As I Walked Into The Gym, I Couldn't Help But Notice The Overly Sweaty Jock Working Out On The Bench

Mexican Flavor

“God, what is that smell?” Paul muttered as he closed the door to his apartment. He’d known his roommate Henry was having some guests over, but he could have never expected to casually stroll into this gas chamber. The whole place reeked of a Mexican restaurant’s bathroom, the kind of restaurant that could leave someone on the toilet for hours. And to make matters worse, it almost seemed like there was a noticeable haze to the room too. Paul didn’t know what could’ve caused the apartment to hold a visible spore cloud. He’d have to find Henry to get to the bottom of this.

Tossing his work loafers and unknotting his tie, Paul hurriedly made his way over to his roommate’s room. He just wanted to get undressed and take a nap after a long day at the firm, still having a party to attend later that night. Henry had mentioned he was going to have some people over from his Dungeons and Dragons club. It wasn’t their usual day of the week, but there was a new guy who wanted to join. Some foreign-exchange student from Mexico or something, who according to Henry did not physically fit in with the rest of the group. Not the racial detail, but the fact that apparently the Mexican student was some jock who completely dwarfed all the nerds. Paul chuckled when Henry had told him that, imagining his roommate’s dramatization.

“Henry?” Paul knocked as he approached the bedroom. Paul didn’t hear a response, but he noticed that the odorous cloud did seem to be seeping out from underneath the door. Sighing, he called out Henry’s name again. When a reply didn’t come back again, Paul lifted the hem of his shirt over his nose and carefully walked in. Henry’s room looked the same as before; same Star Trek posters, same lame figurines from some video game, same tidy room overall. Well, except for the large man who was strewn across Henry’s bed. 

Lying on his stomach was a muscled Latino that Paul assumed had been the source of this stench. He was happily zonked out, snoring loudly. Paul cautiously moved closer, confused as to who this stranger was in Henry’s room. He was much bigger than the white nerd had ever been. This man was at least half a foot taller with every body part noticeably greater. Plumper thighs, heavier pouch, wider feet. The man was covered in workout gear that by the look of it had very recently been used. But when Paul began investigating the Latino’s handsome, caramel face, he was shocked to notice that the man was wearing glasses. Henry’s glasses.

BBRRRPPPTTT!

Inhaling generously, Paul blinked as he reevaluated the situation. Of course Enrique was wearing his glasses; he practically couldn’t see without them. The glasses were ironic really, being the only thing about his Mexican roommate that could be considered “nerdy”. Enrique’s life was built around fitness, besides eating good food and getting laid. When the foreign jock wasn’t working out, he’d be at home slobbing it up or in his bedroom with some stranger. So Paul wasn’t surprised when he came home to the apartment smelling like a Mexican restaurant’s bathroom. Enrique had said he was going for a workout after all with his güeyes, some other Mexican bro-types. 

But after all these years, Paul couldn’t remember Enrique’s funk being this bad, let alone his gas. Enrique had always had pretty bad body odor, something he blamed on his “proper Latino diet” and his frequent visits to the gym. Enrique even tried to convince Paul that there was evidence by how his body smelled, being that there was a little “Mexican flavor” to it. Paul never bought it, but now that he was in a concentrated room full of Enrique’s fart fumes he couldn’t deny there was an element that made the back of his throat and eyes tickle. He didn’t want to, but Paul had to wake Enrique to solve this (literally) visible smelly problem. Begrudgingly, he leaned forward across the larger man’s sleeping body to wake his roommate up.

PPHHRROOOOTTTT!

A pungent cloud of gas escaped Enrique’s wet buttocks, causing the unfortunately-placed Paul to stagger back and away from the bed. His head had been right over the danger-zone. He’d been so close in fact that Paul watched the flatulence push through the tight fabric of Enrique’s running shorts before blasting him in the face. The mass almost had a spore-like quality to it, the condensed fart gliding through Paul’s nostrils and right into his brain. Now on the floor, Paul’s head felt hazy from the direct blow. Still in his work trousers and button-up, he was barely able to hear the sound of a small toot escape his own bottom.

BBRRMMPPP!

“I gotta…I gotta get out of here…” Paul murmured, the awful stench causing him to lose focus. He was in survival mode now, the smell finally getting into his system and tainting him, corrupting him. Unable to stand without falling again, Paul carefully crawled his way across the room. Each step was not only one towards freedom but one away from his pungent roommate. Each step however was also getting more difficult to take. Paul heard a sudden creak in floorboards. He hoped it was his roommate, waking up to save him from this oddly disgusting fate. Instead, it was the door to the bedroom, shutting on its own like a metaphor from some horror movie; closing the coffin lid.

SSSHHHBBBBRRT!

Enrique’s plump cheeks let out another putrid gust of air. Paul rolled on the floor, his body weakening as he became powerless to the gas. His breathing slowed, accepting the stale air into his body. Paul’s eyes slowly shut after, his consciousness escaping. The foul fumes entered his system willingly as he surrendered. Having a lot of ground to cover, the odor coated both Paul’s interior and exterior. The last thing Paul heard was another fart from his own back end, although this time its ring was a little more similar to that of his Mexican roommate’s.

BBRMMPPHH!

Similar to his roommate’s situation, Paul’s body laid on the carpeted ground lifeless. His lungs were no longer functioning to take in oxygen and release carbon dioxide. Instead, their focus has been reoriented into processing more methane and hydrogen sulfide. The rotten components eagerly flooded Paul’s system, creating an almost hibernation-like state to ease into the metamorphosis stage. While the flatulence Paul inhaled from Enrique polluted his body, he released his own gas that disposed of his previous being.

FFRRRAAABBBTT!

The spores slowly multiplied and released from Enrique’s body into Paul’s. As particular areas became more concentrated, the malodorous work became more apparent. Being hit first and the hardest, Paul’s face was the quickest to change. His nose and jaw broadened dramatically, growing wider as his skull realigned itself into something squarer. His cleft pushed back and thickened, allowing for his lips to plump up with a little extra pout. Paul’s eyebrows became bushier while his hair took on a new texture, darkening into a lovely dark brown to match the altered shades of his brow line and barely-there stubble. Finally, his skin tanned into a honey-like color that begged to be tasted.

SSSHHBBRT!

More of Paul’s lifeless figure was coated. The small amount of fat that he had earned in his first years of desk work at the firm melted away, leaving behind supple muscular tissue. The erosion led to biceps, triceps, and quadriceps. Abs upon abs, pec beside pec. His calves were excavated underneath the years of unuse, now dug up to renew their purpose. Veins that had previously been hidden were now apparent, showing the renewed strength in Paul’s body. Once any part of Paul’s body was contaminated, updated, or corrected, the caramel color came sweeping in like a fresh coat of paint. 

The spores continued their work across Paul’s frame. His feet shrunk from their average US Size 10 to a more appropriate MX Size 26. His buttocks plumped up underneath his weight, now vibrating every time a new blast of gas was released. Paul’s pouch swelled larger too, each of his balls the size of ripened, flavorful tomatillos. His cock also grew meatier, girthier, swelling proudly into a thick chorizo sausage. Paul’s clothes also adapted, his office attire disappearing entirely except for his loose boxer shorts. Those shrunk in and stretched across his lower half, encasing the bronzed skin underneath a tight spandex material.

FFRRRBBTTT!

The fumes were now undeniably a fog, crowding all of Enrique’s room after being confined to such a small space. The last of Paul’s body was tainted in a matter of moments. His body hair either completely disappeared or transformed into something darker, coillier, and a heck of a lot smellier. His Adam’s apple shifted slightly upwards while his vocal chords replaced some vowel sounds with others. Even the tiniest details weren’t spared. Anything that could be made more Mexican was.

All this time, the spores from the toxic gasses had been infiltrating Paul’s body too. Memories of family in America, culture in America, life in America were all slowly altered. The red, white and blue became the prickly pear, rattlesnake, and golden eagle. Burgers and fries were erased by enmoladas and posole. Paul’s mom dropping him off at law school became Pablo’s mamá dropping him off at the airport. Paul’s life goals were centered around becoming an incredible lawyer, but Pablo’s life goals were centered around having a good time.

BBRRMMPPP!

-and spreading his Mexican flavor of course. Everyone had to get a whiff of him. He loved his manly, Latino scent. And he knew everyone else would as well. 

Wrapping up their job, the spores gathered the last bits of the previous being and ushered them towards the backdoor. Anything that screamed “American,” “white,” or “Paul” was clustered and pushed out the two new bouncy globes the man would call his mejor activo. With one final thrust, a concluding fart escaped his system, permanently discharging anything left of his former self.

FFBBBRRRMMPPHH!

Pablo’s eyes fluttered open slowly. He groaned, his head feeling cloudy from the hedor that lingered in the air. He loved it. Pablo adored his manly smell and wanted to indulge in it. Fortunately for him, it didn’t seem like su trasero was planning on stopping anytime soon.

“¡Amigo!” Enrique’s voice loomed from up above. Pablo pushed himself up, noticing his very atractivo roommate in the doorway. “You could’ve slept in mi cama,” he continued smoothly.

“I couldn’t make it,” Pablo replied with a cute accented English. “I fell to my knees when I saw your bella Durmiente.”

Enrique smirked and rolled his eyes. He sat on the floor to join his roommate/lover, but Pablo was already up. The two had unintentionally swapped spots. 

“¿Mi bebé varón?” Enrique purred, giving a playful smack to Pablo’s beach balls.  “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got that party tonight, remember? For that law firm.”

“Ah yes,” Enrique replied. “Lover by day, el compañero by night.”

Pablo smirked. “Don’t be too sad. I’ll be back soon.” He then turned in the open doorway, leaving a proper parting gift.

FFFFRRT!

Hi. I saw that you were happy to transform some guys. I wouldn't mind getting the ol' Hunkification treatment. Need a change in my life.

snap

Come here bro. Have a sit down. Let me take care of you. Take off your shirt, that’s it. And your pants too. Skinny jeans? Forget those. Gym shorts will be more your style.

Now, where to start. Hair? It’s all over you. Your chest, legs, face and arms. It’s not crazy unkempt, but you have a satisfying amount. Let’s make it a reddish-brown tint. You’re not a redhead, per say. But in the right light you can see it.

A nice hairy chest like yours needs pecs to go with it. Guys are gonna love curling their fingers around that fur of yours! They’ll follow it down your six pack stomach and into your hairy groin and dick. Glorious.

Let’s pump up your arms too. You spend a lot of time working on your chest, shoulders and arms. It’s paying off big time.

Just got the finishing touches … I’m thinking stink? A hairy guy like you needs sweat and musk to go with it. Have a whiff of those hairy pits of yours. Smells good, right?

I'm so sick of having to be responsible for other people. I just wanna be a stupid cum-gushing stoner himbo.

It's my fantasy to have a special strain of weed that everytime I smoke, it permanently bloats my balls, making them permanently overproduce so much cum and testosterone and making me so horny that I can't even think, doing my IQ and reducing me to a gooning pothead himbo.

Advent Calendar - December 6th

I never really thought of myself as the adventurous type. With my head buried in algorithms and codes, my life as a computer science student at the local university was anything but exciting. That is until today, when I stumbled upon something quite out of the ordinary in my holiday advent calendar. The traditional chocolates had been replaced by unique surprises each day, and today's treat stood out - a small pouch filled with weed that emitted a strong whiff of peppermint, it also looked a little bit like a Christmas tree which was a nice touch.

Intrigued by this unusual find, I cautiously inspected the contents. Now, I'm not completely unfamiliar with weed; I had tried it once in the past out of sheer curiosity. I vividly remember the mellow high and occasional giggles that followed. However, this peppermint-scented variant was an entirely different league.

The scent was intoxicating, to say the least, creating a wave of both bewilderment and curiosity. I had never encountered anything like this before. As I held the pouch, the peppermint aroma seemed to cast a spell, drawing me in further. With a mixture of doubt and intrigue, I found myself pondering over the unusual effects this strain might induce. Could it be stronger, more potent than anything I had tried before?

With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, I decided to smoke it. As the peppermint-laced smoke filled my lungs, a wave of unexpected sensations began. The scent was indeed hypnotic, drawing me in further with each breath. At first, there was just a faint tingling sensation around my groin, subtle but undeniably present. Then, as if out of nowhere, a surge of raw, intense horniness exploded within me.

I wasn't prepared for the intensity of it, the way it seemed to consume my thoughts and make everything else fade into the background. It was as if my mind was being clouded, the once sharp edges of my intelligence dulled by the overpowering wave of desire. At first, I fought against it, trying to hold on to my rational thoughts even as they slipped further and further away. But the horniness was relentless, its grip on me tightening with each passing second.

The urge to give in became overwhelming, the promise of mindless pleasure too enticing to resist. Gradually, I began to succumb to it, allowing the primal instincts to take over. The initial struggle was replaced by a growing sense of surrender, my once sharp mind now shrouded in a blissful fog of arousal.

As the intoxicating effects of the peppermint weed took hold, my body began to change in ways I couldn't have imagined. Firstly, my arousal seemed to intensify with each passing second. It was as if a never-ending surge of lust pulsed through my veins, making the simplest of thoughts clouded by explicit images and urges. My pupils dilated, the once sharp edges of my vision becoming hazy as if I was perpetually lost in a state of pleasure-filled daze.

But it was the physical changes that truly took me by surprise. I could feel a heavy weight starting to form in my groin, the unmistakable sensation of my balls beginning to swell. They grew larger and heavier, sagging prominently with the sheer abundance of cum and testosterone they were now producing.

Every step I took, every movement I made, the swinging of my heavy balls served as a hypnotic rhythm that fueled my growing arousal. And the precum, it seemed to flow endlessly from my overproductive cock, a relentless stream of sticky pleasure that coated my skin. The feeling of it was velvety smooth and enticing, a constant tease that left me wanting more.

Physically, the changes were becoming more pronounced. My once lean frame was now taking on a different form, the slight musculature of a stoner replacing the skinny build of a computer science nerd. The well-defined lines of my arms and chest hinted at a subtle strength, a result of the relentless munchies and munching I found myself indulging in. My body, once devoid of any real muscles, was now adorned with a lanky, lean physique that exuded a distinct aura of musky arousal.

As the weed's effects continued to exert their hold, I could feel my once sharp mind becoming clouded, the complex thoughts and academic knowledge gradually slipping away. In their place, a singular focus emerged - the relentless pursuit of pleasure. Every thought, every action revolved around this basic instinct, the once intricate workings of my intellect replaced by a primal simplicity.

 "Mmm, I like...feel good," these were the words that now dominated my thoughts, a simple and crude expression of the all-encompassing desires that filled my blank mind. I could feel my once extensive vocabulary dwindling, the complex sentences making way for a more straightforward, almost childlike manner of speech. The once intellectual discourse was replaced by a single-minded repetition of basic needs and desires.

I reached down, my large hand gripping my thickened cock, slick with the constant flow of precum. Each stroke felt like a jolt of raw pleasure, the kind that bypasses rational thought and goes straight to the primal core. I could feel the weight of my heavy balls, their persistent sag now serving as a hypnotic rhythm that fueled my growing arousal. My other hand wandered over my lean torso, the subtle strength of a stoner evident in every curve and line. I leaned in, inhaling deeply, my nostrils filled with the unmistakable scent of pit musk - a heady mix of sweat, weed and testosterone that served as an intoxicating aphrodisiac.

As the haze of the weed clouded my already dulled mind, my actions became solely focused on pleasure. The relentless edging sessions, the hours spent in a state of mindless bliss were a testament to this singular pursuit. Each touch, each stroke was a worship of the changes that had taken over my body, a celebration of the unrelenting desires that now defined me.

I gooned hard, the hours blending into a continuous loop of raw pleasure. My once sharp mind was now a blank slate, every rational thought replaced by a simple, crude need for mindless pleasure.

Finally, I could feel it building, a relentless wave of pleasure that seemed to emanate from the very depths of my being. Each stroke, each touch was a step closer to the edge, the promise of release hanging heavy in the thick, hazy air. And then it hit me, I finally succumbed to the ecstasy of release, a jolt of pleasure so intense that it seemed to shatter the very fabric of my senses.

The first rope of cum erupted from my overproductive cock, the force of it hitting me like a physical blow. It was thick, creamy, and unrelenting - a relentless stream of pure bliss that coated my skin in its velvety warmth. I could taste the saltiness of it on my lips, the earthy aroma of musk serving as a constant reminder of the raw eroticism of the moment.

And it didn't stop, the waves of pleasure were continuous, each climax more intense than the last. The cum, it seemed endless - a testament to the overproductive nature of my heavy, sagging balls. It dripped down my body, a tantalizing tease that left me wanting more. Each wave of release was a crescendo of pleasure, the world around me fading into nothingness as the singular focus on my pure, unadulterated ecstasy took over.

With a primal need, I scooped up the thick, creamy cum that adorned my skin. Each finger that dipped into the smooth texture was a deliberate motion, a way to prolong the raw pleasure that the simple act evoked. I could feel the weight of the cum in my mouth, the taste a heady mix of salt and - thanks to the weed - an unmistakable pepperminty sweetness. It was something I savored, each deliberate movement of my tongue a celebration of the raw eroticism that now defined me.

As I lay down in the puddle of my own cum, the surrealism of the moment hit me. And as I succumbed to the comforting embrace of sleep, the relentless high of the weed and the lingering taste of my own cum served as a lullaby, each sensation a promise of the raw pleasures that awaited.

—————

As a side note I really fucking hate tumblrs porn ban, I’ve had to delete 3 pics already from this story just to get it live

The Motorcycle learning experience

— This story was a bit rushed so srry!! Still kinda ate, let me know what u think! —

It was Christmas, and Logan found himself gifted of an intriguing gift: a full-day motorcycle riding lesson with an instructor. As an 18-year-old nerd, he initially felt apprehensive about the gift, that was given from his roommate. Motorcycles, cars, sports… none of those were interesting to him, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless and thanked his roommate before going to sleep for the night.

Months later, the appointed day arrived, and as Logan made his way to the designated location, he experienced an unusual sensation of liberation. It was a feeling he couldn't quite place, but he attributed it to the novelty of learning something outside his usual comfort zone, or because he was about to turn into the hottest biker the world had seen.

Upon arriving at the building, he was greeted by a man clad in a full Dainese leather suit and helmet, arms crossed in anticipation. Logan couldn't help but feel uncertain about the leather attire, but resigned himself to the fact that he would be wearing a suit likely worn by countless others before him—a thought that left him mildly repulsed.

Logan also never really liked bikers, each time he encountered one they were moving around traffic dangerously, almost making cars crash including himself. He wondered why his roommate had the idea to gift him that, it was totally not what he would usually enjoy and his roommate knew it.

"Yo, are you Logan?" the man inquired, removing his helmet to reveal a strikingly handsome, youthful visage reminiscent of a high school jock.

"H-hello...yes, I'm Logan," he stuttered, suddenly feeling more self-conscious in the presence of the attractive boy. Despite his heterosexual orientation, Logan found himself inexplicably drawn to the allure of the leather-clad figure, his attention inadvertently fixating on the notable bulge accentuated by the attire.

"Alright, man, let's get started! I'll teach you the basics, but I've heard you've been riding for quite some time, so I won't need to hold your hand too much," the instructor remarked, interrupting Logan's internal musings.

"Actually—" Logan began, only to be cut off.

"So, first things first, here are your, pants, and leather jacket. Did you bring your own helmet?"

"No, I didn't..." Logan admitted, feeling increasingly bewildered by the instructor's assumptions and distracted by his own conflicting emotions.

"Bro, it's in your biker backpack right there," the instructor interjected, gesturing toward a backpack resting nearby. Logan turned to see the backpack for the first time, realizing he had been oblivious to its presence amidst the flurry of confusion. Overwhelmed by the situation and the instructor's disarming charisma, Logan's thoughts began to slow as he struggled to process what was happening.

“Man, bikers can be dumb sometimes..you’re no exception, but we got a little issue. I only have one pair of boots, which are mine, I ride with them everyday and they’re very good, bro. Just take ‘em.”

Logan took the boots without even replying, his head fogged up.

*arriving in the changing rooms, the instructor was following him.*

“Alright, first, the boots, bro.” The instructor grabbed them, and all of the sudden, shoved one of them into Logan’s face; the boot had a cheesy, hot intoxicating musk that immediately made Logan pass out. The funk was unlike anything he’d ever smelled, it was very hot and humid, while being absolutely disgusting.

-2 hours later-

Logan wakes up, surprisingly finding himself in full Dainese leather that did not fit him at all, the leather suit was ridiculously large, more fitting for a man the size of the instructor, and Logan was skinny. He tried to take the jacket off, but it was stuck to him, he started to panic.

“Nah bro, don’t take it off. You’re becoming a biker boy now.”

“S-stop..get it OFF!” He was becoming mad and anxious, not knowing what was going on and panicking inside the suit.

“Alright bro, it’s coming again.” The instructor was coming with the same biker boot in his hand as earlier, and Logan knew what was coming. He again shoved the biker boot on his face, the odiferous stench inside of it making him pass out again after just a few sniffs.

As he was passed out - the instructor watched Logan’s feet grow, more and more, until they stopped at a size 13.5, with long thick toes and perfectly cut nails. The smell emitting from his new feet was simply rancid, and similar to the instructors. Cheesy, manly, and sweaty. Every time he’d remove his boots, or shoes, the strench would be able to reek up an entire area. The instructor thought it would be good for dominating.

Next, Logan’s legs shrunk a little. Not in musculature, but in height. He became 5’9 fairly quickly, which was still a proper height.

Speaking of musculature, his legs and quads exploded out, becoming full of muscles and veins. They were a sight to see, and his thighs able to crush watermelons easily.

The instructor needed to keep Logan passed out, and this time he chose his feet. He took his big fat muscular biker feet, wrapped in white Nike socks that were more yellowish now, and shoved them into Logan’s nose again, keeping him « asleep ».

After his legs, came the awaited moment of his butt. It was currently hidden beneath the leather, so flat that it couldn’t be seen at all. Suddenly, the once flat buns were becoming stronger, and bigger. They were becoming large, fat and full of muscles. Not necessarily massive, but round with fat and muscles. The two orbs now started to bulge out of the leather pants attractively.

As the transformation continued, Logan would now have another way to dominate and be worshipped due to; frequent & fetid gas. His digestive system changed, matching one that would be made to emit farts very frequently, and even more due to Logan’s new diet, burgers, tacos, and overall greasy foods made his gas smell like rotten eggs & sulfur. The strench would also get caught up in the leather gear and make his entire body stink whenever he was wearing leather pants.

Logan couldn’t feel it, but his penis was now undergoing some changes. The precious 3 inches had been growing at the same time as his orbs in the back, now stopping at an over average but still reasonable 6 inches, but a smaller 3 inches soft, with balls that would be able to produce lots of alpha cum.

The once unassuming upper physique of the 18-year-old nerd underwent a discernible metamorphosis – his abs, once absolutely inexistant ,emerged with striking definition, now a defined sweaty 6pack that would turn heads whenever he was shirtless.

His chest, once modest in appearance, underwent a notable change. It expanded and firmed up, revealing well-defined pecs that seemed almost pillowy in their muscular fullness.The leather jacket sleeves strained against the growing bulk of his arms, which were also changing, combining sinewy strength with a compelling visual presence.

The aroma of genuine leather lingered around him, but other than that atmosphere, a unique fragrance emanated from Logan's body. His armpits, once understated, now emitted a confident, sweaty alpha scent – a true proof of him being an alpha, made to dominate and be worshipped.

As Logans transformation would soon end, his facial features underwent very much needed changes. he once unassuming face of the 18-year-old nerd evolved into something strikingly different. His jawline sharpened, cheekbones gained prominence, and his eyes took on a newfound intensity.

Simultaneously, subtle changes extended to his overall attractiveness. His skin acquired a healthy glow, and any lines that hinted at youth's passing subtly softened, adding an undeniable allure to his appearance.

Then, Logan woke up. Mixed thoughts were in his head, both wanting to escape and other ones where he thought he’d always been a biker boy, dominant and alpha.

“Right. MAX. What’s your name?” The instructor asked.

“I’m..Logan…” Logan, or should I say max, answered.

“No, your name has always been max, you’ve always been a dominant biker boy, 19 years old, bisexual, horny, gross, primal and eager to fuck.” The instructor said, hypnotising Max permanently and overwriting his previous memories.

“Yeah bro, I’m max. Wanna smell my fucking feet ?”

The transformation was complete. Max drove home on his motorcycle, smelling ripe with sweat and very hungry for a hole to fill. It was his new life. Max just wanted to dominate, fuck, spread his funk, and ride.

Mexican Flavor

“God, what is that smell?” Paul muttered as he closed the door to his apartment. He’d known his roommate Henry was having some guests over, but he could have never expected to casually stroll into this gas chamber. The whole place reeked of a Mexican restaurant’s bathroom, the kind of restaurant that could leave someone on the toilet for hours. And to make matters worse, it almost seemed like there was a noticeable haze to the room too. Paul didn’t know what could’ve caused the apartment to hold a visible spore cloud. He’d have to find Henry to get to the bottom of this.

Tossing his work loafers and unknotting his tie, Paul hurriedly made his way over to his roommate’s room. He just wanted to get undressed and take a nap after a long day at the firm, still having a party to attend later that night. Henry had mentioned he was going to have some people over from his Dungeons and Dragons club. It wasn’t their usual day of the week, but there was a new guy who wanted to join. Some foreign-exchange student from Mexico or something, who according to Henry did not physically fit in with the rest of the group. Not the racial detail, but the fact that apparently the Mexican student was some jock who completely dwarfed all the nerds. Paul chuckled when Henry had told him that, imagining his roommate’s dramatization.

“Henry?” Paul knocked as he approached the bedroom. Paul didn’t hear a response, but he noticed that the odorous cloud did seem to be seeping out from underneath the door. Sighing, he called out Henry’s name again. When a reply didn’t come back again, Paul lifted the hem of his shirt over his nose and carefully walked in. Henry’s room looked the same as before; same Star Trek posters, same lame figurines from some video game, same tidy room overall. Well, except for the large man who was strewn across Henry’s bed. 

Lying on his stomach was a muscled Latino that Paul assumed had been the source of this stench. He was happily zonked out, snoring loudly. Paul cautiously moved closer, confused as to who this stranger was in Henry’s room. He was much bigger than the white nerd had ever been. This man was at least half a foot taller with every body part noticeably greater. Plumper thighs, heavier pouch, wider feet. The man was covered in workout gear that by the look of it had very recently been used. But when Paul began investigating the Latino’s handsome, caramel face, he was shocked to notice that the man was wearing glasses. Henry’s glasses.

BBRRRPPPTTT!

Inhaling generously, Paul blinked as he reevaluated the situation. Of course Enrique was wearing his glasses; he practically couldn’t see without them. The glasses were ironic really, being the only thing about his Mexican roommate that could be considered “nerdy”. Enrique’s life was built around fitness, besides eating good food and getting laid. When the foreign jock wasn’t working out, he’d be at home slobbing it up or in his bedroom with some stranger. So Paul wasn’t surprised when he came home to the apartment smelling like a Mexican restaurant’s bathroom. Enrique had said he was going for a workout after all with his güeyes, some other Mexican bro-types. 

But after all these years, Paul couldn’t remember Enrique’s funk being this bad, let alone his gas. Enrique had always had pretty bad body odor, something he blamed on his “proper Latino diet” and his frequent visits to the gym. Enrique even tried to convince Paul that there was evidence by how his body smelled, being that there was a little “Mexican flavor” to it. Paul never bought it, but now that he was in a concentrated room full of Enrique’s fart fumes he couldn’t deny there was an element that made the back of his throat and eyes tickle. He didn’t want to, but Paul had to wake Enrique to solve this (literally) visible smelly problem. Begrudgingly, he leaned forward across the larger man’s sleeping body to wake his roommate up.

PPHHRROOOOTTTT!

A pungent cloud of gas escaped Enrique’s wet buttocks, causing the unfortunately-placed Paul to stagger back and away from the bed. His head had been right over the danger-zone. He’d been so close in fact that Paul watched the flatulence push through the tight fabric of Enrique’s running shorts before blasting him in the face. The mass almost had a spore-like quality to it, the condensed fart gliding through Paul’s nostrils and right into his brain. Now on the floor, Paul’s head felt hazy from the direct blow. Still in his work trousers and button-up, he was barely able to hear the sound of a small toot escape his own bottom.

BBRRMMPPP!

“I gotta…I gotta get out of here…” Paul murmured, the awful stench causing him to lose focus. He was in survival mode now, the smell finally getting into his system and tainting him, corrupting him. Unable to stand without falling again, Paul carefully crawled his way across the room. Each step was not only one towards freedom but one away from his pungent roommate. Each step however was also getting more difficult to take. Paul heard a sudden creak in floorboards. He hoped it was his roommate, waking up to save him from this oddly disgusting fate. Instead, it was the door to the bedroom, shutting on its own like a metaphor from some horror movie; closing the coffin lid.

SSSHHHBBBBRRT!

Enrique’s plump cheeks let out another putrid gust of air. Paul rolled on the floor, his body weakening as he became powerless to the gas. His breathing slowed, accepting the stale air into his body. Paul’s eyes slowly shut after, his consciousness escaping. The foul fumes entered his system willingly as he surrendered. Having a lot of ground to cover, the odor coated both Paul’s interior and exterior. The last thing Paul heard was another fart from his own back end, although this time its ring was a little more similar to that of his Mexican roommate’s.

BBRMMPPHH!

Similar to his roommate’s situation, Paul’s body laid on the carpeted ground lifeless. His lungs were no longer functioning to take in oxygen and release carbon dioxide. Instead, their focus has been reoriented into processing more methane and hydrogen sulfide. The rotten components eagerly flooded Paul’s system, creating an almost hibernation-like state to ease into the metamorphosis stage. While the flatulence Paul inhaled from Enrique polluted his body, he released his own gas that disposed of his previous being.

FFRRRAAABBBTT!

The spores slowly multiplied and released from Enrique’s body into Paul’s. As particular areas became more concentrated, the malodorous work became more apparent. Being hit first and the hardest, Paul’s face was the quickest to change. His nose and jaw broadened dramatically, growing wider as his skull realigned itself into something squarer. His cleft pushed back and thickened, allowing for his lips to plump up with a little extra pout. Paul’s eyebrows became bushier while his hair took on a new texture, darkening into a lovely dark brown to match the altered shades of his brow line and barely-there stubble. Finally, his skin tanned into a honey-like color that begged to be tasted.

SSSHHBBRT!

More of Paul’s lifeless figure was coated. The small amount of fat that he had earned in his first years of desk work at the firm melted away, leaving behind supple muscular tissue. The erosion led to biceps, triceps, and quadriceps. Abs upon abs, pec beside pec. His calves were excavated underneath the years of unuse, now dug up to renew their purpose. Veins that had previously been hidden were now apparent, showing the renewed strength in Paul’s body. Once any part of Paul’s body was contaminated, updated, or corrected, the caramel color came sweeping in like a fresh coat of paint. 

The spores continued their work across Paul’s frame. His feet shrunk from their average US Size 10 to a more appropriate MX Size 26. His buttocks plumped up underneath his weight, now vibrating every time a new blast of gas was released. Paul’s pouch swelled larger too, each of his balls the size of ripened, flavorful tomatillos. His cock also grew meatier, girthier, swelling proudly into a thick chorizo sausage. Paul’s clothes also adapted, his office attire disappearing entirely except for his loose boxer shorts. Those shrunk in and stretched across his lower half, encasing the bronzed skin underneath a tight spandex material.

FFRRRBBTTT!

The fumes were now undeniably a fog, crowding all of Enrique’s room after being confined to such a small space. The last of Paul’s body was tainted in a matter of moments. His body hair either completely disappeared or transformed into something darker, coillier, and a heck of a lot smellier. His Adam’s apple shifted slightly upwards while his vocal chords replaced some vowel sounds with others. Even the tiniest details weren’t spared. Anything that could be made more Mexican was.

All this time, the spores from the toxic gasses had been infiltrating Paul’s body too. Memories of family in America, culture in America, life in America were all slowly altered. The red, white and blue became the prickly pear, rattlesnake, and golden eagle. Burgers and fries were erased by enmoladas and posole. Paul’s mom dropping him off at law school became Pablo’s mamá dropping him off at the airport. Paul’s life goals were centered around becoming an incredible lawyer, but Pablo’s life goals were centered around having a good time.

BBRRMMPPP!

-and spreading his Mexican flavor of course. Everyone had to get a whiff of him. He loved his manly, Latino scent. And he knew everyone else would as well. 

Wrapping up their job, the spores gathered the last bits of the previous being and ushered them towards the backdoor. Anything that screamed “American,” “white,” or “Paul” was clustered and pushed out the two new bouncy globes the man would call his mejor activo. With one final thrust, a concluding fart escaped his system, permanently discharging anything left of his former self.

FFBBBRRRMMPPHH!

Pablo’s eyes fluttered open slowly. He groaned, his head feeling cloudy from the hedor that lingered in the air. He loved it. Pablo adored his manly smell and wanted to indulge in it. Fortunately for him, it didn’t seem like su trasero was planning on stopping anytime soon.

“¡Amigo!” Enrique’s voice loomed from up above. Pablo pushed himself up, noticing his very atractivo roommate in the doorway. “You could’ve slept in mi cama,” he continued smoothly.

“I couldn’t make it,” Pablo replied with a cute accented English. “I fell to my knees when I saw your bella Durmiente.”

Enrique smirked and rolled his eyes. He sat on the floor to join his roommate/lover, but Pablo was already up. The two had unintentionally swapped spots. 

“¿Mi bebé varón?” Enrique purred, giving a playful smack to Pablo’s beach balls.  “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got that party tonight, remember? For that law firm.”

“Ah yes,” Enrique replied. “Lover by day, el compañero by night.”

Pablo smirked. “Don’t be too sad. I’ll be back soon.” He then turned in the open doorway, leaving a proper parting gift.

FFFFRRT!

Grindr Gold

This is a rewrite of Rozza’s rewrite of Tinder Gold. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

“Fuck, why don’t you guys respond!”, Tom moaned as he fell back into his bed. Another guy had just gone and ghosted him, the sixth one this week. Tom was pissed and confused as to why he was failing with so many guys. It was true that he didn’t have the looks. Average height, average hair, average face. A face dotted with acne, on top of his unremarkable body, pudgy from years of studying. He was smart, provably so, but also funny and kind. He hoped that would shine through in his bio. Tom went back to his phone and looked over it, and his pics. Maybe there was something he could tweak to make him more attractive. Or it could be a waste of time. All the guys wanted was cheap sex with the man of their dreams, and that was it.

Tom was about to let go of the phone when he saw a new banner at the bottom of the screen, advertising Grindr Gold. “Stop looking for the perfect match - become one!” It totally looked like a scam to Tom, but he had been so unlucky recently that he would consider anything. He tapped the banner, bringing up the purchase screen. It wasn’t very clear to him exactly what they provided for the hefty $250 a month. “Personalized profile to maximize your chance to strike gold.” Whatever. The first month was $10, and he could cancel at any point, according to the page. He could buy it, maybe get a few dates, and then keep the profile as is after cancelling.

He tapped his screen again to pay, ignored a mile of terms and conditions, and finalized his payment. He looked impatiently at the screen as nothing happened. Everything was the same. A scam after all. A few seconds later there was a knock on the door, giving Tom a jump scare. He got up to go and see who it was, still pissed about his lost $10. He opened the door and almost dropped his jaw on the floor. Outside the door was the most handsome twink he had ever seen, online as well as in the flesh. A shorter, younger boy with bronzed skin, blond hair in a quiff, sparkling green eyes, and just as sparkling, white smile. He was wearing gold shorts, trendy shoes, and nothing else, showing off the rest of his body. It was fit, without being muscular or overly cut, showing hints of definition and abs. His skin was beautifully, evenly tanned and smooth, and like the rest of him looked perfected with many products. His face had been cleansed of any impurities and facial hair, while his golden gelled up quiff was flanked by freshly buzzed sides. Tom’s brained blanked, partly because of the unexpected surprise visitor, partly because of this visitor in particular, and partly because the blood rushed into his quickly stiffening dick.

“Tom, I assume?” the twink queried.

Tom was speechless, struggling with where to look. When he looked at the face his eyes were drawn into the green eyes, and it felt rude and awkward to gaze into an unknown mans eyes like that. Anywhere else on the body was worse. Look at the nipples? The golden bulge?

“I am Grindr Gold, professional dater and dating expert, and I am here to assist you. May I come in?” Tom was struggling to comprehend that Grindr Gold wasn’t a software update, or a service feature, or even a scam, but a real, life something seemingly teleported to outside his door.

“Yeah… Yes! Yes, of course. Step right in.” Tom moved out of the way and waved towards the interior of the messy apartment. “Are you some kind of dating coach? Will you get me laid?”

“Of course! I am Grindr Gold, and I never disappoint.” Gold was slowly turning, taking in the sight of Tom’s small student apartment.

“Wait, your name is Grindr? No, nevermind. What’s first?”

“Take off your shirt and have a seat”, he motioned towards Tom’s study armchair. “We know exactly what everyone is looking for, what types get hookups, what the supply and demand is. I’m here to improve supply where it is needed the most. Firstly, no one wants another post-college graduate. There are plenty of them around. They want a freshly minted fuckboi.“

What did he just say now? Did he just say fuckboi? No way Tom was going to be like one of those dumbasses, who just existed to get laid. But before he could object, Gold began waving his hands. Tom became dizzy and distorted as energy waves from Gold’s hands flew into him. His skin vibrated, turning back years. His fat mostly melted away, leaving a little around his stomach. The hair on his chest receded back into his skin, softening out his pecs. The hair on his legs thinned out as well, but remained spread out for his age. The lines and bags on his face, caused by all the stress of college, faded. His looks had gone from mid-twenties PhD student to a youthful 18 year old.  

“What the fuck! This isn’t what I wanted! I look like a dumb teenager!”, Tom shouted in a decidedly younger voice, as he saw his reflection on his phone screen.

“Relax, this is just the first step to getting you laid. Your profile said you are just looking for a hookup, right?”

“Yeah, but not like…”

“I’m gonna do the best I can, making you the most sought after fuck for miles. Let me change your mind on this. If things don’t work out, we can always go for a different look. Now we gonna get you yeeted up…”

Without waiting for a response Gold started massaging Tom’s arms, infusing them with the same energy. Tom laid back as all he could do was relax in Gold’s hands. Gold moved his hands carefully across the entire surface of Tom’s skin, everywhere his hands went hair disappeared. After finishing with his arms, he moved to his chest and then finishing with his legs, removing any stray patches of hair.  Once he was done, the only hair left was around his dick and his pits. Gold focused harder now, causing his hands to vibrate and made a second pass. This time as they swept across Tom’s body they instilled a golden tan with a touch of Italian olive as he rewrote his genetics. His hands swept through the mess of Tom’s hair, changing it into a light, crisp brown. Then he continued down, focusing on Tom’s face, cleansing it of impurities and perfecting his features. Tom’s nose and mouth shrunk, though his lips grew, and eyes turned brown. Gold poked Tom’s nipples causing them to darken and grow slightly. Golds hands then pushed the energy down Tom, doing unseen magic down his pants.

“Now, anyone can be young and pretty, but there are really only two sorts of people looking for a date around here. Alpha males, and those who wish they were. And there is one thing that get both of them going, that invites them to dominate.” Gold stepped back and framed his hands sideways as if to take an invisible picture. Then he quickly slammed his hands together. To Tom, it felt like crashing into a pool of water. All of a sudden he was being compressed. His height fell from 5′10 foot down to a more modest 5'6. His limbs crushed in on themselves to meet his new height. Feet and hands adjusting down as well. His size 10 feet shrank to a cuter 7.5. His loss of height and body hair made him look not just young, but cute. The kind of look that if he got angry people would find it adorable. How on earth was any of this going to get him laid? Gold smiled, sensing his skepticism.

“Patience fam, the best is on the way! I promised I would change your mind.” Gold took one hand and placed it on Tom’s temple and with the other grabbed his small package.

“Wait what are you…. ohhh…” Tom moaned as his muscles slacked and resistance faded. He could feel a strange hum in his mind and a stirring in his dick. The sensation scared him but it was also too pleasurable to fight. Tom’s hair began to change, his sides faded down so you could see his skin, while the hair on the top also shortened, before collecting into a cute ruffle. Tom’s pecs remained small but the remaining fat converted into muscle giving him a toned look. His arms swelled with strength and pudgy stomach shrank into a faint but hard six-pack. At the same time, his small dick began to grow, gaining inches. His facial features became more pointed, eyes darkening with hunger and lust in them, and his mouth curled into a pout smile, with his lips puffing up into a pseudo duck shape unless consciously pulled back.

Old Tom would be embarrassed at him now, but Tommy was swimming in horniness, as he began to lust for boys and sex. Any knowledge he had gained, and dreams of careers faded and were replaced with a desire for screwing every boy in town. Gold’s smile transformed into a grin.

“One last thing to make you a proper fuckboi!” Gold said as his energies forced themselves into Tommy one last time. Two shiny studs pierced his ears, glistening in the sunlight. A golden bracelet appeared on his left wrist. Tommy looked down, feeling his dick still growing and tingling, and saw Calvin Klein underwear peeking out from a pair of baller shorts, with slowly filling bulge.

“Ahhhhhhhh fuck boooooooooi!” Tommy screamed in his soft, boyish voice as he came, filling his underwear with boy cream. Posters of video games vanished, replaced by posters of boys bands, athletes and cars. His new idols and interests. His computer shrank and changed into a worn-out basketball and books evaporated, replaced with sports gear, outdoor equipment and playboy magazines.

Having done the final touches on wardrobe, accessories and interior decoration, Gold turned to Tommy. “I have a new Grindr bio ready to go for you. Just need a new photo to update your profile with. You should take it with your shirt off. Do it somewhere public, like an elevator or shopping mall, so you look easy and cheap. It’s fucks you want after all, not a boyfriend.”

One of the Boys

A bead of sweat appeared on Brian Watson’s forehead as he stood outside his high school’s athletic center. His oversized black sweatshirt and skinny jeans insulated his slender figure beneath the hot afternoon sun while groups of other students in various high school sports teams walked past. Brian detested the athletic center and wished it wasn’t the closest building to the adjacent street. He checked his phone and huffed. His mom was supposed to pick him up a half-hour ago. What was taking so long?

Leaning against a wooden ledge, Brian stared off into the expansive and empty high school parking lot. None of his other friends were still at school. Like him, they also dyed their hair black and shared the same gothic fashion that he did, which amounted to them dressing only in all black clothing. Brian even had a black leather satchel in place of a backpack. It was their way of retaliating against their preppy high school. All the other students at Woodside High ignored them anyway. They were too busy talking about things Brian could care less about, like sports games and parties and grade point averages. They were all so fake.

Brian noticed a muscular young man carrying a gym bag walking across the empty parking lot towards him. It was Michael Palmer, a high school senior and one of the school’s linebackers whose tall height and broad stature was nothing less than intimidating. His khaki shorts and lavender polo shirt left little to the imagination. The two had the same science class, although they sat on opposite ends of the room, and Michael was surrounded by his own gaggle of bros that Brian resented. Michael looked up and the two accidentally made eye contact and Brian quickly went on his phone.

“Brian!” Michael said as he was now a few feet away, his low voice sent a chill down Brian’s spine. Maybe he was talking about another Brian. As the group of jocks walked past, he continued staring at his phone. That was until Michael suddenly placed his huge arm around Brian’s shoulder, effortlessly pulling him in closer. “What’s up dude?” he said.

Brian nervously returned eye contact to see the jock with a huge grin across his face. Michael had to be at least a foot taller than him and he was so close that Brian could smell his cheap cologne which smelled like a diluted ocean spray. His gelled black hair and faint stubble framed his face perfectly, giving him quite the masculine visage offset by the prettiness of his white teeth. Brian remained paralyzed with fear and confusion. Mostly confusion.

“Oh…um…hi,” Brian replied, unsure of what to say. His mind was racing. He had never even talked to Michael or the other sporty guys like him. “I’m...uh just waiting for my ride,” he said as more sweatdrops formed all around his body. He didn’t even know why he was getting so nervous around this guy. He loathed the football players with their macho personas and their vacuous and obnoxious laughter during class, but he had never actually talked to one of them before. And Michael Palmer did have such a genuine and friendly look in his eyes that was challenging Brian’s defenses.

“How do you think you did on the chemistry test today, big guy?” Michael asked.

“Oh...umm...I think I did well,” Brian replied as he studied the jock's broad smile and angular jawline.

“Don’t BS me,” Michael said, unconvinced. Even with more conviction, his calm, sultry voice was pleasant on the ears. “I know chem is not your favorite.”

That was true. Brian hated chemistry. It was his least favorite class by far. But why would Michael know that, let alone care? “I mean, I don’t think it was my worst test,” Brian said. “I...uh... I think I probably got like a C or something.”

“Hey, C’s get degrees man,” Michael replied while patting Brian on the back with tremendous force. As Brian readjusted his balance, he could see why Palmer was Michael’s last name. “You heading to practice?” he asked.

“Practice?”

“Yeah practice, dummy,” Michael replied playfully.

Brian stood in place, confusion rising even higher. “I don’t...I mean I’m not-”

“Come on inside dude,” Michael interrupted as he headed towards the front door. “I can tell you’re frying like an egg out here.”

That was also true. Brian was getting increasingly sweaty and parched. His black hair and clothing only absorbed more of the sun’s rays. He hesitantly picked up his leather satchel from the ground and followed Michael inside. He began rationalizing why Michael was being nice to him. It felt so unnerving. Brian decided he would just get a drink and then head back outside. That thought certainly wasn’t enticing. But he’d rather be outside frying than to spend it inside to avoid other football jocks.

As the two stepped inside, Brian intentionally walked slowly to distance himself from Michael, hoping that he would just enter the locker room and forget about him. To his luck, Michael continued walking ahead and Brian headed up to the drinking fountain. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was. The water was so quenching and he couldn’t help but take multiple large gulps. Brian rolled his eyes as he could hear footsteps heading towards him before stopping behind him.

“Ready for the game tomorrow?” Michael asked as he lightly slapped Brian’s butt, nearly causing him to choke on his water.

Brian’s face was now as red as a tomato as he turned to face Michael. His confusion turned to frustration when he saw Michael staring at him with that smug expression he always had. He would’ve socked Michael right then and there if he wasn’t a foot shorter than him or a hundred pounds lighter. But as he begrudgingly turned to face the jock, he realized that wasn’t the case. Before, his height had been at Michael’s shoulders, but now it was at Michael’s mouth. Brian was rendered speechless as he wondered if Michael had always been this short.

Then it happened again.

Brian nearly fell over as his body suddenly grew even taller. He stuck out his arms to keep his balance as his body shot upward. In a few seconds, he was a few inches taller than Michael, who he remembered was 6’2. An audible ripping sound indicated that his clothes had not grown with him.

“You think we got a good shot against the Generals on Friday?” Michael asked as if nothing had happened.

Brian glanced down at his extremely tight clothes in disbelief. More of his spindly arms and legs were now revealed. It looked like his clothes had shrunk in the wash. To Brian’s horror, he watched as his strained jeans started to rip more and more, revealing more of his skin. Was this really happening?

To answer his question, the belt holding up his skinny jeans exploded, sending a piece of metal careening through the air. Brian instinctively grabbed his pants to prevent them from falling. His embarrassment intensified and without thinking, he bolted into the nearest bathroom. Michael said something as he left, but Brian didn’t care. He couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered despairingly as he scrambled around the corner. But as he looked up, his blood went cold. “Oh, fuck.”

Right in front of him was a group of Woodside High’s football players. They were not only enormous-looking but were all in the process of getting dressed. Interestingly enough, Brian realized he was taller than all of the guys who were standing. He didn’t think about that for long though as he saw one of them glance up and look at him.

“Hey, what’s up Watson?” one of the jocks called out.

Shit, Brian thought. Not only had one of them seen him, but he also knew his last name somehow. He was about to leave when he heard Michael’s familiar voice behind him.

“What’s up bros?” Michael called out to the other guys as he entered the locker room. When Brian glanced back, he noticed Michael was so broad that he nearly filled the entire doorway, rendering escape both impossible and extremely awkward.

Brian’s forehead was coated with sweat and his heart was thumping faster than ever. He felt like a mouse in a cage of snakes, trapped in a vortex of impending doom. He could feel some of the players looking in his direction. Desperate to flee, he scanned the premises for a few agonizing seconds before he found success. There was a red exit sign hanging in the distance above the other side of the locker room. It was far away, but he just had to make it there.

In an instant, Brian bolted past the guys and further into the locker room while holding up his ripping pants with one hand. As he sped past lockers through the open clearing, he ran past windows of players getting ready and prayed none of them would notice him. The exit sign grew closer and closer and it looked like he was going to make it. That was until a huge football player adorned in his uniform stepped out from one of the lockers right in Brian’s way. The collision was inevitable. He closed his eyes as the two collided with an abrasive smack.

Brian fell to the ground and had lost the grip on his pants, causing them to loosen around his waist and fall to the floor. His black satchel flew towards an adjacent row of lockers. “Unghhhh,” he groaned as he reopened his eyes and stared at the jock who had hardly even budged. Brian’s heart was pumping faster than ever as he realized his entire lower body was now exposed. He wanted to scream. One of the largest guys in school was looking at him clad in only his underwear and a sweatshirt on the locker room floor. The jock’s hulking figure was clothed in a football uniform, the delicate combination of pads and spandex only made his figure look more imperious. Fear bubbled up inside of Brian so he promptly mustered out a “Shit, I’m sorry bro” to him as he tried to catch his breath.

​​

To Brian’s relief, the jock didn’t burst out laughing. “Whoa, watch it, Woodsen,” he said with a smug expression as he looked down at Brian on the floor. “We’re not even on the field yet,” he said sympathetically before extending his arm to pull him back up.

For a moment, Brian could only stare in bewilderment, too afraid to correct the jock for getting his last name wrong. The jock’s immense size was not only intimidating but somewhat breathtaking. As Brian grabbed his meaty hand, he pulled him upward like he was as light as a feather. When the two met eyes, Brian realized that he was exactly eye-level with this dude who had to be slightly taller than Michael. Somehow, Brian had gotten even taller without even knowing it.

“See you out there,” he said as he playfully swatted Brian on the butt before heading towards the door. As he left, Brian marveled at the width of his back, which was perfectly accentuated beneath his white jersey. The dark blue letters on the back read “WALLACE.” Then the name came to him. Trent Wallace was an amazing center who had the calmest head on his shoulders out of all of the team. He was an amazing team player whose patience was unparalleled. Brian found himself enjoying that trait a lot. It certainly was important to be a good leader.

Before Brian could wonder why he knew the jock’s name, he heard the low rumble of more guys heading towards him. He quickly snatched his satchel off the floor and ducked into the cavern of lockers where Trent had just been. Like a herd of buffalo, the group of guys passed by Brian without noticing him. The young man breathed a sigh of relief, finally happy to not have one of these meatheads in his face for a second.

A tickling feeling around his legs caught Brian’s attention. As he looked down, he wondered how on earth his black boxers had bleached themselves white. He squirmed as he could feel his underwear vibrating on its own. A strap formed underneath each of his buttcheeks while the fabric above disappeared. In the front, a swell of growth came from Brian’s thighs as they burst through the cotton, leaving behind only a pouch beneath his much stronger waistband. Feeling much more exposed, Brian’s face reddened as he looked at this new and very revealing article of clothing. As much as he detested what he was seeing, it felt oddly snug. Still, he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Shit, please don’t let anybody see me like this,” Brian prayed to himself as he studied how revealing the jockstrap was.

Desperately, he tried to rip it off with no luck. Each time Brian tugged on the athletic supporter, navy blue lycra materialized over it. The new fabric started materializing around his waist before promptly extending down over his small butt and down to his lower thighs. The uncomfortable draft from the jockstrap was quickly eliminated. He couldn’t help but smirk with conflicted relief as he realized he was now wearing a new pair of compression shorts and his embarrassing jockstrap was hidden away. Brian pulled on the new lycra, enjoying how tight yet breathable it felt against his loins. With all the movement around his dick, Brian couldn’t help but feel it rise with arousal.

‘No…no,” he whimpered as he slowly sat down on the bench. Now breathing much heavier, he swore he could feel his thighs growing beneath his hands. And sure enough, they were. They gradually swelled to an immense size beneath his compression shorts. It looked like he could squeeze a watermelon between them. Prickles of blonde hair appeared on his thighs before spreading all the way to his ankles. That was odd, his hair was black.

He could feel a tremendously ticklish feeling on his feet as if a million tiny threads were forming around them. As he shook his legs, he watched as a beautiful shade of white spread upwards from his feet, rising past his ankles until they stopped just below his knees. Brian’s new pair of white athletic socks brought a new wave of growth with them. His feet grew to a hulking size 13 before a pair of blue and white cleats formed around them. Huge calves the size of footballs swelled into fruition beneath his new socks. Brian’s disgust was turning to wonder.

“Am I…is this…really...happening?” he gasped as he placed his hands on his meaty thighs, marveling at how gigantic they had become. His breaths sounded lower, deeper even.

A strong odor filled the air and Brian immediately recognized it as sweat, and it was emanating from him! Brian’s fear had amplified a tremendous amount of his body odor. It felt like he was forced to inhale a cloud of his own manly musk. He couldn’t believe he had even been sweating this much. Uncharacteristically, he began to laugh, although came out at a much lower frequency. His tenor register sounded not only lower but also slower-sounding.

Brian closed his eyes and clenched his upper thighs, feeling the sinews of muscle pulsate beneath his fingertips. “Mmmm,” he moaned as he glanced at how disproportionately huge his lower body now was compared to his slender torso. Muscles this size took thousands of hours of strenuous exercise to appear. His pride skyrocketed as he caressed his thighs, partially concealed beneath his compression shorts. He wasn’t feeling afraid of the jocks anymore. If anyone of those cocky football jerks gave him trouble, he’d give ‘em hell!

“Mmmm, yeah,” he grunted as he cautiously guided his hand to his cock. He touched it once and felt it harden. After a brief moment of abstinence, Brian began stroking his cock beneath his black compression shorts. “That’ll show...those…fake posers,” he said, oblivious to how he was becoming one of them. Brian’s cock was lengthening in his hand as he closed his eyes and pictured all of the football players’ stupid smug faces. He could just picture himself flexing in front of the guys and them all respecting him.

RIIIP!

Brian’s stroking was interrupted when his pecs exploded through his black sweatshirt, tearing it apart into tatters, and exposing his chest. His initial confusion dissolved into satisfaction as he marveled at the size of these gigantic new muscular tits, each one had to be larger than his head. He delicately brought his hand up from his dick, tempted to feel the humongous muscle.

“Ffffuck!” he cried as he gave one a loving squeeze, feeling how thick the muscle really was. A million little tingles dispersed through his body as he lovingly cupped his pecs with both of his hands. A light dusting of blonde hair, just like the one on his legs, appeared above them. He was starting to obsess over the way he looked. This new size was so inspiring, but also a little nerve-wracking. Brian had memories of being a shorter young man who only wore black clothing and made it his personality to act apathetic to everyone. But that seemed out of character for him now. Brian enjoyed standing out in a crowd.

As if to counter those contradictory thoughts, Brian continued to inhale his manly musk and his heartbeat started to slow. With oversized muscle tits larger than the rack of any girl he’d ever seen and a thunderous set of legs, he looked like a circus freak. The barrel-chested young man squirmed on the bench as he felt follicles of blonde hair burst from beneath his armpits. A stream of hair flowed across his jugs to his abdomen before culminating in a visible treasure trail. Not only did the new path of hair indicate his increased testosterone levels, which had to be as large as half the team’s, but it also indicated virility. Brian was a man. Or at least he was growing into a huge one. And he was loving every second.

Throwing up both of his skinny arms into a flex sent more testosterone through his body. Brian watched his biceps explode with muscles, becoming larger. And larger. And larger, until eventually, they were larger than everyone else on the team. Years of training under the iron bar entered his mind and Brian remembered how long it had taken him to become this strong. An eight pack burst through his slender abdomen while also causing it to broaden in size. Brian looked at his tight muscly core. Like his arms, they felt eerily familiar, like they were created through strenuous physical activity. His arms felt like lightning bolts filled to the brim with testosterone that spread across his body like a static charge.

A football came flying through the air accompanied by a player saying “Wood, catch!”

Instinctively, Brian turned around and extended his tree trunk of an arm out to effortlessly catch the flying pigskin. He looked back up just in time to see Jake Thomas walking away. “Nice one, dude!” Jake said as he walked through the door, leaving as quickly as he had entered.

The tight end was one of many players who always tried to catch Brian off guard. They were hardly successful. Brian was a colossal athlete and zealously vigilant. Coach always told him his determination would get him very far in life, sometimes calling him the greatest on the team, which only inflated Brian’s ego.

Before Brian could question that thought, he felt a numbness in his hand where he was holding the football. His hand, once demure, was palming the football no problem. His hands grew meatier before his eyes, accentuated by new calluses and hair above the knuckles. They had to be the size of baseball mitts and were perfect for catching and throwing footballs with ease. That was an exciting thought.

“UNNNGHH, no!” he bellowed helplessly, resisting the side of him that was yearning for football practice.

As the immense young man stood up from the bench, his muscles shook like jello, before they solidified into hardened, insurmountable walls. Where there had once been a scared boy, there was now a hulking Adonis who was obsessed with his muscles. As Brian continued to flex his arms and twiddle his pecs, a rush of blood poured into his cock, causing his arousal to return stronger than ever.

“Oh…fuck,” he trembled with carnal anticipation. His much deeper voice echoed through the locker room. Its new baritone register was rendered completely unrecognizable from what it once was. That was hot. He sounded just like…just like…one of the boys. And he didn’t mind.

Brian’s husky bulge was on prime display for anyone who happened to walk by. His cautious expression shifted into a satisfied grin as he reached down to stroke it. Then all of a sudden, it disappeared beneath a layer of white. The new fabric extended from his waist to just below his knees, giving him a brand new pair of football pants. Brian chuckled to himself, unaware of how numb he was feeling to the changes.

The new player’s cock twitched as his ass inflated behind him. Two perfectly muscular globes stretched his compression shorts to the limit before they were swallowed by his new pants. Just like his pecs, his butt was a wall of muscle, on display in everything he wore. And Brian could remember every squat, leg lift, and all of the hard work he put in to become huge. His butt was the biggest in the team for a reason. His reputation of going hard on leg days warranted impeccable results.

He laughed again, although this one came out much...slower-sounding. Brian’s disdain for dorky meathead jocks was being replaced by an understanding of them. After all, these were his bros and their sense of camaraderie was unbreakable. As a senior, he was one of the strongest on the team and they all worshiped him.

But this...this wasn’t right. Brian was a scrawny goth sophomore who wanted to disappear in a crowd. But this new body and personality were the polar opposite. His sheer size and athletic prowess were impossible to ignore. He began to pace around subconsciously, transfixed on the way his body moved.

“Whuh!” Brian exclaimed as he tripped on something on the floor. He flung his arms out and caught his fall by palming the locker, which had somebody’s navy blue shirt sleeve sticking out of its closed door. When Brian stood back upright he noticed the black fabric was sticking around his wrist. When he tried to pull it off, it stuck to his arm like glue. The blue fabric then began crawling up Brian's forearm with impressive speed. A few moments later, it had reached his elbow, concealing his muscular arm in a brand new shirtsleeve. However, it didn't stop covering him up and continued to Brian's shoulders before cascading down over his bare chest. His new skin-tight workout shirt did nothing to hide Brian's beefy pecs.

“Oh shit,” Brian whispered to himself as he ran a hand over his pants. "I...I look just like a player."

Although the utterance had been subconscious, Brian found him remembering more instances where the football players turned to him for advice, like he was a mentor towards them. With each recollection, pieces of a black jersey appeared over his workout shirt. The number "5" appeared in a rich cerulean blue color in the middle of his chest. It was slightly curved over the giant breadth of Brian's pecs. The word "CHARGERS" appeared above it in the same blue color. Anyone who would've seen the impenetrable wall of uniformed muscle that was Brian would've assumed he was a football player.

“FFFFUCK!” the growing jock cussed as he placed his massive hands above his saucer-like pectorals, wasted in his masculinity. Too preoccupied with himself, he didn't notice his black satchel moving on its own. It started to contort on its own, its rectangular shape became more cylindrical and the leather material turned into nylon and polyester. Instead of schoolwork and books, the bag was now filled with Brian's change of clothes, which were nothing like his goth attire. His wardrobe was like Michael's, full of pastels and board shorts that showed off every curve of his.

The bag twitched and leaned against Brian's foot. When he looked down, he was met with a new light gray duffel bag that had the word “CHARGERS” on the side next to a cartoon lightning bolt. He smiled broadly. Even just seeing the team name excited him. He felt an odd sense of responsibility towards that name like he was a leader of it or something.

The letter "C" embroidered itself over the top left corner of his jersey, revealing the validity of that thought. When Brian looked down, his smile only broadened. He remembered that he was the team captain and the star quarterback. The Chargers were his team and he was going to lead them to glory this season. "Shiiiiit…" he muttered with disbelief as he ran his hands over his massive body, caressing every muscle of his body.

A piece of Brian hated the thought of being around football players, but another part loved it. His fear was reforming into adoration. As a captain, he was able to work with the coaches to guide his team to victory. And judging by how well the season was going so far, he was doing a great job. He inspired his teammates every day. Brian’s confidence was contagious and his devotion to the team was unyielding. He wasn't afraid of the jocks anymore. The thought of leading them was much more exhilarating.

“Looking good, Wood!” a familiar-sounding voice said. “You ready?”

“HELL YEAH!” Brian Wood replied with impressive volume. It was at that moment his black hair was saturated with gel and dyed itself blonde. Brian itched his nose, unaware that it grew slightly larger after his finger touched it. His face also resculpted itself, the boyish shape taking hold to the chiseled visage of a real meathead. At one point, Brian would’ve hated what he looked like, but that time was past. It only felt natural that his face should be much more square if he was to lead the players. His boxy face made his gaze more domineering than ever. Even Brian's forehead expanded a little wider. Everyone knew he was the team's alpha.

Unseen to him, the word “WOOD” formed in blue letters on the back of his jersey. Going to Woodside High School had been a perfect coincidence for Brian Wood. The guy was also a horny bastard who often lewdly joked about his own wood to the team. It was expected though. Men are ruled by their cocks and Brian was no different. After being around a team of equally horny guys with a similar sense of humor, they always made crude jokes about their dicks. The bulge in the team captain's pants swelled even larger, leaving no discretion that the blonde-haired dreamboat was well-endowed.

Michael Palmer walked up closer, like a prince eyeing a knight. Brian returned the wordless glance, unaware of the sensation of his chin jutting out. The star quarterback and linebacker had stellar chemistry together, they were able to be serious on the field and chummy when off of it.

"You look great," Brian blurted out. He hadn't meant to, but looking at Michael was getting him riled up. He liked the way he filled out the uniform.

"Right back at you, dude," Michael replied as he stepped right in front of Brian's face. Brian's cock twitched when he realized that he was slightly taller and now even wider than Michael. The two were so close now that they could feel each other's breath.

Instinctively, Brian touched Michael's bulge. Michael grunted a little bit and his erection twitched in Brian's hand.

Brian's cock stirred at that sound and the vulnerable look in Michael's eyes. It felt like time was frozen. Not only was he making the largest guy in school moan, but he was also getting his affection. Brian didn't even like guys, but looking at Michael's amatory expression was changing that. Michael was a macho beefcake like him who was just so sensational to look at.

Suddenly, Michael pulled him in close with impressive strength. The linebacker's lips met the star quarterback's as he tightly gripped his shoulders. Brian returned the kiss, loving the feeling of being the only guy in school larger than Michael. A fire inside the two was challenging their heterosexualities.

"Oh, Brian," Michael breathed as their kissing intensified.

Upon hearing his name, Brian felt something amiss. That name didn't sound right. It didn’t match the masculine prowess that was overtaking his brain. The newly minted football player had a rare moment of fear when he couldn’t recall what people called him.

Adrenaline coursed through the two mens' veins as they savored each other's taste and smell. Memories of a vehement relationship flooded their minds. Dating each other over the last year while playing on the team together had strengthened their bond to a level they had never imagined possible. The nameless jock's lips thickened as they pressed against Michael's. He loved Michael so much. Their love of football allowed them to properly separate their personal and professional obligations to each other. Even the team was cool with their relationship, which was so validating. The nameless jock loved his team, proud to be one of the boys when he was on the field. And at that moment, Zach Wood remembered his name. The two broke the kiss, both with a newfound and intense infatuation for one another.

“Holy shit, Michael!” Zach replied when the two pulled away. He caressed his semi-hard cock. "We need to stop doing this before practice."

"Uh-huh," Michael breathed in agreement. His heart was beating fast as he was going through his own internal turmoil. He could've sworn he had a girlfriend, but he had no idea what her name was. The harder he thought, the more memories with Zach resurfaced. They were a pair of sex-obsessed, macho jock boyfriends who couldn't get enough of each other's minds and bodies on and off the field. Their sex was tantric and their affection towards each other was unyielding.

Michael took a sip from his Gatorade bottle. The locker room was much quieter now and all of the other guys must be on the field.

"You ready, Mikey Palms?" Zach asked, nudging him with his shoulder.

"Of course babe," Michael replied as he shifted his brain to football mode. Usually, the two beefy guys were able to keep their love life away from practice time, but that was getting harder to do. They both loved seeing each other in their uniforms.

"Alright, let's head out," Zach said, excitedly heading towards the open door until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you gotta put your gym bag in your locker, ya gym bag,” Michael quipped as he spun Zach around.

"Oh right," Zach replied as he turned around to grab it off the floor. Sometimes his excitement for the sport caused him to be forgetful. He opened up his locker and placed it inside. "Alright Mikey," he said as he slapped his boyfriend’s butt. "Let's head to practice already."

Michael couldn't agree more. Although later, the two would have to pick up where they left off.

How Things Used To Be

I wonder how long it took me to notice that there was something wrong with Nathan.  We had been best friends for years, ever since the 5th grade, and we always hung out together both in and out of school.  I was hoping things could’ve stayed like that this summer, but it seemed like fate had other plans.  Between family vacations and college prep, it seemed like he didn’t have time for me anymore.  And to make it worse, whenever he wasn’t doing that, he was hanging out with some other guys who I had never met, and he never even bothered to ask me if I wanted to come with.  I know people grow and change, but I didn’t want to see it happen to my own best friend.  On the bright side, we’re going to the same college, so I hope I can see him around.

And I did see him.  It was the third week of courses, once I was starting to get acquainted with campus life.  For once, I was actually being more social, trying to fill the gap that Nathan left.  I used this opportunity to start talking to people in my classes and I found that we had some similar interests.  I wish I could say the same for my roommate, but he mostly keeps to himself and we don’t have much in common.

Okay, back to Nathan.  I was walking back to the dorms after my last class, texting one of my classmates about the homework.  I was interrupted when I walked headfirst into another student.  I should’ve been paying more attention to my surroundings.  I looked up at the giant in front of me, probably 6’3”, before apologizing.

“James, is that you?”  the giant asked.  The voice sounded very familiar, yet at the same time, different.  I took a closer look at him.  “Long time no see, huh?”  I was surprised when I realized who it was.

“Nate?  Woah, what happened to you?”  I couldn’t believe that this person in front of me was my best friend.  This was not the same Nathan from three months ago during graduation.  He was always a bit taller than me, but he had to have grown at least 3 inches.  He used to wear glasses, but it seemed like he switched over to contacts.

In the warm August heat, he was wearing a tank top which revealed his newfound biceps for the whole world to see.  The tank top clung closely to his chest and I could see his newly-formed six-pack through the fabric.  He was wearing basketball shorts that were short enough that I could catch a glimpse of his thighs, which were just as big as his arms.  I never knew Nathan went to the gym, and if he did, he never told me.  But still, I couldn’t comprehend how he became so huge in just three months, which made me more curious about what he had been up to.  A backwards hat fit tightly atop his head with Greek letters on them.  Sigma Lambda Chi…  Had Nathan really joined a frat?  To be completely honest, he looked like he was cosplaying as a frat bro, a far cry from how I knew him.

“Like what you see, bro?”  James chuckled, as he flexed one of his arms.  He definitely never came across as a cocky showoff, but I was too distracted by his flexed bicep to notice.  I caught myself staring for a second too long, before feeling my face turn red hot.  Me and Nathan knew everything about each other, but there was one thing I never told him.  I was gay.  To tell you the truth, I had a crush on him, but I knew I could never tell him to preserve our friendship.  But now he looks even better, and he hasn’t made time for me at all.  Now he really felt out of my league.

“I’ve been working out a lot lately.  I’m glad you noticed.”  He still had his signature smile, but it looked out of place on his new body.  His face especially looked a lot more angular and masculine.  A visible tan glazed over his body like a fresh coat of paint.

“Daaamn!  You look great, dude!”  To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to feel talking to him again.  On one hand, I was happy to see him again, and, admittedly, a little surprised to see him like this.  On the other hand, he ditched me this whole summer to hang out with some other guys.  It felt so bittersweet.

“If there weren’t other people around, I’d let you…I mean uh, how have you been bro?  I know I’ve been busy a lot lately.  Sorry about that, dude.”  We told each other what we did over the summer, and wow, was his summer more interesting.

As we caught up, I learned more about what he has been up to.  Apparently, he joined a frat and he was hanging out with the guys there more and more.  He promised that he’d bring me to a party sometime, but I was hesitant because I’m not much of a party animal.  That lifestyle just isn’t for me.  He also said he was thinking about joining our school’s football team at the request of his roommate, which I found even more surprising because Nathan never played sports in high school.  I did track, but I was never that big into sports myself.  Our conversation was interrupted as another guy entered the scene.

“Yo, Nate!  Finally found you.  You seriously need to get better at texting me back, dude.  And who’s this dude?”  The guy was wearing the same hat as Nate, so I figured he was one of his frat bros.

“My bad, bro.  Brett, this is James.  We go way back.  James, this is Brett.  He’s my roommate.  We met over the summer and we’ve been hanging out since.”

“Alright, cool, bro,”  Brett responded, clearly impatient and indifferent towards me.  He dismissed me entirely, almost like I wasn’t worth his time.  “You still going to the gym with me or what?”

“Sorry, bro.  I just ran into him and we were catching up.”  Nathan responded.  “Hey, I gotta get going.  We should get food sometime.  Peace!”  I watched as Nathan and Brett walked away in the opposite direction of me towards the gym.  As they moved further away, I could hear Brett chastise him about something.  This is the guy that Nathan ditched me for?  I hope I’m wrong, but he seemed like kind of a dick.  I know I was jealous of him for taking up my best friend’s time, but I didn’t trust him.  As for me, I returned to the dorm to work on the assignment with my roommate.

The next time I saw Nate was that weekend, when I held up his promise to get something to eat.  I tried to ask him about it earlier in the week, but he was doing stuff at the frat all that time.  I was at least grateful that he took time out of his schedule for me for once.  He mentioned that he normally doesn’t hang out with anyone who wasn’t in the frat, almost like they were some exclusive bro clique that I was excluded from.  For once, it was good to hang out with him one-on-one without any of his frat bros getting in the way.  I expected things to be like how they were before, but I couldn’t be any more wrong.

It’s not that I disliked the new Nathan, but I felt like we didn’t have much common ground anymore.  It was like he was a completely different person.  He didn’t seem to care that much about our old interests anymore.  He didn’t have time for video games and he just wasn’t that interested in watching movies or photography anymore.  All he seemed to care about was working out all day and partying all night.  All he would talk about was some stupid stuff he or one of his bros did.

Plus, he told me he switched his major from mechanical engineering to be a personal trainer.  It seemed like he just became a total gym bro overnight.  The studious and witty Nathan that I loved kinda just seemed to be a stereotypical meathead now.  The worst part was that I knew that this was the same Nathan deep down, and he still treated me the same even if he was a lot busier.  I felt like maybe I was the problem since he was clearly still having a good time, and I wasn’t.  Why do I feel this way?

I felt my mood change as we talked.  Eventually, I figured it was time to cut off the conversation and return to the dorm, but Nathan definitely knew something was off.  He texted me later that evening, asking me if everything was alright.  To be honest, I wanted to make some lame excuse that I was feeling sick, but we’ve always been honest with each other, so I told him how I really felt.

Me: Nate, to be honest, I think I need some time away from you.  I don’t hate you or anything, but it feels like we’ve been growing apart and I feel like you’ve become a different person.  I feel like when I look at you, I don’t see the Nathan I’ve known for years, but someone else entirely.

I wanted to say more about how I felt about his new changes, but I didn’t want to escalate things.

Nathan: James, I’m sorry you feel that way about me.  I felt like we had a good time today.  I’ve grown and changed a lot recently, and I’ve realized a lot about myself, but I’m happy with who I am right now.  I know I’m spending a lot of time at the gym or with Brett or my other bros, but I still care about you deeply, bro.  You might be right though.  Hanging out with you isn’t the same as hanging with the guys at the frat.

Me: Do you honestly see yourself as just a frat boy?  You’re more than that.  You’re my best friend.  But now, you have more in common with the jocks from high school than the Nathan I knew.  It’s hard talking to you now since all you care about anymore are your gains and partying.  You’re nothing more than a meathead now.

Nathan: So that’s how you see me, bro?  The reason I had been avoiding you is because I knew that you wouldn’t like seeing me like this.  I guess I was right, bro.  But trust me, I’m happy like this.  I’m a lot more social than when I was when I was with you, and I’ve even become more in shape too.  I care about our friendship more than you can possibly imagine, but I guess this is for the best.  To be honest, I think it would be a lot of fun if you were here in the frat with me, but I know you wouldn’t say yes.

I didn’t bother responding.  I could never picture myself joining a frat.  I would never get along with his frat bro friends, especially Brett, who seemed to be the one he was closest with.  I still couldn’t believe Nate would choose him over me.  I wasn’t sure whether to feel angry, or sad, or disappointed towards him.  I felt like he was wasting his life partying when he should be studying.  To think this was the person I cared about more than anyone.  It was at this point that I figured I probably wouldn’t have my old friend back.  Or so I thought.

A couple weeks passed and I tried to move on from Nathan.  I always saw him on his story drinking and partying late into the night at the frat house or posting selfies at the gym.  He looked like he was fully embracing his new frat boy persona now.  If he didn’t still care about me, it would’ve felt like he was doing it out of spite.  As for me, I started to hang out with my classmates more and more, and there was even a guy I went on a date with.  It was a nice date and I did like the guy, but for some reason, the thought of Nathan lingered in my mind.  Even though I hated what he had become, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about him.  I couldn’t deny how much he turned me on.  Why was I still thirsting after a stupid fucking frat bro?  One afternoon, after I returned to my dorm, I received a text on my phone.  To my surprise, it was Nathan.

“Hey bro, can we talk?  There are some things I need to get off my chest.”

I didn’t know what he could possibly want with me now.  I suppose I can hear him out just so I can see what he wants.  I went over to his room further down the hall, and thankfully Brett was not here to ruin the moment.  Nate said that he was doing some preparations for some stuff at the frat.  When I asked, he didn’t specify what though.  It always feels like stuff at the frat is kept under wraps.

“Did you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

“Even if it’s beer?”  A mischievous grin appeared on his face.  Was he seriously offering me beer?  I knew that alcohol wasn’t allowed in the dorms, but clearly that rule didn’t faze him.  Obviously he knew how to get his hands on some drinks.  To be honest, I had never drank alcohol before, but I figured this would be the easiest way to try it before I turned 21.  Plus, it might alleviate the tension between us.  Either that or make us fight like two drunkards in a bar.

“Sure, why not.”  Nate went to get two bottles for us.  I took my first sip and was disgusted by the bitter taste of the beer.

“You don’t like it?  Neither did I at first,” Nate chuckled.  “After a while, you get used to it.”  Nate turned the TV on as we chatted.  I apologized about what I said about him last time we talked, but he said it was no big deal.  I felt like I was a little too harsh on him.  It could just be the alcohol, but I found that I got along with him better than I did weeks ago.  As we chatted, my body started to tingle.  Was this how it felt like to be drunk?

“Hey, Nate.  I feel kinda weird, but not like drunk weird.  Is this normal, bro?”  I asked.  By this point, we both had two drinks each.  I didn’t mind the taste of the beer the second time.

“Nah, you’re fine bro.”  Nate responded, with a smile on his face.  Compared to me, he appeared to be much more sober.  “It happens sometimes, especially when you’re not used to it.”  I figured he knew best, since he was the one drinking and partying all the time, so I ignored this foreign feeling rushing through my body.  I felt as if my body was overheating as I felt my arms and legs throb and pulsate.  Sweat was leaking off my armpits and down my forehead.  There was part of me that knew that something was off, but it was drowned out by the alcohol.  As I took another sip, I felt my arm spasm as I accidentally spilled some beer onto my shirt.  Shit, I wasn’t expecting to do laundry later.

“Damn bro, you made a mess.  You alright?  Do you wanna change your shirt?”  Nate asked.  I nodded and he quickly went to his room to pick out something for me.  It wasn’t the first time I had to wear his clothes.  “Sorry about that, bro.  First thing I found.  Hope it fits you.”  It was a stringer tank with Sigma Lambda Chi on it.  I bet Nate looked like a walking symbol of the frat wearing that stuff.  For some reason, the idea was kinda amusing to me because it seemed so over the top.  I wondered how I would look dressed up like that.  I’d probably look really stupid.

I stripped out of my wet shirt and changed right in front of him.  I caught a whiff from my armpits, and I thought I smelled like a sweaty gym bro.  The tank appeared to be a size up and it hung loosely on me.  Still, it was better than nothing I guess.  Despite that, it had a nice familiar smell to it though.  It smelled like Nathan, but at the same time, it had a different flavor to it.  He smelled a lot more manly than I remembered.  I bet he wore it to the gym often.

Eventually, after my third drink, I went to go to the bathroom.  My body was starting to ache, like I had just done a workout with Nate earlier.  Workout…Was that what happened earlier?  …I think so?  Did we work out after class and come back to his place for some brewskis?  For some reason, the events of today felt incredibly fuzzy to me.  I was starting to forget the reason I was here in the first place.

I clumsily stumbled over my feet which looked bigger than usual.  After I took a piss, I looked at myself in the mirror.  Something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.  I didn’t always look that big, right?  From a first glance, it looked like I was looking through one of those distorted mirrors they have at amusement parks.  I had to have been really drunk at this point.  I chuckled at the figure in front of me.  At this point, I almost looked like one of those frat bros!  I decided to flex my arms like they would, oblivious to the fact that they already grew just a little bit, before joining Nate on the couch.

“There you are, big man!”  he said as he squeezed my muscles.  I have been working out recently, I think.  “I thought you passed out in there.  Most guys don’t last that long for their first time, but you look good enough for another brewski.”

After downing our fourth drinks, the conversation took a different turn.

“Yo, James.  I knew you said you weren’t too big on the idea of joining our frat last time we chatted, but how do you feel now, having thought things over?”

I remembered our last conversation.  Honestly, I was so drunk that I didn’t remember why I turned him down in the first place.  The idea that seemed unappealing to me at the time seemed like it was perfect for me at this moment.  I didn’t even understand why I would be so reluctant to join.  I needed to join more than anything else.  I would do anything to join, even if I had to completely humiliate myself in front of my fellow bros.  At this point, nothing was too extreme for me.  The fact that Nate was in it was enough reason to join, so we could hang out more like we used to.  Plus, I could get to hang out with all my other bros and drink and party whenever we want.

“I’ve given it some thought, and yeah bro, I’ll join,”  my voice slurred as my mouth moved before my mind could.  I had committed at this point.  No backing out now.  I’m a member of Sigma Lambda Chi for life.

“Sweet, bro!”  He grabbed me on my far shoulder and pulled me close.  “I’m glad you said yes, because I have a surprise for you.  Close your eyes, bro.”

I closed my eyes as Nate went into his room to grab something.  Did I actually agree to join his frat?  I’m not sure what’s going on with me today.  When he came back, I felt Nate press on my head as his “surprise” fit tight around it.  “You can open them now.”

I realized I was wearing the same hat that Nate always wore, with his frat’s letters printed on it.  “We’re gonna be matching now, bro.  Isn’t that awesome?  I know you’re gonna want to wear it whenever and wherever.  But you’re wearing it wrong.  Let me fix it for you, dude.”  He turned the brim around so it faced my back.  As my hat turned backwards, I felt my mind fog up and any tension or brain activity screech to a halt.  I was unable to realize what I signed myself up for, unable to protest.  My conscious mind was drowned out by the alcohol and this hat was like a lock, sealing it away.  Not that I was against this, as a wave of pleasure surged through me.  I felt my mind slow down, almost as if it was stuck in molasses, as my thoughts began to simplify. It felt good though...

I would follow the example of my fellow brothers.  Look like them, think like them, act like them.  Almost like a hivemind of bros, you know, bro?  By this point, the changes were irreversible.  Nate had turned me into another frat bro just like him.

“Everything worked out as planned, bro.  You see, when you, my own best bro, told me you didn’t want to join the frat with me, I was actually really hurt.  So I talked to Brett, and had him “work his magic”, to help me do to you what he did to me.  I don’t like to lie to you, but it’s a frat secret, so now you get to know bro.  Like I said, it’s a secret, so don’t talk about this with anyone.”

“Don’t worry about it bro.  It’s all…uh…

Fuck dude, what’s the word…water under the bridge?  Huhuhu…”  I really had to think about that one.  I found it harder to articulate and use complex words, as I mainly just spoke in bro-speak.  To be honest, I wasn’t really that upset that he lied to me.  He did what he had to as a member of the frat.  I never stayed mad at one of my bros for very long.

“Now we get to be brothers for life,” he said as he gave me a big bro hug.  We clung to each other like two giant masses of muscle.  My huge biceps wrapped around his firm back as his did for me.  Afterwards, he handed me my fifth drink and we cheered to me joining Sigma Lambda Chi.  He laid down all of the rules, what everything was like, telling me about the coolest guys there, and so on.  He said he’d bring me to the frat house and introduce me to everyone tomorrow.  “They’re gonna love you for sure, bro.  I’ve got an eye for cool bros like you.”

As it got later, and we moved on to drink numero 6, I felt myself get very tired as we both passed out on his couch.  I woke up a couple hours later, and I looked out the window to see a pitch black sky.  Shit, it was almost 10 PM and I had to turn in my assignment at midnight.  But for some reason, I didn’t really care right now.  I didn’t mind turning in assignments late as long as the teacher still gave me credit.  I felt no different from the way I was a couple hours ago, just another Sigma Lambda Chi frat bro, but I liked it.  It felt right to me.  It was where I, no, where we belonged.

I looked down.  Nate’s tank hung tightly to me now.  It took me a second to notice my arms…Holy shit, they were fucking huge!  I looked awesome, bro.  As I admired my new body, Nate was still asleep, his hand on my meaty thigh.  Just above that, my dick throbbed through my pants.  Fuck, I was so horny for some reason.  Eventually, Nate slowly regained consciousness.

“I usually don’t drink this much on a school day,” Nate said, still a little hungover as he rubbed his eyes.  We sat in silence for about a minute before he spoke again.  “By the way, there was another reason I invited you over.  There’s something that’s been on my chest for a while.”

“Go ahead, bro.  I can take it,”  I responded confidently.  My voice sounded deeper and more bro-like than usual, just like him.

“Here goes, dude.  I think I like you, bro.  Not like you, but I think I like like you.  I know it’s hella gay, but I couldn’t stand to see you be so cold to me.  That’s why I had to make you a bro like me.  I’m sure you’ll love it here, bro.  And hey, if you’re not gay, that’s cool.  We can forget this shit ever happened and go back to being bros for life.”

At first, I honestly thought I was still dreaming.  First, he turned me into a frat boy, and now, he was confessing his feelings to me?  How crazier could this night get?  For all my life, I thought he was straight.  I remembered being glad when he broke up with his girlfriend two years back.  I couldn’t stand her.  When he joined Sigma Lambda Chi, I assumed he was 100% straight and that he was banging some sorority chicks every night.  To think he felt the same way I did all this time.

“Bro, I like you too.  When you stopped talking to me, I started to get kinda jealous.  I didn’t want to accept you for who you are.  But being your bro just isn’t enough for me, bro.”  I leaned in for a kiss, my inhibitions still nowhere to be found.  It was my first kiss and it was with the person I cherished most.  I felt like I was in heaven.  I didn’t really care that I was a dumb frat bro like him anymore.  I never did.  That shit was stupid anyways.  But now, Nate fixed our friendship and made us closer than ever.  I loved the taste of his lips against mine and I didn’t want it to end but eventually Nate parted our lips.

“Wanna fuck me, bro?”  he whispered in my ear.  A flirtatious smirk was plastered on his face, and one of his hands was still wrapped around my neck.  This was real.  I nodded as he took me to his bed.  I had never done this before, but I’ve seen plenty of porn, so I knew what to expect.  He laid down on his back and stripped naked.  I never felt this aroused before.  My dick even looked bigger than it used to be.  I was so pent up that I felt like I was holding this load in for months.  I guess frat bros really are as horny as they say.  I lubed up my larger cock before sticking it into Nate’s hole.

My serpent stretched out his tight hole as he had clearly not seen much action down there until now.  I pounded his ass as my dick went in and out of him.  In and out, in and out, in and out…It was a steady rhythm, my dick was like a metronome.  My hands clung to him as I held him in place, pinning him to his bed.  My hands ran all over his shoulders, broad and muscular, built like a football player’s.  We both felt absolutely euphoric as our deep, masculine moans filled the room.  The moans were loud enough that the students on the other side of the wall could easily hear them, but I didn’t care about any noise complaints as I fucked him harder and harder.  After half an hour of fucking, he both hit our orgasm at almost exactly the same time.  I ejaculated inside his tight hole, my hot, sticky seed flooding his insides as Nate came all over his abs.  At this point I was exhausted and still hungover and I basically fell on top of him on his bed.  We were both panting and out of breath.

“I knew you were a good fucker, bro.”  he whispered seductively as he kissed me.  We stayed in that position for several minutes until we heard the door open.

“Yo, Nate!  Did you do it?  How did it go?”  a voice asked, shouting loudly from the other room.  I recognized the voice as Brett’s.  He peeked into the room, witnessing the two of us cuddling together naked.  To be honest, I thought he would’ve been grossed out.  Guess I had the wrong idea about him.

“Better than expected, dude,” Nate responded.  He didn’t seem to care that we were both naked in front of his roommate and that we just got back from our trip to Pound Town.

“He looks way better this way, don’t you agree, bro?  But man, dude, now I know why you wanted him to be a pledge so bad.  I was wondering why you wouldn’t fuck any of those sexy sorority babes.  More for me, I guess.”

A week passed and by then, I joined the frat officially.  Me and Nate started dating shortly after, but none of our bros minded.  It didn’t matter if we were gay, we were still brothers.  I also learned how Nate met Brett.  He was taking a tour of the campus over the summer and he ran into Brett who was recruiting people for the frat.  Brett took a liking to him and kinda took him under his wing like some sort of mentor and they started hanging out since he only lived a town away from us.  Brett was our age, but he had more seniority and authority because his older brother Brad was very popular within the frat.  Turns out Brett and some of the upperclassmen knew how to turn guys into the ideal bros for their frat.  They wanted to bolster their numbers to make Sigma Lambda Chi the biggest and coolest frat in the state, with the biggest bros and the biggest parties, and naturally both me and Nate were chosen.  Not that either of us minded.  Nate joined the football team with Brett and some other guys in the frat, and the rest of us would go watch them play every game.  Our section of the stadium was always the loudest and rowdiest, especially when one of our bros scored a touchdown.

Apparently I grew a ton during the night that I was with Nate, but I was too drunk to notice just how massive I had become.  It must’ve been something in the beer, huhu.  I started working out with Nate and Brett, and sometimes some other bros too.  I even ended up changing my major.  I chose business because my bros said that it was the easiest shit ever and I wasn’t feeling psychology anymore.  I didn’t really feel like thinking much anymore and I found that focusing on education so much was a chore and that I was wasting my college experience.  I’d rather be partying and drinking or hanging out with the bros at the frat house, watching sports, playing video games, or playing ball outside.  I got to see why Nate grew to enjoy this lifestyle so much, and I was mad at myself for not seeing his point of view sooner.

Three years later, me and Nate are still dating and we’re set to graduate this semester.  We’re thinking about getting a place in the city not too far from campus, probably with Brett and another friend of ours to save money on rent.  We’ll probably still throw parties every weekend like we used to.  College was such a memorable experience and I wish I could live it again.  I only have Nate, Brett, and all my other bros to thank for making college awesome for me.

A new bunny in the gym

My roommate Ryan has always been telling me I need to loosen up and stop taking life so seriously. Maybe he's got a point. While I spend all my time in the library studying he spends it at the gym or having fun at the club, and being bisexual he never has a probably finding a fuck.

I finally relented and joined him at the gym. The place was huge. Full of men of different sizes, all with bulging muscles. Though I was straight, not that I had much luck with girls, I could appreciate that all the men here were pretty attractive.

As I didn't know what to do or what to wear at the gym Ryan took me under his wing. Giving me socks, shorts, trainers, t-shirt, baseball cap, and a jockstrap to wear.

I was hesitant at first with the jockstrap, the black material didn't exactly look like it was new. It certainly wasn't something I would usually wear either.

"Don't worry bro, it's what all the guys wear!" Ryan promised.

I thought that I should listen to him considering that this was his domain so I done as I was told.

We started with some squats. Ryan showing me how to do stretch properly and safely use the weights. As I started squatting I felt the huge weights actually become easier and easier each time .

"Your legs are going to be so thick after this!" Ryan called out.

"...and so will that ass" he muttered under his breath.

We moved around the gym using the different machines. Each time they became easier to use really quickly. What I didn't notice was my body changing.

Muscle was quickly building up across my body. Turning me into a meaty gym bunny.

At the same time all those hours spent in the library were slipping away. Which explains why I didn't notice the changes.

It also explains why I didn't notice that all the guys in the gym were all very similar. About half were strong tall beasts with huge muscles. Whereas the rest were smaller, leaner but just as muscly with round bouncing asses.

Our final exercise was a couple of bench presses. I lay on my back with Ryan standing above my head helping me lift.

As he did he lowered his crotch towards my face. Breathing in his sweaty musk I felt everything click in place. My cock harded immediately and I became lost in his trance.

"I see you're changes have finally finished" Ryan said.

Putting the bar into the rack I stopped and looked up at him.

"You weren't living life and I was sick of coming back to the apartment to find you studying and not having fun. So when I found out about this place I had to bring you. Now that you're a muscle bro you can join me and have fun."

I just let the words sink in.

Ryan continued. "The best bit is that now you're just a cock hungry gym bunny. With an ass like that you'll be getting plenty of dick. Most of it mine. You won't even remember being straight."

---

That was four months ago. He was right. Now we go to the gym everyday together. Him a towering hulk of a man and me, a lean twunk with an ass that just begs to be fucked.

And it is fucked, all the time. I quickly grew to love the feeling and now I can't get enough. When Ryan isn't free I sometimes get help from the other guys at the gym. They're always happy to stretch me out after a session.

Life is so much easier now, why did I waste all that time in the library?

_____

First time writing, let me know your thoughts!