locker room and took a look at himself. He was stunned at what he saw. He wasn’t far off from the twins comment. He looked like he had stuffed a big beach ball in his shirt and started blowing it up. But that wasn’t the only thing that grew. His bulge in his shorts was looking obscure. The outline of his cock and balls could clearly be seen. “What did you do to me?” asked Brandon looking back at Ryan. “I just wanted to blow you up big guy. Get you huge,” said Ryan as he walked over to Brandon’s side and began rubbing his belly. “You look fantastic Brandon.” “Fantastic? I’m a blimp. You’ve been blowing me up!” said Brandon with some anger in his voice. “Yes I did, but don’t you love it?” Ryan got behind Brandon and started kissing his neck as he spoke. His big hands never leaving the ball belly. “You were the perfect guy for this. Your belly was meant to be grown like this. And you were meant to become my own personal balloon boy,” said Ryan as he moved his mouth up Brandon’s neck and closer to his lips. “Don’t lie to yourself, just give in. You’ll enjoy it.” Brandon looked at himself in the mirror and couldn’t help getting hard over Ryan’s words and the worship he was giving his belly. “Take me,” said Brandon as he turned his head to the side and met Ryan’s lips. Ryan smiled as he resumed kissing Brandon and steadily blowing air into him. The two shared a passionate kiss as Brandon’s gut began to grow again. Now that Ryan had nothing to hide, he decided to blow that belly up big. Ryan watched in the mirror as the belly grew and grew. Soon, Brandon’s oversized workout shirt couldn’t cover it. You could see Brandon’s treasure trail poking out as the belly grew further. Ryan tried his best to continue rubbing Brandon’s belly, but it was becoming difficult as his arms could reach less and less of it. Brandon’s giant yoga ball gut just kept growing until it touched the mirror in front of it. Ryan also came to the realization that more of Brandon’s body was beginning to round out. His chest now had joined his massive belly and became a part of the ball. Ryan could also feel Brandon’s back begin to push against him. Ryan even saw Brandon’s limbs beginning to sink into the orb. Brandon was becoming more and more ball-like by the second. The two were brought out of their trance when they heard a loud snap from Brandon’s shorts. Brandon let out a sigh of relief as his shorts had lost their battle to his expanding form. Only his jock stayed in place covering his massive bait and tackle. As the piece of fabric fell off, it had been holding back much of Brandon’s expansion towards his legs and without it, his legs were swallowed by the surmounting amount of air. The sudden change in his legs got Brandon off balance and he fell forward onto his big belly. Breaking their kiss, Ryan looked forward and saw the full extent of his inflation. Brandon was now stuck on his big belly. Unable to get back to his feet. Ryan could only smile and play with his hard cock. Ryan walked around Brandon admiring his size. Grabbing onto Brandon’s belly and rolling him up so that at least he was sitting up. “Wow Brandon, I’ve gotten you pretty big.” Ryan patted Brandon’s big gut and it was tight as a drum. Spinning Brandon so that he was no longer facing the mirror, Ryan stood back and got a better look at how big he’d inflated the balloon. Brandon was still shorter than him, but he was permanently perched on his big balloon body. His orb self had almost swallowed all of his limbs and he was incapable of movement. The only thing that didn’t get swallowed by his inflating body was his cock and balls, still covered up somehow by his jock. But it will not last long if Ryan starts blowing him up again. “Damn, I did a good job blowing you up piggy,” said Ryan as he circled the orb. “Ryan, I gotta ask, how is this even possible? How have I not exploded?” asked Brandon as he flailed his arms to keep eye contact with Ryan as he circled him. “That shake I gave you, the gas you were feeling after you drank it when we were lifting, that was your belly preparing to start inflating. And it also made your skin super stretchy. Here, watch.” Ryan grabbed the orb and spun him around so that they were face to face. He pulled off what little remained of Brandon’s shirt and grabbed his face. “Here, we’ll give piggy a pig nose.” Ryan reached for Brandon’s nose and started pulling on it. It started to extend outwards and when Ryan let go, it snapped back looking like a snout. “And some pig ears.” Ryan repeated the process this time grabbing Brandon’s ears and stretching them out and snapping them back into a position that made them pig-like. “There you go. My big piggy now looks the part.” “Oink oink,” said Brandon as he flared his nostrils. Ryan’s attention then shifted down towards Brandon’s big bulge. Ryan grabbed Brandon and rolled him backwards so that now his bulge was next to Ryan’s face. Ryan’s eyes got wide as he put one hand on it. At the slightest touch, Brandon started moaning below him. Ryan kept touching the massive cock, his fingers could barely close all the way around the shaft. “This however, was an unforeseen side effect.” Ryan grabbed the tight jock and pulled it off of Brandon. Allowing the cock to unfurl to its huge size. Ryan looked in awe at the massive size. Probably two feet long and as thick as a 2 liter bottle of soda with balls underneath it the size of cantaloupes. Ryan touched the exposed cock and it sent shivers across Brandon’s blimp form. “Hmm, I think piggy needs a blow job.” Ryan grabbed Brandon’s cock and started sucking it. Brandon moaned out as his lover’s lips danced on his cock head. Ryan grinned as he could see Brandon’s arms and legs flailing in pleasure. At that moment, an idea popped into Ryan’s head. He smirked and continued his blow job. Brandon was in heaven. His biggest gym crush was sucking his massive cock. He could feel Ryan’s beard grazing his fat balls. He was so close to cumming, he couldn’t even think straight. But Brandon noticed something odd happening around him. In his position, his arms and head were facing towards the lockers and for some reason they were getting closer to him. “What the hell?” Brandon looked up and saw his belly was getting even bigger. “Ryan! What’s happening?” “I’m just giving you a blow job.” Ryan laughed as he continued to blow air into Brandon’s cock. At this point, Ryan had his own cock in his hand and was jerking it off to the blimp he was blowing up. Looking at the growing orb, Ryan could no longer see Brandon’s head from his position. His belly was rivaling Ryan’s height, but Ryan kept blowing. He reached out and rubbed the massive belly in front of him. Feeling how tight it was. Then playing with Brandon’s balls that had grown to the size of basketballs. His dick had also slowly grown in his mouth going from 2 feet to 3. “Ryan, I don’t know if I can last much longer. I feel so tight. Getting so big!” Brandon’s moans filled the entire room. His body shuddered as Ryan’s mouth expertly pleased him. The ceiling of the locker room was only 8 feet tall and Brandon’s orb body was beginning to get dangerously close to it. His limbs had all but disappeared into his body. Only the hands and feet could be seen occasionally writhing in pleasure. Ryan broke his lips off of the big man’s cock and swiveled him around so that he could see his head. “You like being this big piggy?” Ryan’s cock was shooting pre onto Brandon’s belly as he spoke to him. “Yes Ryan! I love it! I just want to be your big blimp boy!” Brandon’s words were making Ryan go crazy. “YES! That is what you are! My big blimp piggy! Only here to blow up huge into my own personal balloon!” Ryan was moaning as he jerked his cock off. “Piggy I’m close!” “Me too. My cock feels like it’s about to explode!” Brandon’s entire form shuddered as his cock bucked. His balls ready to blow. “You’re mine!” shouted Ryan and started cumming all over Brandon. Coating the big blimp’s belly in cum. As Ryan’s orgasm started, Brandon started shooting cum against the lockers. Painting the entire wall with his jizz. Brandon shot and shot and shot. His big balls felt like they’d never empty. After what felt like an eternity, the shots got weaker and further between and the two were left in the after glow of their sex. “Fuck piggy. You got me good,” said Ryan as he leaned forward and kissed the blimp’s snout. “Anything for you big guy,” replied Brandon. His big belly heaved up and down as he panted from exhaustion. Ryan leaned against the ball of a man and marveled at its size. Brandon wasn’t hitting the ceiling yet, but had Ryan kept going, He would’ve busted out of the locker room. Feeling how taut the skin was on him. But still had some give to it if Ryan ever wanted to blow him up more. “So now what? When do I deflate?” asked Brandon. “Deflate? You won’t be deflating anytime soon. We’re just getting started, big guy.” Ryan grinned as he rubbed Brandon’s belly. “But how will I even get out of here? Can I even fit through that door?” “Hmm, let’s find out.” Ryan started to roll Brandon towards the door. Brandon’s balloon body being very light and easy to move. Brandon’s spherical form hit the sides of the door, but wouldn’t budge. Even the top of the orbs was too tall to squeeze through the door. “What am I gonna do? I can’t even fit through a door anymore,” groaned Brandon as Ryan continued to try to push him through. “Don’t worry big guy. If this door won’t fit, maybe we make our own door.” “What do you mean by that?” asked Brandon as Ryan swiveled him back to facing him. “Pucker up cutie. Because the only way you’re getting out of here is if you grow out of it.”

This is the second in the short Hulk series. Hope you like Roommate Hulk Ethan banged through the door of the house. "Chris! Chris! I got some stuff in the truck I need help with?" No response, "Chris?" Ethan went back outside. Yep, Chris' car was in the driveway. He had just broken up with his girl friend, so maybe he was in his room sulking. Ethan grabbed two bags out of the truck and headed inside. He heard a noise from Chris' room and put the bags down to go check on him. As he approached the closed door it was jerked open from inside and there stood Chris. 5'10 lean and athletic, but he had an odd smile on his face. Ethan laughed, "Man you startled me. Come help me. I found some great workout stuff we can use." Chris folded his arms, "Don't need it." Ethan was kind of shocked, "What? We both want to get big! I thought this would help you with...." "I said, I don't need it." All 5'5 of Ethan Thomas flared up. "What are you talking about? Why is your room all dark?" "You ask too many questions, little man. I fixed everything." Ethan started to get a little pissed off, "I just spent $200 on stuff that we can use for working out. You say you don't need it, fine! I'll just finish unloading and put it in my room." He turned to go and suddenly Chris shoved him from behind. Ethen slipped an banged his head against the wall. "Ow! What was that for? Why are you being an asshole?" "Wanna fight me?" "No. I want to unload the...." Chris shoved him again before he could finish and Ethan went down hard this time. "Fuck! Go away" Chris smirked, "Hit me. I can take it." "I don't want to hit you" Ethan turned and ran out the door to the truck. What the hell was going on? This was supposed to be his best friend and it's like he had been replaced by a creature from "Invasion of the Assholes" Ethan got the last couple of bags and started back to the house. He was going to just put them in his room and he got to the door, but Chris was just standing there blocking the door with that same smug look. "Hit me" he said again. Ethan snarled, "It is very tempting, but I just want to go to my room, then go to the gym" Chris snatched the bags from his hands and grabbed Ethan by the hair and dragged him inside then flung him on the floor. Ethan fell face down and lay panting trying to control the rage he felt right now. Chris shouted, "I want you to fight me. Get up you worthless little...." He was cut off as Ethan rolled over to face him. His eyes had turned white and the little 5'5 frame had started to swell. Chris said, "About damn time. I knew this would work." Ethan only felt rage and had not noticed that something was different. He snarled, "Get the fuck away from me!" And heard his own voice drop in pitch. He gasped. Chris finally smiled, "Yeah, bro. It's happening" Ethan felt the rage wash away and an intense feeling like his whole body was having an erection. He turned to face the full length hall mirror and stared. Chris was grinning behind him, but that was getting more difficult to see as he was inching higher and higher. Ethan's shoulders were widening and stretching his shirt, which pulled free of his jeans. The exposed abs were thickening like cobblestones and getting covered in a treasure trail of black hair. His arms felt tight in their sleeves as biceps and triceps ballooned until the short sleeves erupted. A thick network of veins snaked across his body. His lats flared out and with a loud rip the back of the shirt gave way. Ethan gasped loudly, and Chris laughed, "Fucking A dude. This is awesome!" Ethan turned to face him and the front of his shirt exploded as two massive pecs spilled out and pushed his nipples towards his feet. Lower ripping sounds occurred as his thighs broke through the seams on his jeans forcing him to widen his stance. Ethan suddenly made a face like he was in pain and Chris looked concerned for the first time. Worried maybe about the strain on his friend's heart. He reached for Ethan and said, "You ok?" Ethan grimaced and growled, "We...we....wedgie...ahhhhh" and with a loud rip his hugely muscled butt burst through the back of the jeans and split his boxers apart. Chris snorted in laughter. but then gasped. He had to look up now and saw that Ethan was beginning to turn green. There was a pop as the front of the jeans split open and a large 12" snake rose up to full attention. Chris backed against the wall. "Dude...this....this part wasn't supposed to happen....just....." Ethan opened his mouth but only a loud roar came out. The last of Ethan's clothing gave up and fell to the floor. What had once been a slender 5'5 handsomely nerdy youth was now a 6'5 700 pound green behemoth. The creature picked Chris up by the shoulders and threw him on the floor. Then roared. Chris rolled over and tried to scramble away but the creature was faster rumbling forward causing plaster to fall from the ceiling and walls. Then it glared at Chris with an odd smile and suddenly rolled it's eyes. Chris saw the precum leaking out of the dick and knew what was coming and tried to cover himself. With a loud roar the creature suddenly shot volley after volley across the living room hitting the ceiling and walls and covering Chris. Then it sank to the floor and whimpered. Chris made a face, "ew" he was covered in sticky greenish cum that smelled musk. He looked at the creature which appeared to be smaller and had lost the green color. Chris sat up and shook some of the worst off, then made his way over to where the creature sat. It looked up and growled at him. Chris put his hands up in a soothing gesture. "It's all right, bro. I'm not gonna hurt you." He sat down next to the creature and put his arms across its shoulders. He could only reach to the middle of Ethan's back but gradually could feel more and more. Soon Ethan was only around 5'8 but still around 300 pounds. He looked a little embarrassed and tried to cover his crotch. Chris laughed, "That's a little late" "Dude...I.....dude...." Chris smiled, "It's ok man" The pecs were slowly pulling back up to Ethan's chest. The arms grew smaller.The traps pulled down away from Ethan's neck. Finally with a last gasp, Ethan's eyes turned back to their normal blue color. "Dude...what just happened?" Chris smiled, "Did you like it?" Ethan shook his head in confusion, "What?" "This" he gestured to the ripped clothes and the general mess. "Look I found this site on line that called itself wishingdjinn.com. I figured, 'What the Hell?' I knew you always wanted to be big so I wished for it. " "If you wanted to see me naked, why didn't you just get in the shower with me? It would have saved some damage" "Yeah, well I didn't know about the green part. I figured you would just, ya know turn into a bodybuilder or something." "Well can you un-wish it?" "Sure I guess. Let's go back to my room and.....dude, you ok?" "I still feel kind of weird. I don't think I'm back to normal" "Let's go to my room and check on the computer" They went into Chris' room which was lit only by 2 candles and the PC screen. A picture of a smiling Djinn head was on the monitor. The screen had the label "Thank you for your wish. It is granted. Only one try per user" Chris went to the screen, "What do they mean one try? I need to refresh the page. I want to be big too." He hit the refresh button. The browser loaded, then came up with "404 Site not Found" "WHAT?!?! I need to un-wish my friend. I didn't want him to be the Hulk or anything...." refresh....404....refresh....404...."Damn it I want some muscle too" refresh....404....refresh....404...... "Dude" he heard Ethan call from behind him. "What?" he turned around. Ethan was standing on the scale with his back to Chris. "This says I'm 175. I was only 136 a couple of hours ago. I'm still not normal." Chris was staring at Ethan's muscular butt. He felt kind of odd. "You look pretty hot" then covered his mouth. Ethan turned around to look at him, "What did you just say?" Chris was bright red. "I...I....I've never felt this way before but...." Ethan smiled, "I like you too" Chris saw Ethan's dick start to harden up again, although this time it was a more normal size. He felt his own crotch stir at the site. Ethan walked over to him and Chris let him hug him. Then slowly hugged Ethan back. Chris kissed Ethan on the cheek. "I .....I love you....screw Nicole" Ethan smiled over Chris' shoulder. Then he closed his eyes and kissed Chris back on the cheek. He lifted his head to look at Chris and opened his eyes, which had turned white.....