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parkertfs · 18 days ago

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Bard Turned Barbarian

After critically failing a roll, Darius' DM forces a reclass on him and for the first time the IRL musician feels true rage. Won’t be the last time either as every step thereafter leads to him truly embodying a mindless barbarian.

Mostly out of game TF of a musician into someone who couldn't dream to read sheet music, not that he'd care anyway- got a body to build. Hope you enjoy this musk filled, mind numbing TF! -Occam

“Roll a con save.” Darius could plainly see the smug grin on his

Mike’s face as he issued the command. Obviously he has no grounds to protest the forever DM, nor would he get a straight answer if he asked what the save is for. The only recourse available is simply to roll

The eyes of everyone else in the party look to his little box on Discord and await for him to announce what number comes up. With a sigh his themed d20 clatters into his small dice tray, as soon as it leaves his hand he’s filled with grim certainty that it’s going to be a critical failure. There is no surprise when it indeed lands face up on a one. Clenching his jaw, Darius opts to keep that card close to his chest, a fail’s a fail. Michael doesn’t need to know.

“Ugh, yeah that’s definitely not gonna do it. What happens to Derry?” Mike’s eyes light up and his expression twitches into a smirk, “Failed how? What was the total? It wasn’t a nat one was it!?” Crossing his arms, obviously not thrilled by how excited the DM is at his rolling a natural one, Darius squirms in his seat before owning up to the critical failure.

Mike laughs a little too long after getting the confirmation given the generally cooperative nature of their game. After he catches his breath, and an awkward second of him cuing up some dramatic lute music that usually accompanies the Eloquence Bard’s big moments, the DM steeples his fingers. Changing the backlighting, Michael clears his throat and begins his monologue.

“Derry. You see Nerizath the Consumer tap his Staff of the Magi on the ground as he stretches out a hand, pointing a gnarled finger straight at you. There is no chance for you to react. Everyone watches as a noxious ray shoots from his stretched hand and hits you straight in the chest. You try to stand firm, cast counterspell or cutting words, anything, but it’s too late. Nerizath clenches his hand into a fist and all at once the plumes of smoke enveloping Derry fly back at once. Everyone roll a perception check.”

Interrupting his dramatic moment, Mike waits for a success from one of their party before continuing, “Lorna, you see as the wave of energy retreats from Derry, there are some gold strings embedded in it. You can almost hear the sound of Derry’s lute fading as it seems some kind of spell energy is drained from your bard.”

Turning back to Derry he finally explains the effect of Nerizath’s action, “Darius, as of right now, Derry loses access to all his class features. No bardics, no spells, no silver tongue. Derry is no longer a bard.” Darius’ mouth falls open as he feels his face burn red from anger faster than he thought possible. He tries to speak up but as it turns out Mike has server-muted him in preparation that he’d have some, obviously earned, complaints. Almost as if he were trying to rile his player up, as if he was trying to enrage him.

Mike waves him off before letting him speak again, telling him that there’s an upside, though the same glimmer of laughter that hid under his speech when he heard Darius roll a nat one remains. The DM has Nerizath teleport away as soon as he does this and the session goes straight into a long rest afterwards.

All his party members try to comfort him both in game, and moreover his friends try to do so IRL, though all are obviously relieved that it happened to the poor bard rather than themselves. Hoping against hope that Michael’s little scheme has ended he has Derry try to play a Song of Rest for his party before being interrupted by an ‘um actually’ from his DM. “Speaking of, Derry, as you try to play your lute, it’s almost like your fingers are clumsier on the strings. You try to strum one of the first songs you learned on the instrument, and instead you fully snap a string.”

Jack of all trades, he goes for the flute and shawm in his bag and is promptly told the same, and in fact Mike reminds him he is no longer a jack of any trades. With every word that spills from his DM’s mouth, Darius just finds himself getting angier, and angier.

Derry had always been something of a self-insert character for Darius, as the name implies. Something of a virtuoso musician and song writer himself, when his friend group started up a DND campaign he was more than happy to simply live his real life fantasies to the extreme. Truly change the world with the power of his music. And now that’s been taken away.

Mike ends the session shortly after, reminding everyone that the next session will be in person. The party drop like flies from the discord call, all clearly able to tell that Darius wants a word with their DM. Before he can find said words, the usually articulate player stumbles and is swiftly interrupted as Mike tells him to chill, it’s just a game, just wait until next session. And then he hangs up.

Darius is vibrating with irritation. Blood running hot with anger the likes of which he’s never felt. He can almost feel the throbbing rage in his head, but then he takes a deep breath. It is just a game. Bullshit as the session was, it’s not like it affects him personally. Just a game. Looking down at his smooth, shaky hands Darius calms down as much as he’s able before he realizes that he can instead use this rage.

Bumping into his desk as he stands too quickly, he pays no mind to Derry’s character sheet as it flitters to the floor, stamped into the ground as he rushes to his makeshift studio. While life offers its fair share of petty annoyances and trivial inconvenience, the anger he feels at Michael’s overreach is something else altogether. Something more primal.

At first he goes for his guitar, searching for some chord that calls for him, one he’ll know when he hears it. Usually he’ll be humming along a melody and strumming out rhythms at the same time, easily finding it all in one go. Music flows through him as naturally as the blood through his veins.

At present however, it’s as if his guitar is fighting him? His pick gets caught on strings or he flubs his hand position, simple mistakes plague him like a novice. Never does he get close to jamming, even as his hands brute force find their way his strokes and progressions are juvenile, sloppy. And with each misstep he feels that anger, that rage only just pushed down, beginning to pulse once more.

“This is stupid.” He drops his guitar to the floor with no affection, hearing it clatter he just sneers. It’s his backup, whatever. He’ll just work on lyrics instead. This was a great mistake. If melodies were slow-coming, at least they were coming at all. Staring at his blank journal, it was as if the empty lines were taunting him.

He’s had writer’s block before, but this was something far worse. The pathetic rhymes he was able to scrawl could scarcely begin to capture the complexity of how he feels. Like a child’s poem. Absolutely unusable. Every scratched out line only makes it all the worse. Heightening his frustration. Every shitty attempted verse made it all the more difficult for him to truly write. Every half-formed idea a worse go at explaining just how intense his anger is. How rage more than he can understand burns within him.

There’s no decision made as he hurls his notebook across the room. It is simply something that has now happened. Stumbling through crumpled up balls of its pages, Darius kicks it to the side as he wanders to his bedroom. He’ll just sleep it off. In the morning he’ll be fine. In the morning he’ll just text Michael, like an adult, and he won’t be angry anymore.

He flops on the bed and in spite of his troubled mind sleep comes easy. Far too easy. Living alone, no one hears as his usual light breathing gives way to unbecoming snores. Drool drips onto his bedspread as he curls into a ball. He’s always been quite an active dreamer, but the images that find him tonight are vivid enough as to be real.

He is Derry. Looking around he sees his adventuring party, it’s not the first time he’s dreamed about DND, in fact it’s quite a common well for his subconscious to draw from. Happy to find creative reprieve here at least, the bard reaches for the lute on his back. Then the world shudders. Looking down, his enchanted instrument is broken at his feet. Realer than anything he feels the splinters in his hand from tearing the instrument asunder himself.

Seeing this reignites his anger. As he stirs in bed, Derry begins to hyperventilate in the dream. His leather armor is too tight, falling to his knees he pounds the earth. Each reckless swing leaves a deeper indentation into the packed dirt. Turning his gaze upward, he looses a bloodcurdling scream into the sky, the world around him shrinks into nothing as every inch of his form burns, like he’s bursting from his skin.

And then Darius wakes, panting and lying in a pool of his own sweat. Bolting up he gags at just how musky it smells, like he’s just run a marathon. His eyes flicker around the room as he feels on the edge of an anxiety attack- or no, that’s not it, he’s just filled with energy. Jumping to his feet, Darius almost reflexively begins jogging in place.

Ignoring the unmade, sweatstained bed, he feels a desperate pang in his stomach as its rumblings demand his attention. Man he shouldn’t skip dinner if he’s trying to bulk. There’s no chance for him to acknowledge how strange the thought of him bulking is as it’s dispatched by another powerful grumble from his stomach.

Carelessly yanking open his fridge, his mouth waters like a dog’s as he grabs every ingredient he can find to throw into an omelet. Usually he’d keep it light to start the day but now the idea isn’t even humored. He’s lucky to have a pan large enough to handle the six eggs he scrambles in with barely enough patience to keep out eggshells. Probably what leaves him with no bandwidth to actually cook an omelet.

Just as soon as he begins, Darius finds the process not worth the effort and instead throws everything he’s set aside into the pan to instead make a scramble. As he watches bacon and sausage cook at totally different rates, he realizes how brash he’s being, how he’s not acting like himself. I mean, even after skipping a meal this is far too much food for him- but when the scent wafts into his nose he forgets himself once more.

Impatient foot tapping, it’s not long at all before he deems the mess in front of him edible enough for consumption. Too quick he goes for a test bite and severely burns the roof of his mouth. One would assume that would prevent him from immediately trying again, but a second bite earns a pound on the table as he powers through a bite of burning egg and meat.

After devouring more calories than his usual daily consumption, he fights back a burp and somehow finds himself with even more energy than before despite the hearty meal. Faced with a fresh day ahead he wonders how he shall spend it. Standing still for half a second his body acts for him as he falls onto his hands, thankfully not throwing out his back as he almost reflexively starts doing push ups.

He hadn’t even tried to do a single push up in years, but as he hits the ground and does his first, why, he may as well do another. In no time he’s more than doubled his previous record of twenty. The burning strain in his arms only drives him further. Up and down. Up and down. Sweat that had barely dried from his unpleasant waking drips freely once more, coursing onto the floor beneath him and almost covering the scent of his fragrant breakfast with heady musk.

After losing count he hears his phone chime and goes to check it. Despite never doing a single one before now, his body automatically tries to shift into one-hand pushups causing Darius to slip into his still-building sweat puddle with an uncharacteristic “Fuck!” Seeing that the message is from Michael does little to soothe his ire.

Heyyy so I was chatting with the rest of the crew and they thot you might be a little upset about the game-

Darius made it exactly this far into the wall of a morning after text sent by his DM before seeing red. The white knuckles of his sweatstained hand clench hard enough to send searing pain into his wrist. It takes serious effort to not simply throw the thing across the room, as is seemingly becoming his default reaction. Staying his breathing after a moment he finishes reading the appeal and merely tosses the phone aside.

He is not going to be playing a barbarian. It’s not him! Grinding his teeth and stamping his foot, Darius tells himself he doesn’t even get angry. He doesn’t like being angry. God! And yet each appeal to himself only causes his blood to boil more. Looking down the hall to his impromptu studio, he longs to return, to write. Music always helps him blow off some steam. He takes the first few steps towards the room before his mind flickers back to last night.

It has also always come naturally. Recalling how awkward his instruments felt in his hands seems like reopening a wound. His skin itches with the anxiety of experiencing that wretched discomfort once more. All the while his heart continues to race, energy within him continues to build. His legs begin to drive him towards the door before a stray thought even suggests that he go for a run to burn off some of his energy.

Haphazard hands grab for a heavy gym bag that Darius wouldn’t remember having at all, let alone packing. Venturing outdoors in the same outfit he has drenched in sweat twice over now, anxieties only just quieted prickle up once more before his mind forcefully derails that train of thought. Something within him demands all focus instead hone in on his body and how he moves rather than these hypothetical, pathetic fears.

Focus instead on the beat of his feet on the pavement, as they speed past a jog and into a sprint. No direction in mind, none needed. The whooshing of the wind in his ears soothes his spirit as he gives into the mindless thrill of physical labor. Every so often he catches a whiff of his musk and rather than concern and embarrassment that should fill him at producing such an overpowering stink, he instead longs for another whiff.

He imagines what passersby might think after smelling such a strong man, such a virile- His sprinting feet come to a halt as he finally realizes that his thoughts have been increasingly been edged out by these strange ideas that are not his own. I mean, he’s always been the more soft sensitive type?

Looking down at his arms, his body needs no convincing to fall into a flex. His face already red from the effort of his sprint blushes further as he sees his biceps dance under tight skin. There isn’t even strain from his push ups earlier… Before he can even fight the rising urge to fall to the ground and do push ups to failure, Darius takes in his surroundings and finds himself standing at the entrance to an outdoor gym.

Smirking as he wanders in, new neurons fire as some of his most frequented pathways shut down ever more. He quips some half-formed lughead joke to himself that he doesn’t even hear as the clanging of weights inundates his thoughtless mind like a balm.

Every stray thought in his mind is ignored as Darius’ entire focus is on ensuring perfect technique on these machines, with these weights. Lying back on a bench he produces weights he didn’t even know he was running with before doing dumbbell flyes and presses like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.

Eyes closed, just lifting weights up and down. Up and down. Creative roadblocks and fumbled fingerings are nothing to him. This is the only rhythm that matters. With each repetition, with every laborious measured breath, he begins to give into this mindless new self. And his body begins to grow.

In no time his biceps that had already peaked higher than ever before post-push ups surge larger. Transforming from sticks with some muscle to nigh-footballs of meat that would put envy in the heart of any man who is starting out at the gym. Between his built new arms a chest that truly never held any strength puffs up like a muffin.

Barely disguised by a his sleepshirt that has morphed into a stringer, pecs pound larger on his chest as nipples round out into half-dollars that bring He-Man to mind. Beyond the sheer increasing strength however, so too do other aspects of his masculinity begin to increase as barely perceptible pit hair thickens in his pits, giving his musk even more staying power.

When some vaguely athletic man wanders close to the park, Darius can’t quite stop himself from looking down on him. Despite the man being clearly bigger than Darius was when he woke up this morning, as he only continues to grow he feels an urge to show this man intruding on his work out who’s in charge.

Lucky for both men, he takes one look at the brute mean-mugging him and reconsiders staying. When the wind shifts and the newcomer smells how the barbaric bro seems to be more musk than man he leaves even quicker than he came, almost gagging at the scent. Darius’ scowl then shifts to something far more sinister at the idea that he overpowered a fellow man with nothing more than presence alone.

He won. It felt right, good. More him than he’d felt since, uhh? He can’t really remember? Perhaps more pressing than a trip into an increasingly foggy memory lane, at so thoroughly dominating that man he feels the most true show of his masculinity begins to demand attention in his pants.

Already struggling for room between his two bloated thighs, his ‘little’ Derry has surged into an unmistakable bulge. It twitches as he looks down and Darius can clearly see a vein through his shorts. Biting his lip and crossing his eyes as more stubble coats his strong chin with every throb, Darius knows he’s gotta get home. Obviously not caring enough to wipe down the used equipment, Darius begins sprinting home.

While his strained shorts and tank have grown enough to at least hug his form, not long at all into his return trip do his feet sting with pain as his tennis shoes are pushed to their limits. Seeing red as blisters almost instantly begin to form, barely altering his stride he tears them off his feet and immediately gets back to his sprint.

Darius laughs to himself as his bare feet patter on the pavement, each one leaving a slightly larger sweat stain than the one that came before. His guffaws leave no impression other than that of a brute. His massive chest bounces almost as much as the package that is clearly free-balling in his too-tight shorts.

Finally returning home, Darius struggles to remove what is barely a shirt covering his suddenly bulging upper body. Taking a deliberate moment to force his head into his pit for a deep sniff, he sighs as his thick musk brings him comfort. Further emptying his now neglected mind. His own pheromones encourage his descent into thick, simple mindlessness as a sweat-covered strand of pit hairs tickles him enough to elicit a bovine guffaw.

He goes to the fridge and pulls out a massive pre-made protein shake from a line of its brethren. Throwing his head back he downs the shake as if it were nothing before releasing a glass shaking burp for the ages. Burrrrrrrp- Scratching his glistening abs as his fingers play with a new treasure trail, he takes a beat before laughing at the burp and patting his stomach.

Looking around at his home, which itself is at some half-state between that of an artsy songwriter he can scarcely recognize and the barbaric gym bro he can’t tell he’s becoming. On the edge of revelation, he looks around at his possessions in their transient forms. Finding this shred of resolve, he hones in on some scrawled sheet music next to a fitness magazine.

Something is out of place and his wide hands go for both, first his eyes fall on the muscled pecs of some fitness influencer. Everything within him demands he compare himself with this dude, this chump. Bouncing his pecs he smirks as he remembers he doesn’t need to. He knows he’s better than that preening sellout.

As he asserts this, knows this- every inch of him surges larger. Tears race down every piece of clothing that remains hugging his form as pecs balloon to create an unmissable overhang above his build abs. Stretchmarks are painted down his back and across his shoulders as his body expands quicker than the blink of an eye as traps bulge larger and his biceps grow to a size that may never be covered by sleeves again.

Feeling the burn of years, decades of growth in an instant his mind begins to depart for good. But then he hears the faintest melody and looks down to find that shred of sheet music still clutched in his heavy hand. Mouth lolling open he tries to read it, he could read this right? Darius’ eyes begin to glaze over and he sets the sheet down as frustration begins to give to anger.

As soon as it’s out of sight however, it is evermore out of mind. Looking around as he has the faintest idea he was doing something. Scratching his sweaty hair like an ape in the hopes it’ll jog his memory, it allows him to appreciate his noxious musk once more. Smiling, he then feels a burp begin to rise as his protein shake sends its regards again Buurrrrrup, huhuh- His thicker brow lowers as he feels like he shouldn’t be laughing at his own burps. But burps are like, funny?

Clear as day he remembers being out with his nerdy friends and chugging a beer before burping out some song or another. Right? Mouth ajar, as it now almost always is, Darius vaguely remembers that he wanted to write a song or something about last night’s DND session. His mouth squirms as the idea is resoundingly alien to him. But he’s no bitch. Popping his now calloused hands, he wanders back to his little studio and immediately fills the room with his presence.

His little piano bench creaks under his weight as he thoughtlessly leans back onto the keyboard before picking up his guitar, shockingly small in his hands. Sweat drips onto the spotless plastic of his Yamaha as he takes a deep breath and starts warming up. Oh so quickly do things begin to fly off the rails.

Off reflex alone, he falls into singing the same song he always warms up on. He knows it better than the alphabet. His voice cracks immediately as he struggles to even find the key. “We alWAYs- Ugh? Ahem, wE Al- fuck!” He clears his throat a few times to no avail, each one only making his voice rougher, deeper. Notes that he could hit in his sleep are now totally unreachable. His jaw widens as he clenches it in irritation. Clearly he’s just got a cold or something. Yeah.

Turning his attention to the instrument, only then does he notice that his struggling vocals were the least of his concerns. Only just now does he notice that his hands are arbitrarily thrust on the guitar. He tries to adjust to how he naturally holds it but the position is uncomfortable. His biceps can’t quite reach, his chest is in the way, his fingers are unable to fall into place as should be their second nature.

And with each readjustment, each irritated sigh, that anger he forgot begins to return. Now so well accustomed to general vacant mindlessness, his anger has new depth, or rather, lack thereof. Every mistake his chest holds more tension, his breathing strains. As veins throb and he begins to see red, Darius for the first time in his life is overcome with what can only be described as a mindless rage.

What the fuck is he doing!? He doesn’t know how to play this stupid thing- His hands clench the neck with enough fury to send splinters into his rougher skin as the body produces an uncomfortable twang from the snapping of its frets. He doesn’t hear it though. The only thing Darius hears is the overpowering sound of blood rushing in his ears as his massive back heaves from primal breaths. And he raises it to swing.

Drool drips from his jaw as he for half a moment tries to find any recourse to calm down, to not do what he’s about to do. But this is what he’s good for, this is who he is. Faced with a problem that he cannot overcome, Darius does what he does to all problems. What a barbarian is good for. He beats it into submission.

Screaming enough to render the soundproofing of his little suite absolutely useless, Darius flies into a rage. The guitar in his hands is almost evaporated as he swings it into a music stand nearby. The bench that so valiantly held up his massive weight snaps in two as his monstrous foot slams on top of it. One meaty palm grabs each side of the keyboard and he bends its hard plastic with an ease that seems impossible, individual knobs ping off as shards of its black shell and plastic ivories shatter and scratch against his arms.

Darius revels in the destruction of this place that was once his sanctum against the world, this place that was him. Was. Now he is this, something far greater. Primal man itself. Scars and stretchmarks decorate his powerful form as with each instrument destroyed he inches closer towards his final self. The barbarian he is to become.

After minutes of destruction, his veins throb with exertion as his rampage finally slows to a halt. Heaving breaths, he looks down and flexes for himself as is his prerogative at nearly every juncture. This causes his cock to throb as it adds to the pre-stain that already decorates his dripping gym shorts. After a moment pawing his cock and rubbing his burning abs, he turns to leave the room destroyed.

Looking at his new home, messy and barely decorated, he wonders why he’s so beat. Scratching his pit and sniffing his hand as he thinks as well as he’s now able. He guffaws once as he realizes that he’s literally walking out of his home gym, turning back to look in he sees equipment scattered, mirrors steamed from his sweat alone, and the hole in the wall from where he punched it most recently.

At the edge of his mind something tries to call his attention, some shred of the past begging him to remember. Some forgotten medley or crumb of some unassertive self. But as he stretches and feels that soothing burn accompanied with the heavy, well-earned workout musk he sighs and his mind goes blank.

Then an alarm goes off and he remembers he has a meeting with a client this morning, rushing to his computer he flexes at his reflection before hopping on a call with one of his many proteges. He laughs and apologizes for being a little late, taking care to show off his own bicep and watch as his trainees eyes can’t help but be glued to it. Fuckkk that’s what it’s all about.

Underneath it all though, there is a glimmer of something else. While countless young men follow his footsteps, trail behind him on the path towards barbarism- he can’t quite feel as if he’s not finished. He knows there’s always more room to grow.

One week later, it’s time for the next session. The first hosted at Michael’s in quite some time! The DM is only slightly on edge as Darius has been a tad stand-offish since last session, if not completely out of sorts? But he’s sure the player’s over it, he needed a break from Derry anyway, try some actual roleplaying for once. In the meantime he’s taken care to make him a new character sheet, sure, maybe Darius wouldn’t have sunk so many points into strength, but that’s what barbarians are all about.

Never could he expect to meet the behemoth he had crafted.

Darius fists pound on his door like a hammer to an anvil, causing the DM to flinch despite being two rooms over. Half-wondering if this is a break in, he sheepishly wanders over to the peephole and almost falls over in shock at the beast he sees. Michael’s hands scramble to let him in with haste, desperately needing to see the whole picture, “D- Darius?! Is that you?”

Having only continued to grow in the lead up to this session he doesn’t quite remember scheduling, Darius nods at the little punk that greets him and wanders past him into the kitchen. Doesn’t matter where he is, it’s time to eat if he wants to stay massive. On the way he flexes in every reflective surface that he passes. Finally asserting himself over the man who wronged him, his body begins its final metamorphosis.

Michael chases after him, face burning with blush from being in the sheer presence of the man. He doesn’t notice as the character sheet in his hand continues to change, strength continuing to rise as intelligence and wisdom continue to decrease. He watches as the man’s brutish back widens enough to render the strained tank top obsolete as a few dense curls begin to creep up his back.

Hearing some lesser approach, Darius turns to take in the worship. Over a foot taller than he was since they last met, his pecs hang over Michael’s head as he bounces them with a sly smirk. At the same time they’re coated in a blanket of curls as his defined abs begin to push into a gut built for strength over aesthetics.

The dungeon master stammers as he watches the man grow, almost drooling as he sees stubble push out into a beard on the barbarian’s face. Apathetic to whatever the little man says, Darius tilts his head playfully as he’s able and readjusts the massive rod in his pants. His voice rumbles enough to vibrate Michael’s chest as he looks down at him, “Speak up little dude.”

Clearing his throat, the DM mutters something about a character sheet which Darius can almost recognize, “Ohhhhh- that what I’m doin here huh?” He scratches his jaw, not even noticing that he’s sporting a beard. Man as he is stubble’ll burst onto his face if he goes five minutes without shaving.

Downing half a protein shake that seemed to appear in his hand he pats Michael on his back, taking care to do it with the hand slightly sweaty from playing with his crotch, “Sure sure little man, I’m game.” Michael stays behind to reboot, mind desperately trying to understand what happened to his friend. Though something deeper within him is even more desperate to discover what this new brute can do.

Darius’ musk announces his presence to the rest of his party well before he makes it into the living room where they are to play. DND all but wiped from his mind now almost solely focused on putting on more meat and increasing his brute strength, he instead looks at the mousy crew before him. No one can avoid staring at the behemoth that enters.

Taking time to appraise each one of them, he sees them adjusting their own pants as they can’t help but be swayed in their way by his simply standing before them. He certainly can’t blame them. Smirking he offers only half a bicep flex and sees every one of them twitch from need. Taking in their small frames and baggy clothing, Darius wonder what they’d look like if they spent a little less time reading or playing these games, and instead joined him on the path towards strength.

There’s a faint sound of pencil scratching in the room as every class is suddenly written over with Barbarian. Darius smirks as instantly he sees their demeanor begin to change, he smells their nervous sweat shift to something more primal, something more powerful. He still isn’t quite sure whatever he was doing here, but all of a sudden he knows this’ll be a session for the ages.

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parkertfs · 25 days ago

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White Shirt, Blue Jeans

I'm telling you man, all you need is a white tee and some blue denim and you've got that hot classic look ready to go. Alright, alright, maybe you need to have the perfect bod to really sell the package, but don't worry, the store told me it all comes with the purchase. Just watch. They even recommended me to buy a larger size since you can fill them out as much as you want. All you gotta do is flex a little. Like this! O-oh... fuck... that was quick. L-look dude my arm's blowing up... giant meaty cannons, stretching these sleeves to their limit. Yeah, shoulders and forearms are getting nice and big too. I might have to look into their sleeveless options now, heh? They said the shirts leave loads of room in the front so you have to ugh... remember to fill... them.... out...! F-fuck sorry bro, didn't mean to give you a face full of my pecs, goddamn they're like tits now, look at them jiggle. See, with the white color you really get that sexiness. Skin tight, translucent fabric - unh - brushing against my nipples. Can't forget about the jeans either, giving me a nice big bubble butt. Thighs rubbing up against each other, calves squashed tight, there's barely any room left bro. Shit, I can hardly stand, huhu. A-Ah...? Down there too? Ooo, I can feel my cock throbbing, balls getting s-so heavy... Aw fuck... I think I burst the zipper on these pants, huhu, guess they couldn't handle the beast. Fuck, why do I feel so horny...? Bro, bro you gotta help me, this feels too good. I-I should have read the warning tags. W-wait, where did you get that cap? You weren't supposed to - ugh -find that. Bro, hold on, wait wait, the store said the caps make you more- Ooooooooogh. Nooooooooo... Stoppppphh...

huhuhuhu... look at my tits bro.

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parkertfs · 25 days ago

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Silver (Bottom Coat) Shampoo

He woke up the morning after using the new dyed shampoo feeling very… flexible? Other than the obvious change in his hair color, things felt different. He could stretch his legs behind his head! His beard from the day before had also receded gone back in to his face. It was like, shorter. And he couldn’t help but stick his legs in the air, they just felt so good in that position! Throughout the day he noticed his legs were super smooth now. Nothing like the hairy, thick ones he had before, they were now super toned and lean. It felt amazing.

He did his second wash with the shampoo that night and as the suds the soapy bubbles washed into his crack, he felt the hair wash right off and into the drain. Leaving his super plump ass hairless, like it had always been! He reached behind him to scrub away the bubbly stuff and instead his finger slipped in. Not far, but he fell to his knees and a breathy moan was let loose! Embarrassed, he stood back up, finger still embedded stuck in there… he began to ride his own hand!

With each soapy bubbles, his brain washed away. Not much left to think about except his fist stuck up his tight hole, right?!

Seriously, try the shampoo!

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parkertfs · 1 month ago

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CockWeed: A Joint Experience

I drew in way too much for my first breath, but it was worth it as I felt my blood slow with the effects of the smoke. It had that… really strong weed smell, penetrating your thoughts and nose, slowing your mind until only one thought was being processed at a time.

“Yo bro hand the fuckin joint over you hog!” He followed up with a chuckle.

Not many… time, uh, seconds later he had the joint and I was sitting back into the couch. God I got a bod, and damn this cock is incredible!

“Bro… my. cock.”

“Yeah dude look here, it’s called COCKWEED remember bro?” He stood up from the couch and slid his pants down to show me his newly swollen member.

“Honestly. No. Bro… I don’t even remember what we’re smoking! Just that I feel fucking incredible right now!”

“Oh yeah?” He lumbered over and stood before me, massive ‘cockweed’ cock swinging soft in my face.

“Bro, go for it.” He saw me staring with drool on my lips, I dove in. Sucking his massive cock was almost better than hitting the joint… no it was better.

“Yeah that’s it.” I sucked down the stream of pre he was producing, laced with that classic weedy flavor I drank it with abandon.

“You got enough?” He pulled his cock out of my mouth… I looked up at him with puppy eyes for not letting me suck him off any more.

“Bro you need another hit.”

Before I knew it my lips had parted for the joint. I was out of breath from his massive dick and each inhale was filling my lungs with the transformative smoke.

“Yeahhhhh brooooo… keepmmph-” I looked down to see my soft cock spilling longer and thicker into his mouth. He took the whole head and sucked it like he was pulling from the joint. Each breath I took caused more growth. He let go of the joint and I continued to hit it, toking until I felt the hot air become intolerable. I felt my balls fill with potent cock-weed-seed and soon I was pumping his stomach full of the juice.

“You get the lighter, i’ll get the bong.”

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parkertfs · 1 month ago

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Buff's Chicken

Originally posted on Patreon in July 2023. I have quite a backlog of stories on there, along with exclusive artwork and my Discord! Join now and don't miss out on what's coming up next.

Aardvark: BlueSky | Patreon | Ko-fi | Pay-Pal

Jeff Hancock drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his Hyundai as he stared across the empty parking lot. He’d grown up in this town and he’d seen it grow fast, adding 50,000 more people in his lifetime. Businesses appeared almost overnight that he hadn't even noticed before; he would drive to work one day and suddenly spot a new breakfast joint or sports shop, only to find out it had already been there for six months. The speed of life was so different than when he’d been 17.

When he thought about it, that overwhelming speed was part of the reason he was sitting in the parking lot of Buff’s Chicken. Given his role as a youth pastor, he met a lot of young people, and they had a tendency to confide in him. Landry Sims was one of those kids. He’d gone to Jeff’s church years prior, but they hadn’t seen each other in years until a chance encounter at Target earlier in the week. Landry was still the same upbeat guy he’d always been - albeit now in a stringy teenage body - but he’d admitted to Jeff that he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with his life now that high school was ending. So, they’d set a lunch to talk more about it.

Jeff sighed and checked his watch. His break was only 45 minutes, so hopefully Landry would arrive on time and service would be fast. As one of the new businesses in town that just materialized out of the blue, Buff’s Chicken was unproven as a lunch spot, but Jeff wouldn’t be facing much competition for a quick sandwich if all the open parking spaces were any indicator. All he knew was that Google said Buff’s was healthy, and Jeff was trying to eat better. His body was a temple, after all.

A few moments later, an old tan 4-door trundled into the parking lot, and Landry got out. Jeff turned off his car and stepped out too. He waved, and the teen waved back. “Hey, Pastor Jeff!”

“You can just call me Jeff, dude,” Jeff smiled, slapping Landry’s hand in an open-palm handshake. Landry’s hair had grown out into a messy mop of curls that bounced as they walked toward the restaurant, and his rumpled shorts and t-shirt gave off the vibe that he’d come here straight from bed. Jeff couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for his own uninhibited teenage years. He remembered the age when a lunch like this would be the only thing he had to do all day. No responsibilities sounded nice, but a steady paycheck was nice too.

“You been here before?” Landry gestured to the restaurant. “I hadn’t heard of it before you suggested it.”

Jeff said no, he hadn’t. “It’s really new,” he added, looking at the gleaming white exterior and freshly painted signage. It looked like Buff’s Chicken hadn’t even been through a rainstorm yet. The logo on the door was spotless: a cartoonish he-man with bulging muscles proudly displayed a chicken sandwich for all to see, the word 'BUFF'S' taking center stage across his chest. “A little on-the-nose, huh,” he joked to Landry as he opened the door.

Jeff and Landry stepped into the restaurant and were greeted by a blast of cool air that carried the scent of spicy chicken. The interior was sleek and modern, with chrome tables and industrial light fixtures. References to gym culture abounded: door handles shaped like dumbbells, a ‘locker room’ sign above the bathrooms. A slick video board above the counter depicted a flexing animated rooster alongside the menu. Jeff couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

Another testament to fitness stood behind the cash register. He was tall and tan and ridiculously wide, with shoulders as straight and broad as a curtain rod. The hunk looked too young to be as jacked as he was – he had big brown eyes and a perfect swoosh of black hair, with nary a whisker in sight on his chiseled jawline. Vascular arms and rippling abs bulged out of a white uniform polo that was one size too small. His name tag identified him as 'Joaquin'.

“Hey guys,” he said, voice deep and warm. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Juuust a second,” Landry said as he stared up at the menu.

Jeff asked Joaquin how long Buff’s had been open. “This is the sixth day. I think word is still getting out,” Joaquin answered, looking ruefully around the empty dining room. Jeff almost responded with a joke about God creating man on the sixth day, but he couldn’t land on a punchline, so he held his tongue.

Jeff and Landry ordered their food at Joaquin's recommendation – the combos were labeled ‘Supersets’ on the menu, and they both opted for the first one: a grilled chicken sandwich with sweet potato fries on the side. They paid Joaquin, who waved them off to have a seat at one of the tables.

They selected a booth in the corner of the restaurant, its high back providing a measure of privacy. As they settled in, Jeff shifted in his seat and asked Landry how he was doing. The initial response was predictably vague – “all good!” – but Jeff knew that Landry wanted to open up more. So he kept probing, asking questions about school and family, offering occasional commiserations when the answers were less than encouraging. Landry mentioned that he wasn’t going to college yet because he didn’t know what he wanted to study, and it seemed dumb to take out loans for something he wasn’t passionate about.

“Everyone else seems to have it figured out,” Landry said.

“I promise you they don’t,” Jeff assured him. “I have tons of these conversations every year. And even if they think they do now, things change quickly. I’ve seen so many kids go into college sure of what they want to do, then change their majors after two years. It’s a time when you question a lot about yourself, which is why it’s good to talk to other people about it and get a lot of perspectives.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Landry nodded. “I hadn’t thought about how many people you must talk to. That makes me feel better.”

“We all have God-given talents, and those are there for a reason,” Jeff said. “I had no plans to be a pastor when I was your age. I started volunteering at a church so I could meet people after I moved, and it sparked this passion in helping students. I thought I’d just be helping them with their faith, but half the time we don’t even talk about God!”

“That’s cool,” Landry said. “And you didn’t want to teach?”

“Well, I specifically wanted to talk openly about God, so that was one thing. It was a faith-based calling. But I don’t want to make this about me! What were your favorite classes in school?” Jeff asked. “I know all of you guys get asked this all the time, so sorry to make you repeat yourself.”

“It’s fine, but yeah, that’s the issue. I liked marching band, but I’m not good enough to be a professional musician, and I don’t want to be a teacher,” Landry sighed. “I want to do something interesting, but I don’t know what’s interesting. Is that weird?”

Before Jeff could answer, Joaquin called out their names from the counter. Landry stood up and said he’d grab the two trays of food waiting for them. He walked over to the counter, and when he didn’t return within a few seconds, Jeff turned his head to see Landry speaking with Joaquin. They seemed to be having a friendly conversation, their heads leaning in close together as they exchanged words. What they were talking about, he couldn’t tell. But the conversation seemed congenial and familiar. Maybe they’d gone to school together, he thought.

Jeff scrolled through emails on his phone until Landry returned bearing golden-brown sandwiches and crisp sweet potato fries. They tasted as good as they smelled. After a few minutes of contented and silent eating, Jeff prodded, “So you were saying about not being sure what interests you…?”

“Oh, right,” Landry said, taking a big bite of his sandwich. “These are so good. Anyway, actually, one thing that would interest me would be…uh…would be…” He chewed and swallowed, the gears in his head visibly turning. Even Landry seemed surprised to hear himself blurt out, “…would be owning a restaurant.”

Jeff raised his eyebrows at the out-of-nowhere statement. “Interesting! Like being a chef?”

“Well I…I never thought about it before. I never realized that’s a dream of mine, but it is…” He trailed off, thinking, and didn’t keep speaking until Jeff cleared his throat. “Oh, sorry! Spaced out. I didn’t mean cooking. Not even managing the place. Just owning it. I remember hearing about this guy who owned a bunch of Taco Bells and that was his business.” Landry leaned back in his chair, ate a handful of fries, and shrugged. “Could be cool!”

A sudden movement down by the floor caught Jeff’s eye. Startled, he whipped around thinking it was a mouse, but to his relief it was only Landry’s feet sticking out from under the table. His shoes were an eclectic choice: green and white sneakers with strips of brown leather that sliced through the Nike logo. Jeff thought nothing of it until he took a bite of his food and saw another flash of brown from the same area, which prompted him to look again. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the brown leather dress shoes on Landry’s feet. No swoosh, no neon. “Were you always wearing those shoes?”

Landry was mid-chew. “Hm?”

“Your shoes. I swear I thought they were sneakers.”

Landry stretched his leg out so he could see his feet. They looked way too big for his frame, like pool flippers. “Nope, always had these. I don’t typically wear running shoes unless I’m working out. I just like dress shoes. They make me feel… I don't know, grown-up, I guess.”

Jeff almost told Landry that white socks didn’t go with dress shoes, but he didn’t want to make the kid feel bad. And he was glad he didn’t say it, because a moment later when he looked down, he saw Landry’s socks were actually a suitable blue.

"So…owning a franchise, huh?" Jeff said, trying to steer the conversation, and his own thoughts, back to Landry's interests. “Nothing wrong with that idea. But do you have any experience in the restaurant business?”

“Not really,” Landry said, his mouth full of fries. “But I could learn. I’m good with people.”

“That’s a good start,” Jeff nodded. “Just remember that owning a business is about more than just being good with people. You need to have a business sense, know how to manage employees, and understand finances. It’s a lot of work, but a lot of people thrive being their own boss.”

Landry nodded and leaned back in his chair. “I know it’s not something that’s going to magically happen. But it came into my head just now and something about it feels really right. Suddenly it’s all I can think about…” A small smile formed on his face. “Me, owning a place like this. I’ve never been in charge of anything. I’d like to be the boss.”

Jeff could barely keep up with Landry's sudden change in temperament. In the blink of an eye, the kid switched from laid-back ambivalence to a piercing focus. It was as if an invisible hand had flicked on a switch inside him, and now he was locked onto his goal like a heat-seeking missile. Jeff listened to Landry closely, wondering where the conversation would take them. He even shifted his chair back to give Landry more room to express himself, which was how he saw the…

…actually, he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

Landry’s spindly legs were stretched out under the table, and there were small threads swirling around his bare calves like an invisible spider was spinning a web. Jeff thought they were strays hanging down from the ends of Landry’s shorts, but then he realized they were…multiplying? “What is that?” he asked aloud, but Landry kept rambling about owning a restaurant and didn’t hear him.

It was only a matter of seconds before the threads had woven themselves into patches, which then sewed themselves onto Landry’s shorts and stretched longer and longer down his legs. Landry crossed and uncrossed his ankles without appearing to feel that he was now wearing a pair of odd pants–blue cotton above the knee, tan wool below.

Jeff's mouth opened and closed as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Was this some kind of magic? No, magic didn’t exist, but whatever this was, he had never seen anything like it before. And it moved so quickly–in a flash, the blue in Landry’s trousers disappeared completely and a pair of tan dress pants remained.

“Your…your…” Jeff stammered, his eyes locked under the table. The material of Landry’s pants undulated like a crowd doing the wave, the trouser legs rippling outward as if a fan was blowing air up them. Jeff’s brain told him that Landry’s legs were getting bigger and thicker, but that was impossible. That didn’t happen.

“My what?” Landry asked. His expression indicated he was repeating himself.

Jeff choked out, “Your pants – shorts – changed!”

Landry cocked his head and laughed. “My pants shorts?” He stood up…and up… His legs were way too long for his torso; he looked like he was on stilts. “You’re right, I should tuck my shirt in.” He pulled the pants up to his waist, an area that no other person his age would dare wear them, then unclasped his leather belt and started to tuck his t-shirt into the waistline of the trousers. The whole time, Jeff was fixated on his legs. They were…huge, it looked like. Unnaturally big thighs that couldn’t press fully together, leaving his knees a foot apart.

Landry shuffled around as he tucked in his shirt. When he turned side profile, the sagging seat of his pants suddenly swelled out as big as a basketball, jutting an entire foot from his body. As the buttons on Landry’s back pockets burst off, Jeff exclaimed, “Is this some kind of…candid camera something?”

His lunch companion turned to face him. “What do you mean?” Landry asked. Before Jeff could respond, the flat front of Landry’s trousers - directly at Jeff’s eye level - suddenly pushed outward. Something heavy was making his fly curve, then sag. Landry's gaze followed Jeff’s, down to his groin, where a bulge the size of a honeydew melon was protruding lewdly into the air. He blushed and mumbled an apology for his 'moose knuckle.' As he turned away to adjust himself, Jeff got a peek at the beefiest, broadest ass he’d ever laid eyes on. Landry’s butt was absolutely massive, like an adult bodybuilder had taken over half of a teenager.

“There we go, sorry,” Landry said, turning back around like the problem was fixed despite his bulge being more prominent than ever. It was utterly bizarre to see half of Landry sticking out of a pair of legs that belonged on Goliath. He was shaped like a freaking Christmas tree.

Jeff’s brain tried to process what he was seeing and failing miserably. He rubbed his eyes, expecting Landry to transform back to his normal self. But the reality was that Landry was not changing back. He was still standing there, with his huge thighs and massive butt, looking completely unaware of the absurdity of his appearance.

“So, do you think owning a franchise is a good idea?” Landry asked, breaking Jeff out of his thoughts.

Jeff was thunderstruck. He couldn't bring himself to answer Landry's question while the young man was standing there looking like some kind of freakish mutant. But he couldn't just sit there in silence either. He had to say something. "Uh, I don't know, Landry," Jeff finally managed to stammer out, his eyes still glued to Landry's massive thighs. "I think you might have some… bigger issues to deal with first."

“Like what?” Landry questioned curiously, as the space around him appeared to decrease. Jeff's disorientation dissipated when he realized why it seemed like the walls of the room were caving in—Landry was getting taller, his torso extending to match his legs. His shirt fought to stay tucked in as it stretched taut over his lengthening frame.

As Jeff opened his mouth to respond, Landry suddenly interjected, “Hold on just a second!” He immediately spun around and toddled off, giant thighs swinging stiffly around each other. His torso rocked back and forth like a buoy on the sea. Jeff was flooded with secondhand embarrassment as he saw Landry move toward a family that had just entered the restaurant. Their reactions were sure to be extreme once they spotted Landry, and Jeff knew he would have to help sort out what was going on.

“Hey folks! Welcome to Buff’s!” Landry said, extending his hand to the family father. Jeff waited for the man to gawk, and couldn’t believe it when he simply returned the handshake with no acknowledgement of Landry’s unnatural appearance. As Landry exchanged small talk with the family, Jeff couldn’t help but feel like he was trapped in some kind of bizarre dream. He rubbed his eyes again, trying to make sense of the situation, but when he opened them, Landry was still standing there, dwarfing all four of the people he was talking to, even the dad. The family seemed to be oblivious to how Landry looked, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

But something out of the ordinary was continuing to happen, even if Jeff was the only one aware of it. Just as Landry’s blue shorts had turned into tan slacks, white was now infiltrating his t-shirt from the bottom up, bleaching away everything in its path. It was like watching a time-lapse video in reverse. By the time Landry had finished introducing himself to the family, his shirt was completely white, devoid of any color or pattern.

Jeff couldn’t hear what was being said between Landry and the family, but it seemed pleasant; at one point, Landry fished something out of his pants pocket and gave it to the family’s little girl, whose face lit up. By then, Landry’s t-shirt had fully morphed into a white polo shirt made from shiny polyester. It remained firmly tucked into his pants as he rested his hands on his hips and chatted with the dad while the rest of the family ordered.

The man talking to Landry didn’t seem to notice that Landry was gaining weight right before his eyes. The kid’s rail-thin torso was rapidly filling in. Like an empty glass being filled with water, Landry’s midsection widened, then his chest, then his shoulders, growing him to a proper adult size that matched his bottom half. Jeff stood halfway out of his chair and then sat back down, unsure of what to do or say. No one was freaking out except for him, which made him doubt his own senses. But his eyes were telling him that abs were bulging out from Landry’s stomach, growing so big and thick that they protruded over his belt buckle - it looked like a belly until Jeff saw the ridges outlined in Landry’s polo. And Landry’s hands, still resting on his hips, had doubled in size to become large and powerful with thick, ropy veins. The hands of a hardworking man. Soon his forearms were swelling, then his biceps. Jeff’s position allowed him to even see Landry’s triceps ballooning, pushing out from beneath his short sleeves to pack muscle onto his arms with frightening speed.

“God in Heaven…” Jeff muttered. Landry’s arm was the size of the head of the man he was talking to, and it wasn’t even flexed. The disproportion reminded Jeff of a gorilla’s body, but since Landry’s shoulder blades were already visibly shifting further apart, he had a feeling the mismatch would not last long. Jeff couldn’t believe Landry’s arms were still growing–they looked grotesquely large–bloating to the size of pumpkins as his shoulders broadened to twice the width of the man he was talking to. The polo stretched out across Landry’s back as it thickened with brawn, seams creaking under the strain. Jeff could see every muscle group shift and expand under the fabric, like a snake shedding its skin. Landry’s traps enlarged to become chunks of granite along his neck, and bulging delts slid out from beneath his sleeves. He was becoming a human tank, filling in with dense layers of muscle and raw power.

Jeff’s brain continued trying to reason through what was happening. He kept returning to the idea that he was being tricked, somehow; kids loved those YouTube and TikTok pranks. Maybe Landry was in some kind of inflatable muscle suit. He’d never heard of those making you nearly a foot taller, and it wouldn’t explain how his clothes had changed, but it was the only explanation he could think of that didn’t involve magic.

His gaze locked onto Landry, who must have sensed the attention and mouthed that he'd be done in a second more. That was when Jeff noticed Landry's polo shirt wiggling with each breath over his sunken chest, like the foreshocks of an earthquake. With a jolt, Jeff realized Landry's chest - the last part of him that hadn't ballooned in size - was about to get bigger. He tried to gesture for Landry to come over, but Landry already returned to talking with the customer. For a moment, Jeff considered walking over to Landry and holding his pecs down so they wouldn’t grow.

But it was too late for that. Landry’s chest had already begun to swell, pushing out slowly, almost as if it was taunting Jeff. The muscles grew like they were bashful and needing to build their confidence–goosing slightly forward, then nudging a bit broader. As the seconds ticked by, the incremental growth was adding up. The shiny polyester fabric of his polo shirt stretched tighter as his pecs grew rounder and fuller. They bounced and twitched as they swelled to impossible size, now jutting out from his body like two enormous boulders. They pushed his shirt out even further, the buttons threatening to pop off.

Jeff still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This was beyond any prank he had ever seen before. Landry's transformation was real, and it was happening right in front of him. He watched in awe as Landry's chest continued to grow, now expanding further outward to the sides and pushing his arms out to 45-degree angles. “Stop now…stop now…” Jeff prayed.

The answer to his prayers was a resounding “no” that came in the form of Landry’s polo buttons bursting open, exposing the growing magnificence of his chest. Landry's chest was now a work of art, perfectly sculpted and defined with striations that rippled with every slight movement. His pecs were so huge that they dwarfed his head, seeming to blot out the sun as they continued to grow outward. They’d taken over so much of his upper body that his chin was now resting on top of them, his neck completely obscured by their sheer size. Their weight - like two inflated basketballs strapped to his torso - forced him to stand tall and proud, holding them high as he peered out across their vast expanse. They heaved of their own accord as he shook the man’s hand and turned back to face Jeff.

Jeff swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Landry's gargantuan chest. He could barely process the sight before him--this wasn't possible. People didn't simply grow muscle like this, not to mention the fact that Landry's chest alone was now larger than a professional bodybuilder’s. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and his tongue felt like lead. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Landry had just grown into a human behemoth right before his eyes.

Landry cautiously eased down into his chair. His mammoth pecs demanded attention with every slight movement, covering half the table as he leaned over it. Bikini tops had more coverage than the polo was providing for Landry’s ti–well, Jeff didn’t like that word, the four-letter one starting with ‘t’ and ending with ‘s’, but that was what Landry had. Giant jugs that represented sheer size and power. Jeff knew he should look away, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the rippling muscles that seemed to pulse with life.

“Good thing these chairs are sturdy!” Landry joked as he shifted back and forth on his big butt, seemingly unaware of Jeff's internal battle. He was too busy admiring his own muscles. His bulging biceps looked like they could lift a car, and his massive forearms were covered in thick, ropey veins that pulsed with every movement. Jeff couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be held in those arms, to feel the strength of them around his body. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized that he was getting turned on by the sight of Landry's muscles. He quickly pushed the thought from his mind, feeling guilty for having it in the first place. But then, as if sensing Jeff's arousal, Landry flexed his arm, and Jeff felt himself start to sweat. The bicep bulged outward, growing even larger than before, and Jeff could see the muscle fibers straining against the skin and a blue vein as thick as a garden hose. Landry's arm was now so thick that it looked like it could barely bend. “Pretty sick, huh?” Landry bragged.

“You’re…you’re…how did you…” Jeff squeaked.

“What’s wrong?” Landry asked, his young face at odds with his gigantic frame.

Jeff didn’t answer because he was distracted by a stain on the front of Landry’s skin tight polo. He wondered if the garment was changing color again, until the shadow crept into the center of Landry’s chest and curled proudly out through his open collar, culminating in an even varnish of chest hair. As the final stroke of Landry’s overwhelming masculinity, his nipples pushed out dark and prominent, their size suited for showing through his shirts at all times.

“You have…” Jeff couldn’t form the words, so he just pointed at the dark hair covering Landry’s pecs.

Landry chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Most guys my age can't grow anything close to this," he said. “I love having a hairy chest. That’s why I show it off.”

“But it just…it just changed!”

“What just changed?”

“Your chest! Your everything changed!”

“Changed?” Landry chuckled incredulously. “Nothing’s chanmmfff-” Landry’s speech slurred as his jaw locked. The bone popped as the angles flared outward, bursting into an enormous block of granite. The huge jawbone jutted out like the prow of a warship, the perfect complement to his massive muscles. Landry flexed his jaw muscles, making it bulge even larger. Jeff could see every muscle fiber rippling in an assertion of Landry’s manliness.

Jeff's eyes widened as he watched the bones in Landry's face shift and contort, reshaping themselves into something that looked more suited for a statue than a human being. “Nothing’s changed,” Landry insisted, the last word dropping in pitch as his browbone pushed out, which in turn shoved his hairline back two inches. His eyes fluttered shut as his temples broadened, giving his face a square shape. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jeff,” he said, as his long shaggy hair began to shrink into his scalp, revealing more of his receded hairline. Lines carved themselves across his forehead and into his cheeks, wiping away his boyishness.

“Are you doing this? Is this a joke?!”

“Is what a joke?” Landry responded, his eyelids still closed as his face continued to harden. Bristly stubble coated his jaw and began to thicken around his mouth, while fine wrinkles webbed out around his eyes. He looked older than Jeff now–a middle-aged man–and he sounded like one too as he said “I’m not doing anything” in a deep, rough bass that matched the rugged power of his features.

Jeff's heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. A handsome stranger sat in Landry’s place. The man’s eyes were open now, a pair of steely gray irises that scanned Jeff intently. He clenched his iron jaw, the angles bulging out from his 20-inch neck. “What's the matter, Jeff? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“Are you…still Landry?” Jeff asked.

Landry’s deep laugh reverberated through the restaurant. “Of course I’m still Landry! What do you mean by that? What’s all this about?” He smiled, revealing whiter and straighter teeth than he’d had before, and that was when Jeff realized Landry had a full goatee around his mouth. The trim whiskers emphasized the angles of his jaw and blockiness of his chin, as did the new salt-and-pepper flattop that had taken the place of his teenage mop. “You high or something, Jeff? I know you kids sometimes get up to stuff.”

Jeff balked at the giant man in front of him. Landry looked like the Terminator had combined with G.I. Joe and done HGH for two decades. “I’m not high,” he said, frantically trying to piece together a plan to get out of this situation. Was he going to have to call Landry’s family…or the police… “How old are you?”

“Me? I’m 17.”

“You don’t look 17.”

“Well I am. See for yourself.” Landry pulled his wallet out and chucked it across the table. Jeff opened it and saw Landry’s new face looking sternly back at him, clean-shaven but otherwise the same. His height was listed as 6’5. His birthday started with a ‘19.’

Jeff did some quick math in his head. “This says you’re 48.”

“Yeah, like I said, I’m 48.”

“But you just said–” Jeff happened to catch the name. “Lance?!”

“Lance Walton Foster. 48 years old. Organ Donor. And an Aries if you were curious about that.” Lance chuckled as he reached out and snatched his wallet back. As Jeff watched him tuck it away, he noticed the emblem on Lance’s shirt: the Buff’s Chicken logo, stretched out across his monster left pec.

The pieces began to fall into place in Jeff’s mind. He looked behind himself at the family, now seated, then back at Lance. “You were greeting them because…do you own this place?”

Lance smiled proudly. “Lucky number seven! Gotta make sure the customers feel welcome. It goes with the territory when you run a business like this. We just opened, so I need to be sure everything is running well.” He arched an eyebrow as he looked behind the counter. “And that the employees are behaving.”

“You own seven of these? But how is that…” Jeff trailed off, realizing that it was entirely reasonable for a 48-year-old man to own a restaurant. His mind reeled with questions. How had Lance transformed from a normal teenager into a middle-aged restaurant mogul right before his eyes? Was this some kind of bizarre manifestation of the butterfly effect, a glitch in the matrix? Or had he just witnessed a miracle? It all seemed too surreal. But there was something in Lance's eyes that made Jeff believe every word he was saying.

Lance kept talking as he took bites of his sandwich. “I don’t know what you’re so surprised about. I’ve been in the restaurant business for thirty years. I started young, but I’ve been successful enough to keep opening more and more locations. You’re looking at a self-made man, Jeff.” His pecs bounced up and down. As Jeff stared at Lance’s chest, he wondered if Lance realized he’d even flexed it. Those nipples…they were like gumdrops under Lance’s polo shirt. Candy waiting to be sucked on. They were so big, and they stuck out so far. They had to be super sensitive. Bodybuilder daddies like Lance always had huge, sensitive nipples.

“Jeff?”

Jeff jumped. “Huh?!”

“My eyes are up here, kid,” Lance joked as he bounced his giant tits again. He grinned when Jeff blushed. “I’m just busting your balls. You looked lost in thought.”

“I was thinking just, uh…sorry, my head is all mixed up today. I’m gonna run to the restroom.” Anxiety made his steps tentative and shaky as he walked toward the tile LOCKER ROOM sign. He didn’t actually need to pee. He just needed to not be looking at Lance for a moment while he tried to figure out what to do next. The sight of those arms made it impossible to think straight.

Jeff had his hand on the men’s room door when it flew open from the other side. He leapt back as Joaquin walked through. “My bad bro!” Joaquin said. “Didn’t hit you did I?”

“No, no, all good.” Jeff paused, and right before Joaquin walked away, he decided to ask: “Did you see anything weird happen out there just now?”

“Out in the dining room? No, did I miss somethin’?”

“The guy I walked in with changed.”

“Oh, that’s not weird. Lance always keeps clothes in the back in case he swings by after the gym.” Joaquin leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Sometimes he changes with the door cracked a little bit, and I see him with his shirt off…it’s so hot, bro. His chest is so hairy and it’s out to here.” Joaquin cupped his hands a foot away from his own impressive pecs. “I love watching him struggle to pull his polo over his head. He’s so freaking huge and it gets me so hard. Gets you hard too, huh?”

Jeff reeled. “What? No! Why are you talking about–”

“You’re hard right now,” Joaquin smiled. “Or is that because you’re looking at me?

“I can’t, uh…” Jeff covered his crotch and tried to gather himself. “This is all so weird, I don’t know what’s going on here but I shouldn’t be a part of it.”

“Dude, you’re looking so jacked,” Joaquin said. “Lemme see those guns.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Jeff said irritably, as he raised his arms and flexed for Joaquin. The young hunk groped his own crotch as he stared at Jeff’s left bicep. He leaned forward and kissed it as Jeff kept talking. “I’m trying to tell you something, Joaquin!”

“Sorry, it’s hard to listen when I’m looking at someone as hot as you. C’mere.” In one smooth move, Joaquin clapped his hand on the back of Jeff’s neck and pulled him into the bathroom. His tongue was down Jeff’s throat before Jeff could even react. And he was strong, shoving his big muscles up against Jeff’s body and holding him tight. It made Jeff kiss back because he had no other option. He’d never kissed a guy before. There were a couple girls back in seminary, but it was chaste; gentle. Kissing Joaquin was neither of those things. It was rough and aggressive. It was manly.

They came up for air. Joaquin pinned Jeff against the wall as Jeff choked out, “I’m not- I’m n-not-” He wanted to say ‘not gay’ but it wasn’t coming out. He was panicking. The day was already so strange with Lance transforming before his eyes, and now Joaquin was coming onto him, and if a youth pastor got caught doing this he’d be a pariah–

“You gotta pose for me,” Joaquin panted, humping against Jeff. “I gotta see those muscles in action. Your body is just…fuuuuck…”

Jeff put his fists on his hips and hit a front lat spread. “I’m not gonna pose for you! I don’t even work out! This is all wrong!”

Joaquin continued to speak in a whisper that crackled with electricity. "Please dude," he said softly. "You’re so hot. I’ve been waiting for this chance with you for so long."

Jeff stood there transfixed for what felt like hours, until finally he shook himself out of it and stepped away from Joaquin's embrace. "No," he mumbled under his breath, more to himself than anyone else in the room. "I’m not hot…I’m not this kind of guy." But even as Jeff said the words, he found himself wanting more; wanting to succumb to this feeling of forbidden pleasure that had taken over him so suddenly. He’d never felt so sensual…and so desired…it was really turning him on…

“Not hot?!” Joaquin dragged Jeff in front of the bathroom mirror. “You’re SEX! We gotta do something about your dystopia, man.”

“Do you mean…dysmorphia?”

“Whatever, I’m a bodybuilder, not a fucking English major.” Joaquin’s dumb bro laugh backed up this statement.

“This is still so wrong,” Jeff said weakly. “I don’t get what’s going on-”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t know how good it feels to be touched like this.” Joaquin cupped Jeff’s crotch and squeezed. To Jeff’s horror, his cock began to swell as he felt that first spark of pleasure. Joaquin ran his hands up and down Jeff’s body, admiring it. “I could kiss every inch of you,” he said. “Maybe I will. Maybe we’ll have to fuck a few times just to make sure I’ve gotten to every part.”

Jeff was breathing heavily now. “I can’t do this,” he said, even weaker. Joaquin clearly didn’t believe him.

“Yes you can, bro, c’mon. You built this body to show it off didn’t you? Every time I look at this ass I wanna see all of it. Can I just…” Joaquin pushed down on Jeff’s waistband, moving it just enough to see: “Oh fuck yeah, I love guys who wear jocks.”

“I’m not wearing a-” Jeff felt his hard dick pushing against the stretchy pouch of his jockstrap. He hadn’t worn a jock in his life. How was there one on him now…? “What’s happening to me, bro?” he mumbled.

“Just trust me,” Joaquin whispered, pulling on the hem of Jeff’s shirt. He moved it up a bit, sliding his hand across Jeff’s untoned belly. “Fuck, these abs! Flex them for me!”

Joaquin’s excitement made Jeff try. He liked ice cream and pizza too much to ever have abs. But he did feel something crunch against Joaquin’s hand. The muscles beneath the pudge were waking up from a long nap. The fat seemed to melt away, like a rapid wildfire consuming everything but taut, rigid muscle. “I just…I don’t know if I’m ready for this!”

“You are,” Joaquin said, as he started to kiss Jeff’s neck. “You’re the most ripped guy at the gym. Fuck, I wanna see you shirtless, showing off for me.”

“N-no, no, I can’t do that,” Jeff said, but he felt his cock getting hard inside his jock. He shifted his weight and cocked his hips, rolling his body against Joaquin’s. His reflection looked leaner and sexier.

“I don’t get it bro. You’re such a huge cocky stud and I finally get you alone and NOW you decide to get all shy,” Joaquin said. “Is it me? Am I not hot enough for you?”

“No! You’re so hot. You’re so fucking hot,” Jeff moaned. He hadn’t meant to swear. It just slipped out. He was distracted by his arms bulging against his sleeves and his pants struggling to stay up around his narrowing waist. He had to hold onto his belt to keep himself covered, until he felt a swell in his thighs pushing against his pant legs. Joaquin’s bulging crotch was grinding between Jeff’s ass cheeks, and it kept sinking deeper between them, like his butt was expanding. “UNH-”

Jeff’s loud moan was cut off by Joaquin mashing their mouths together to quiet him down. Jeff went limp in Joaquin’s chiseled arms, his resistance fading. It couldn’t be bad to be beautiful, could it? His body was a temple, after all…it would be a sin to NOT take care of it…maybe kissing another man wasn’t so good, but God made men, and he made them gorgeous. Jeff just wanted to celebrate a creation of God. He wanted to touch Joaquin, pleasure him, but also impress him. And to impress him, he needed to be bigger. A true Adonis.

Jeff pushed back against Joaquin’s big cock. He heard a zipper being pulled down, and felt the fat pouch of Joaquin’s jockstrap thump against his bare ass. He heard Joaquin rip off his shirt, and felt a muscular forearm wrap around his head, pulling him in close.

“Fuck, this is hot,” Joaquin said into Jeff’s neck. He pulled one of Jeff’s arms up, and felt the ripped bicep bulge in his hand. He started massaging Jeff’s chest, pinching at his nipples through his shirt. Jeff just stared in the mirror, wondering when he’d become somewhat attractive. He’d always been so average, the kind of guy whose entire beauty regimen consisted of brushing his teeth. But he looked…pretty. His jawline was visible, his eyes looked bluer, his hair was lustrous and thick. Pre-cum soaked his jock, slicking up the webbed cotton. The feeling of gushing manliness made him so horny that his toes curled and his vision clouded.

He sprouted taller with a happy grunt. Seams tore open across his expanding body, as his shoulders broadened and muscles bulged into view across his back. Joaquin’s hands roamed all over Jeff’s changing form, feeling the tightness of new muscles and exploring the curves of Jeff’s pecs. It was a fresh experience to be touched this way by another man, but it felt incredible. A warmth spread from head to toe as his cock stiffened thanks to Joaquin's attention. Bigger testicles pumped more testosterone throughout his body, filling him with strength and energy. His face exuded radiance, looking poreless and velvety – almost like he was wearing makeup.

Joaquin's hands were a blur as he explored every inch of Jeff’s newly expanded body. His fingers roved over the fullness of Jeff’s biceps, the definition of his abs and the rounded curves of his buttocks. Heat radiated from Jeff’s tan skin as his pleasure grew stronger with each touch.

Jeff was caught in the throes of ecstasy, hot breath pushing out of his lungs as he panted heavily. The way he was moving made him blush, but he couldn’t stop. He was bucking his body and moaning like a porn star, with a fuck-me expression on his pretty face. His full pink lips smacked together with lustful abandon, briefly breaking into a dashing white smile. The pleasure that coursed through him was almost unbearable. He cried out as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him, each one bulking him bigger. His shredded 8-pack was a north star to how big he was getting; it never expanded, even as his chest broadened and his legs blew up with mass.

“You’ve got that X-shape I want so bad,” Joaquin marveled. “You’re such a fucking stud.”

“Yeah, I’m a fuckin’ stud,” Jeff said, chuckling from the shock of hearing himself say it. But he repeated, “I’m a stud,” over and over, breathless and moaning.

“Pose for me,” Joaquin said, backing up to give Jeff room.

“Only if you say please.” Jeff’s voice was deep and sultry. He’d never heard himself sound like that. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You ask, and I do what I want.”

“Fuck yeah,” Joaquin said. “Please pose for me. Please…I gotta see it.”

“I like it when you beg.” Jeff clenched his chiseled jaw and slowly waved his hands in the air, a jiu-jitsu type of motion that immediately demanded Joaquin’s full attention. He slowly curled his right hand’s fingers around his left forearm and popped his hips to the side in a movement so fluid and practiced that it barely looked like a pose at all. But then he hit the full glory of his side chest, blowing his shirt sleeve apart and shredding the fabric over his pecs.

Joaquin just kept muttering “fuck yeah bro…fuck yeah bro…” over and over while he massaged his bulge. Jeff zoned out, focusing on the grace of his movements and the power in his muscles. He was getting steadily, visibly bigger with each pose: seams popping, zippers bursting, veins bulging.

His cock wriggled free from his jock, stretching longer and harder the more he peacocked, and it reminded him of how wrong this was. But he couldn’t stop, nor did he want to. He needed to be bigger than Joaquin; needed giant sexy muscles to pair with his sexy face. He felt so cocky, he couldn’t remember how it felt to be humble…or why he’d want to be.

Jeff nailed a front double bicep, swinging his leg out and unleashing the full glory of his bleached white smile. His muscles exploded in size, bursting from his clothes with such force that he sent fabric raining down around the bathroom. His broad chest heaved outward into a firm shelf of muscle, while veins ran across his arms like wriggling snakes. He crunched his 8-pack abs inward, turning them into a brick road pointing towards his impressive manhood, which he couldn’t see over the projection of his chest.

Joaquin couldn’t take it anymore. He threw himself at Jeff’s feet and gobbled his cock like a starving man. Every time his tongue flicked against the head, Jeff groaned deep in pleasure. Joaquin moaned back in pure ecstasy—like this moment was the most beautiful thing he had ever experienced.

Jeff laughed triumphantly and kept posing, goading his frame to grow into a slab of aesthetic mass. His muscles bulged and flexed with every pose, veins thriving under the strain of the movement. He kept up the jiu-jitsu style poses and let out an animalistic grunt with each one, basking in how powerful he felt as Joaquin licked eagerly at him from below. He loved feeling his balls slap against Joaquin’s chin as he posed, and hearing him moan in pleasure that Jeff didn’t even have to actively give. The mere act of existing in this form was enough to make grown men cream themselves with lust. Atop his mountainous, magnificent body was a cocky jock’s sneer. His eyebrows were shaped into masculine arches; diamond studs adorned his earlobes. He was every guy he’d ever wanted to be in school, but grown up, with a thick sheet of stubble on his he-man jaw.

“You like that? You fuckin’ like that?” Jeff thrust harder into Joaquin’s mouth. He was so turned on he felt like he could explode at any moment. He could feel the semen boiling in his testicles, waiting for release. He swelled bigger and bigger as Joaquin kept sucking him off, his head flipping back and forth as he moaned in pure ecstasy. He started calling out in a sultry voice he’d never used before. “Yeah, yeah, suck my cock. I’m your daddy now. I’m gonna fuck your throat. I’m a fuckin’ stud. You like that? I’m a stud. I’m a big fucking muscle jock stud.”

He kept getting bigger and bigger. Even the groin muscles bulging out around his jock were powerful; they looked like they were going to force his legs apart. He flexed and posed with such force that he was exhausting himself, but he couldn’t stop. He was a solid slab of muscle, with rounded pecs and staggering biceps hanging off his frame. His skin glowed with masculine radiance, his muscles bulged with masterful precision, and his cock was so big, so hard, and so ready to explode that it was all he could think about. Sweat formed a shallow pond around his feet. He bragged about how hard he was getting, and how much bigger and harder he was going to get. He couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own cocky voice. “Fuck yeah,” he said, his tone husky. “I’m huge. Look at me. I’m a big fucking muscle god. I’m a beast.”

“Fuck yeah bro,” Joaquin agreed between slurps. Jeff loved looking down at Joaquin, this big sexy jock boy going absolutely feral for his dick. The look in Joaquin’s eyes was one of pure masculine lust. He got Jeff’s knees buckling, the big bodybuilder’s fingers digging into his hair.

And then, with one final thrust, Jeff felt it; that release of pressure that signaled the beginning of an orgasm. He threw his head back and roared in masculine ecstasy, pumping explosive jets of jizz down Joaquin’s throat. His muscles flexed in a glorious display of explosive masculinity as he pumped cum all over his jock boy’s face.

The big classic bodybuilder helped Joaquin up and kissed him hard, tasting himself on the young man’s tongue. “We gotta do this again sometime,” he rumbled.

“Any time. Please…” Joaquin said, a lovesick puppy. He gathered the articles of clothing scattered around the bathroom and helped dress the bigger man: a pair of red athletic shorts that reached to mid-thigh, showcasing the tangled root-like mass of his twisting leg muscles, and a grey tank top with the Buff’s logo stretching obscenely across the giant boulders on his chest.

The two hunks opened the bathroom door casually, but they were already busted: Lance stood in the hallway with his arms crossed and a terrifying scowl on his face. “You fellas have fun in there? I had to stand guard to make sure no customers went in. Figured it’d be a bigger scene if I busted you two up. Joaquin, back to the register. And Jett, you should really know better.”

“Sorry Coach,” Jett said sheepishly, running a hand over his trendy undercut. “We got carried away.”

“Joaquin’s just a horny kid. You’re four years older than him, you can’t be doing shit like that in my restaurant.”

“I know. My bad, Coach, honest.” Jett felt bad. He was such a fucking slut sometimes.

“Don’t think I’m too scared to drop your ass as a client. You can do your own prep for Nationals if you wanna keep fuckin’ around.”

Jett’s jocky face contorted with panic. “Coach, I’m sorry! Really! I won’t do it again!”

“Okay. I believe you,” Lance said, lowering his voice to nearly inhuman levels. He put his hands on his hips and flared his titanic chest out, a spray of chest hair emerging from his polo. “I try to get some free promo for this place out of you, and you get one of my employees to blow you instead. Serves me right.” He swatted Jett’s big butt. “Could you have picked shorter shorts? Christ alive, kid.”

“When people come to see a Classic Pro, they wanna see all of me,” Jett smirked. He snapped the top of his jockstrap Lance’s way. “What time did we post that people could come see me?”

Lance checked the watch nestled in his arm hair. “Starting in about ten minutes. I was feeling guilty about trotting you out like a showpony, but now you owe me two hours of all the selfies and autographs you can handle.”

“I’m all pumped and ready,” Jett smirked, bouncing his big pecs until his tank top nearly burst. He loved when people fawned over him. It showed in his posing: he was all about performance and attention. He swaggered back out into the restaurant dining room like it was the Olympia stage.

Lance watched him with a rueful chuckle. “Gotta keep these damn kids in line, Foster,” he mumbled to himself. Mentorship was tough sometimes.

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parkertfs · 1 month ago

Text

M-U-S-C-L-E

The stage was set: a microphone stand smack in the middle, flanked by five chairs on each side in a semicircle. The chairs were the type you would find in any school: blue plastic curved into a shape that absolutely no one could find comfortable, supported by metal legs.

The stage itself was part of the “gymnatorium,” cut into the wall next to the basketball court, across from the bleachers. A custodian was in the process of raising up the visitor basketball hoop which, when it was at its proper height, partially blocked the view of the stage.

Attendance would be low. It was pouring rain outside for one thing, and for another, only ten students were taking part in the evening’s event. There was no basketball or volleyball game that would bring cheering throngs into the bleachers, nor was there a play or musical. All there was was the final round of the high school’s first ever spelling bee.

The spelling bee started as a fundraiser for the English Club, tying into an effort to reach the students who weren’t interested in attending the usual dances or games. And it had been a success, drawing a wide range of students, including some who hadn’t competed in spelling bees in grade school. Snacks were sold, the vibe was fun and positive…and then the power went out. Everyone got sent home before the tripped circuit breaker had a chance to be discovered.

A makeup date was announced for the remaining ten spellers to finish, but it wasn’t advertised and the buzz had already been capitalized on, so attendance was low. The final ten - all boys - trudged onto stage, only hearing a smattering of applause. The rain outside was louder.

There was lightning, too. It kept striking, lighting up the dark night, though thunder was oddly absent. The electricity was palpable in the air and put the spellers slightly on edge. None were terribly confident young men; “nerds” would be a callous yet accurate way of describing them. Each wore the uniform of a polo shirt and khaki shorts, with a number hanging around their necks by a string. Among them were Jeremiah, a blond Mormon with Coke-bottle glasses; Arvind, the only Indian boy in school, whose parents were making him do this; Wesley, the biggest dork in town, who could quote Fellowship of the Ring word for word but couldn’t wash his face; and the Dillon twins, Keegan and Clayton, who were so identical that even their braces looked alike.

Up first was a kid named Paul. None of the spellers were anything close to impressive physical specimens, but Paul managed to be the smallest of all of them, thanks to being so smart that he’d skipped two grades in grade school. The microphone stand was above his head, and so old that it was stuck and couldn’t be lowered. Paul removed the mic and held it in his hand to be heard.

“Hi Paul,” said the bee’s pronouncer.

“Hello,” Paul squeaked into the microphone. He peered aimlessly out into the sea of black in front of him. With the stage lights shining into their eyes, none of the spellers could see the judges table or anyone in the audience.

“Your word is-”

The first crack of thunder sounded, so close that the lightning flashed simultaneously and so loud that the contestants all jumped in their chairs. The entire gymnatorium lit up for a millisecond before settling back into darkness.

“-‘transformation.’”

“Transformation?” Paul asked.

“Transformation.”

Keep reading

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parkertfs · 1 month ago

Text

Free To Play

James was bored. He lives a fairly incomplete life, with few hobbies. Usually he invests his time into his studies, reasoning that any hobbies would just end up being a distraction for him. He only just moved to university, however, so he has no projects or work to be doing just yet. He's finished organising his new class schedule into his laptop's various softwares to ensure he is well prepared for the year ahead, but after looking through the google classrooms he's been newly added to to find them empty, he was stuck for things to do.

Most students newly at uni go out and socialise, but James is much more of a hermit. Though he can already hear drunken hollers from outside his window he just looks down on those responsible for being in such a state in the middle of the day.

James decides to download Steam on his laptop. He almost never plays video games, not out of dislike but judgement, believing them to be a leading cause of unproductiveness. He's never bought a video game on Steam but occasionally, when he truly has nothing better to do, will browse the free to play section for a shovelware game he can waste a couple hours in and never play again.

Usually free to play games have mixed reviews at best, but James is surprised to discover a free to play game trending in Steam marketplace. It has overwhelmingly positive reviews, despite its basic name and branding. It's just called "Life Simulator Game", and there are no screenshots of its gameplay or graphics or anything. The game's store page description explains that this game is free to play because it's in early development, and they want to use the data gathered from players to guide their future development. Though James is instinctively skeptical of most things he comes across in life, that rationale checks out to him. Plus, the reviews are excellent, so he decides to download it.

It doesn't take long to download, and soon James starts the game for the first time. As it does its first time installation, the game has several pop-ups. The first explains that in order to access the game, James needs to download an app with the QR code that appears. It states this is so they can receive the data of James' gameplay, using cellular networks to ensure the game still works without an internet connection. This leads James to quickly check the game's reputation on Reddit, but everyone on there swears it's not only safe but an awesome game, so he downloads the app before returning to the game.

The first task in the game is to create the avatar. The game has three ways to do this: random, character creator, or rigged character creator. An explainer opens in the game: The character creator takes the form of a quiz; the player can end the quiz at any time, and the answers to the quiz will change the avatar's stats in positive or negative ways. The rigged character creator acts the same way, but the player can select some general traits or character archetypes they want the quiz to ask them about. This gives them a little more control over its outcome, but also usually leads to more specialist character builds, since the questions cover fewer topics.

James decides to just go for the standard character creator, aiming to build a well-rounded character, at least for his first playthrough. The character creator begins, and seemingly asks some basic, foundational questions to begin with, though its effects can be a little strange.

You're chilling on a Sunday and have the day off. Do you: A) go to the gym and work out, B) play video games, or C) read a book?

James answers "read a book" immediately, and the game flashes up with a number of stat changes. Some make obvious sense, like intelligence and focus increasing, but James is also surprised to see his body fat percentage decrease. He also gains a point towards the "nerd" archetype, which James supposes is why the fat percentage decreased. He's a nerd in real life, but for a game like this he doesn't actually want to just play as a nerd, so he will bear that in mind for some of his future answers. The already intelligent and slender James doesn't notice that his answer changes him in real life to fit the answer.

2. What kind of hairstyle do you have: A) Short with crew cut, B) Medium-length shaggy, C) Long and greasy?

James isn't sure what a crew cut means, but he does want has avatar to have short hair, like he does in real life, so he chooses A. James expects this to send him down the nerd route further, but the stat changes actually involve boosts to his masculinity, confidence, and follower mentality. The phone in his pocket vibrates at a precise, imperceptible frequency, sending signals to his brain to reflect these stat changes.

3. Do you currently have any facial hair: A) Yes, a beard B) Yes, a moustache, C) No?

James answers no, and the game's only effect is decreasing his avatar's body and facial hair in the game. The dusting of a treasure trail on James' torso vanishes beneath his shirt, unknown to him.

4. When you're having a conversation with friends, do you: A) Dominate and lead the conversation, B) Contribute and actively participate, or C) Observe and mostly listen?

James answers C, observe and mostly listen, since he is a more withdrawn person in real life. This boosts the follower mentality attribute for a second time, while increasing his empathy. These personality changes are again instilled in his brain, but since the boosts aren't used by this game at all, James remains unaware.

5. How do you feel about authority: A) I hate it, B) I respect authority for my own benefit, C) Learning from authority is valuable?

James considers the options. A might result in his character being some kind of punk, and B might make them selfish, so he decides to choose option C, which most reflects his real world view anyway. This decreases his free thought and rebelliousness while increasing his curiosity and, for a third time, follower mentality. The game has a pop-up:

Trait Earned: Follower Mentality. For the rest of the character creator, you will be able to see how many other players chose each option. Furthermore, the least popular option will be disabled.

It surprises James that he is excited about this. The James that began playing this game sneered at most people around him, believing himself superior to them. James' new brain, however, is keen to learn how others answered the questions, thinking it may help him get a good result. He doesn't notice that this is a change in his personality, forgetting how judgemental he used to be.

6. How often do you brush your teeth: A) After every meal (5%), B) Once a day at night (35%), or C) When I remember or feel like it (60%)?

In real life James does brush his teeth after every meal, hygiene being important to him. However, with that option disabled, he's fine going for option B for his character. The game gives a slight reduction in his hygiene, but increases his desire for routine. The change in James' hygiene doesn't really happen in real life yet, instead manifesting as an attitude change, where taking care of hygiene feels like more effort than it did to James before.

7. When you're given a task, do you: A) Rush it and get it out of the way (10%), B) Start and work on it at a steady pace (4%), or C) Procastinate on it and do it last minute (86%)?

Despite the changes so far, James still hates lazy people who procrastinate. While he would usually answer B, he answers A as the second best thing. The game increases his decisiveness and efficiency, but a few negative stat changes happen, such as reducing his responsibility, care, and he takes a slight hit to his usual grades. Internally, James can feel himself becoming rasher and a little lazier. While he's far from dumb right now, his priority shifts away from being as based around education as it usually is.

8. How often do you exercise: A) Daily (36%), B) A couple times a week (31%), C) Never (33%)?

James' mind thinks back to the answer to that first question. He got a nerd attribute point, and if he answers never to this question he'll definitely get another one. He thinks that'd suck, who wants to play a video game as a nerd? Being unable to answer B, he decides to select A to ensure his character isn't too much of a nerd.

Upon selecting this option, the game's appearance changes slightly. It gets a little more colourful and begins playing music, while having more animations to keep James' attention focused on the game. A pop-up appears:

Trait Earned: Gym Focus. You care more about the gym than reading or numbers, so for the rest of the character creator you won't get to see how your answers change your stats. Your questions will become catered to your gym focus.

9. At the gym, your favourite exercise is: A) Lifting (88%), B) Cardio like running (4%), C) Bodyweight exercises (8%)?

James doesn't really know what bodyweight exercises are, and everyone else chose lifting. Lifting's weights and stuff, he knows that, so why not? James chooses option A. His head is feeling a bit strange, a bit slower than normal, maybe he's coming down with a cold or something. His whole body feels kinda warm, actually, so he must be getting sick. Before he can think about it too much, the game quickly gives him the next question.

10. What's your favourite music: A) Rock (25%), B) Rap (53%), C) Country (22%)?

James is definitely feel weird now, and the weird thing is he's not even sure. He's struggling to remember what music he used to listen to. Most people chose rap though, so he chooses rap too.

The game presents a new popup:

Congratulations, you have finished the character creator! Now it's time to play the game, James. Live a full day in this life to finish tailoring your character. You can do pretty much whatever you want, but the game will occasionally give you choices, and your answers to these choices will have a particularly high impact on your stats.

James grins, finally the character creator's over. He scratches his pec, thinking about whether he should continue playing right now. He's got nothing else to do this evening though. He just moved to university, but he doesn't know anyone here yet and doesn't know what the best places to go out are. So he can continue playing for now.

James clicks start, eager to get to the proper gameplay. He hasn't noticed any change in real life at all, but is impressed at how well the game's avatar matches him already. It's got exactly the same build as he worked hard for. He's a straight B student, retaining some of his intelligence thanks to his nerd attribute point. The changes to his personality are extensive but subtle for now.

The game assigns a world catered towards his character, particularly the Follower Mentality and Gym Focus traits. The game includes a vast number of different worlds, and assigns one to each player at the end of the character creator based on what it thinks the player would enjoy, though this can also mean that players get railroaded towards a certain path of transformation. The world features a mix of other players and NPCs, though this isn't stated anywhere and James assumes everyone here is an NPC for now.

The game loads and James wakes up in his bed. The flat he lives in is pretty unfurbished, only having essential gameplay items. He quickly follows his new instincts for his morning routine. Thanks to his answer in the character creator, showering or brushing his teeth doesn't cross his mind, so he heads straight to the kitchen. There are a variety of food options here, but he instinctively makes some chicken and a protein shake.

While consuming breakfast, James checks the in-game phone. The game presents him with a number of opportunities, but the one that captures his attention is the "gym" opportunity. James browses the gyms included in the game world. The gym he chooses to attend will impact his stats and the types of people he meets, but he only has access to one of them:

Elite Gym (unavailable: James is not upper class)

Budget Gym (unavailable: James is too muscular to benefit from this gym)

As Rocks Gym (available)

As Rocks Gym? James wonders what that name could hint at, but not for very long since it's the only option for him anyway. Plus, he looks up the address and discovers it's on his street. He finishes his breakfast and heads there right away.

James walks in and heads to the reception desk to sign up for the gym. He's greeted by the first NPC he's interacting with in this game. The NPC talks pretty slowly and has a vacant face, but James figures that's probably a limitation of the programming, and all the NPCs will be like that. He finishes signing up for the gym and is given a membership card. The card has a large number on it, which is currently 118. James assumes this is his membership number or something.

He heads deeper into the gym to start lifting. He' spends a while inside, before eventually being's quickly approached by another character. At first James assumes this is a NPC, but he receives a message on his screen.

Klingime3: yo, u new? u luk new. wana tour?

James14214573923: Oh, this is online? You're another player?

Klingime3: yh bro im a player. dis gyms awsum, cmon

James14214573923: Uh ok, yeah.

James begins following this other player. His avatar isn't a muscle god or anything, but he's wearing damp gym clothes so James assumes he's just finished a workout anyway. There's no option to see his stats or anything, though James can see some traits. The list of traits Klingime3 has is pretty long, he must have played this game a lot, but some highlights James spots from a quick look are "Sweat Waterfall", "Dropout Dumb", "Horned Up", "Sheep Herder", and "Gym Dedicated". This gives him a decent idea of who he's dealing with here. Since James' avatar matches his own personality so well, he figures the same is probably true for Klingime3, and the spelling would seem to support that theory.

James briefly hovers over himself and sees that his own traits are displayed. He's still only got the two of them, "Gym Mentality" and "Follower Mentality". He realises that that's probably how this Klingime guy knew he was new, because he didn't have many traits yet. He doesn't realise that the Herd Mentality trait is an advert for other players to influence his stats, though.

James14214573923: So thanks for showing me around. This was the only gym I could go to, the others were locked.

Klingime3: dose other gyms suck fr dw, dis got da best shit. like ere. luk.

Klingime3 stops in front of a bar.

Klingime3: dis dude makes drinks for us, deyre rly gud. u got cash yet?

James14214573923: Uh nah, not yet, I think. Unless you start with some. I just booted up the game and came here. What's special about a drink?

Klingime3: deyre jus good. ill get u my faves. da rocks shake is rly gud, it boosts happy stat and stuf. n it boosts mussel gains from da liftin we boutta do. ill get u dat.

James receives an item in his inventory. Klingime3 has given him a "As Rocks Shake", seemingly the speciality item for this gym, though other shakes are available. Still not understanding the wordplay at hand here, James quickly chugs it. It tastes really good, and somehow consuming it in the game makes him feel happy in real life too. His phone in his real life pocket vibrates, not only to administer the effects of the shake, but also to provide a small jolt of happiness that will make him want to buy that kind of shake again.

The NPC at the drinks stand offers James free drinks today, and he quickly buys another "As Rocks Shake" while browsing the menu for more variety. He figures he can consume them from his inventory whenever his hydration decreases from the gym session. The NPC says the free drinks can count for their loyalty scheme, and asks for James' gym membership card. He gives it to the NPC, noticing the number on it now says 108 for some reason.

Klingime3: u like it yh? u got rocks shake agen dats cool. u shud get da water too. n da hazer.

James looks curiously at the items available in the bar, just "water" doesn't seem to be available. He realises Klingime must mean the "Water(fall) Can". No stat changes are displayed, but James vaguely remembers waterfall being in one of Klingime's traits. James can't remember what it was though, for some reason his memory seems a bit worse than normal. He also takes his advice and gets the hazer.

James and Klingime3 spend a few hours in the gym together. James takes Klingime3's guidance on the best ways to lift, while Klingime3 keeps encouraging James to restock on drinks frequently. It doesn't take James much convincing though, he's still trying to manage his needs and for some reason he's constantly thirsty. Since drinking the Water(fall) Can he's been sweating a lot, which is making his thirst pretty extreme, but James doesn't realise it's the effect of that can. He's trying to pay attention to the game, but there's a lot going on and it's becoming pretty hard to follow.

James14214573923: i'm gettin hungry, there good places to eat round here?

Klingime3: da gym got gud food. ill show u.

Klingime3 takes James to small stand in the gym. It has a very limited menu, but Klingime3 immediately orders for James anyway.

Klingime3: i got us horndogs w da rocks sorce n da brainfries. deyre rly gud, ull like.

James shows his gym membership card to receive the food, the number on it now saying 88 for some reason. Klingime3 definitely seems like an expert in this game, so James happily follows his lead. Especially as James' brain slows down thanks to his activities here today, he doesn't have the capacity to question Klingime3's decisions much anymore. He happily chats to his new friend while eating the food.

As they finish their meal, James realises his sleep meter is almost empty.

James14214573923: damn bro my i gota sleep. how u do dat?

Klingime3: o yh so wen u sleep u cant play agen til tmrw irl. i got bufs cos i play alot so i can stay up lon but if u g2g u g2g, ill go urs n show u how to sleep n den c u tmrw on ere?

James14214573923: bet bro yh ill play tmrw lesgo mine now for sleep tho

James and Klingime head back to his in-game flat and Klingime shows James how to sleep. The game saves quickly, and then boots James out to the main menu. The phone in his pocket vibrates, the game's app has sent him a notification. James pulls it out to read it.

"First Day Complete! Thanks for playing a full day James, we've saved your data. It really helps us out. See you tomorrow! - Life Simulator Game"

James grins vacantly as he reads the notification. His dulled brain generates some basic thoughts in response, such as how awesome the game was and how awesome the Klingime3 guy was. He'll definitely play again tomorrow.

His mind struggles to come up with activities for him to do for the rest of his day until he can play the game again. As he itches his damp crotch to aid his thought, the effects of the horndog Klingime3 ordered for him in the game kick in, and he downloads another app that's never been on his phone before: Grindr.

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parkertfs · 2 months ago

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The morning after

Adam woke up in bed and looked around to try to get a sense of his surroundings. It was a crazy night last night at the bar. Adam noticed he was still naked from the fucking he got from that hot guy at the bar. He did go back to his place, where the man fucked Adam so hard and rough he thought he might end up pregnant from it. But Adam was loving every second of it.

Now awake, Adam was looking for his clothes, but he could only find his sexy blue underwear. As Adam looked around, he could not help but notice how nice the house was. Looking out the window, he recognized he was up in the hills with all the large mansion-style homes. The hot guy from last night must have done a great job.

Adam made his way to the kitchen, where he saw the man from last night. He was taller than Adam and had a solid build, which was visible from the tee shirt and mesh shorts he was wearing. He was cooking a post fuck breakfast and when he saw Adam a smile crept up on his face. He went over and gave Adam a kiss on his beard face.

Adam was a little surprised about the breakfast but he was hungry so he wanted to eat. Adam normally was just a fuck and leave guy but now this guy is different. Adam asked the man about his clothes. Randy the man's name said that Adam had taken off half of his clothes all over the house. Adama smiled and remembered last night it was true. he's pretty sure his pants are in the garage. Randy offered him a plate. Adam took it and sat down on the breakfast stool at the large kitchen island.

Randy Smilling said he actually preferred Adam wearing just that. Adam smiled back at that comment and he got lost in Randy's eyes they were so blue and pretty.

As the two finished the meal Randy asked if he wanted to go round two. Soon the two were humping on the kitchen counter. Adam just loved how big Randy's dick was it was perfect. But Randy would always whisper into Adam's ear. It was nothing bad but sex talk.

Randy was whispering that his dick was the best that Adam ever had, Adam loves being fucked, Adam falls in love with Randy, and wants to be with him. Adam thought that it was off but he was with each thrust that was slowly becoming true. Randy was like no other man Adam had ever been with.

The two started dating regularly. Randy always made the plans and was willing to fuck Adam. Adam the more he was with Randy the more he fell in love. He would agree with Randy on most things like how to look and when they fucked. Soon the couple was set to be married.

Some time later on the eve of the wedding Randy was nervous and at home had Adam come with him to the bedroom. He had to tell Adam something big.

Adam was not sure what to think when he heard that Randy had been hypnotizing him since the day they met. Nothing crazy Randy said but little things and small tweaks to change Adam's behavior. One is how Adam loves being fucked, and how his dream man slowly became Randy. But some changes were small like Adam learning how to cook, cleaning up more around the house, and wearing jockstraps. These are things that Adam did not notice, but now he has mentioned that he noticed a lot of changes. All were to turn him into a perfect lover for Randy. How his time at the gym now was building muscles that Randy liked such as his ass, and chest. How Adam keeps his hairy chest and abs.

Adam was not sure how to handle all of this. How does his love make him think that. Did he even love or like Randy? Randy was so upset and was begging for forgiveness. He said not to worry and that everything could be ok again. Adam wanted to believe Randy so with a smile went in to hug Randy.

Adam still would after the wedding be a dutiful house husband to Randy. He would always make sure his man was well feed and their house was clean. He also would always make sure his hole was ready for his man's dick. He knows now he can easy be hypnotized with suggestions from his husband at any time but for some reason, Adam finds it to be so hot. He loves being his husband's slut.

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parkertfs · 2 months ago

Photo

(via builtforbreeding)

It doesn’t take long for the side effects to set in. His cock gets bigger with each sesh, pumping blood into it day after day has a serious impact on his girth, thickening the shaft while his length barely progressed an inch from his original. His balls empty on their own now too. He just has to think a horny thought and he starts to leak, precum flowing like a tap. He can even cum just by waiting long enough. His balls get too full? They empty soon enough with no effort on his part. He can’t help it. It has ruined multiple shorts and underwear so now he just wears a jockstrap. It dries up most of the cum just fine, the rest soaks into his pubes and cooks up his new, purely masculine, cum-flavored-B.O. Add onto that the brain fog he can’t escape from due to the horny stupor and you’ve got the beginnings of a top rated pole, ready to ride.

Be the pole.

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parkertfs · 2 months ago

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Bro'd Trip

I'm trying something new, so here's a longer story with a more physical, sensual (18+) transformation at the end. Hope you enjoy!

“we r here! cant wait 2 c u j-man!!!”

Josh blinked. Why did he say yes to this?

He hadn’t heard from Matt and Kyle since high school. They were friends, but Josh felt - knew - he was the odd one out.

Matt and Kyle were tall, strong, and athletic. They played football; Josh spent his time in the library. They lived for homecoming and prom; he set his sights on becoming the valedictorian.

Still, Josh was happy to do Kyle's homework for a few bucks, and he’d gotten more rides from Matt than he could count.

That felt forever ago. The last four years were a whirlwind of lectures and exams. Josh had finally just received his diploma. Did Matt and Kyle even go to college? Not without an athletic scholarship...

It was Matt who reached out:

“yo! congrats on graduating. havent talked in forever, lol. u wanna meet up, do a road trip? can bring kyle. make it a boys thing :)”

“Hey! It’s really good to hear from you, Matt. And thank you! I think that could be fun. How about two weekends from now? Do you have any ideas about where to go?”

“yeah! dont worry, ill figure it out. you dont gotta think about it. our gift to u, lol!!!”

Oh no. Josh didn’t leave his plans to anyone else, especially Matt and Kyle. He didn’t believe in being carefree: He was careful. If it were up to Josh, there’d be a detailed itinerary, alternative routes and destinations, a color-coded spreadsheet to organize everything...

“Okay. I’ll try not to worry, haha.”

And now, Matt and Kyle were in his driveway.

“saved u the front seat! kyle says hes hungry, lol. better get out here quick.”

With a nervous sigh, Josh grabbed his bag and headed outside.

“There he is! The man, the myth, the legend!” called Kyle, his head halfway out the window.

Josh tried not to roll his eyes as he pulled open the car door. A blast of sweltering, stale air hit him as he slid into the passenger seat.

“Forgot to mention, but, uh, AC’s broke. Guy wanted way too much money to fix it. Hope you don’t mind too much?” Matt said.

“I…it’s whatever. But it’s good to see you guys! Thanks for putting this together.”

“Yeah, man!” Matt pulled Josh in for a shoulder hug. He seemed different. His jaw was sharper, his lips thicker, his grip firmer.

Kyle stuck his head around from the backseat. “Dude, when Matt told me you said yeah, I was freakin’ pumped! We missed you, J-Man!"

“I know, I'm terrible at keeping in touch. What’s new with you guys?"

“Not much. We both kinda stuck around after school,” Matt said. “Thought about doing some sorta personal training thing together.”

“Yeah, didn’t work out,” Kyle said. “Anyway…you ready to have some fun this weekend!”

“Oh, yeah. So, where are we going?”

“Bro, I told you not to worry. You trust me, right? Just relax.”

Josh nodded. He was already overheating. The whole car smelled…salty, like sweat. But something else. What was that?

“You good, man?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah…I think so. It's just hot.”

“Look," said Matt, "forget the AC. We wanna make sure you have a good time, dude. You been studyin’ and goin’ to class and all that. And now, you deserve to chill out a little. Just be with your bros.”

Josh felt a weight on his shoulders. He gasped as Kyle's hands moved down across his chest and brushed against his nipples. He kept going, massaging the muscle around and around.

He was too distracted to notice that Matt’s fingers had worked their way up his thigh, eagerly waiting by his waistband.

“You want this?”

"Yes."

In an instant, Matt reached in, his thick hand grabbing Josh’s cock. He grabbed the head, working it slowly and steadily, pressure building and releasing.

Josh moaned, his mind foggy with heat and pleasure. Kyle murmured in his ear. “You’re gonna be just like us, bro. Say it.”

“I…ungh…just wanna be…a…bro. Like you.”

Matt pulled on him hard. Josh threw his head back, hips bucking against the seat.

He wasn’t just hard. He was getting longer, getting thicker, getting bigger. His balls swelled, churning with newfound testosterone.

Josh grunted. “Fuck, it’s so…I'm so...”

“Hang on! Gotta get you geared up.” Kyle grabbed his hat and shoved it onto Josh’s head, sweat soaking into his hair. He wrapped a chain around Josh’s neck, the cold metal dangling against his thick chest.

Kyle gave his new bro’s shoulders a squeeze. “Now.”

Josh threw himself backward, a thick and heavy load pouring out of him. He couldn’t think. Didn’t want to think. Just…release.

“That’s it,” Matt said, hand still pumping. “Get it all out. You’re made for this, bro. Goddamn, you're huge, haha!”

“Yeah…I am.” A dumb, contented smile came over Josh’s face.

It was gonna be a good trip.

—

“thx 4 the invite bros. had fun! do it again soon? - j-man”

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parkertfs · 3 months ago

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Bigger is Better

Can I ask you somethin’? You wanna help me get huge?

You dunno? Yeah, I guess it does sound a little weird, haha. But I been thinkin’ about it for a while, and...

I wanna be huge.

Like a fuckin’ bull or somethin’, y’know? Just all sweat and muscle and testosterone - a big, dumb, sexy beast.

You think I’m big already? Nah, that’s not true, man! Thanks, though.

I wanna - I gotta - be bigger. Like, I dunno how to explain it. I just…want this. Want my arms to be bigger than some dude’s head. Want my shoulders to get caught in the door.

Shit, that’d be hot...

So, I really need help. Your help.

I need somebody to let me know if I’m gettin’ bigger, help me meal prep, all that kinda stuff. I’ve seen the way you look at those guys. All that muscle, barely fittin’ into their gear. I wanna be that. But I’m gonna get even bigger.

Maybe I'd even let you…feel me?

You wanna start helpin’? Hold this.

Nineteen inches? That’s fuckin’ nothing. By the time we’re done, I’m gonna be massive.

I just gotta get bigger, dude. And you're gonna help me.

I want it so bad.

I don’t wanna think about anything else. Don’t even wanna think at all, haha. You’re gonna tell me when it’s time to work out, when it’s time to eat, when it’s time to feel me up 'n see how big I am.

‘Cus when I do get big, you’re gonna know that you did this.

You made me, bro.

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parkertfs · 3 months ago

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He wanted to object.

This wasn’t him. He wasn’t so… submissive.

He was being… manipulated.

He wanted to object, but now…

It’s just so much pleasure, it might change his mind.

You can see the contemplation. The pleasure taking over, making the response come easy, naturally.

A hitch in his breath, maybe a last attempt to rationalize fighting back.

Right before he gives it all up and the cum stain in his jock strap proves that he has finally…

obeyed.

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parkertfs · 3 months ago

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Danny in Distress

You were looking forward to a single dorm this year. But then fate, and the university's crappy housing portal, intervened.

Enter Danny. He wasn't bad. Just…a lot. Not much went on behind his brown eyes. It's like I'm the brawn, bro, and you're the brains, so, like, together, we're one dude, yeah? You were pretty sure Danny's biceps were bigger than his brain. In fact, he had muscles you'd never even heard of. But he couldn't do the dishes. Or fold his clothes. Or remember his keys.

Danny: "Uhh, hey bro, I, uhh, locked myself again. And I just got back from the gym, so, I uhh, really gotta back in and take care of some stuff. Y'know what I mean?"

Ugh, again? You checked your watch - 37 minutes until the end of class. Plus the 10-minute walk back to the dorms…

You: "Hey. Sorry, in class. Can't you go to the student center or anything?"

Danny: "Bro…don't be lame :("

You: "Sorry."

Danny: "Bro."

Danny: "BRO."

Danny: "COME ON."

Danny would have to wait. Eventually, you got back to the dorms. And there was Danny, sitting in the hallway.

"Finally, bro. Been waiting fuckin' forever. Feel like I'm gonna explode."

He didn't admit it, but he sure was happy to see you.

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parkertfs · 4 months ago

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It’s been 5 years since Nick had his second child and told his partner, Brad, that “The library is closed”. Of course, Brad never quite believed he was done with having kids. If anything, the urge became more pronounced as time went on. Nick would have these waves of excitement when one of his friends announces they are having kids, or really anytime someone mentions kids. Of course, Brad had great joy in saying, “Ah, but the library is closed, remember?” Nick would then squirm and say, “Oh… true”.

At the same time, Nick was happy to have some sort of semblance of a male figure again. Now that the kids were in school, and he was back in full-time work, he had some time again to get back to the gym, which allowed him to regain most of his muscle back, the one that helped Brad fall in love with him in the first place.

It also meant that Nick and Brad were back on a regular schedule in the bedroom too. They had more time to do what they enjoyed the most with each other - having sex for fun. However, they did all they could to prevent Nick getting pregnant again, so it was all protected sex. Except for one night…

Nick and Brad went out for a date night, which involved dropping the kids off at Brad’s parents house, then going to their favourite local bar for drinks and dinner. It was also a strict “one look at the phone” type of date, because Brad realised very early on that Nick stresses about the kids all the time. Even during the breastfeeding stages, Nick would worry that he wasn’t giving them enough milk, so read up on how to produce more milk naturally. It worked so well that Nick now has slightly puffy pecs for good.

Their date night slowly turned into more drinks than food, and sure enough they got to a local gay club at an ungodly hour, kissing on the dancefloor in a sickeningly romantic way while charli xcx blasted in the background. Brad then whispered in Nick’s ear, “Let’s book a hotel room for tonight.”

Nick whimpered in pure drunken lust as they left the club, with Brad sliding his hands down the back of Nick’s jeans to touch his puckering hole.

***

8 weeks later, Nick looked at his reflection in the mirror and noticed his abs were looking bloated more than usual. He wondered if his metabolism was starting to slow down, or if he ate something dodgy the night before that’s just causing a temporary bloat.

It wasn’t until he walked out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen that the first sign of something wrong. Brad was cooking bacon and eggs when the smell of the scrambled eggs made Nick immediately run back to the bathroom and vomit profusely.

Brad turned the stove off to go and check on Nick. He knocked on the door.

“Hey Nick, you okay babe?”

“Fuck off, Brad! I’m fine!”

“Sure you’re fine. This is just like every other morning, vomiting at the mere sight of my bacon and eggs.”

Immediately after hearing the word ‘eggs’, Nick threw up even more.

“Right, I’m going to the pharmacist today and grabbing some pregnancy tests.” Brad said while walking away.

“Fuck off, Brad. I’m not pregnant! We used -” Nick stopped when he realised they didn’t use protection on their date night.

“Oh, fuck me dead…” Nick said as he leaned back into the toilet bowl to vomit again.

***

Positive.

Nick looked down at the three pregnancy tests, running through every possible option. He really didn’t want to go through another pregnancy. While he loves his kids, and loved the feeling of being pregnant, he knew that he and Brad didn’t really have the space, time or energy to go through the rigmarole with a third child.

But he also knew that this child was conceived of love, albeit drunken love. He knew that even if he and Brad were getting older and more tired, this child would still be so loved, even if it meant going through another pregnancy and all that came from it.

He opened the door, where Brad was nervously standing outside, much like the previous two times. Nick played on Brad’s nerves by looking completely serious for a couple of seconds, before grinning and nodding. Brad jumped and laughed in excitement, kissing Nick deeply. The two kids wandered out to see what was happening.

“Daddy’s pregnant, kids!” Brad exclaimed. Nick laughed as the kids ran to him and hugged his legs, screaming and laughing.

Yep, I’m pregnant, Nick thought.

***

What Nick didn’t know was how pregnant he was.

A couple of weeks later, at only 12 weeks pregnant, Nick walked towards the kitchen where Brad was cooking the usual bacon and eggs. Brad was excited that Nick was starting to move beyond the morning sickness stage of pregnancy.

“Hey babe, do I look bigger this time around?” Nick asked as he stood and held his belly.

“Well, you seem to be eating a lot more this time around, babe? It might just be because you’re older, your body knows you need more energy.”

“But I swear I looked this big at 24 or 28 weeks, not 12 weeks? I’ve already skipped past the jeans I wore in the first trimester and gone to the jeans I wore in the second trimester.”

“Hmm… do you want to see Ben to find out what’s happening?”

“Yes. I just have this weird feeling that something's wrong.”

“Babe, nothing’s wrong - if anything, you’re looking more glowing than ever.”

Nick chuckled. “Right, thanks babe.” He kissed Brad on the cheek and walked towards the table to sit with the kids.

***

“So, back again, Nick…. Congratulations! I can see you’re coming along nicely for your 20 week scan?” Ben, Nick’s obstetrician, asked.

“Well, that’s actually why I wanted to come here. I’m actually only 13 weeks, so I just want to be sure I’m not going through a weird phantom pregnancy. I googled about -” Nick started.

“Okay Nick, Dr Google also says that every single thing under the sun will give you cancer, so let’s just lay you down and see what’s happening.”

Nick laid down on the bench and rolled his shirt up. Ben looked curiously at Nick’s belly. “Say, it’s not too common for the bellybutton to be looking shallow this early on in pregnancy. I have a feeling you might be carrying multiples, Nick.”

Ben squirted gel onto the ultrasound wand and started moving it around Nick’s belly. Nick looked up at the screen in confusion.

“What do you see, Ben?”

Ben looked intensely at the screen, counting.

“Ben? You’re taking a while to count… that’s not a good sign.”

After a couple more seconds, Ben looked down towards Nick and said quietly, “Seven. I see seven foetuses.”

Nick’s face went white with horror as he looked back at the ultrasound screen, counting seven little specks on the screen.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and talk through your options. By coming in now, there are options for you to ensure you have a safe pregnancy.”

“With all seven?” Nick asked as he stood up and walked back towards Ben’s desk, wiping the gel off his belly.

“Well, that’s up to you. We’re still within the time period where you could terminate some of the foetuses -”

“How many?”

“Well.. with larger sets of multiples, we typically discuss with the parents about bringing it to a more manageable number, like 2 or 3.”

“So 4 or 5 of these foetuses should be terminated?”

“In my professional medical opinion, yes. We still don’t know too much about men carrying larger sets of multiples. Only one man in research carried 4. We don’t know too much about the risks, but if female pregnancies are anything to go by, more than 4 babies are incredibly risky for both the mother and the babies.”

Nick looked back down towards his belly, tapping his fingers lightly seven times. His mind was swirling with hundreds of thoughts.

“Tell you what, go home, have a chat with Brad, and let’s rebook another appointment later this week. We need to make a decision soon so that, if you do decide to terminate some of the foetuses, it’s a safer operation for all.” Ben said.

Nick nodded and shook Ben’s hand. “Thanks, Ben. We’ll chat on Friday.”

***

Friday rolled around, and Nick sat up in bed groaning. He already ‘felt’ pregnant, with the babies starting to shift lower towards his pelvis. He was intrigued by the fact that he was still early enough in his pregnancy that he didn’t feel the babies move or kick. It did make him wonder how it will go later on in the pregnancy when all seven babies kick up a fuss.

Brad was already cooking the bacon and eggs, giving a larger plate to Nick. Nick smiled as he sat down with a small grunt.

“So, ready for Ben today?” Brad asked.

“I think I’ve made my decision.”

“Okay, that’s all that matters to me. Regardless of your choice, I’m here with you all the way.”

Brad took Nick’s hands and smiled. Nick started tearing up. “Oh, I didn’t miss these fucking hormones.”

“Well, your hormones are currently supercharged, babe! And only going to get worse over the coming months.”

“Tell me about it…”

***

Brad and Nick go to Ben’s office later that morning. “So good to see you two. Hope you’re doing well, Brad?”

“Doing very well, Ben. Bit of a surprise, I must say!”

“Well, safe to say you’ve got super swimmers, and Nick is very fertile. Right, let’s talk through what to do...”

“I’m keeping the seven.” Nick said bluntly.

Ben and Brad looked at Nick, Brad looking more confused than Ben, who seemed slightly concerned.

“What? I’m keeping the seven. If you want to include me in research, I’ll sign whatever is needed. This clearly happened for a reason, so the only reason any one of these foetuses are being terminated is if I’m at risk of dying.”

Ben looked towards Brad, who was still in a state of surprise. “I mean, we discussed the idea of keeping them, but I wasn’t sure if that was what you wanted.”

“I’m sure. We can make it work. We might need to buy a bigger place, but that will be fine. You just got promoted!”

“Yeah, but that would mean we need a place with at least 4 or 5 bedrooms, babe!”

“Again, it’ll be fine. With your promotion and my stable income where I work from home full-time, we will manage.”

Brad turned back around towards Ben, nervously smiling and said, “I guess we’re keeping them?”

Ben smiled nervously. “Okay, it is possible, but I do warn you we are going into completely unknown territory, so expect me to say ‘I don’t know’ a lot. Understood?”

Nick and Brad nodded. “Thanks, Ben.” Nick smiled.

***

Nick and Brad were amazed by how rapidly Nick grew…

... over the following weeks.

Brad looked at Nick with a deep sense of lust, seeing Nick’s puffy pecs bloating more rapidly than ever before, his hips and ass widening further than ever before, and Nick grunting, moaning and groaning at every movement, kick and repositioning each of the seven babies made.

Nick was in a surreal state of bliss through the months. He became more and more certain he made the right decision, when he felt their first kicks, he felt his first Braxton-Hicks contraction, and even when he felt his first horned-up reaction to Brad swiping at his bloated nipples. Nick loved every moment of it.

Nick realised that at 24 weeks, he already looked like he was full-term, which made him both nervous and excited to see how much further his belly would grow. He was standing in their bedroom when Brad walked in, seeing Nick look at himself in the mirror.

“Babe, I don’t think you could call these pecs anymore…” as Nick turned around and lifted his shirt over his chest, revealing two engorged pecs that appeared fatty. Brad’s eyes stared directly at the two massive nipples poking out from Nick’s ‘breasts’. They were red and swollen, and looked ready to feed their kids.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so…” Brad said airily.

“Brad, my eyes are up here.” Nick chuckled as Brad shook his head and looked back up at Nick.

“I guess it’s… just… amazing… hot… boobs.” Brad slurred as he looked back down at Nick’s transformed body. Brad then leapt towards Nick’s right nipple and latched on, causing Nick to gasp and moan as a river of milk started pouring out of his nipples. Nick slowly moved to sit at the bed, while Brad continued sucking.

“Babe, don’t waste it all, and at least take some from the other nipples so my boobs look even.”

Brad nodded like a child and moved towards Nick’s left nipple, causing Nick to moan even more. Nick felt waves of hormones course through him, heading directly towards his hardening dick.

“Babe, there’s one more place you need to milk me from..” Nick gasped. Brad looked up at Nick and grinned when Nick lowered his sweatpants to reveal his hard dick.

That moment triggered a whole new part of Nick and Brad’s daily routine. Every night, once the kids were in bed, Brad would crawl towards Nick’s side of the bed, where Nick would open his bra to reveal his dribbling pecs. Brad licked his lips as he latched onto the nipples to taste the fresh, warm milk. The only noises then would be Nick’s moans of pleasure and Brad’s lips sucking Nick’s pecs dry.

“Thanks, babe. You sure know how to make me relaxed.” Nick said as he closed his bra again.

“Of course, babe. And you know how to make me the happiest man alive… Milkman!” Brad laughed.

Nick lightly punched Brad’s arm.

***

Nick and Brad were seeing Ben on a weekly basis until 28 weeks, when they saw him twice a week.

“In theory, Nick should have started experiencing contractions this week, but as far as I can tell, you’re only experiencing Braxton-Hicks contractions, your birthing cavity is still shut tight, and your amniotic sac has not ruptured.”

Nick looked up at Ben while he was looking at the ultrasound screen. “So, should I be induced?”

“I guess we could look at that, but you’re also a fit and healthy man to begin with, so we could explore seeing how far you would go with the seven kids. As soon as you start feeling contractions, call me directly and I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

***

Nick and Brad decided to keep going without being induced. Nick didn’t feel any need to do so when he still felt fine - as fine as could be when you’re carrying a belly the size of a country fair show watermelon in front of you. While Nick continued to not feel any labour pains, he did feel every other movement and pain across his body. His legs struggled when he stood up straight, and each step would cause his body to jiggle, which in turn caused the seven babies to kick up a storm. He lost sensation in his legs and feet each time he sat down.

Nick’s kids loved seeing how big his belly was. They started playing a game where they would hide under Nick’s belly while he was standing up. Nick didn’t feel comfortable at first, as it emphasised how big he had gotten, but when he realised how happy it made his kids, he decided to play along.

Brad came home from work one afternoon and saw what was happening. He saw Nick standing, leaning his hands against the table while the two kids were happily playing cowboys and aliens.

“Uhh, what’s going on here? Are you okay, babe?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. The kids are playing with cowboys and aliens…”

“And daddy’s a cloud!” One of their kids exclaimed.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, the kids realised how big my belly is and started using it as part of their games… It’s fine, it’s harmless!” Nick said as he saw Brad’s eyebrow raise in concern.

“Alright, then… who’s ready for dinner?”

***

At 36 weeks, Nick’s belly looked like a blimp stuck out in front of him. He resorted to wearing just a bra and XXXXL sweatpants which still struggled to fit over his massive backside and thickened thighs.

Nick generally stayed in bed these past few weeks, as his belly made it impossible to stand up and walk for long periods of time, and most of the chairs in the house buckled under his weight.

The kids would come in and see Nick each morning, kissing Nick and then kissing the belly before they ran off with Brad to get dropped off to childcare and school. Nick smiled when he saw the kids wave again and waved back from the window, but looked with a pang of sadness as he realised he couldn’t do the drop off or pick up like he usually would because of the seven kids in his humongous belly.

He groaned as he tried to get himself upright in bed, and groaned further when the babies sat deeply in his hips and over his thighs.

“Right, let’s see if I can get up in one go still.” he exclaimed.

“One… two… three!” Nick gasped as he swung himself up and felt his thighs and calves burn in pain, and his hips stretch further to account for the weight redistribution. His pecs wobbled, which was enough to cause his nipples to trickle drops of milk onto his belly.

After slowly waddling towards his wardrobe to put on his usual bra and sweatpants combination, he made the long trek towards the kitchen. In the time it took for Nick to get to the kitchen, Brad was already back home.

“Oh, hello again!” Nick said as he slowly turned around, holding his hands under the massive belly.

“Hello, sexy!” Brad moaned as he took in the sight of his beautiful husband.

“Ugh, I feel anything but sexy today. It took me 30 minutes, it seems, to put on a bra and sweatpants!”

“Well, do you want to set a record for how quickly those can be taken off?” Brad replied as he walked towards the back of Nick, kissing his shoulders and rubbing Nick’s pecs.

As Brad started to unclip Nick’s bra, Nick moaned in delight, but quickly shook his head. “No, we have a lot that needs to be done today, and I -” Nick stopped as he felt a small jab of pain in his lower back. “Oh…”

“First contraction?” Brad asked, looking for signs on Nick’s face that it was a contraction.

“I think so? Hey Siri, start a stopwatch.” Nick said. “There, now we can see how long it’ll be until the next contraction, and then we’ll call Ben.”

“Deal. Great timing that today is a work from home day for me, isn’t it?” Brad said as he walked towards the fridge and grabbed a bottle of milk to go with his cup of coffee.

“You know, although I don’t feel sexy right now… do you need milk for your coffee?” Nick said as he unclipped his bra and squirted milk into Brad’s coffee. Nick could see Brad’s dick hardening in his pants as he took a sip of his coffee laced with creamy breast milk.

20 minutes later, Nick was sitting and watching TV, while having his breasts pumped through a new machine he bought a couple of weeks before, when he felt a sharper contraction. “Hey Siri, STOP THE STOPWATCH!” Nick screamed as he felt his contraction peak. Brad came running out of the home office and saw Nick puff through the contraction.

“Is it really that strong?”

“Call… Ben… NOW!”

Brad drives responsibly most of the time, but this is one moment where speeding was the rule, not the exception. Nick was groaning in the seat next of him, rubbing his belly as each contraction got stronger and closer together.

“Babe, please don’t push. We’re almost there.” Brad said.

“Ughh, I’m trying so hard-AHHHH!” Nick screamed as another contraction pounded across his body and towards his ass. “It really feels like one of them is already wanting to come out!”

At that moment, they got to the entrance of the hospital, where Ben was standing there with a large wheelchair, smiling. Nick looked with concern at the wheelchair, wondering if it could handle his weight, let alone if he fit in it.

“Hello Brad, and hello Nick! You’re already checked in, so I’ll just send Nick to the room while you go and park the car.” Ben said. However, when Brad opened the door to see Nick squished inside the car, with his expanded belly taking over his entire body, Ben gulped with fear.

“I think… I’m… crowning!” Nick huffed.

***

Five hours later, Nick managed to naturally birth all seven of the babies. Brad looked in absolute awe at Nick’s sheer determination to ensure these kids came out healthily. Ben was amazed at how flexible Nick’s anal cavity was in continuing to pump baby after baby out.

Nick, meanwhile, had waves of emotions and hormones blasting through him, making him so proud of his babies. He cried as he birthed the placenta and felt the first set of babies move to his swollen breasts to be fed. Brad also cried in joy, while Ben also shed a tear in wonder.

A couple of hours later, Brad’s parents arrived with their kids, who ran into the delivery room in awe at the seven cots sitting in the room with their new siblings. They got into the bed and cuddled Nick, who beamed with joy at the sight of all 9 of his children in the one room.

As Brad’s parents left with the two older kids and all the newborns were moved to the nursery, Brad moved into the bed and cuddled Nick, massaging his tender belly. Nick quickly looked around the room before removing his bra and moving one of his nipples to Brad, who gleefully started sucking.

After a minute of sucking, Brad released with a pop sound and looked up at Nick. “You’re incredible, Nick. I love you.”

“I love you too, Brad… oh, and the library is definitely closed now!”

Brad chuckled. “We’ll see about that…” as he moved back towards Nick’s nipple and continued sucking milk. Nick glanced over to the window and whispered, “We’ll see…”

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