growthhyp

[growthhyp]

I want to transform into a muscular jock with high confidence and attitude. As I am obese and not courageous. I want to acquire a new lifestyle and memories

The Hair Wax

As you stroll towards the inviting embrace of the beach, the warm sun kissing your skin, you notice a hulking figure standing by the shoreline. His beard is like a wild forest, untamed and thick, obscuring his face features. His hair, a dark mane, cascading down his muscular back. Intrigued, you decide to approach him despite the uncanny vibe he exudes.

"Hey little man," he says, his voice like gravel over velvet, "you look like you could use some help." You feel a twinge of annoyance at his observation. True, you're not the most muscular or tall, but who is he to judge?

"What do you want?" you reply, crossing your arms over your slightly chubby belly.

The mysterious man holds out a canister, "This is hair wax, my friend. It's not just any hair wax. It's special. Go ahead, try it."

You're skeptical but can't resist the urge to engage. "Why would I need hair wax at the beach?"

The man, who introduces himself as Viktor, laughs heartily, "Ah, you're a smart one. But trust me, this isn't your ordinary beach day. Try it, young man. It's like nothing you've ever felt before."

With a shrug, you take the canister, curious about the claim. You scoop out a dollop with your fingers and spread it through your hair. It's sticky but smells faintly of the ocean, a scent that's both calming and invigorating. "It's... different," you admit.

Viktor's grin widens, revealing a set of teeth as gleaming as the sun reflecting off the waves. "Good, good," he says, patting you on the shoulder, a gesture that feels surprisingly warm and firm. "Remember, this isn't for everyone. But for you, it's perfect."

You nod, not really understanding what he means, but eager to get to the beach. "Thanks, I guess," you murmur before turning away. As you walk towards the shore, you can't shake the feeling of his eyes on you, watching. You look back over your shoulder, but the spot where he stood is now empty. A slight shiver runs down your spine. Maybe he was just a weird beach vendor. You shake off the odd encounter and focus on the crashing waves ahead.

Setting up your towel and umbrella, you lay down to soak in some sun. You feel the sand warm beneath you and the gentle caress of the breeze. But then, something strange happens. Your head starts to itch, not just a little but an intense, overwhelming itch. You scratch vigorously, trying to ignore it. But it doesn't go away. It gets stronger.

Suddenly, you realize your belly is shrinking! Your skin tightens as the extra padding of fat vanishes. Your arms bulge as muscles grow beneath your skin. Your chest puffs up, pushing against your tank top. You see your biceps and triceps popping out, giving you a look that's both surprising and exhilarating. The neckline of your shirt stretches as your shoulders and traps balloon.

You stand up, feeling a strange power surging through you. Your legs, once average, are now thick pillars of power. Your calves bulge like rocks, making you feel like you could run for miles. And your feet... they're bigger! You look down to find them swelling in your flip flops, which now seem so tiny. You rip them off, feeling the sand under your now massive soles.

Panic sets in as you realize your shorts are getting tight, really tight. You try to pull them down, but they cling to your growing thighs like a second skin. And that bulge in the front... it's definitely not a disease. No, it's something else entirely. You look around, hoping nobody's noticed your sudden transformation. Your shoulders and lats bursting out from the sides, your back muscles rippling like waves under your skin.

You touch your jaw and feel it hardening, growing more defined. Your shoulders widen, making your posture more assertive. People are staring, but instead of feeling embarrassed, you're filled with a newfound confidence. You flex your arms and watch in awe as the veins pop out, your biceps and triceps swelling like they're fighting to escape their new, tightly wrapped home. You're not just a regular Joe anymore; you're becoming a beast!

You start to strut down the beach, feeling the power of an alpha male. Your voice drops to a commanding bass, making heads turn. You're no longer the shy guy hiding in the corner; you're the center of attention. You want to show off this new body, to make everyone see what you've become. The hair wax had done something to you, something incredible. You're not just stronger now; you're sexier, more dominant. You are an ALPHA.

___

Thank you @brains4brawn for providing the prompt for the video.

[growthhyp]

[growthhyp]

I've always had a thing for silver foxes, especially the muscular, bodybuilding types. But im a scrawny college student who's far off from becoming any of those, could you maybe speed up the process for me?

The Scarf

You had this scarf, right? It was one of those odd things you picked up at a garage sale from this guy who looked like he could bench press a car. You didn't even know why you bought it, but something about it just called to you. So, there you were, chilling in your college dorm room, just minding your own business, when you felt this weird urge to put it on. And as soon as you wrapped it around your neck, everything changed.

You could feel your body swelling up like a balloon about to pop. Your shirt started getting tighter and tighter across your back, like it was made of shrink wrap and you were the main course. It was crazy. Your muscles started growing, like, really growing. They bulged out like they were trying to escape, pushing the fabric into these wild patterns. Your shoulders looked like they were going to tear the shirt apart at any second, and your back? Forget about it. It was like someone had photoshopped Arnold Schwarzenegger onto your body.

Your face got all red, and you started grunting like a caveman discovering fire. Your jeans felt like they were trying to cut off your circulation, and you could see the veins in your legs popping out like a road map. The whole thing was so intense, it was like your body was trying to break free from its own skin. And that's when the magic really happened.

With a sound louder than your roommate's snoring, the shirt just couldn't handle the beast you were becoming anymore. It ripped apart like it was made of wet paper, leaving you standing there in nothing but your boxers. But even those couldn't contain the monster that was your new body. Your lats looked like they could block out the sun, and your abs looked like they'd been carved by a master sculptor.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, your hair turned white. It was like your whole life flashed before your eyes, except it wasn't your life, it was the life of someone else. Someone who had seen and done it all, and somehow, all that knowledge and experience got stuffed into your head.

The next thing you knew, you weren't in your dorm room anymore. You were in a mansion, the kind of place you only see in the movies. You'd finished college, built a successful business, and all you had to worry about was working out and lounging around. It was like you'd been teleported into the body of a billionaire with a body to match. You were living the dream, except it wasn't just a dream, it was your reality now. And all because of that weird scarf. Go figure.

[growthhyp]

I'm a red headed twink.

Does this garage sale has any Halloween Costumes ? I would love to find a caveman costume!

The Caveman Costume

It’s Halloween, and you decided to go with that peculiar caveman costume you picked up from the garage sale. The outfit is a bit snug, really only covering your cock and ass, but something about the muscular guy who sold it to you made your heart race. As you slip it on, you can't help but feel a little self-conscious about your own skinny frame. But, hey, it's a costume party, right?

You arrive at the party, the pumpkins glowing orange and the air thick with excitement. The moment you hit the dance floor, something strange begins to happen. It's like a tingling sensation that starts from the tips of your toes and travels up your body, making every inch of you feel alive. Before you know it, your muscles are inflating like a balloon—your chest puffing out, your arms bulging, your abs rippling, and your legs turning into tree trunks. It's a transformation that's as shocking as it is exhilarating.

As the music pumps and you move to the beat, you can't shake the thought of the seller's muscular physique. Your mind starts to fog over, and things that never used to interest you now flood your thoughts. Girls, with their bouncing tits and delicious pussies, are suddenly all you can think about. It's as if your sexuality has done a complete 180, and your body seems to be following suit. You let out a primitive grunt, feeling your cock stiffen and grow longer with each passing second.

The more you dance, the dumber you feel, but the more primal your desires become. Your vocabulary diminishes to a few guttural words: "Grow… Tits… Pussy." The transformation is almost complete. You can feel your IQ dropping as your body reaches peak masculine form. Your thoughts are now simple, basic, and driven by one thing: the need to fuck.

As the music reaches a crescendo, so does your transformation. Your mind is now a blur of caveman thoughts, and all you can say is "STRONG… HUNGRY." You're not the sharpest tool in the shed anymore, but you've got the body of a fucking T-Rex. You look around the party, and all you see are potential mates, their curves and smiles beckoning you like a siren's call.

The partygoers stare at you, not quite sure what to make of the caveman now towering over them. Some are intimidated, some are intrigued, and others are just plain scared. But you don't care. You're in the zone, the ultimate Alpha male, and you know exactly what you want. You flex your newfound muscles, feeling the power surge through you, and all you can do is smack your hand against your chest and let out a mighty roar.

You stand there, panting, the room spinning slightly from the intensity of the change. But you're not done yet. You spot a particularly delicious-looking female across the room, and your caveman instincts kick in. It's time to claim your prize, to show everyone who the new king of the party is. And with that, you stride over to her, all swagger and bravado, ready to show her what this Halloween costume is really all about.

[growthhyp]

Any chance you could turn me into the biggest, hairiest, and dumbest bodybuilder the world has ever seen? I want to be bigger than anyone else and so dumb that I can barely function other than to just keep getting bigger.

The Dumb Bro

Can you believe this, bro? So, like, I've got these bad boy nanobots in me, right? They changed the whole game years ago. And now, guess what? They're like, totally in you too! "Hulk smash, time to grow!" I telepathically told you, and boom! Your chest is like, inflating like a hot air balloon, bro.

You're feeling that tingle in your chest, right? That's them little guys getting to work! Then, bam, your chest is popping out like it's made of pure muscle and testosterone. It's like someone's pumping it up with a bike pump on steroids. And your arms, oh man, your arms! They're blowing up like you've been hitting the gym every day since you were in diapers.

First, it's your biceps, peaking out like a couple of Mount Everests with veins that could give a roadmap a run for its money. Then your tris are like, "Hey, we're not gonna be left out!" So, they start bulging and shaping up too. Your forearms are now like, super-charged with muscle and veins are just, like, everywhere. It's like you're turning into the Incredible Hulk's cousin or something!

You can't help but let out a manly groan as this happens, and the urge to flex, bro, it's just too much to resist. You throw those guns up and watch 'em bounce back like yo-yos made of pure steel.

As your guns popped into a sick double bicep pose, you couldn't help but flash that victory grin, bro. And just like that, your back started to blow up like a balloon, filling out like it had a life of its own. Your traps were spreading wider than ever, giving you that sweet, sweet wing-like look that makes the babes go crazy for that V-taper. And your neck, oh man, it started tingling and swelling up like you had a personal trainer for your neck muscles! You couldn't help but let out a low, guttural moan as you felt the blood rushing to your newfound gains, making your noggin feel like it was floating on a cloud of pure muscle euphoria. Your expression? Pure, dumb jock bliss. It was like your brain had gone on vacation and all you could focus on was the iron pumping, the protein shakes, and the sweet, sweet growth of those bad boys.

You stomach? It's gone, man! Flattened out like a pancake on a hot griddle, and in its place is a set of 6-pack abs that are popping like nobody's business! Your obliques? Forget about it, they're strutting their stuff like they own the place. And those quads? Oh boy, they're pumped up like they're on steroids, turning into tree trunks with veins popping all over, like you've just crushed the last set of squats in the gym. Then it's on to the calves, baby, getting swole like they're made of pure rock, and your feet? They're like two blocks of cement now.

But here's the kicker, bro: I checked out your noggin and it's all muscle up in there too. I mean, your brain power's been swapped for biceps and all that good stuff, but no worries, you're still a smart cookie. You're keeping all that juicy info on workouts and nutrition, like you've got a PhD in gains. It's all part of the deal, my friend. You're looking like a walking, talking, flexing encyclopedia of gym wisdom. Ain't it sweet?

As your noggin' went kaput, all you cared about was pumpin' iron and bulkin' up, bro. You were like, "Yeah, man, I wanna be a freakin' beast!" So I whipped out the ol' nano-magic and cranked those babies up to eleven! You're now so jacked, it's like someone photoshopped you into a superhero movie, right? But, y'know, the trade-off was that brainiac department of yours took a dive. Now you're talkin' in caveman grunts like, "Grow muscles, big, big!" and that's about the extent of your vocab. But hey, you got the physique of a Greek god, so who needs smarts, right? Last I saw ya, you were in the gym, flexin' those behemoth biceps and drooling like a champ. Classic gym moment, dude.

[growthhyp]

Hey I found this nice gold pen how much?

The Gold Pen

"Hey, I found this nice gold pen," you called out, your eyes lingering on the glint of metal amidst the clutter. The muscular man looked up from his work, his biceps flexing slightly as he raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"How much?" you inquired, your voice betraying the excitement that bubbled within you. The pen was sleek and shiny, and you couldn't help but wonder if it was a rare find, something that could make your collection of writing instruments just a bit more interesting.

"Actually," the muscular man replied with a grin that made his eyes sparkle, "It's free. Take it."

Your heart skipped a beat as you reached out to take the pen. His fingers brushed against yours for a moment, and you couldn't help but feel the strength behind them. "Cool," you murmured, sliding the gold pen into your pocket. It felt heavier than you expected, the weight of it a comforting presence against your thigh. You continued to browse through the garage sale, your eyes occasionally darting back to the muscular man as you pretended to show interest in the random knickknacks scattered across the tables. In reality, you had no intention of buying anything else—you'd come solely to admire the man's physique, the kind of body you aspired to have, despite the countless hours you'd put in at the gym with little to show for it.

As you meandered through the aisles, you noticed his eyes on you. The smirk on his handsome face grew wider, his teeth flashing in the sun. You felt your cheeks flush and turned away, deciding that it was time to leave. You mumbled a quick "thanks" and began to make your way to the exit.

That evening, you found yourself in your bedroom. You collapsed onto your bed and pulled out your gym journal, flipping through the pages of your painstakingly detailed progress. For the past two weeks, you'd been pushing yourself harder than ever, but the scales hadn't budged as much as you'd hoped. The frustration was etched on your face as you scribbled your latest weight and measurements into the book. Your hand hovered over the page, the tip of the golden pen poised to make its mark.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore," you whispered to the empty room, the words echoing in your head. You thought back to the muscular man at the garage sale, his rippling muscles taunting you from afar. "How I wish I could look like a bodybuilder like that," you murmured, the envy thick in your voice. Before you could stop yourself, you wrote those very words into the journal. The moment the ink hit the paper, something peculiar happened. The pen grew even hotter, and your hand began to tingle, sending waves of heat up your arm.

In a sudden rush, your forearms began to swell. You stared in shock as the muscles grew larger and more defined, your skin stretching to accommodate the newfound bulk. You looked down at your hands and noticed that the one holding the pen was significantly larger than the other. Panic set in as you compared the two, and that's when you saw it—a streak of gold ink smudged on the page. You looked at your arms again, and sure enough, it's like someone has lathered a golden cream on your right forearm.

The pain grew more intense, moving up to your biceps. You let out a guttural grunt, the kind that came from deep within your chest. You could feel the muscle fibers stretching and multiplying, the ache becoming almost unbearable. But you couldn't look away, couldn't stop watching as your body transformed before your very eyes. The right bicep began to pulse and throb, the veins in your arms becoming more pronounced.

"What the fuck?" you gasped, your eyes wide with shock and awe as your body grew stronger, more powerful. Your shoulders widened, filling out your right sleeves shirt until the seams strained against your newfound size. The sensation was like nothing you'd ever felt before, a mix of agony and ecstasy that was impossible to ignore. You could almost feel your clothes ripping apart as your neck thickened and your chest swelled.

Your back muscles bulged and rippled, the gold ink seeping into your skin and leaving a trail of gleaming power in its wake. The pain grew more intense, but you found yourself pushing through it, eager to see how far this transformation would go. Your left arm began to match your right, the bicep inflating like a balloon until it mirrored the mountainous peak that had formed.

Your traps grew wide, pulling your shoulders back and making your neck seem even more defined. The gold ink spread to your chest, turning your pectorals into a sculpted plateau, the fibers of your muscles clearly visible through your skin. The discomfort grew, but you gritted your teeth, feeling the power surge through your body. The veins in your arms became more prominent.

You sit up, as the pain dropped down to your abdomen. "Huugh," you grunted, feeling your stomach muscles tighten as if they were being vacuum-sealed. You watched in amazement as your belly fat disappeared, replaced by a set of abs that seemed to be etched into your torso. Each abdominal muscle bulged one by one, the gold ink outlining them as if they were drawn by a master artist. The sensation was strange, almost ticklish, as your body reconfigured itself.

Your legs began to quiver, and you realized that the transformation wasn't stopping at your upper body. You felt your quads expand, stretching your shorts until they could hold no more. You looked down to see the material tearing away, revealing muscles that looked like they belonged to a professional bodybuilder. The gold ink flowed down your legs, turning them into a canvas of power, your calves bulging and your feet feeling as if they could crack the floorboards beneath you.

With a moan that was equal parts pain and pleasure, your cock grew, pushing against the fabric of your underwear, which struggled to contain your newfound size. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of fear and arousal that had you frozen in place.

As you stood there, you felt the last of the gold ink seep into your skin, leaving a faint shimmer that made you feel like a living, breathing statue. Your eyes snapped open, and the room around you spun. You were no longer in your cramped bedroom but instead found yourself standing on a vast stage, bathed in the unforgiving glow of spotlights. The scent of sweat and tanning oil filled your nostrils as you looked down and saw that you were now wearing nothing but a pair of gold posing trunks, smeared with gold tanning cream that gleamed against your new body.

You flexed your arms, feeling the power surge through them as your biceps and triceps bulged in a perfect pose. The crowd roared, and you realized that you were in the middle of a bodybuilding competition. The golden ink has also rewritten your history, the years of painstaking work had paid off—you were now a contender, the envy of every man who'd ever picked up a weight. You felt a rush of confidence that you had never experienced before. The doubt and inadequacy that had plagued your mind for so long were gone, replaced by a fierce determination to claim victory.

[growthhyp]

Are there any white briefs in the garage sale? I've been needing a pair of new underwear.

The White Briefs

You approach the garage sale with a hopeful glint in your eye. You've been searching for the perfect pair of white briefs to replace your holey, overstretched ones. You've had enough of the baggy waistbands and the constant wedgies. So when you spot the muscular man, you just have to ask, "Are there any white briefs in the garage sale? I've been needing a pair of new underwear." The muscular man looks you over with a knowing smile and says, "Of course, I have a ton of those." His smirk suggests that he might have more than just briefs to offer.

He leads you to a table, piled high with an assortment of white briefs. Some have matching designs, others are a wild cacophony of patterns. "Does this have my size though?" you inquire, feeling a bit self-conscious about your flabby belly. He looks you up and down, then nods confidently. "Well, to check it out, why don’t you try it on one by one in my dressing room?" His smirk widens, hinting at something more than just a simple shopping trip.

You take the briefs in your hand, feeling their softness. The muscular man's then said, "These will be perfect for you." You enter the makeshift dressing room, which is just a curtain draped over a clothes rack. It smells faintly of fabric softener and something else – something that makes your heart race a little faster. You don't know why, but you trust him. You trust the way he says 'perfect' as if you were hypnotized ny him.

You peel off your old underwear and pants, exposing your pale, soft body to the cool garage air. Your cock can be seen there refelcted in the mirror, flaccid and seemingly innocent at 4 inches. But you know it's not the size that matters – it's the growth. You've heard the whispers, the jokes, but you've seen the looks of amazement when it stretches to 7 inches. It's always been your secret weapon, your little miracle. You smile to yourself, feeling a bit cocky.

The first brief you pull on is tight. Too tight. "Auuurgh," you groan, tugging at the elastic. The fabric digs into your gut, making you feel like a sausage in a casing. But the muscular man said these would be perfect, so you bear with it. You start to sweat, droplets rolling down your body like rain on a hot day. Each brief you try is the same. The tightness is unbearable, but you're determined to find the one that fits.

With each grunt and tug, something strange begins to happen. Your body starts to feel… different. Your belly, once a soft pillow of comfort, begins to shrink. The fat that you've carried around for so long seems to be melting away. You don't notice the transformation, too focused on the struggle of fitting into these confining pieces of fabric. The pleasure is intense, but your mind translates it into the mere discomfort of trying on new underwear.

You sweat profusely, the fabric sticking to your skin as you pull on each brief. You're on a mission to find the perfect pair, unaware that they are reshaping you into something new. Each grunt and groan is accompanied by a little more of your fat disappearing revealing your bones. The mirror in the dressing room shows you a reflection of a lanky, skinny man, yet your mind insists that you've always looked this way.

The muscular man's voice outside the curtain sounds concerned, "You okay in there?"

"Yeah," you reply, your voice strained. "Just trying to find the right fit."

"Take your time," he calls back, his voice echoing in the garage.

You don't know why, but his words fill you with a strange comfort. You've always envied his confidence, his self-assuredness. Now, you're beginning to feel it too. Your cock, once your secret weapon, has grown to an impressive 12 inches, standing tall and proud. Yet, your mind doesn't acknowledge the transformation, you just thought it is your big cock that makes the brief so tight, but still you continued to try on the white briefs.

You breathe heavily, still thinking it's all normal. You reach for the next pair of white briefs. "GRRRRRRR" you grunt, slipping them over your hips. The pleasure is more intense this time. "Wow, this time it fits my cock," you murmur, your voice filled with wonder. "And yes, my waist fits just ri… AUUURGGHHH." You don't realize that your muscles are growing.

With a deep "ARGGHHH," you feel your chest swell. The mirror reflects a balloon-like expansion of your pectorals, your ribs stretching the fabric. The white lines of new muscles etch into your skin, a roadmap of power appearing before your very eyes. Yet, all you can think of is the snug fit of the underwear. "These are really something," you pant, your voice a mix of amazement and exertion.

The muscular man's shadow flits outside the dressing room. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," you reply, your voice a grunt of effort. "They're… they're just really… tight."

"Good," he says, his tone hinting at a knowing smile. "They're supposed to be."

You breathed more heavily, “AH…AH….UH!” a deeper groan escaped your mouth, you continued to try on the white briefs. Your biceps bulged, the veins popping and your triceps grew taut, your forearms thickened into tree trunks.

"GRRRRR" you growl, the sound vibrating through the walls of the small dressing room. You feel the power in your legs, like the roots of an ancient tree reaching deep into the earth. The briefs, once too tight, now struggle to contain the pillars of your new form. Your hamstrings stretch and pulse with each movement. "AHHHHH," you exhale, as if you're just trying to get a better look at the tag. But the truth is, your legs are now a sculpture of power, a testament to what you never knew you could become.

You wiggle into another pair, the fabric whispering against your skin as your calves tighten into diamond shapes. The seams of the briefs strain against the newfound size of your legs, threatening to tear. The floorboards protest under your weight. "MMPHHH…HMPHPH…" your voice is now a symphony of effort, each sound a bass note resonating in the garage.

The muscular man's shadow lingers, his footsteps heavy outside the dressing room. "Everything okay?" His voice is a drumroll to the crescendo of your transformation.

"Just… just… need… the… perfect… fit," you grunt between clenched teeth. Each word is a battle cry as you wrestle with the fabric, your body redefining itself with every inch of elastic that yields.

You slip into another pair, the sound of fabric tearing a whisper against the cacophony of your transformation. "AHHH AHHHA AHHHH," you roar, the briefs tightening around your waist as your back expands. Your spine rearranges itself, each vertebrae popping into place like a jigsaw puzzle. The mirror shows a reflection that seems almost alien, yet your mind insists it's always been this way.

The muscular man leans against the outside of the curtain, watching the tapestry of your change unfold. His eyes are filled with a mix of fascination and satisfaction. "How do they feel?" he asks, his voice a rumble of thunder.

"T-tight," you reply, your voice a grunt of effort. "But… good. Like they're… fitting."

You try on the last pair of briefs, feeling a final surge of power. "HNGGGGHHH," you groan, the fabric stretching over your now massive glutes. The mirror reflects a god of the gym, not the fat man who walked in. Yet, all you see is the same muscular guy you've always been.

You flex your biceps, a smirk playing on your lips. "Alright, these look good on me, hehe," you murmur to yourself, oblivious to the cacophony of your transformation. Your shirt is a distant memory, shredded on the floor, forgotten amidst the symphony of grunts and groans. You step out of the dressing room, feeling the confidence of a peacock.

The muscular man's eyes widen, his smirk now a full-blown grin. "You found your size, I see," he says, his voice a purr of satisfaction.

You nod, "yeah, they're just right," you reply, your voice deeper, more assured than before.

The muscular man's eyes twinkle with amusement. "So, what's it going to be?" he asks, his voice a cocktail of tease and challenge.

You step up to him, the confidence of a lion in every step. "I'll take all of 'em," you say, slapping the briefs against your palm. "How much?"

The muscular man's smirk widens, his eyes gleaming. He knows. He's seen the magic of the briefs before. "Fifty bucks for the whole lot," he says, his voice like velvet.

You hand over the crumpled bills, your heart pounding in your new, broad chest. "Here you go," you say, your voice now a deep rumble.

The muscular man's smirk turns into a full-blown smile as he takes the money. "Enjoy," he says, his eyes lingering on your transformed body.

You nod and strut out of the garage, feeling the fabric hug your new form. Each step feels like you're walking on air. You're no longer the same person who walked in, but you don't know it. To you, this is just a normal day of buying underwear.

[growthhyp]

I don't know what happened but my boyfriend left me in the dark, the last text that I received from him was he was in some kind of party with lots of chicks. And then he send me an invite for this so called #RedWaveCapture. I am sad that he left me like this, I am a twink and I get off by big cocks entering my hole. I miss him and I miss our sex together.

You feel a rumbling deep in the pit of your hole. Your mind drifts to thoughts of hot guys eager to plunge their cocks into your waiting hole, but the rumbling grows more insistent, as if a noxious burrowing creature is trying to claw its way out from the bowels of your being. The pressure builds to an unbearable level until, with a low moan of resignation...… the rumble grows to a deafening crescendo, and with a sudden, violent expulsion - PFFFFFTT!! - a noxious plume of gas blasts forth from your asshole, filling the room with its putrid stench. You unleash a monumental protein fart directly into the confines of the room. The smell is indescribable - a cocktail of month-old protein powder, backed-up sewage, and the sweatiest pair of gym shorts you've ever encountered.It's utterly revolting. The odor assaults your nostrils with an almost physical force, causing you to instinctively draw in deeper gulps of the noxious fumes.

Your nose instinctively flares open wider, as if possessed by an insatiable hunger for the repulsive aroma now permeating the air. The reek invades your nostrils, coating the inner linings with its pungent film. Each breath becomes a laborious chore as your lungs struggle to process the noxious fumes.

The sickening stench seems to seep into your very pores, saturating your skin with its toxicity. It's as if you've been marinated in a putrid stew of week-old locker room funk and spoiled protein powder smoothies. The miasma clings to you, marking you as a pariah, a walking emanation of noxiousness. As the cloying scent suffocates your senses, a sudden panic seizes your guts. Your sphincter clenches involuntarily, sealing shut like a biological deadbolt. The once-hungry hole now refuses to even entertain the notion of penetration.

The moment the stench hits you—overpowering, primal—there's a blissful surrender that takes over. It’s like your mind and body are caught in a hazy cloud of sweat, gym chalk, and the faint echo of beer cans popping open. The smell, thick and oppressive, feels almost like it's pulling away every last thread of who you once were. Slowly, like the switch of a dial, your thoughts blur and memories of sitting in a lecture hall or texting your boyfriend fade into oblivion.

Your posture straightens, muscles subtly flexing as an unfamiliar surge of youthful vigor pulses through you. It’s almost as if the gym air itself is transforming you, reviving a sense of dominance, a kind of magnetic presence. Without even realizing it, you start to stand taller—your skin tanning, your body morphing into something else, something powerful. The twinky version of you starts to melt away, replaced by a sharper, more defined silhouette, the kind of body that seems to have been carved from hours of dedication, sweat, and discipline.

A new energy pulses through your veins, the same energy you’d seen in those fitness influencers you used to scroll past on your feed. Your abs, once hidden beneath layers of softness, now cut through your torso like clean lines, a clear advertisement for the commitment you never knew you had in you. Your chest broadens, pecs bulging under the sheer weight of your own transformation. There's a rush of pride as your shoulders become sharper, the strength in your deltoids undeniable. Even your legs, thick with power, feel stronger with every step you take—muscles taut and ready for anything.

Your hair—oh, your hair—gets a little more voluminous, just the right kind of effortless slick, the kind that makes you look like you just stepped out of a perfectly choreographed TikTok dance. You run your fingers through it, and it’s like the last traces of doubt or insecurity are blown away with a single swoop. The face staring back at you in the mirror is a mix of playfulness and quiet intensity, a sharp jawline and bright eyes reflecting confidence, as if you've always known exactly who you are.

There’s a power in your movements now, even as you walk through the haze of gym air. Each flex, each stretch feels natural, almost instinctual. You can feel every muscle in your forearms, the veins popping with every grip of a dumbbell, every push of the barbell. Your legs carry you with purpose, thighs that could shatter expectations, calves that speak of countless sprints and squats.

You’ve morphed from someone unsure, someone who might have slipped between the cracks of college life, to an embodiment of disciplined strength and magnetic presence. The persona has taken over. The once-quiet you now speaks with an authority, a calm certainty that everything you’ve earned has been through hard work. Your posts are not just motivational—they are motivational. They remind everyone watching that strength is earned, not given. You weave in a sense of faith, family, and an identity that’s rooted in values that won’t waver, even when the world gets loud.

The gear you wear isn't just for the gym—it's a representation of who you are. Your athletic wear blends seamlessly with that classic Americana look—subtle American flag patches, even a tattoo that speaks to something deeper than just body art. Every step you take, every video you post, carries with it the weight of something more than just fitness—it’s about building yourself into a force to be reckoned with, inside and out.

And as you move through this newfound self, you can feel the energy radiating off you—a mix of faith, power, and an unwavering commitment to your goals. It’s like the gym, the parties, the girls, all of it feeds into this perfect storm of charisma and discipline. There's a quiet pride in your eyes, not just in the muscles you've built, but in the life you've crafted. You don’t need to boast—your presence, your transformation, speaks for itself.

As you tie up your grubby gym sneakers, a putrid wave of stench wafts up from the leather, assaulting your nostrils with the pungent aroma of unwashed feet and week-old protein bars. You barely register the foul odor, having grown accustomed to the miasma that permanently clings to you like a cheap cologne. Suddenly, a voice pierces through the haze in your mind, growing louder and more obnoxious by the second. It's the voice of that loudmouth Gen Z bro, the one who thinks he's hot shit just because he can benchpress his body weight. "You ready to hit the gym, bro? gonna smash some weights and crush some serious gains! Those girls ain't gonna know what hit 'em when you strut in there, bro! They'll be all over you like white on rice! Just keep telling yourself 'you got this, bro!'"

You whip out your phone with a flourish, double tapping the camera and holding it up in front of your face. A devilish grin spreads across your lips as you ready yourself to go live on TikTok. "Yo, what's up, bros and hoes! @TulsaGains69 here, coming to you LIVE from my crib," you bark at the camera, flexing your pecs through your stained wife beater, tossing the dirty rag off. "Just got done crushin' leg day at the gym, about to head out and see what trouble we can get into tonight! Last weekend was straight up EPIC, fam - RedWaveRapture party was lit AF, let me tell you!" You lean in close to the camera, a manic gleam in your eye as you continue your rant. "My boy @RykerRoids01 was with me, as per usual. That guy's a straight up beast mode! We had those chicks eating off our dicks boy"

[growthhyp]

Hey, you got anything that comes in a matching pair? It’s my best friend’s birthday coming up and I can’t think of what to get him for the life of me, but he’s like a brother to me, I gotta find something! So I was thinking some sort of sentimental thing? One for me and one for him?

The Muscular Twins

“Hey, you got anything that comes in a matching pair? It’s my best friend’s birthday coming up and I can’t think of what to get him for the life of me, but he’s like a brother to me, I gotta find something! So I was thinking some sort of sentimental thing? One for me and one for him?” You said to the muscular man that was sitting on the other side of the makeshift table listening to what you want to buy.

He looks around his garage that’s cluttered with random items that have seen better days, then his eyes stop on two snapback hats that have the same black and red design. They are a bit dusty, but you can see that they are in good condition. “Hmm, I can only think of few items here that are match in design, but maybe this one,” He says as he picks up the hats and blows off the dust from them.

The muscular man handed you the 2 snapbacks. “I absentmindedly bought two the same design from way back. I’m willing to sell this to you in just 5 dollars both, I have included some discount as a birthday gift also to your best friend.” He smiles and handed the snapback to you.

You couldn’t believe your luck. A matching set of hats, almost brand new, for only 5 bucks? That’s what you call a steal! Your eyes widened as you handed over the crumpled bill, feeling the excitement bubble up inside of you. "Really wow, I've got myself a deal!" You exclaimed, giving him a hearty thumbs up. He chuckled, looking slightly amused by your enthusiasm, but you didn't care. This was going to be the perfect gift.

You took one last admiring glance at the snapbacks, it's black having matching design. "Wow, thank you so much, sir!" You beamed, your voice full of gratitude. You couldn't wait to see the look on your best friend's face when he opens the present. You pocketed the hats and dashed out of the garage, the excitement in your stride making you feel like you could run a marathon.

As you walked home, the warm sun beating down on your head, you decided to try one of the hats on. It fit snugly, the cool fabric feeling surprisingly comfortable against your skin. But as you looked down at your reflection in a nearby car window, something peculiar happened. Your vision grew hazy, like someone had thrown a fine mist over your eyes.

The sounds of the street grew distant, and suddenly, you are at a gym and you saw a figure standing beside you. It was a muscular man, flexing his arms. You blinked, but the image remained. You reached up to touch your forehead, wondering if you were hallucinating from the heat, but as your hand came into view, you realized with a start that the man beside you was a muscular twin of yours. You asked his name and he replied to you with the name of your best friend. You got confused as it is definitely not your best friend's face.

The muscular twin looked over to you and grinned, flexing his bicep in a show of strength.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," your muscular twin said, snapping you out of your daze. You glanced down at your hands, now large and powerful, and felt the urge to flex them. You obeyed the impulse, and sure enough, your forearms bulged with muscles that looked like they could crush a watermelon. You followed the new contours of your arms up to your biceps, which now resembled the rolling hills of a majestic mountain range, veins pulsing like rivers through the valleys of your muscles.

Your eyes widened in amazement as you took in the rest of your body. Your triceps had taken on the distinct shape of a horseshoe, each bulge pronounced and powerful. It was as if someone had sculpted you from clay, adding muscle where there was once only skin and bone. You couldn't help but marvel at the sheer size of your shoulders, which now felt like boulders beneath your fingertips. You rotated your arms, feeling the weight and the power that came with them. "This is… insane!" you murmured to yourself, still in shock.

As your hands traveled upwards, your fingertips grazed the base of your neck, and that's when you felt it - the unmistakable swell of your trapezius muscles. They bulged out, creating a formidable frame around your neck. You had never felt so… so powerful, so invincible. The snapback hat on your head now felt like a crown, a symbol of this newfound strength.

You muscular twin leaned in closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Bro, are you okay?" he asked. "You're touching yourself like you've never seen muscles before." You tried to ignore him, but his question only served to amplify your confusion. What was happening to you? Was this some kind of trick the hat was playing on you, or a side effect of the heat?

With trembling fingers, you reached up to your chest, expecting to feel the familiar softness of your own body. But instead, your hands encountered two firm mounds of muscle that felt like beach balls strapped to your torso. You gave them an experimental squeeze, and to your astonishment, they bounced back. "What the…" you murmured, your voice now a deep rumble that resonated through your new body.

Your gaze shifted down to your stomach, expecting to see the usual rolls that accompanied every deep breath, but instead, you found yourself staring at a washboard of abs. You traced the lines with your fingertips, each ridge as firm and defined as if it had been chiseled by an artist. You had never seen anything like it, let alone felt it. Your muscular twin was watching you with an amused smirk, clearly enjoying the shock and awe etched across your face.

As you continued to explore, you looked down at your legs. The workout shorts you had been wearing now clung to your thighs, which bulged with power, each muscle group clearly defined. You could see the fabric straining ever so slightly with every flex, a testament to the sheer mass you have. Your calves looked thick and strong. It was as if you'd been lifting weights your whole life, but you'd never even stepped foot in a gym.

Curiosity piqued, you reached back to feel your butt. To your astonishment, it felt like you were cupping two pillows. Each cheek was firm yet yielding, the perfect blend of power and comfort. You couldn't help but smirk at the absurdity of the situation. You wiggled your hips slightly, watching the muscles ripple beneath your skin, and felt a strange sense of pride.

Your muscular twin chuckled. "Dude, seriously, you can't get enough of your body?" His voice was a blend of your own, but with a cocky edge that you'd never heard before. You looked around, realizing that you were indeed standing in front of a mirror in the gym. The smell of sweat and iron filled your nostrils as you took in the sight of gleaming workout equipment and posters of bodybuilders adorning the walls.

Embarrassed, you quickly averted your gaze from your reflection, but the damage was done. Your twin had a point; you were ogling your new form with the same enthusiasm you'd reserve for a celebrity crush. You felt a flush creep up your neck, but the feeling of power was too exhilarating to ignore. Before you knew it, your arms were flexing in a double bicep pose.

The sound of your own voice, deeper and more confident than ever before, filled the room. "Damn bro, I'm hot!" You said, unable to hold back the grin that stretched across your face. The muscles in your neck and shoulders tensed and bulged, creating an intimidating frame for your grin. Your twin winked and gave a thumbs up, seemingly approving of your swagger like it is just a normal day for him.

He leaned closer. "Of course, bro, we're the unstoppable twin brothers," he said with a laugh, flexing his biceps. "Twin brothers?" you questioned, your voice still unfamiliar to your ears. "What do you mean by that?"

"Bro, come on, don't you remember?" Your twin brother's eyes searched yours, filled with a camaraderie that was eerily familiar. "We've always been twin brothers, two peas in a pod. We decided to hit the gym together, to push each other to be our best selves. And now look at us, muscle gods in the making!"

You nodded, the fog in your mind slowly lifting as you began to accept the absurd reality presented to you. The bond with your twin brother was something you cherished deeply. You'd always had a competitive streak, pushing each other to be better, and the results were undeniable. The mirror reflected not one, but two of you, both grinning and flexing like champions.

The memories of countless hours spent in the gym flooded back, the sweat, the grunts, the smell of chalk and victory. You remembered the days when you'd just started, the struggle to even lift the barbell, and how your twin had been there, spotting you, encouraging you. You woke up, you are back again in the streets but something is different.

You looked down at your outfit. Gone were the baggy tees and loose shorts you'd been wearing earlier, replaced with a tight-fitting shirt that clung to your newfound muscles like a second skin, and a pair of shorts that highlighted the powerful thighs beneath them. The snapback hat was still perched on your head, but now it looked like it belonged, like it was a part of your very essence. Your mind was different, it's like the personality and life of yourself in your daydream was put into your mind and replaced your identity.

You could feel the determination coursing through your veins, pumping with the same rhythm as your newfound strength. The mission was clear: you had to give your best friend the other snapback hat and make him a part of this transformation. The thought of the two of you as a muscular twin brothers was too enticing to resist.

The day of his birthday party arrived, and you were nowhere to be found. You'd been preparing for this moment, waiting for the perfect time to reveal your gift. Your heart raced as you watched from the shadows, waiting for the moment when your friend would open the box containing the snapback. The party was in full swing, the air thick with the smell of barbecue and the sound of laughter and music.

When he finally unwrapped the hat that was gifted by you, his eyes lit up with confusion before shifting to a tentative smile. He held it up to his head, inspecting the black hat. "Thanks, man," he said, turning it over in his hands. "But where are you?" His voice was filled with a hint of sadness that you hadn't anticipated.

But as soon as he pulled the hat over his blonde hair, everything changed. His body began to spasm, his muscles grew at an alarming rate, ripping through the fabric of his shirt and pants like they were made of paper. His skin stretched taut over the new muscles, veins popping out like a map of uncharted territories across his biceps, forearms, and chest. You watched in awe, your heart racing as the transformation unfolded before your eyes. The party continues, it was if the people can't see what was happening to your best friend.

His eyes widened in shock and a bit of pain, but he remained silent, his jaw clenched as if he could somehow hold back the overwhelming power surging through him. His cheekbones grew more prominent, his nose more aquiline, contorting to look like yours. It was like watching a caterpillar become a butterfly, except it was happening in a matter of seconds and with a soundtrack of fabric tearing.

The partygoers continued their conversations, oblivious to the monumental transformation happening right beside them. The music and chatter grew distant as the intensity of his change grew stronger, like the whole world was muffled by a thick fog, and all that existed was the two of you. The only indication of the chaos within him was the tremor in his hands, which grew steadier as the hat's power took hold.

The last of his clothes gave way with a final, dramatic rip, revealing a body that was a mirror image of yours. His blonde hair had morphed into a sleek black mane that framed his new, angular features.

As the dust of his transformation settled, your best friend blinked, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. The panic in his eyes was replaced with a vacant stare, and for a moment, you feared you had made a mistake. But then, something clicked into place, and his eyes refocused, a smirk playing on his lips. The hat had not just changed his appearance; it had also changed his essence, turning him into your twin brother in every conceivable way.

The room around you blurred, and suddenly, the party scene shifted. The garish streamers and balloons that had been scattered around for your best friend's birthday were replaced with more sophisticated decorations. The faces of the people around you morphed into those of your actual family members and friends, who had all gathered to celebrate the two of you. You realized with a start that the party was now in your honor as well, a celebration of the bond that you and your twin brother shared.

[growthhyp]

I see you have a bunch of random knickknacks by those magazines. I'd be happy to buy a few of them, wanna show them off and give me some recommendations?

Knick Knacks

The sun peeked over the garage roof, casting a warm glow on the assortment of odds and ends displayed on the makeshift tables. You meandered through the clutter, your eyes catching the gleam of a ring, a necklace, and a wristwatch nestled among the magazines. The muscular man, with biceps that could crack walnuts, beamed at you from behind a table laden with his wares. His deep voice rumbled, "What can I get for you today?"

You stepped closer, a hint of excitement playing on your lips. "I've got twenty bucks," you said, nodding towards the jewelry. "How about those three pieces?" The man's smile grew wider, revealing a set of perfect teeth. "Sure, take 'em," he said, placing the ring on your finger and the necklace around your neck. His strong hands fastened the watch around your wrist, the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine. You felt a strange energy emanating from the trinkets, a sensation that was both foreign and tantalizing.

As soon as the jewelry touched your skin, your body began to react. It was as if every cell was coming alive, pulsing with newfound power. You felt your heart hammer in your chest, beating like a bass drum in a heavy metal concert. The tingling grew more intense, starting in your arms and spreading throughout your body. Your vision swam for a moment, and you had to grab the edge of the table to steady yourself.

When you looked down, you couldn't believe your eyes. Your arm had swollen, thick with bulging muscles that looked as if they could pop at any moment. Panic and arousal warred within you, the sight of your own transformation both terrifying and exhilarating. You watched, transfixed, as your biceps and triceps ballooned, the fabric of your shirt straining to contain them. The veins in your forearms stood out like a road map, a stark blue contrast against the newfound musculature.

Turning to the mirror, you took in your reflection. Your eyes widened as your chest muscles began to swell, pushing your shirt to the breaking point. The seams groaned under the pressure, giving way to expose the beginnings of a six-pack that hadn't been there moments before. Your shoulders grew broader, your back muscles flexing and shifting like a living tapestry. The sensation was intoxicating, and you could feel your body growing more and more powerful by the second. You flexed your newfound muscles, watching them dance under your skin, the power within you begging to be unleashed.

The muscular man's eyes gleamed with something akin to pride as he watched you from across the room. His grin widened, showing off a set of dimples you hadn't noticed before. He clapped his massive hands together, the sound echoing in the small space. "Looks like they're fitting you just fine," he said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air. You nodded, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming mix of shock and excitement coursing through your body.

You looked down at your now-snug shorts, the fabric straining against your growing thighs. The pressure in your crotch was becoming more pronounced, and you felt a blush creeping up your neck. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the incredible sensation of power surging through your muscles. The fabric of your shirt was now in tatters around your waist, the material shredded by the unstoppable expansion of your physique.

The pressure in your shorts grew too intense to ignore any longer. You looked down to see a monstrous bulge. The sight of your swollen member, now more prominent than ever, was a stark reminder of the sexual undertones of your transformation. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the moan that wanted to escape, as you felt your cock thicken even further.

You glanced over at the muscular man, his eyes still on you, but now they were filled with a knowing smirk. He had seen your reaction and was clearly enjoying the show. You felt a mix of embarrassment and excitement, but the latter was winning out as the tightness in your shorts grew more and more unbearable. You didn't know how much longer you could stand there without giving in to the urge to touch yourself. The fabric strained against your growing cock, the pressure bordering on painful.

The sensation of your muscles settling into their new, massive size was oddly satisfying, like a tight pair of gloves finally loosening up to fit perfectly. You felt the urge to flex and pose, to admire every inch of your new, powerful form. Your calves looked like they could crush a man's head between them, and your thighs had the same thickness and definition as the trunks of sequoia trees. The veins on your legs stood out like a network of rivers on a topographic map, pulsing with the newfound vitality that surged through your veins.

As you stared at your transformed body, you noticed the beginnings of ink etched into your skin. Tattoos that weren't there before began to emerge, starting as faint lines and blossoming into intricate designs. The tattoos grew more detailed and complex, each one symbolizing a different aspect of your new identity.

With each new tattoo, your mind filled with thoughts and knowledge that weren't yours. You could feel the weight of command, the understanding of how to lead a group of men to do your bidding. The thrill of power coursed through you as you realized you could make or break lives with a simple nod. The tattoos spoke of a world of shadows and whispers, of deals made in dark alleys and enemies dispatched with cold efficiency. Your mind swirled with strategies and tactics, the ability to plan and execute complex schemes that would make the most seasoned criminal mastermind proud.

You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders, the responsibility of a leader, and the thrill of a tactician. Your heart raced not just from the excitement of your transformation, but from the sudden realization that you now held the reins of a criminal empire. The tattoos didn't just change your appearance; they altered the very fabric of your being, imbuing you with the instincts and cunning of a mafia boss. You understood the complex dance of power and loyalty, the art of intimidation, and the necessity of secrecy. Your mind was now a tool sharp enough to carve out your own destiny in the underbelly of society.

The muscular man's smirk grew wider as he handed you a set of clothes. You took them with a sense of purpose, feeling the fabric slide over your bulging muscles like a second skin. You retreated into the dressing room, eager to complete your metamorphosis. As you shrugged off your old life with the remnants of your torn shirt and shorts, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your body was a sculpted masterpiece, every muscle defined. It was a powerful look, one that screamed authority and demanded respect.

Emerging from the dressing room, you were met with the man's approving nod. The suit hugged your form, showcasing the newfound power that rippled beneath the fabric. You had become a vision of dominance and control, a stark contrast to the man who had walked in just moments ago. The crisp white shirt and the dark, tailored suit made you feel like a million bucks, or rather, a hundred million. The shoes were the final touch, adding an air of sophistication to your brutish exterior.

"How much for these?" you asked, your voice now a gravelly growl that resonated with the same power as the thumping bass of your heart.

"Just a hundred bucks," the muscular man replied, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, feeling the crispness of the bills between your thickened fingers. You peeled off five twenties and slapped them onto the table, the sound echoing through the garage. "I always pay my debts," you said, the smugness in your tone unmistakable.

The muscular man chuckled, his laugh low and resonant. "Good to know," he said, taking the money without counting it. "You're gonna make quite the splash, my friend."

With a nod that was more of a challenge than a goodbye, you turned and strutted out of the garage. The sun was high in the sky now, casting a harsh light on the world that suddenly looked much smaller. Your steps were those of a man who knew where he was going, and nothing was going to stand in your way. The transformation was complete, and you were ready to take on whatever the world threw at you.

Your heart raced in anticipation of the adventures that lay ahead, the beat echoing the rhythm of the new life you had claimed for yourself. The world had just met its newest player, and it would never be the same.

[growthhyp]

Yes please transform me

[growthhyp]

Hello sir, you wouldn't happen to have a tie for sale would you? I just found out I need one for my upcoming job interview. I'll take any color or design of tie you have at this point, I'm desperate.

The Black Tie

It's a crisp morning, the kind that makes the air feel alive with possibility, and you're feeling pretty good about yourself. You've scored a decent black tie from a garage sale, which you're now wearing proudly as you step into the gleaming lobby of a high-rise building. The company you're interviewing with is one of those big, corporate giants, the kind that makes you feel like a tiny fish in a very large pond. But you're not just any tiny fish; you're one with a brain that's been honed to a sharp point by years of study, and a degree that proves it. You've got this interview in the bag, or so you think.

You wipe the beads of sweat from your forehead, feeling your heart race as you make your way to the correct floor. The walls seem to be closing in, a reminder of the pressure you've been under to land this job. You've always been the smart kid, the one who'd rather hit the books than the gym, and here you are, surrounded by men who look like they've stepped out of a fitness magazine. But you shrug it off, reminding yourself that brains got you this far. You went back to the elevator and pressed the correct floor.

As the elevator doors glide open, you step into a sea of corporate sameness. Suits and ties as far as the eye can see, you stand tall, the tie around your neck a symbol of your determination. The interviewer, a stern-faced woman with a clipboard, motions you to the waiting room. It's a small space filled with equally nervous candidates, all of them flipping through their resumes like they're reading a map to hidden treasure.

You sit down in the chair, feeling the cool leather against your skin, and that's when it hits you. A warmth, starting in your chest and spreading like wildfire. The kind of warmth that could either be nerves or something more. You wipe the sweat from your brow, noticing the damp stain spreading across the fabric of your shirt. The heat pools in your stomach, a warm, sticky reminder of the extra pounds you've been carrying around. But as you look down, you realize something's not quite right. Your shirt, which was snug around your midsection just moments ago, is now baggy. You tentatively poke at the fabric and feel the firmness of a flat stomach beneath.

Panic sets in, but it's quickly overridden by something else. A strange, exhilarating sensation as your chest starts to rise, pushing against the fabric of your shirt. You grunt, the sound echoing a little too loudly in the quiet room. You glance around, but the other interviewees are too busy with their own nerves to pay you any mind. Your hand moves to your chest, feeling the firmness of muscles you've never had before. It's like someone's pumped you full of air, and your shirt is straining to contain the new you. Your shoulders follow suit, pushing through the sleeves of your now too-small coat. You can't help but stare, watching in a mix of shock and fascination as your body transforms before your very eyes.

The feeling spreads like a wildfire, igniting every muscle fiber in your arms. Your biceps balloon, your triceps pop, and your forearms thicken into ropes of power. Your back muscles start to stretch and bulge, pushing at the seams of your shirt. You can feel the fabric tearing, giving way to the new, more powerful version of you that's emerging.

The pain in your stomach is intense, but it's quickly replaced by a sense of awe as you feel your abs forming. The soft, squishy flesh of your belly is now a tight, chiseled landscape of definition. You can feel the ridges of each muscle, the way they knit together like a finely woven tapestry. Your obliques, those elusive lines that you've only seen on the most dedicated of gym-goers, are suddenly prominent, creating a V-shape that leads down to your waist.

Your mind races with excitement as you flex your arms again, this time harder, watching the muscles dance beneath your skin. The sleeves of your once baggy coat now hug your biceps like a lover, showcasing every bulge and curve. Your forearms, now thick and ropey, the veins pulsing with the beat of your heart. Your lats spread like wings, pulling the tails of your shirt taut across your broad back. The feeling is exhilarating, and you can't help but let out a soft growl of approval.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the polished glass of the conference room door. The sight of your new physique is like a punch to the gut, but instead of pain, you feel an overwhelming sense of pride. Gone is the shy, overweight man who used to dread taking his shirt off at the pool. In his place stands a muscular Adonis, a creature of power and beauty that you never knew existed. You can't help but strike a pose, one hand on your hip, the other flexed in front of you. You look like a Greek god who's been teleported into a corporate jungle, and it feels absolutely amazing.

The seams of your pants are screaming for mercy as your legs and calves swell to match your newfound upper body strength. Each flex of your quads sends a shockwave through the fabric, threatening to rip it apart at any moment. Your feet, now larger and more defined, feel like they're straining the confines of your shoes. You can't resist the urge to stand and stretch, feeling the material of your pants strain with each movement.

You smirk, feeling the confidence suddenly growing on you. You can't help but revel in the power surging through your veins. The room seems to shrink as your presence grows, your muscles casting shadows on the walls.

But then it was not yet done. You felt something stirring in your pants, something that didn't quite fit the pattern of your transformation so far. Your cock began to elongate, stretching out like a firehose slowly being pulled from the base of your skin. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that made you moan and groan. It grew longer and thicker, pushing against the fabric of your boxer shorts, straining the elastic band to its limits.

As your newfound member reached its full potential, your mind was flooded with memories that didn't quite feel like your own. They were memories of your workouts at the gym, pushing weights until your muscles screamed, and early mornings spent measuring your meals down to the last gram. The numbers and formulas of accounting that once filled your thoughts were replaced by workout sets and protein shakes. The thrill of the grind, the desire to sculpt your body into something worthy of admiration, it was all there, as vivid as if you'd lived it yourself.

You couldn't help but let out a deep, guttural groan as your body finished its transformation shredding the remains of your clothes, leaving only black tie in your bulging neck and your black boxers with a bulging anaconda desperately containing it. The room was silent, all eyes on you as your muscles bulged through the shredded remnants of your once baggy shirt and pants. Your cock, now a monstrous extension of your newfound masculinity, stood tall and proud, the head poking out from the top of your boxers like a beacon. Your voice, once high-pitched and uncertain, was now a deep, commanding rumble, a testament to the power coursing through your veins.

The interviewer's jaw dropped as he took in the scene before him. He'd seen a lot of things in his line of work, but nothing quite like this. His eyes darted to the clock, then back to you, and a look of realization dawned on his face. "Oh, sir," he stammered, his eyes wide with shock, "you're in the wrong place. The modeling agency's interviews are on the floor below."

With a flex of your massive bicep, you grinned and said, "My bad, Ms.!" The room was silent, every eye in the place was on you, taking in the spectacle that was your transformed body. The other applicants, all so neatly packaged in their suits, looked positively puny in comparison. You could see the envy in their eyes, the way their gazes lingered on your chiseled abs and the thick, powerful muscles that now rippled with every movement.

You turned and strutted away from the room, each step a deliberate show of the new confidence that filled you to the brim. The stairs were just a few feet away, and you could feel the eyes of the other hopefuls boring into your back. The idea of being late for a modeling interview was almost laughable. You had the body of a god now, and you knew it.

[growthhyp]

Oh this could be perfect! Hey there, I'm going on a beach vacation really soon but I realized I don't have any swim trunks. I'm kinda broke right now with college and all so I would love a cheap option. Have you got any trunks or swim wear for sale?

The Black Swim Trunks

The sun was beating down on the pavement as you scoured the rows of the garage sale, your eyes scanning for a bargain that could save your beach vacation from being a wardrobe malfunction disaster. A few sweat droplets trickled down your forehead as you approached a table with a rainbow of fabrics and patterns that looked like they hadn't seen the light of day since the 80s.

"Oh, hey," you called out to the muscular man who was organizing the pile of clothes, his biceps bulging as he tossed a Hawaiian shirt onto the table. "I'm about to go on a beach trip and realized I don't have any swim trunks. I'm kind of broke from college, so I'm hoping to find something cheap. Do you have any here?"

The man looked up from his task and scanned you over. His eyes lingered on your body, seemingly sizing you up. He nodded thoughtfully before saying, "You know, that's the second time someone's asked for swim trunks today. I've got just the pair." He reached under the table and pulled out a set of black swim trunks. They looked like they'd seen better days, but the fabric was stretchy and the price was right—just a buck. You took them without a second thought, not even bothering to check the size.

As you held the trunks in your hand, you couldn't help but notice they were oddly baggy in the front and back, almost as if they had been stretched by someone with a substantial package. You chuckled to yourself, thinking that maybe the last owner had been a bit too optimistic about their size. But hey, a dollar was a dollar, and you weren't going to argue with a good deal. You handed over the cash, and the muscular man tossed the trunks to you with a knowing smirk.

Once you were all settled in the hotel, you couldn't wait to hit the beach. You slipped into the black trunks, and to your surprise, they hugged your waist like a glove. The baggy areas in the front and back clung to your body in a way that was both confusing and oddly comforting. The material was soft and stretchy, and you couldn't wait to see how they'd look once you had a nice tan. You grabbed your towel and sunscreen and headed to the beach with your friends, the excitement building as the waves crashed against the shore.

You found a spot on the beach that was a bit more secluded, with only a few people playing in the sand nearby. You laid out the blanket and plopped down, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin. The sounds of laughter and splashing water blended into the background as you closed your eyes and let the ocean breeze caress your body. You felt the sand's gentle abrasion against your skin, and the warmth of the sun's rays seeped into your pores, bringing with them a sense of peace and relaxation. The trunks felt almost alive against your skin, the fabric moving with every shift of your body as you found the perfect lounging position.

As you lay there, something strange began to happen. Your arms felt heavier, and when you flexed, you could feel the muscles in your biceps tightening and swelling. The peaks grew more pronounced with each pulse, the two heads forming the 'guns' that you had always admired on the cover of muscle magazines. Your triceps began to bulge, creating that coveted horseshoe shape. The sensation was odd, but not entirely unpleasant. It was as if the swimwear itself was sculpting your body into something more, something greater.

You felt your chest expanding, the pectoral muscles growing fuller and more defined. The sand beneath your back grew warmer as your back muscles grew. Your lats started to flare out, creating a 'V-taper' that you never knew existed on your body before. Your shoulders rounded out, the deltoids becoming more prominent and powerful. Your traps grew tense, making your neck appear thicker and your shoulders more defined.

As your abs began to tighten and form, you felt a sense of excitement mixed with bewilderment. The waistline of the swim trunks grew taut against your stomach as your abs grew more defined, creating a clear six-pack. You couldn't help but let out a low groan as the muscles in your thighs began to thicken. Your quads grew stronger, and the trunks started to hug your legs tighter, emphasizing the powerful new shape of your legs.

The sensation grew more intense as you felt your cock stirring, hardening beneath the now-tight fabric. It was as if the material was alive, responding to your newfound virility. You looked down, and your eyes widened at the sight of your cock growing longer and thicker, pushing against the constraints of the swim trunks. The head grew plumper and more pronounced, and your cock was now standing tall and proud, demanding attention.

You felt a rush of pleasure as your ass filled out into a perfect bubble butt, the fabric now taut across your cheeks. The onlookers at the beach had no idea of the transformation occurring before their eyes, too caught up in their own vacation bliss to notice the subtle yet significant changes in the person lounging a few feet away.

As your cock continued to swell, the horniness grew to an almost unbearable level. The trunks strained against your body, the fabric now struggling to contain your burgeoning erection. You tried to keep your moans low, but the pleasure was too intense. Your thoughts were consumed by the feeling of your cock thickening and lengthening, reaching sizes you never thought possible. You felt your abs tighten further, your body responding to the new sensations as if it were a natural part of your anatomy.

The beach remained a blur around you, the distant sounds of laughter and waves muffled by the blood rushing in your ears. Your eyes were glued to the sight of your body's metamorphosis, the pressure built, your cock straining against the fabric as your body reached a crescendo of arousal. With a final, powerful thrust, you came, the hot spurts of cum soaking through the material and painting a sticky trail down your thighs.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your grunts of pleasure as quiet as possible. The last thing you needed was a beach full of concerned tourists converging on your little slice of sandy paradise. You had picked a spot that was thankfully somewhat secluded, with just enough of a buffer to ensure your transformation remained private. The few beachgoers nearby were too preoccupied with their own activities to pay attention to the sudden, intense flexing of your muscles and the suspicious bulges that had appeared.

As you felt the final waves of your climax subside, you took a moment to revel in the sensation. Your cock was now a formidable beast, straining against the confines of the swim trunks, which had magically adjusted to fit your new physique like a glove. The cum had soaked through the fabric and was now sticking to your legs and thighs, a testament to the power of the transformation. The trunks are clinging to every inch of your enhanced body, outlining your newfound assets in a way that was both obscene and incredibly tempting.

You cautiously sat up, feeling the weight of your new muscles. Your biceps bulged as you braced yourself against the sand, and your chest felt like it could pop the buttons on a shirt. Your eyes roved over your body, taking in the changes. Your abs rippled with every breath, each muscle defined and taut, leading down to the 'V' that pointed straight to your crotch. The lats on your back had grown so wide that they looked like they could hold wings. Your shoulders looked broader than ever, the deltoids rounded and powerful. Your traps had grown thick, making your neck appear stronger and more defined.

With a deep breath, you pushed yourself to your feet, the cum in your swim trunks sticking to your legs. You waded into the water, the cool waves washing over your body. The swim trunks clung to your skin as if painted on, leaving nothing to the imagination. The tightness around your cock and ass was almost too much to bear, but you managed to keep a straight face as you approached the shallows. The water reached your waist, and you let out a sigh of relief as the fabric loosened slightly. You rinsed off the evidence of your transformation, watching as the cum washed away to be claimed by the sea.

As you emerged from the water, you caught sight of your friends playing beach volleyball a short distance away. Their jaws dropped as they took in the new you. The swim trunks had become a second skin, highlighting every bulging muscle and curve of your now-extraordinary physique. You couldn't help but flex your biceps, the peaks standing tall and proud, water droplets glistening in the sun. The shock on their faces was priceless.

[growthhyp]

Hey there, have you got any spare sneakers for sale? Mine are on their last legs... Actually, I dunno why I asked. I'm a size 8, there's no way you'd have shoes that small in your garage sale. Sorry for bothering you, sir.

The White Sneakers

You've always felt like a leaf blown by the wind of life's harsh realities. Small and insignificant, people often overlooked you, assuming you couldn't handle the weight of the world. Your slender frame and high-pitched voice didn't scream 'college student'. More like a lost high-schooler who'd stumbled into the adult world by accident. But beneath the surface, you're made of sterner stuff. The academic scholarship that kept you afloat was a testament to your iron-clad determination and the hours spent in solitude, burning the midnight oil in your dorm room.

This weekend, however, you faced a new challenge. Your one and only pair of sneakers, the trusty companions that had seen you through countless shifts at the local diner and numerous late-night study sessions, were on their last legs. Literally. The soles were peeling away, the laces frayed, and the once-white fabric stained with the grime of hard work. If they gave out on you now, it could mean the end of your scholarship. No shoes, no job. No job, no school.

You'd heard about a garage sale around the block from a classmate who'd whispered about a rumor of hidden gems at rock-bottom prices. Desperation had painted your cheeks with a flush of hope, so you found yourself meandering through the cluttered maze of discarded goods, eyes peeled for salvation in the form of size 8 sneakers. And that's when you saw him. A man whose muscles looked like they were sculpted, wearing a tight tank top that showcased his bulging biceps and black shorts that struggled to contain his powerful thighs. He was the antithesis of your frail physique.

As you approached the makeshift counter, you felt your voice quiver with a mix of nerves and doubt. "Sir, have you got any spare sneakers for sale?" you squeaked out, your eyes scanning the pile of shoes that looked like they could swallow your feet whole. "Mine are on their last legs…" You gestured down to your sad, worn-out sneakers, the tattered soles flapping like a white flag of surrender. "Actually, I dunno why I asked. I'm a size 8, there's no way you'd have shoes that small in your garage sale. Sorry for bothering you, sir." The words tumbled out of your mouth faster than you could think them, the stutter betraying your lack of confidence.

The muscular man looked at you, a smile stretching across his face, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. "Don't you worry, son," he said, his voice deep and reassuring. "I might just have what you need." He turned and disappeared into the depths of his garage, his broad shoulders and thick arms moving with surprising grace amidst the clutter. The anticipation grew as you heard the sound of boxes shifting and the occasional thud of something being tossed aside in his quest.

When he emerged, he held out a pair of sneakers like a trophy. They were a brilliant white, as if they'd never seen a speck of dust. "Here you go," he said, his biceps flexing as he offered them to you. "These should fit you just fine." You stared at them in awe. They were practically brand new. "How much, sir?" you managed to ask, your voice still quivering slightly.

The muscular man looked at you, his eyes twinkling with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. "For someone as eager and hardworking as you, just a dollar," he said with a wink. "And remember, it'll grow you." You nodded, not quite sure what he meant, but too relieved to question it. You handed over the crumpled bill and took the sneakers, feeling the smooth material against your palms. "Th-thank you so much, sir," you stuttered.

As you made your way back to your dorm, the sneakers felt like a treasure trove. You'd never owned something so new, so pristine. The muscular man's kindness was a warm balm to your soul, a stark contrast to the arrogance of the muscular jocks you'd encountered in the past, who looked down on you as if you were invisible or a pesky gnat. You couldn't help but wonder if he'd really just been that generous, or if there was something more to it. But you shrugged it off, deciding to just be grateful for the small miracles that life threw your way.

Once in the sanctum of your dorm room, you lovingly placed the old sneakers into the trash bin, whispering your goodbyes to them. "You've been with me through thick and thin," you murmured, "but it's time to make way for something new." The white sneakers, still in their oversized glory, were next. You slid your feet into them and laced them up, feeling the cool embrace of the fabric and the firm grip of the laces around your ankles. The fit was snug, but not uncomfortable, almost as if they were custom-made for you, despite being two sizes too large.

But something strange began to happen. A warmth, akin to a gentle summer sunbathing session, began to spread from your feet up through your legs, a sensation that was both foreign and oddly comforting. It grew, enveloping your entire body in a warm embrace, and with it came a surge of something primal, a feeling of power that you had never experienced before. Your jeans grew tight around your groin as your cock began to swell, straining against the fabric with a newfound vitality that made you gasp and grunt with surprise.

"What the…?" you murmured, your voice trailing off as you felt your cock growing longer, thicker. It was as if your body had been a canvas, and the muscular man's words had painted on it a new, more potent reality. The fabric of your pants protested with a groan of its own as it stretched to accommodate your burgeoning manhood. You couldn't resist the urge to reach down and touch it, the heat of your hand against your skin sending shivers of pleasure up your spine. It was like nothing you had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that grew more intense with every passing second.

As you began to stroke your cock, you felt your biceps flex, the muscles swelling beneath your skin. The biceps grew, the two heads of the muscle forming a peak that bulged against your shirt. The fabric strained, the seams popping as your newfound strength began to show. Your forearms, once spindly and weak, grew thicker, the veins popping as the muscles beneath grew more defined. Your triceps grew to match, the horseshoe shape becoming more pronounced as you flexed your arms in amazement.

The warmth grew stronger, moving from your chest to your back. As your chest grew, you felt your pectoral muscles swell. Your once concave chest was now a broad plateau of power, the muscles pushing outward, creating a formidable presence. Your lats began to expand, the muscles stretching and thickening. The 'V-taper' grew more pronounced, pulling your waist in and making your shoulders appear broader than ever before. The shirt you wore was now nothing but a tattered mess, torn to shreds by the unstoppable growth of your back muscles. You could feel the power in your back as it grew, the muscles rippling and shifting, the strength of the transformation coursing through your body.

Your traps followed suit, the diamond-shaped muscles stretching and swelling. The growth made your neck look thicker, more powerful, and your shoulders even more defined. The sensation was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, a mix of pain and exhilaration that left you panting and gasping for breath. You could feel your posture changing, straightening, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders.

Next, your abs began to tighten, the weak, soft layer of flesh that had once covered your stomach retreating to reveal the beginnings of a chiseled six-pack. The muscles grew more prominent with each flex, the lines becoming sharper, more defined. Your shirt was now in tatters around your waist, the fabric unable to contain your newfound physique. You could see your abs rippling with every breath you took, each contraction sending waves of pleasure through your body.

The warmth traveled down to your legs, reaching your quads. The muscles grew, bulging with power as if they had a life of their own. The fabric of your jeans protested, the seams straining to hold back the growing mass of muscle. The sight was mesmerizing, your legs swelling before your very eyes. You felt like a Greek statue come to life, your legs now thick, powerful pillars that could bear the weight of the world.

As the transformation continued, your hamstrings followed suit, growing in tandem with your quads. The backs of your legs began to take on the sculpted look of a marble statue, each muscle defined and powerful. Your jeans, once snug, were now in shreds, hanging loosely around your bulging calves. The fabric was no match for the newfound might of your legs, and it tore away like paper, leaving you in your black boxer shorts.

Your feet grew too, stretching and filling the space that had been so vast in the sneakers. The sensation was strange, almost as if your bones were being rearranged and lengthened. You watched, fascinated, as your toes spread out, and the muscles in your feet bulged and grew. The sneakers that had once looked so oversized now fit like a glove, the leather stretching to conform to your growing physique. Each movement was accompanied by a delicious ache, a testament to the change that was occurring.

As your orgasm washed over you, your body released a flood of endorphins, and with it, your anxiety and fear drained away, replaced by a surge of raw, primal confidence. The feeling was exhilarating, like you'd been reborn. Your hand still wrapped around your cock, now slick with cum, you felt a newfound sense of power. You looked around the room, the shredded clothing a testament to the transformation you had undergone.

Reality had indeed shifted. You had always been a fitness enthusiast, but now you were something more. The muscles that had once been hidden under layers of self-doubt now bulged and rippled, ready to conquer the world. And so, it was with this newfound confidence that you decided to help others find their strength. You'd become a fitness influencer, sharing your journey and advice with those who sought to improve themselves. It had been a profitable venture, allowing you to live comfortably and focus on your studies.

The business course you'd taken had been a boon for your burgeoning online empire. You'd learned the ins and outs of marketing, turning your channel into a well-oiled machine that churned out content that resonated with your audience. You were no longer just a college student with a passion for fitness; you were a brand, a symbol of determination and growth. And as you flexed for the live stream, the camera capturing every bulge and curve of your sculpted form, you knew that you had truly found your calling.

[growthhyp]

Love being this musclehead dumb bro

[growthhyp]

Hello! Just wondering if the garage sale might have maybe a tape measure? Not that there's anything much to measure, except maybe around the midsection (haha) but I was told measuring regularly would be good for tracking progress at the gym.

The Measuring Tape

As you stroll down the quiet suburban street, the vibrant chirps of birds and rustling leaves serve as the morning's soundtrack. You spot the garage sale, a beacon of hope amidst the mundane. Your eyes light up, not for the potential bargains, but for the Adonis-like figure standing guard over the assorted knick-knacks and forgotten treasures. The muscular man's physique is a stark contrast to your own lanky frame, a silent testament to the hours of sweat and toil he must've invested at the gym.

You've been religiously adhering to your New Year's resolution for the past two weeks, pumping iron and pushing your limits, but your body seems to be playing a cruel trick on you, refusing to budge from its familiar skinny confines. The sight of the garage sale is a serendipitous gift, an opportunity to seek guidance from someone who's clearly mastered the art of sculpting their body. As you approach, the muscular man's eyes meet yours, and you feel a sudden wave of self-consciousness, your hand instinctively reaching to cover the slight bulge of your belly.

Without missing a beat, you spill out your frustrations to this stranger, the words tumbling out in a jumbled mess of insecurities and hope. The muscular man nods in understanding, his eyes never leaving yours, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. He reaches behind the counter and pulls out a dusty, slightly bent measuring tape. "This might help," he says, his voice a smooth rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's all about tracking your progress. You wouldn't believe how motivating it can be to see those numbers change."

You take the tape from him, your fingertips brushing against his, and you can't help but feel a spark of something electric. He winks, and you blush, feeling both embarrassed and thrilled by his gesture. "Take it," he urges. "It's only a dollar. It's practically a steal." You fish out a crumpled bill from your pocket and exchange it for the tape, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as you do so. It's as if he's peering into your very soul, seeing the raw desire to transform into something more.

Once home, you strip down to your red shorts, eager to begin this new ritual. The notebook lies open on the bed, the pencil poised and ready to record every inch of progress. You start with your weight, stepping onto the scale with a deep breath. The needle wobbles before settling at 120 lbs. You scribble it down, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment. Then, you move to your height – a solid 5'9", not too shabby. But as you wrap the tape around your chest and arms, you can't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at the initial measurements. 36 inches for your chest, 12 inches for your biceps – it's clear you have a long way to go.

You continue measuring, each number etched into your notebook with a mix of excitement and determination. Your waist is a slim 28 inches, your legs a lean 29. But it's when you get to your neck and calves that the tape seems to tighten around your skin, revealing the beginnings of what might be considered 'gains'. 12 inches around the neck, 13 inches around each calf – not bad for a newbie. And then there's your cock – a modest 4 inches in length and 3 in girth – something you've always been a little self-conscious about, but maybe with the same dedication, you could see some growth there too.

The measuring process becomes almost ritualistic, a sacred pact you make with yourself every week. You document your stats with a fervor usually reserved for a gym enthusiast's workout log, the numbers whispering sweet nothings of potential into your ear. Each day at the gym, you push a little harder, lift a little more, all with the image of the muscular man's nod of approval in your mind's eye.

Six weeks, you've given yourself. Six weeks to carve out the body you've always desired. The first few days are a blur of pain and sweat, your muscles screaming in protest at the unaccustomed exertion. But with each ache and burn, you feel yourself inching closer to your goal.

Week 1 passes, and you eagerly strip down to compare the new you with the old. The scale reads 130 lbs, a solid 10 pounds heavier, and you feel it in your muscles, which seem to have swelled with a newfound life. You stand a proud 5'10", having gained an inch in height, and your body fat percentage has dropped to 12%. The measuring tape confirms your suspicion – your cock has indeed lengthened to 5 inches, and thickened slightly to a girth of 4 inches.

As you flex your biceps, you're thrilled to see they've bulked up to 14 inches around. The veins in your arms are more pronounced now, a sign of the hard work you've been putting in. Your chest has ballooned to 38 inches, filling out your shirts nicely, and your calves have gone from 13 to 14.5 inches. Your legs have filled out too, now a solid 30 inches around. The waist remains at 28 inches, a testament to your discipline in keeping the fat at bay. The neck measurement surprises you the most – a full inch thicker at 13 inches. It's a powerful look that screams 'alpha male'.

Your confidence is soaring, and it's not just in the gym. You've noticed that you're holding yourself differently – shoulders back, chest out, and chin up. You've started to command attention when you enter a room, and it's not just because you're taller. It's like the extra muscle has pumped life into your very essence, turning you into someone who can't be ignored. You catch yourself staring at your reflection in every mirror, admiring the way your newfound muscles ripple and dance in the light.

And the jerking off…it's become something of an obsession. Every night, after a grueling session at the gym, you can't wait to get home and let your hand do the work your exhausted muscles can't. The sensations are more intense than ever before, and you've discovered that you have a knack for edging – bringing yourself to the brink of climax, then pulling back, only to repeat the process over and over again. It's a sweet torment that leaves you gasping and your cock begging for release. Sometimes, when you're feeling particularly wild, you'll sneak into the gym's shower and let yourself go, the hot water cascading over your shoulders as you stroke your now 6-inch length to a powerful orgasm.

Two weeks have passed, and you find yourself back in front of the mirror with the measuring tape. The numbers are in, and they're nothing short of astonishing. You've packed on another 30 pounds, shooting up to 160 lbs. You've grown another inch, now standing tall at 5'11". Your body fat has dropped to a lean 10%, making every muscle pop out in sharp relief. Your chest has blossomed to a massive 40 inches, your biceps are thick slabs of meat at 16 inches around. Your calves have bulged to 15 inches, and your legs are now a sturdy 31 inches of pure power. And your neck? It's a thick, unyielding column of muscle at 14 inches.

But it's the last two measurements that really get your heart racing. Your cock has grown to a proud 6 inches in length and a hefty 5 inches around. The girth is what really gets you – the way it fills your hand, the weight of it hanging between your legs. It's not just the size, though – it's the feeling of power and virility that comes with it. You can't help but stroke it, feeling the newfound sensitivity that seems to come with every workout. It's as if your entire body is waking up to new possibilities, and your libido has gone through the roof.

You've started to feel an insatiable hunger, not just for food, but for attention. You strut around the gym, flexing in the mirrors, watching the other guys steal glances at your bulging biceps and thickened neck. You've even started to catch the eyes of some of the girls who frequent the place, their gazes lingering just a bit longer than before. It's intoxicating, this newfound allure, and you find yourself craving the gym more and more, not just for the gains, but for the way you feel when you're there – powerful, desired, and in control.

Week 3 rolls around, and you're eager to see what the tape has to say. You've been pushing yourself to the limit, your workouts now a blur of pain and pleasure. You're up to 180 lbs, a full 60 pounds heavier than when you started. You've shot up another inch to 6'1", towering over many of the people you used to look up to. Your body fat has plummeted to a mere 8%, leaving every muscle stark and defined. The numbers on your notebook's pages are a testament to your transformation – 42 inches around the chest, 18 inches for your biceps, and a neck that's thickened to a formidable 15 inches.

But it's your legs that really get you going now. They've gone from twigs to tree trunks, each one a monument to your dedication. Your waist is still a respectable 30 inches, but your cock has outdone itself – now a stunning 7 inches in length and a thick 6 in girth. It's a weapon of pleasure that you can't help but admire in the mirror, your hand almost trembling as you wrap the tape around it. The sight of your swollen package sends a bolt of excitement straight to your core, and you realize that you're not just getting more attractive – you're becoming a beast in every sense of the word.

You've started to notice changes in your appetites, too. Your hunger for food is insatiable, your fridge groaning under the weight of protein shakes and chicken breasts. But it's not just food that fuels your desires. Your thoughts are consumed by sex, the need to claim and conquer. It's a primal instinct that's been awakened. You've found someone who appreciates the new you, a gym buddy who's more than happy to help you burn off some steam. You've been hooking up after your workouts, sweat-drenched and pumped full of endorphins, pushing each other's bodies to the limit in a different kind of workout.

Your voice has transformed into a velvety bass that seems to resonate with every word you speak. You command the room when you speak, your words carrying an authority that wasn't there before. It's intoxicating, the way people hang on your every word, eager to catch a glimpse of the new you.

Week 4 has come, and with it, a new set of measurements. You're now a hulking 200 lbs of solid muscle, the kind that makes other guys at the gym look like they're playing dress-up. Your height has stretched to a towering 6'2", and your body fat has dropped to a minuscule 6%. You flex in the mirror, watching your chest balloon to an unbelievable 44 inches, your biceps swelling to a ludicrous 19 inches around. Your waist has filled out to 30, not with flab, but with the kind of muscle that makes your abs look like they've been chiseled from marble. Your legs have become a pair of sculpted pillars, each one a work of art at 33 inches around. And your neck? It's a thick, powerful 16 inches that screams 'don't fuck with me'.

But it's not just your body that's transformed. Your cock has become a thing of legend among those who've seen it – 8 inches of throbbing power, with a girth that could make a pornstar weep. It hangs heavy between your legs, a constant reminder of your newfound masculinity. You've started to enjoy the way people look at you now – the awe, the envy, the lust. It's a drug, and you're addicted. You spend hours at the gym, not just working out, but parading your body for all to see. You've become the poster boy for physical perfection, and everyone wants a piece of you.

Your experiments in the locker room have become more frequent and more daring. You've discovered that with great size comes great opportunity. You've had your pick of the gym's most attractive members, each one eager to feel your newfound girth inside them. The whispers and glances have turned into outright propositions, and you've found that saying 'yes' to every offer has only made you crave more. You've become a sexual god, and the altar is wherever you happen to be at the moment.

The echo of your deep, commanding voice reverberates off the cold tiles, sending a shiver down the spine of anyone within earshot. It's a sound that demands attention, a siren's call that no one can ignore. You've noticed that people listen to you more, your opinions hold more weight, and when you speak, everyone seems to lean in, as if eager to soak up the very essence of your power.

Week 5. The moment of truth has arrived, and with it, the promise of unbridled growth. You stand before the full-length mirror in your gym, the chilly air causing the hairs on your chiseled body to stand on end. You're a monolith of muscle, a testament to your unyielding dedication. The scale groans under your weight, the needle settling at a staggering 300 lbs. You're not just fit; you're a force of nature. The measuring tape stretches and constricts around your Herculean form, each number whispering sweet nothings of triumph into your eager ears.

Your height has shot up to 6'6", making you the giant in every room you enter. Your body fat is a mere 3%, so low that it's practically non-existent. Every inch of you is pure, unadulterated power. Your chest has ballooned to an astounding 50 inches, a monument to your relentless bench pressing. Your biceps are now a ludicrous 22 inches around, bulging like boulders beneath your skin. Your calves are a marvel at 17.5 inches, each flex a silent declaration of your lower body's might. And your waist, a tight 31 inches, is the envy of every man and woman who dares to look your way.

But it's your cock that truly sets you apart. 12 inches long and a staggering 9 inches in girth, it's a beast that could make even the most experienced adult film star quake with trepidation. The mere sight of it has become the stuff of legend among the gym rats and the whispers of the regulars. It's not just the size that's changed; the way it feels is different too. The veins pulse with a newfound vitality, and the head is now a dark, swollen cap that demands attention. The feeling of power it brings is intoxicating, turning every encounter into a conquest waiting to happen.

As you flex in the mirror, the muscles in your neck and jawline ripple, a sign of the testosterone coursing through your body. Your deep laugh fills the room, the sound of it echoing with a newfound authority that sends a shiver down the spine of anyone nearby. You've become the embodiment of lust and desire, and the gym has become your playground. Your eyes scan the room, seeking out the next challenge, the next willing participant in your quest for physical dominance.

The whispers of the other gym-goers reach your ears, a symphony of envy and admiration. You revel in it, knowing that every pair of eyes on you is a silent affirmation of your power. You've started to crave the hunt, the thrill of the chase that comes with being the biggest, baddest wolf in the pack. And oh, the places you've been. The locker room, the sauna, even the benches outside – you've left your mark on every inch of the gym, each encounter more intense than the last.

You've become a legend, the kind of guy that newbies whisper about in awe. The kind of guy who could bend steel bars with his bare hands if he wanted to. The kind of guy who could make anyone – man or woman – beg for mercy. You've learned to wield your new body like a weapon, and the effect it has on people is undeniable. You've had flings with the most popular girls in the gym, leaving them breathless and trembling with every thrust of your massive cock. You've also found that some of the guys have started eyeing you with a mix of admiration and something else – something you're more than willing to explore if they can handle it.

Week 6, and you're eager to see just how much more you can grow. You stand before the mirror, the cold light of day caressing your colossal form. The numbers on your notebook read like a fantasy come to life – 320 lbs of pure, unbridled power. You've shot up to a towering 6'8", making even the basketball players look up to you. Your body fat is a minuscule 2%, so low that it's practically invisible. Your cock has reached a mind-boggling 15 inches in length and a monstrous 11 inches in girth – a beast that could make even the most seasoned pornstar quiver in fear.

You flex your chest in the mirror, watching the muscles swell to an unbelievable 55 inches around. Your biceps are now a ludicrous 25 inches of bulging, veiny steel. Your calves have ballooned to 18.5 inches, each flex a testament to your tireless work ethic. Your waist has remained a tight 32 inches, a stark contrast to your massive thighs, now a staggering 39 inches around each. And your neck – oh, your neck – it's a thick, unyielding 21 inches that could crush a watermelon between your colossal traps. And your feet – a size 17 now – have grown to accommodate your newfound bulk, the very ground seeming to tremble with each thunderous step.

Your cock has become the stuff of myths, a 15-inch monster with a 10-inch girth that would make even the most seasoned porn star quake with fear. It hangs heavily between your legs, a constant reminder of the power you wield. The locker room whispers have turned into full-blown conversations about the legend of your size and stamina. You've become the gym's resident Casanova, the man everyone wants a piece of – and you're more than happy to oblige.

As you strut through the gym, your voice booms with a deep bass that could rival the sound system. It's a sound that commands attention, and everyone seems to hang on your every word. You can't help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all, your teeth gleaming in the fluorescent lights as you flex your 28-inch biceps. The veins in your arms pop like a roadmap to pleasure, a stark contrast to the lean, veiny forearms that had once been your only source of pride.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and can't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards that muscular man at the garage sale. His simple advice had sparked a transformation so profound it was almost unbelievable. The measuring tape had become a symbol of your growth. Each week, as you measured your progress, you felt a newfound respect for your body and the power it now wielded.