#metabodeals

[needofcuddles-tf]

Fuck, I need that BALLMASTER to use on my crushes. Or maybe they can use it on me instead.

Ballmaster

My roomie and I were bros from the moment we met at freshman orientation. We’d stuck together through thick and thin, from my flunking sophomore calculus to him getting on stage at his first bodybuilding show. All our friends joked that we were basically married, even though we both regularly had chicks over. Just because we never dated long-term didn’t mean we were, like, monks.

When he picked up a new supplement, I didn’t really think much of it. I made fun of him, obviously. What product manager comes up with the product name “BALLMASTER” and goes with it? My roommate never really explained what it was supposed to do, but he mixed the powder with water twice a day, just like the package said.

After a week or so, I started noticing a distinct funk floating around my roomie. It was pungent and sharp, with a bit of an earthy flavour that stuck in the back of my mouth as it intensified over the next few weeks. At first, I would just smell it when he was sitting next to me playing video games, but about a month in, I could smell that he was in our apartment as soon as I opened the door. I don't know how, but I'd learned how to tell when his scent was fresh and when it was stale.

When I asked him about it, he chuckled at me and said, “That’s the BALLMASTER working, bro.”

I didn’t really know what he meant. Maybe part of the product’s effect intensified body odour? But this smell was distinct from his usual man musk. Not that I was, like, sniffing his armpits, but he was a bodybuilder, and he liked to work out in the living room. I’d gotten a whiff or two of his ripe body before. Plus, under the increasingly overpowering musk, I could still smell his deodorant.

It was around this time that he started wearing sweats all the time. Loose, baggy sweats with lots of room in the crotch. His walk totally changed, too, going from the usual bodybuilder’s quad-dodging swagger to a much more exaggerated waddle. When I asked if his, uh, bait and tackle were bugging him, he told me, “Don’t worry about it, it’s all good.”

So I stopped worrying about it.

The final realisation came on me slowly, and the day I just suddenly stopped worrying about my roommates dick and balls was when it really hit me. As the smell my roommate carried with him permeated my life, I found myself unable to say no to him. Ever. When he told me to clean the living room, I started doing it almost without realising it.

One day when we were tidying up he handed me an old algebra textbook and said, jokingly, “Enjoy it.” That night, even though I knew it was a literal textbook full of explanations and practice questions, I found myself riveted as I read every page. The whole time, my roommate’s smell was filling my nostrils, making me sniff hard, taking the scent deep into myself.

This time, I knew I had to really confront him. So I sat down on the couch the next morning and waited for him to wake up. When he came out of his bedroom, he saw me waiting and waddled over to stand next to me. As he did, I felt a wave of humidity wash over me, carrying the thick, rich smell, so intense my eyes started to water.

He looked down at me, with an infuriatingly superior smirk on his face. “Yeah, dude,” he said, “you’re ready.” He dropped his sweats, letting his balls flop out.

He was going commando. He must have been for weeks at that point, because there was no way his balls could have been contained in any underwear. They were fucking enormous, each one almost the size of my fist and hanging low in his drooping sac.

The smell, radiating from what I now knew to be its source, hit me like a physical blow. I slid off the couch onto the floor.

My roommate took my place, easing himself down and gently lifting his balls with his hands so they lay between his spread thighs. His cock, still a normal size, looked tiny resting on top of his distended sac. A bead of sweat formed at the peak of the right ball and rolled into the dark, wrinkled skin below. I was transfixed by its progress.

“You wanna taste, little guy?” my roommate asked, holding his hand out toward my face, still slick with his ballsweat from moving them into position.

Without even thinking, I leaned forward and licked his palm. It tasted like salty, stale sweat, mixed with BO, dried cum, and just a little bit of stale piss. My roommate obviously hadn’t been washing it properly. It tasted like heaven, like the taste of something I’d been waiting for my whole life without knowing it.

Without a thought left in my head, I dove between his legs, burying my face in my roommate’s balls. I huffed the scent that had been slowly infiltrating my mind for months, feeling it break down the last of my resistance with its salty tang. As my roommate started to moan in his deep, sexy voice, I licked his balls, bringing in my hands to manipulate them and really get to know my new masters.

“Yeah,” my roommate groaned, jacking his cock as I slobbered between his enormous balls. “That’s a good ballslut. You’re just what I wanted, bro. I’m your Ballmaster, right?”

I nodded, burying my face deeper in my new favourite place, deep in my roommate’s huge, sweaty balls.

[dreamertf]

Role Reverse

/muscle drain, muscle growth, straight to gay, dom to sub, sub to dom, masculinization

/Was on metabods and was inspired by this story

Jack and his roommate Cas weren't on great terms. Jack had moved in a few months ago, finding Cas through a listing on craigslist-- only the listing didnt mention that Cas was a complete bigot. Since the first day of moving in, Jack had been tormented by the tall jock. Cas egging him on for being trans and gay. The daily berating was getting annoying, and Jack wanted to move out but the lease wouldnt be over for a few more months.

As he was doomscrolling tiktok he got an ad for some sort of new social media app called Facets that seemed targeted at gay people.

Facets; each lens creating a new reality

He stared at the app as it downloaded, going through the preview pictures. The way the screenshots were presented made it look like there was some built-in ai photomanipulation that changes your pictures based on your tags. It made sense. Everyone was insanely attractive on the preview photos, inhumanely so.

Creating his account he had to input his information, it felt like a dating app.

Jack Engoff

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 210

Body type: Chub

Position: Verse

Gender: Trans Masc

Scrolling through the app, it was just like scrolling through the previews. Everyone was insanely hot.

Jack decided to get back at Cas a little, have a little fun. He knew that the jock fell asleep in the living room last night after getting home drunk, so he had complete access to him.

Sneaking quietly he stood in front of the behomoth on the couch, his breathing deep and heavy as his pecs rose and fell rhythmically. His thick muscular legs spread, revealing his huge member.

Jack hated how hot he was, he looked like all the other guys on the app.

He took a picture as he thought about what tags to put.

#bottom #skinny #powerbottom #twink #short #sub #femboy #wanttobedominated #thirstybussy

As he pressed post, the loading screen glitched out. Suddenly, a picture of a cute twink appeared. Short 5'5" lean frame with a bubble butt. His waist is small, and his face brimming with feminine masculinity. His previously spread legs were closed as his small dainty hands covered his crotch, his huge ass pointing up- his face down in the couch. He was practically swimming in his clothes, even though they had shrunk to accommodate his new body.

Jack loved seeing his tormenter brought down a few pegs, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't turned on.

---

He looked up in shock as the small twink in the photo manifested in front of him. His breathing wasn't heavy anymore, slight movement to his narrow shoulders as he slept peacefully.

Suddenly he heard slight muttering and moans come from cas.

"Oh Jackie.... im so tight.. please you're ripping me apart!" He moaned, his voice high pitched and sensual.

Jack was immediately turned on, he didnt know what to do.

If this app was able to do this, what could he do to himself?

He took a selfie as he formulated the perfect tags.

#powertop #dom #cisman #himbo #jock #bodybuilder #hugefeet #giant #hugeverywhere #model #abs #jawline #irresistible

He hit post as he ran to the bathroom to see his changes.

His patters became thuds as his feet grew out to size 15s.

He felt his bottom growth lengthen as it turned into a fully functioning penis, becoming thicker as his balls dropped-- becoming huge and juicy. His top surgery scars disappeared as he lost all his fat, his muscles defining themselves, becoming that of a god.

His broad shoulders pushed themselves out as his shirt completely disappeared, leaving his huge juicy tits in the cold air. His torso elongating as his abs popped into existence. He smiled as his adams apple dropped and became more prominent.

He flexed in the mirror, smiling as his face became extremely symmetrical and handsome. His curly hair grew out a tiny bit on top, giving him a lusty edge.

"Jackkkkkk is that you? Whats happening i feel so weak..."

He heard a voice come from behind him, standing in the doorway was Cas, dazed and confused.

Inside Cas was screaming, was he that hungover? Why was jack so much bigger than him.

"Hey baby" Jack said in his deep voice, as he spoke Cas immediately got hard-- his small two inch dick parely tenting his shorts.

Jack picked Cas up easily, kissing him as he brought the shorter man into the bedroom.

"I heard you muttering in your sleep, if you wanted me that bad why didnt you say?"

Cas blushed. It was undeniable how hot Jack was, but he wasn't gay! Cas leaned back in bed as the giant 6 foot 8 giant stood before him.

Seeing him in such a compromising position made jack's huge member immediately come to attention.

As he pulled down his sweats it flopped out, leaking warm goey thick pre as his giant foot long soda can wide dick ached for Cas.

Cas gasped, leaning forward as he felt an irresitable urge to worship Jack's body. Licking up the pre with his tongue as jack grabbed him by the hair.

"Good boy, keep licking and maybe ill fuck you."

[michverdun]

New Story!

Hey everyone! I haven't been able to do this in a long time but I have a new story posted to metabods! It was originally just a little horny scene that kinda just developed into a full thing, so I thought i'd show it off. So, if the idea of a unnaturally big farmer joining a ...different kind of competition sounds good to you, then go check out "Musclebull Milk-Off" HERE!

[malegains]

Working on his next submission to metabods. He figures he’ll have to switch to dictation for the one after this.

[nonotnolan]

please make more stories about detachable heads stealing headless bodies T-T

I'm glad people are enjoying these-- I do love NBM / Detachable fiction, and there are not that many authors in good standing who are still writing that sort of content on Tumblr. (I am assuming this person knows that Metabods the website exists.)

Honestly, my biggest roadblock is creating the photos for them. I don't want to use AI to make them, and my photoshop skills are... shaky at best. But I don't want to just take someone else's photo manip, that's scummy too. So if anyone knows a good, NBM-specific tutorial feel free to send it my way. Or if anyone wants to give me blanket permission to use their manips (with credit) for my stories...? Hah hah, just kidding! ...unless?

[bodybeyondstories]

dicks keep growing around me - 5 (Miguel)

After his date with Myron last night (and this morning) Miguel finds himself unable to focus on anything work related, instead coming to multiple realizations about the complications of their respective weird powers.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 (Previous) | 6 (Next)

Also on Metabods

maleTF // ass expansion // dick growth // self suck // nsfw

3744 words

---

A good luck charm, I thought, my mind occupied by this revelation as I rumbled along on my morning commute, the train car packed as usual. I managed to get a seat and use my shoulder bag to cover up the obvious bulge crammed messily into my pants that morning as, upon finally seeing Myron off, well fed and satisfied–in more ways than one–I realized I was significantly more late to work than I thought. 

I had hoped that clearing the pipes multiple times in the past twelve hours would get me some respite, but the carnal need concentrated in my groin was ever present, thunderclouds lingering in the horizon of my mind. It’s strange how quickly you can get used to the incessant pull of horniness, the volcanic eruption waiting just below the surface, threatening to wipe out the surrounding countryside with a pyroclastic flow. I structured my days now around keeping the python in my pants drained and sated, releasing the pressure valve of cum several times a day, from bed to shower to periodic visits to the single stall bathroom in the office. After enough catastrophic wardrobe malfunctions, I had backups and backups for the backups, counting myself lucky if I could make it through the day without soaking another pair of pants with precum.

Not that it was all bad. I’d been having the most incredible orgasms of my life and woke up every morning with the gooey kiss of my morning wood hovering just below my lips, inviting them for a makeout sesh that I was happy to oblige. The awkwardness and extra layers of management and planning were a constant concern, but I was starting to feel a confidence at the sight of myself in the mirror, my root dangling between my knees, refusing to be ignored. How many guys have fantasized about having this exact problem?

At the next stop, one of the regulars on my commute slipped in through the closing doors in the nick of time. I could never tell if he was getting off third shift or starting first, but he always looked good in the pink medical scrubs that tastefully complemented his physique. By the looks of his arms, he probably worked out a few times a week, just enough to stay toned, but as he maneuvered around the rush hour crush and found the pole in front of me, my eyes locked on to the bubble butt overfilling the seat of his pants. 

I had always appreciated the cute butt in those scrubs, but it was looking particularly good lately, perched atop a pair of juicy legs that looked like they saw a squat rack daily. He looked disproportionate below the waist, packed into pants that went beyond form fitting and were arguably a few sizes too small. He kept surreptitiously adjusting his waistband and shifting his stance, as if slowly coming to the same realization.

Hmm, I thought. Another data point. Winston had also been my subway commute crush, I remembered. Could everyone packed into this car with me be getting unintended ass enhancements? I was too unsettled by the thought to do any casual reconnaissance of the assets of the other riders, my crotch already warming with excitement at the idea that that theory might be right. For how long has the general public been growing inexplicably juicy derrieres on their daily commutes? It’d be a great marketing campaign for using public transport, I mused. Why go to the gym when you can just take the train with yours truly? 

So I tried very intentionally to mind my own business, not wanting to ogle this dude in public but especially not wanting to wake the beast. As a space opened next to me, he smoothly slid around the poll, his overdeveloped glutes briefly eclipsing my entire field of vision, and squeezed in. He had a moment of shifting his hips uncomfortably, as if he wasn’t used to the seat or had expected there to be more room, eventually giving up and playing it off as he glanced up at the ads along the ceiling.

I was frozen in terror. That morning, I had had no time for clever maneuvering or tricks of the light and had unceremoniously shoved my penis into some trunks and compression shorts. I had long ago outgrown anything that had a pouch remotely capable of containing this monster, so it indignantly ran along my waist, the very sensitive cock head disguised as a fold along my left hip. A fold that this guy had just been accidentally grinding against with no idea of the repercussions. Shivers shot up and down my spine, my eyes tightening in concentration as my hips twitched and I self-consciously held a tightly controlled posture, afraid of even the slightest motion resulting in a runaway train of arousal in the worst possible location.

I pulled out my phone and began skipping through my email for the most unsexy possible distraction, deleting some typical weekday spam about a presentation coming up, the expense reports, something about the windows and an updated schedule from the office maintenance guy, Wes. I swiped each one into oblivion, intensely not thinking about my dick.

This lasted for an agonizing several stops until with a flurry of pink, the guy got up to leave, the side of his glutes shifting the layers of fabric between us, sending a jolt of pleasure along the length of my dick. I gasped, just loud enough for him to glance back with a look of self-consciousness at his backside then slight confusion in the general direction of my waist before he shook his head briefly and turned to exit. Close call.

I somehow made it to work without further incident. Maybe I should switch back to biking to work, I thought wryly, imagining my junk smashed painfully between my pumping legs and the narrow seat. At least I could blow off some steam. I was barely cognizant of the goings on in the office that morning. I stayed put at my desk, still basking in the ebb and flow of post-coital bodily contentment, pursuing emails through a veil of apathy, my mind still wrapped up in my evening–and morning–with Myron.

I was honestly surprised he had agreed to go on a date, showing up at my go to date night cocktail bar in those tweed slacks that made his ass curve like that. I was so nervous. Was I trying too hard? Was the cologne too much? Was I overdressed? He looked so cute and casual in a way that just worked. But we had a great time, even with the surprise visit of a somehow even more bootylicious Winston terrorizing the gays and girls at the establishment–and my awkward stammering that seemed to delight Myron to no end. We immediately hit it off with a different sort of chemistry, leaning into different sorts of nuances from each others’ lives. The way his eyes widened when he talked about the trip to Cape Town that he’d been saving and planning for for years; the fact that we’re both allergic to mangoes; the little pinch he would give to the bridge of his nose when he was trying to recall something from his past. I was smitten.

I had really sat here in my office and put together an entire playlist for the occasion yesterday and gone so far as to insist on playing it in the car. I looked over at his empty desk and chair across the room, still unoccupied. I squat in your office for six months, and then you buy me dinner, he had said. It’s almost like this is a date or something, I returned. The look on his face was priceless. As was the steadily thickening tension during the ride home. And the chivalrous peck on the cheek at my door. Of course I couldn’t let him leave.

I had long given up on getting any actual work done, instead focusing on taming the beast shoved into my too tight pants, my taint flexing periodically as I rocked on my medicinal ball chair, giving a strained, professional smile to Susan as she popped in to ask about the expense reports, trying to not make it obvious that I was lightly thrusting the air under my desk. All I could think about was the adorable, sweet man who no longer kept me company just a few feet away in my office but had kept me company just a few hours ago in my bed. All I could think about was how egregious a decision it was to continue on with our respective responsibilities and the separate trajectories of our lives, how lovely it would’ve been to call out sick and spend the morning pretzeled together under the covers, his breath tickling the space between my neck and clavicle, my hand periodically tracing figure eights along the warm topography of his back and then settling where it rightfully belonged on the curve of that ethereal bubble butt. 

I mean…I guess I sort of do have a type. When it comes to my love life, I’m open to all kinds, and I’ve dated a number of different people, but as my friends love to point out, there’s one commonality across the board: some serious junk in the trunk. Everyone loves a nice ass, but I do tend to go big or go home. And in retrospect, in past relationships, the big went, well, bigger. The pattern’s been apparent for a while, but I didn’t really think anything of it. Everyone has their preferences, and mine just happens to be a pair of glutes that could stop traffic. If you had suggested that men’s asses were somehow magically inflating to disproportionate sizes due to my generous attention, I would have asked which kink site you’d pulled that from, but as I sat at my desk in a cold war with the python running down my leg that had gone from impressive to comical to ridiculous over the past several months, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe something mysterious really was afoot.

The evidence for Myron’s theory was mounting, and the implications of him being right were a heady mix of titillating and sobering that felt surreal to think through in the confines of my neat little office. As I reminisced on soaping up his bodacious buns in the shower and the unbridled thrill of watching them blow out the seat of his pants, my posture straightened slightly in excitement at the idea that this was due to some strange ability on my part. How many men had I fantasized about, imagining how much cuter they would be with some posterior augmentation? Just a little more heft here, some more roundness there. Most of the dudes in the office had some pretty nice butts–I guess we know why, I realized–but there was always room for improvement, wasn’t there? 

Myron wasn’t the first romantic partner to have a sudden wardrobe malfunction after a night of fun. Honestly, I kind of get a kick out of the moment of catastrophic failure, seams splitting, cheeks spilling out and taking up space, but when does the fantasy of too muchness really become too much? And if we couldn’t figure out how to control whatever this is, how much longer until we’re both transformed beyond any ability to  live a normal life? Or at least wear normal clothes? There had to be an upper limit, right?

My dick lurched in response, as if dreaming its own future as an impossible to hide third leg. It was already way too massive by any sensible standards, and after seeing Myron’s friend Ty, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to hefting a log around 24/7. The worsening curse in my crotch had complicated my love life, turning intimacy into a dance of negotiations, warnings, starts and stops, attempts and failures. Casual hookups had been out of the question for a while now, since even most size queens were far too concerned–and rightfully so–about their bodily wellbeing to entertain the thought of bottoming. For a while, it had been such a confidence boost seeing the looks of awe and hunger, like my dick was a challenge to be surmounted, but trepidation turned to absurd surprise and acute concern, and eventually visages of terror in the face of whatever radioactive mutation had produced the kaiju between my legs. I even had a few guys get word of what I was packing and get me undressed just to try and take pics of it, even hefting it like I was a sideshow at the circus. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing those circulating online, one or both hands trying–and failing–to cover the length of my member. 

Needless to say, I had been so nervous about the Big Reveal last night, expecting Myron to outright refuse or simply come to his senses and realize I was some sort of anomaly that should not be counted. But he was so tender and took it like a champ. It’s like we just fit together.

I was jolted back to my office by the sharp buzz of my phone against my desk. Speak of the devil.

[Myron: Whatcha up to?]

[Me: Expense reports? Maybe?]

[Myron: Ah, yes, I was probably supposed to do those before I left. Send Susan my regards.]

[Me: She can and will hunt you down!]

[Myron: She can try 🤭. Also what was that you mentioned earlier? Hip thrusts?]

[Me: Lol are you at the gym?]

[Myron: Maybe! Ty just started working here, they’ve been sneaking me in past the counter. I’m building my leg day routine]

[Me: Please don’t make me imagine you with a glute pump, I’ve gotten nothing done here already]

[Myron: You don’t have to!]

An image appeared in the text thread. Myron taking a mirror pic standing in the squat rack, three plates on either side of the bar. I didn’t even know he lifted like that, I thought, my eyes dwelling on the contrast between his soft arms and the slight pudge of his belly with the ass that ballooned from his side profile in a pair of skimpy gym shorts that may as well have been painted on. It looked even more phenomenal than it had this morning, catching the late morning natural light and even a few stares from gym bros in the background.

[Myron: You would be a great trainer. Results guaranteed 🤪]

A moment of terror at the thought of the havoc I would wreak if my day job was moving through a sweaty, intimate gym space and helping people with squat form, but my dick stirred with enthusiasm at the idea, the dribble of precum threatening to become a faucet. 

[Me: …I really liked these pants]

[Myron: RIP! Literally!]

Don’t even joke–I began typing before I heard the telltale sound of seams popping, my dick taking Myrons’ last text as a suggestion. Shit, I should’ve seen this coming. My semi lurched in my pants as it became more and more turgid, forcing me to reposition and hinge my hips back in my seat to ease the pressure against already strained fabric. I had to take care of this.

I could barely walk with the baseball bat running down my leg, let alone make it to the bathroom without risking an HR nightmare–Do they have workplace accommodations for people with inhumanly massive, constantly drooling monster cocks? They should. But I managed to waddle to the door, turn the lock, and firmly close the blinds before urgently whipping off the multiple layers of constrictive clothing that I threw on that morning in a futile attempt to restrain the beast.

My dick flicked precum into the air as it shot up, bobbing in front of me at a 90 degree angle and steadily rising into the air as my body diverted all resources to this erection. From the lightheadedness and the momentum of my cock throwing me off balance, I stumbled back, landing in Myron’s old chair. I took a moment to lean back and be caressed by the ergonomic design, noticing how it still kind of smelled like him, imagining his perspective from our days in the office together. I was interrupted by a sticky reminder of the task at hand, my dick bobbing in front of my face before coming to rest against my bottom lip. It’s all so perfectly arranged, I thought, as I indulged in what had become my favorite hobby, licking up the precum from the top of the head before letting my lips part around it, easing lower and lower as my head bobbed in little circles. The sensation is indescribable, and somehow feels so fresh every time, like I could sit there as a closed circuit of dick for eternity, never tiring of sucking myself off, getting sustenance from load after load of thick, gooey cum. My hands worked the shaft in tandem, though they weren’t enough to cover much surface area. I was mildly frustrated, left wanting for another pair to get me over the edge of orgasmic pleasure. I was growing to become too much for just one person, even if that person is me, but I worked diligently, the rest of the office completely oblivious to the monster dick autofellatio taking place during the late morning lull.

My dick began to buck along the shaft, pulsing with girth as my balls pulled up, churning in anticipation. I picked up the pace and breathed in deep, preparing for the eruption to come. I groaned as I began spurting thick ropes of jizz into my throat, swallowing as much as I could before giving up and letting my dick emerge from my exhausted lips with a wet pop, getting off several shots against the window behind me before slowly collapsing onto my left shoulder, drooling into the crook of my neck. I pulled out my phone, and with some difficulty due to cum soaked fingers, managed to open the text thread with Myron.

Look what you made me do, I typed, opening the camera and switching to front facing to snap a pic of my jizz covered face with my behemoth dick nestled next to it. As it was sending, I noticed a figure in the background hovering just over my shoulder, silhouetted by the morning sun.

I spun around in horror to see Wes. The maintenance guy whose email I definitely should’ve paid attention to that morning. Standing in the window washing scaffold, staring dumbfounded and unthinkingly trying to squeegee the cum oozing down the interior side. A crooked smile and an awkward wave, then splayed thumb and pinky on either side of his ear. Call me? he mouthed, 19 stories off the ground. 

—

“Wes the window washer boyfriend!” sang Ty, nowhere near the right key.

Ty, Myron, and I were at the park, lounging in the afternoon sun, as I explained how my window washing encounter had somehow not resulted in catastrophe.

“We talked it out and reached an agreement of sorts,” I said, eyes rolling to the clouds. “No one needs to hear about my private activity or unique, uh, proportions, and if that private activity coincides with Wes’s window washing schedule, so be it. They can probably see this thing in the next building over anyways,” I groaned.

“So he likes to watch?” asked Ty, leaning back on their elbows with knees bent, their shorts doing nothing to hide the bulge of stretchy fabric emerging out of the bottom, not that they looked like they very much cared. Apparently Myron had gotten some underwear with specially made pouches for his friend, and I made a mental note to get some pairs of my own.

“And you like to be watched,” said Myron, a conspiratorial smile in my direction. His running shorts showed off his juicy thighs with a smattering of stretch marks greeting the Sun as he relaxed in my lap, a convenient arrangement for my own predicament to not be as visible as Ty’s. I hadn’t been brave enough to wear shorts since that fateful hike, but he convinced me they would look cute–and they did–but I was still coming around to the attention they brought.

“Yes and yes,” I sighed, giving a light squeeze to the pudge of Myron’s abdomen then letting my hand drift up to one of his juicy pecs. “You really have been hitting the gym,” I mused, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“An inspiration to us all,” added Ty, lazily waving a half finished joint in one hand as dramatic flourish. “A leader among leg day enthusiasts.”

“Not without some help,” added Myron with a smirk up towards me.

“Allegedly,” I fake scowled. “Anecdotally, even.”

“All I’m saying is Wes might wanna rethink your arrangement after going up a few pant sizes.”

I demurred, having convinced myself that the panes of glass may provide some sort of magical barrier. Still though, I would need to keep an eye on Wes’s assets through those thick work pants…

“Ah!” exclaimed Ty, glancing at Myron’s thick, round bubble, then at me. “So this is your doing.” They were connecting the dots. 

“It’s a great workout routine,” I said. “Just with some added boosts.” I blushed. Myron smiled brightly up at me. I lost myself for a moment in his eyes.

“You two are really meant for each other,” said Ty with a chuckle, getting up to stroll to the bathroom. They kept trying (and failing) to casually tuck their prodigious bulge back above the hem of their shorts as they walked, succeeding only in drawing more attention to the pipe running across their thigh and out the bottom. 

That’ll be me one day, I thought, with more than a little trepidation. Was I ready for that? My dick already looked ridiculous, but not yet as unwieldy as theirs. And that’s without the benefit of Ty’s lanky height. Actually, come to think of it…

“Ty,” I said to Myron.

“Mhmm.”

“They’re…um…”

“Taller,” he admitted, as if he’d been waiting for me to notice.

“Right. Ok.”

My stomach tightened as yet another fold of complexity formed in this already chaotic situation. I leaned in to Myron to wrap my arms around him, breathing him in and nuzzling into his shoulder. My shirt rode up. It felt a little tight.

[yellowjestertfs]

Hello! Love the altered state series, once its done could you make one post that contains everything so its one post? Or post the story somewhere where its one long post like submitting to metabods or something

Great idea! I actually have started posting this story on Metabods, here is the link. The story there is behind by just a part but the whole thing should be up eventually. I could also make one long tumblr post too though I'm scared that would break the website lol.

[gigantix]

Your stories remind me of Chuck, the Size Thief by spacevlad on Metabods, which I can whole-heartedly recommend

I loved that one and have talked with the author in the past. Awesome story I reread again and again.

His was personally written, where mine was AI to see if it could hit the mark. His was much better.

I find that theme (theft, nonconsensual, and so on) really fun in fantasy and writing, including IRL roleplay. Sex should always be safe sane and consensual.

[theradicalscrivener]

I feel like I should check comments on metabods sometime. I get really anxious at the thought of it though. Like, I used to check regularly on new posts, but after a series of hateful comments I was too afraid to check and now I haven't looked in years.

It doesn't help that the site doesn't alert you to new comments. You have to manually check each story to see if anyone commented, and manually doing so feels dangerously douchy and self absorbed.

This probably makes me seem super cold and distant to any would be fans, but at the same time. I don't think my stuff is liked on that site. I send stuff in because I like the guy who runs it and I feel like I owe him a lot for when I was starting out, but I often forget to send stuff in and then when I do submit stuff it's in like a large bundle every few months.

I know the consensus there is I need to go back to writing "good" stories. Aka muscle growth. Things people want to read and not the crap I keep doing. Maybe it's spite. Maybe it's that I'm a bit put of by the vitriol coming from that part of the fan base.

I do still like muscle and growth stories but I feel like the last few times I've tried to do something like that, it didn't turn out well. I'm more worried about it not being good enough than I am actually enjoying the writing process and I just can't get into the swing of it.

[milamber83]

Story search from cyoc.net.

”I'm looking for a body swap story, I believe it's called "The Time Share Ned". I can't remember where I first saw it.

It's a story about this older guy who pays to rent out this younger guy's body. He's straight but the guy's body who he borrows is gay and he is surprised to find himself having gay thoughts. He's a surfer dude who lives along the beach and he visits a bar for a drink and finds himself hitting on another guy, and when asked his name he comes up with a fake one from a liquor bottle, Glen Livet. They sleep together and the guy is curious why the guy keeps telling him different names as he's sleep with him before.

After his time runs up, he's actually desperate to keep the life and body of the guy he temporarily was.

Does this ring a bell for anybody?”

I have read this story and remember this but I cannot remember where. Please help either by sharing or letting me.

Found the story: https://metabods.com/mbxy/site/story.php?id=the-rental

[michverdun]

Ya know I just realize you’re the guy that wrote one of my favorite stories on Metabod (Summer Heat) . Love your work!

Oh thank you so much! I feel like I've gotten too critical of the stories I posted on metabods. It means a lot to hear that people still like them, much less put it as one of their favorites on metabods. There's a lot of good stories on that site.

[antoniocm1983]

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[bodybeyondstories]

dicks keep growing around me - 1 (Myron)

Until recently, Myron was oblivious to the fact that dicks would get mysteriously bigger the longer someone hung out with him. He begins putting the pieces together as his boss, Miguel, starts going through all too familiar changes below the belt.

2 - Next

Also on Metabods

dick growth // huge cock

2222 words

(I couldn't get this phrase out of my head and I thought it was funny, so I'm seeing where it leads)

---

“Dicks keep growing around you?”

“Yes,” I said. “Or at least I think. It’s not exactly an airtight theory, but there are some examples.”

“And it just…happens,” responded my supervisor Miguel.

“Apparently.”

“And it’s happening to me?”

“Pretty sure.”

So I have a theory. Maybe just a hunch, I don’t know. And I’m not doing it on purpose, but I’m pretty sure I’m the cause. For lack of a better way of saying, dicks keep growing around me. And I don’t mean chubbing up, I mean literally growing. Like adding on real, tangible inches with no end in sight. It’s very slow, and I think it comes down to how often we’re in close proximity, but if you spend enough time around me, you may end up with more, sometimes much more, below the belt. I don’t have any idea how this works, but I wish I did. I’m still just piecing clues together.

So I guess Exhibit A would be my boss, Miguel. I do a lot of temporary contract work, which isn’t ideal, but allows me to string together rent while working on some of my own creative freelance stuff. I was hired onto this project six months ago to restructure the data management system of a small, local startup and they miscalculated the resultant shift in office space. After a series of awkward corners and at least one broom closet, they decided to just stick me in Miguel’s office. Miguel requested it actually. He figured I would be of more use working in tandem with him than I would blocking everyone’s path to the bathroom. 

I was less than pleased to look like his makeshift corner secretary, and honestly I’ve dealt with much worse, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed to welcome the company. Miguel kept a tight beard and even tighter fade, always perfectly put together in what looked like one-step-below-designer business casual, with the cherry on top being the neon purple and green barefoot shoes he tended to wear to work. I would’ve been annoyed if not for the fact that he was a genuinely nice, thoughtful guy, and more than just a captivating smile. Plus, I came around on his use of a balance ball chair once I was introduced to his tight butt clad in well fitting slacks. Not that I ever really thought about him that way.

So we shared a space and had a congenial enough dynamic. We both had similar tastes in some of the experimental music scene locally and would even go out to some shows together. Also he’s a self professed menswear expert and started systemically giving my wardrobe a much needed overhaul. So I found it odd when his usual form fitting, modern pants began to lose their flair.

At one point, he chalked it up to seasonal shifts, trying out some new, looser looks for the spring. Not to mention baggier, boxier styles had been taking the place of slim fit jeans and tight shirts, at least according to him. A few times he texted me in the morning, saying he was running late because of a ‘wardrobe malfunction,’ which I never thought much of. I had come to expect him cycling through three or four outfit changes before he finally made it out. 

For a while it seemed like he might’ve just been getting the wrong fit, since he developed a habit of adjusting his crotch often, or even wincing slightly when he sat down too hard. And I had had multiple friends and partners with similar issues, so offered some tailoring tips, but he didn’t want to dwell on it.

I got a good idea why when we went to a show together one evening. A DJ we both liked was playing a set at a warehouse on a Thursday night, and we figured we had to go. We’d bring a change of clothes, work late on Thursday, then roll into the office late Friday morning. We could even call it a team meeting or professional development or something. 

The show was euphoric. I felt like I was rising up and outside of myself as our bodies bounced on the packed dance floor, in so small part due to the haze of surprisingly strong drinks and party drugs. While Miguel seemed to be enjoying it, he was still preoccupied with the constant need to readjust his crotch. I had seen him in this pair of skinny leather pants–his ass alone was unforgettable–but they seemed especially constricting. 

“Told you you’d look great in those pants,” came Miguel’s familiar voice in my ear. He never missed an opportunity to brag about being my personal stylist, but I had to admit I looked better than expected. However, I didn’t expect Miguel’s strong hands to linger on my hips, nor did I expect myself to close the rest of the gap between us. I’d been catching guys checking us out all night and I was feeling myself, so I thought Fuck it, as we began grinding to the rhythm. Maybe it was the fantasy of the moment or whatever I was on, but the bulge in Miguel’s pants felt major, and his crotch was radiating heat.  

Suddenly, Miguel’s hands tensed up and he pulled away, his hand trailing against my lower back as he turned to leave. I asked if he was doing alright and he sputtered something about needing to piss, quickly disappearing into the crowd. I didn’t think much of it, and quickly got lost in the crush of moving bodies, and more than a few lingering caresses just below my hips. To say I was getting hot and bothered was an understatement and eventually I realized that I also needed to relieve myself, aiming in the vague direction of the bathroom but quickly getting lost in the crush of the crowd. Eventually I stumbled into a back alley, a rush of chill spring night air hitting my lungs as the party thumped through the wall behind me.

I turned my head at the sound of a deep sigh of visceral relief, looking to the left to see Miguel, eyes closed and head thrown back as he pissed loudly against the side of the wall. I wasn’t exactly in my right mind, and didn’t stop myself from glancing at his cock, which, semisoft, was hanging halfway down to his knees, jiggling comically as he shook off the last drops. It wasn’t just massive, it was beautiful, majestic under the streetlight, draped in shadow by Miguel’s outstretched arm, other hand bracing against the wall.

“Sorry,” he said, making me quickly realize that while my eyes were hyperfocused on his schlong, his were on me watching me hyperfocus on his schlong. “There was a line to the bathroom and it was about to be a photo finish,” a slight smile turning up his lips as he saw me finally draw my eyes away from his stunning dick.

“I, uh, was just about to join you,” I replied, deliberately keeping my eyes on his as he struggled to fit his prodigious cock back into his pants, by some miracle getting the zipper up after a few tries.

The awkwardness must’ve been my own anxious imagination, as the next day at work he actually seemed more relaxed than he had in a while, his bubble butt perched on his exercise ball chair as he sat with a leisurely spread, his bulge plainly visible. I guess the secret’s out, I thought. At least between us.

—

When the summer sun had come to stay, and my contract was wrapping up, he proposed an office hiking trip at one of his favorite trails, a moderately strenuous 3.5 mile track that led to an impressive waterfall tucked away just outside the city. I hadn’t been, but was familiar with it because my roommate, Ty, worked in the kitchen at a bar nearby that was kind of the post-hike spot. My apartment, according to Miguel, was “on the way” to the trailhead. I begged to differ, but he insisted on the kind gesture of giving me a lift, until we reached the compromise of me getting a ride home with Ty when their shift ended. So Miguel picked me up from my place, decked out in hiking boots, thick socks, a breezy short sleeve button down, and some five inch linen shorts with a sizable bulge. I had already caught a glimpse of his dick, so I wasn’t surprised by what looked like rolled up tube socks tucked into his crotch, but this looked bigger than I remembered. 

And I don’t think I was the only one who noticed either. Miguel was certainly the center of attention when we met up with the others at the trailhead, albeit delightfully oblivious in his excitement to take us on this outing. And it looked like I may have missed the memo about the dress code. All the other guys were wearing similar short shorts, showing off their own respectable bulges–though not as impressive as Miguel’s.

As we set off down the trail, Miguel took an early lead, looking like he had no intention of slowing down. As we settled into a rhythm, I found myself consistently a few steps behind him–admiring more than the view of the scenery–with the rest of the group farther back but still within earshot. I began to think that Miguel should’ve stuck to the breezy bottoms he had fallen into wearing, because he was constantly adjusting the hem of his shorts as they dug into his meaty quads. At times, he seemed visibly uncomfortable. 

As we reached a bend in the trail with a makeshift bench, we decided to take a breather and let the others catch up. Miguel’s shirt was glued to the middle of his back by a trail of sweat that ran down to his butt crack. I had trouble noticing anything else as he bent over and rested his hands on his knees, pushing his tight butt in my direction as he caught his breath.

From behind, the crotch of his pants looked overstuffed and straining at the seams. I thought it must have been my exhausted brain and overactive imagination until with a soft rip, the crotch of his shorts gave out, his dick gracefully bobbing two thirds of the way to his knees, definitely bigger than before and paired with some proportionately huge nuts. Miguel, his cock now freed of its constraints, let out a sigh of relief before apparently coming to the realization of the cool breeze on his oversized genitals. 

Hearing the others approaching, I sprang into action, pushing him off the trail and just behind a stand of bushes, hoping passers by would assume he was relieving himself and keep moving. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I brought up a backup pair just in case, give me one second.”

“A backup pair?” I asked, wanting to respect his privacy but also betraying my own fascination with this super dick that I had now been introduced to twice.

“Yeah, I thought I wouldn’t have an issue yet with these pants, but wanted to be careful.”

“What do you mean issue?” I asked. “And what do you mean yet?”

“I don’t know, I think I need to see somebody about this, it’s like–” he was cut off by one of their co-workers catching up to them on the trail. He quickly finished changing and stuffed his cock back in his shorts, shooting me a brief look of thanks.

—

Thankfully, the rest of the outing passed without incident. We actually had a great time, and Miguel was certainly correct about the waterfall being worth the aggravation. A few of the guys even waded in to cool off, inadvertently revealing some very heavy bulges through the thin, wet fabric of their shorts. Miguel hung back. 

We got drinks afterward and it was obvious Miguel was a post-hike usual. As the afternoon wore on to evening, everyone fell away slowly, until it was just the two of us. He insisted on hanging around until Ty could take me home, and I would’ve staunchly refused if not for how much I enjoyed his company–and how he would’ve stayed against my wishes anyways.

He hadn’t really been drinking–concerned about everyone else having a good time, in typical Miguel fashion–but I had maybe had more than I should. During a lull in the conversation, he leaned in slightly and said “Thanks for the save back there. Would’ve never lived it down at work.” 

“To be honest, I was not expecting all that,” I said, trying to be careful not to push boundaries too far too fast. 

“Honestly, me neither,” Miguel responded, his eyes widening slightly as he glanced into the distance. “TMI, but I’ve been kind of having a late growth spurt the last six months. Or something.”

And well, this is when the pieces finally started to come together. I had had hunches and musings over the years about my propensity to meet some truly noteworthy cocks, but something deep in my brain felt compelled to ask “When did it start?”  

With a thoughtful look in his eye, he glanced at me and said, “Around when you showed up. You might be my lucky charm.”

This is when it finally clicked.

[radostrich]

Metapod!

Metapod, the Cocoon Pokemon!

Metapod used String Shot!

[theradicalscrivener]

Have you ever considered publishing a book? Not as something you release per chapter online (although it reminds me of some old novels during the 19th century that were released by chapter, although they normally weren't smut), but as a published title. Either self published or with a publisher?

I have. I did post a few finished works on Gumroad before they banned NSFW. I have an amazon account that I can also upload stuff to, but I haven't put a lot of effort into it. I wasn't lookign to/ expecting to make money. I was mostly thinking of how to get a wider audience since there's not really a good site for writing smut that is like a one stop shop for everyone. AO3 is mostly fan fic. FA is predominantly furry (and even then it's far more geared to art than story.) GSS really doesn't care unless it's humiliation based. Metabods doesn't really care unless it's muscle based.

The problem is a do a wide array of things that are very niche, and so my best option is to try and play to the strengths of each site. Tumblr is nice because the tags make it so people from everywhere can stumble across my stuff, but the overall userbase is very small compared to other social media sites. Ideally, people that stumble across my stuff here, have done so because they followed a specific tag and knew what they wanted.

On places like Amazon, it's the opposite problem. Like, yeah, there's millions of people perusing amazon for stories, but how many of those are gay? How many of those are into transformation stuff? How many of those want to delve into these specific fringe subjects. Someone with know basis for forming an expectation would not be in a position to read this stuff if that makes sense. How do you prepare someone for a size theft story in a single paragraph blurb on a website especially if they'll have to invest real money to be able to read it?

For smut, I really can't imagine there's a publisher that is worth working with. That doesn't mean I don't ever want to get published, though. I love writing, and I do a fair amount of writing that I don't share here. I'm big into sci-fi and fantasy and have a few stories I have been kicking around that I'd love to publish someday, but I feel like I'd need to finish grad school first because as it is, I work at my day job, take classes, and write a little bit here and there on the side. If possible, I'd drop everything. I'd quit grad school. I'd say fuck you to my day job, and I'd just write full time, but I can't see that being viable. The sad part is, you can't make writing a career until you've already gotten a book under your belt. No one's gonna pay you to work on a book that may or may not be any good unless you've already proven yourself to be marketable.