Hey Man I Don’t Know What Is Happening To Me And My Best Friends. We Been Working On A Science Project

The Resort: A Void To Fill

I desperately needed a vacation. My girlfriend had left me a couple of months ago, cheating on me with someone else because I was not giving her enough attention, she said, sinking me into a vortex of sadness. I had been trying to distract myself with work, but to no avail; instead, my boss was forcing me to stay late to work almost every day, making me feel even worse. Let's not talk about friends: I had neglected them too much over the years to go back to them as if nothing had happened; they had their own lives now and I was not part of them. I felt an empty void growing inside me, the lack of something I could not explain, and I needed time to reflect. So I decided to book a vacation; I saw the ad online, it called for a week-long stay at a resort in the Caribbean, in a very exclusive and private place, at a decidedly high price. Although I was a bit skeptical, the reviews intrigued me. All the guests who went to the resort were talking about how the stay had changed their lives, giving them a unique experience that made them return home with no more sad thoughts. I figured it might be just right for me. Upon payment, I was informed that in order to enter, one had to undergo a series of surveys and psychological tests. According to the resort's logic, the results would be used to ensure the best possible experience. I gladly accepted, it all seemed very professional, and even if they were going to sell my data after that, I felt so exhausted that I had nothing to lose.

After a few weeks I arrived: the resort was indeed as it appeared from the photos. A large central building with a majestic lobby, fancy restaurants, and shiny pools, while the rooms were spread out in a large park filled with palm trees and tropical flowers, each with everything needed for a fabulous stay. At the front desk my bags were handed over to an attendant to take to my room, while I was given all the necessary directions about the resort. In addition to pointing me to all the facilities and handing me the key card to my accommodation, the concierge also handed me a rubber bracelet, yellow in color. He told me that it served to distinguish me from other customers based on the results of the surveys taken at the booking. Without asking for further explanation, I complimented him on his professionalism and headed for the beach as fast as I could; the only thing I wanted was to lie down and sunbathe in peace. After about 20 minutes, I was finally one with the beach chair. The sun warmed my skin as the tropical wind lulled me…I felt at peace. I was already anticipating spending a whole week like this when I heard a voice. - "Hey, buddy!"

I played dumb. I could not tolerate being disturbed. Maybe they were calling another person. - "Hey man! I'm talking to you!"

I turned around. A man was calling me. He was leaning against a palm tree, his body sun-kissed, a tattoo all along his left arm, his abs sculpted. He looked to be about the same age as me, but he was definitely taller. He looked at me intently. I couldn't help but notice that he was wearing a bracelet the same color as mine. I raised my hand, as if to greet him friendly, while he approached at a run. His stride was athletic, revealing how well-trained and fit he was. He got on the beach chair next to mine, taking a seat. He wouldn't stop staring at me. - "Hey bro, I've been looking all over for you! Then luckily the concierge told me you were at the beach! You finally came!"

I couldn't figure it out. Why was he calling me bro? What was all this confidence, his friendly way of talking…and most importantly, why was he looking for me! He understood that I was puzzled. He lifted his arm, showing me the bracelet. - "That's what I'm talking about, bro. We're a match! I also arrived this morning, and I was immediately alerted that there was someone else with the same bracelet as me! That's why I'm here!"

I told him I didn't understand what was going on, I hadn't been alerted to anything. He told me not to worry, it must have been a carelessness on the part of the concierge. Initially I was suspicious, but the more he talked to me, the more comfortable I felt. Apparently, we were kindred spirits. We spent an hour talking about this and that; he told me his name was Max and that he too was in the same situation as me, a broken romance, a lonely, hectic life in the offices of a large corporation. He told me that he was lonely, without someone to give affection to, without a purpose. Suddenly he seemed like the right person to spend time with in this week.

So when he asked me to go for a swim, I accepted without making him tell me again. I quickly realized that he was much better at sports than I was, truly a born athlete. That was why, perhaps pitied by my sporting inability, Max decided to give me some suggestions on how to improve my swimming style. Thus we found ourselves alone, offshore, and very close. Our legs, moving under the surface, took to brushing against each other as he took my arms with his firm hands, helping me learn the correct arm stroke. I felt good, happy…I would almost say cared for. For a reason I could not understand, the contact between our bodies made my penis hard. When I realized this, I pulled away quickly. Max stood looking at me, his intense clear eyes focused on me. - "Did I do something wrong?"

I wanted to tell him no, that it was okay, that it had been meaningless. Panicked, I did not notice the bracelets on our wrists glowing with a faint yellow light. For some reason, my mouth could not stay shut, and I told him so. I told him I had gotten an erection. He looked at me stricken, then approached me again until our faces were inches apart. - "Don't worry, I think it's perfectly natural after all. It can happen when you haven't been intimate with someone for so long."

His speech did not seem to make much sense to me, but after a few seconds of confusion I found it convincing. Maybe it really was as Max said. He smiled at me and I returned the smile. Just then, the sun was obscured by the clouds, a sudden storm was approaching. Max took my arm and gestured for me to come back in. - "Come on, let's go back inside. If you like we can go to my place, I have the jacuzzi and we can get a couple of beers from the mini bar."

I agreed, even though I had the same amenities in the room. It was when we arrived at the door, having escaped the downpour for a few seconds, that we realized something was wrong. The concierge had given us the same room. A strong anger rose in me and I made to leave, but Max grabbed my arm. - "Hey bro, calm down, where the fuck do you think you're going? There's a fucking storm going on! Come on, stay here until it gets better, we'll have a chance to discuss this room issue later."

He was right, going to complain now was perfectly useless. Besides, I was so comfortable with him that the resolution of this problem could really be postponed. We then stood drinking a beer watching the tropical storm raging outside as the jacuzzi heated up and began to produce bubbles. I suddenly felt cold. I thought I saw our bracelets light up, but maybe it was just lightning in the distance, or some kind of optical effect. Just then, out of nowhere, Max put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. I felt discomfort, but it lasted only a few moments. The warmth of his body was so pleasant and enveloping that I melted and leaned my head against it. He was perfectly sculpted, his massive chest a perfect pillow. I sought his gaze; he found mine. I don't know how many seconds passed, but it seemed like an eternal moment. My heart was beating wildly, my cock was getting hard again, much harder than before. I read in his eyes the same sensations I was experiencing. Without being in control of myself, I began to touch him with one hand, passing one by one the muscles of his body, his pecs, each abdominal, never taking my eyes off his face. Caught up in the moment, I did not notice that I had gone too low. I felt something hard in his costume, and it didn't take me long to realize what it was. I immediately stopped touching him, and walked away under the pretense of having to throw away the beers, snatching even his empty bottle from his hands. I felt my face burning with embarrassment and went to the sink to wash my face and recover. What was I doing? Without looking at him again, I grabbed a t-shirt and made to leave, but his voice called me back and I suddenly stopped. - "Hey, you're going already?"

He was in the jacuzzi, showing me one of his biceps. Foam covered the surface of the water, but I quickly realized he was naked. I was about to retort, but the armband lit up again. I had no chance to reflect on it. My arms had already dropped my shirt and I was taking off my underwear, showing Max my erect cock, without feeling the slightest shame. My feet, without my control, entered the warm water of the jacuzzi. At that point my mind collapsed. I felt my lips relax into a big smile, all tension disappear. I sat next to Max and looked at him dreamily, entranced. His lips moved, stammering with desire.

- "Hey…bro…no, sorry…b-b-b…babe…k-k-kiss me."

I didn't let him tell me twice. I slipped my tongue into his mouth as his powerful arms held me. The warm water lulled our making out bodies, the foam resting on Max's perfect muscles as I touched every inch of his back and chest. Beneath the surface, I could clearly feel his manhood. As our legs intertwined, our penises slammed into each other making me acutely aware that Max, in perfect harmony with his statuesque body, had a huge cock. For a few moments I still felt embarrassment at the thought of his hard penis, but it was short-lived. It was enough to meet his gaze again to convince me that everything was completely fine. He smiled at me. - "I would go take a shower, to get rid of this foam. How about following me, babe?"

He told me, giving me a wink, and then stepped out of the water. When he stood up, I finally saw his cock. Not only was it straight as a spear, but it was really long and big. Mine wasn't doing too badly, but his looked to me like a Guinness World Record-sized shaft. I didn't think that maybe, porn excluded, I had never seen another man's erect dick in my life. I stared at him, as one and only one thought invaded my mind, and our bracelets pulsed with light again. I had to touch him, I had to swallow him, I had to have him mine. He walked away toward the shower, and I followed him as if under a spell, my eyes focused on his toned ass.

With each step I took, an intuition grew stronger. The emptiness I felt inside me was in the shape of Max's cock. Having that penis inside me was the only key to happiness - it was obvious. As the first drops of water began to fall on his perfect body from the shower head, I fell to my knees and stood before the monster Max had between his legs. His cock slammed into my face and I smelled it. I was uncontrollable: my mouth opened and began to swallow his huge shaft.

I choked a few times, but I couldn't resist: one swipe on my tongue had made me realize that this cock tasted the best I could imagine. Letting out soft, manly moans, Max took my head with one hand and guided me carefully, preventing me from running out of breath again. Our gazes crossed as the drops of water fell on my face and his sculpted body. The more I looked at him, the more aroused I became: I threw one of my hands over him, brushing against his wet chest. In that instant he exploded in my mouth. Like a volcanic eruption, his cock pulsed between my lips as hot streams flowed down my throat. His white semen, mixed with the water that drenched my face, began to drip from my mouth as we were both in ecstasy. I pulled his penis out of my mouth, looked at it again, and stunned remained on my knees as Max ran his hand through my hair. - "Babe, you are such a lecherous little slut. I didn't expect that."

His words were the icing on the cake. I took my penis with my free hand, while with the other I still enjoyed the feel of his wet body. Within seconds I came on his legs, my seed dripping onto his calves and ankles, ending up in the shower drain. As soon as I caught my breath, he grabbed my chin with his hand and forced me to look at him.

- "Now finish washing and then come over there. I'll be waiting for you to feel my hard cock again."

A shiver ran down my spine, my penis became turgid with excitement again. Obediently, I got up as Max got out of the shower and left me the free space to wash myself. I cleaned my body well, especially my anus, not knowing why, as if it was an instinct I could not control. The bracelet was constantly glowing by now, but I didn't give it any more thought. I came out of the bathroom clean as Max had asked. I found him sitting on the couch. He was flexing his biceps, showing me his strength. Nothing more needed to be said.

I got down on my knees in front of him, my face in front of his underwear. I licked the fabric of his boxers, letting my saliva soak into them. I slipped my tongue into his groin, trying to move past it, grazing his ball sack. My nose was filled with his manly scent; my mouth wanted nothing more than to taste his giant penis again. I could feel it throbbing, aroused as never before. Max, however, did not seem to flinch; he continued to stare at me, but I sensed something now that was not there before. His eyes were fierce and tender at the same time, filled with the desire to possess me. I was his thing. I heard a voice inside me, like a memory from the past, an echo telling me that I should not be there, that I was not like that. I got up suddenly, to leave, as if I had suddenly awakened from sleep. - "Are you really going to leave me here like this, babe?"

As my back was already turned in the direction of the exit, I felt the elastic of his panties move. I stopped. His cock. His huge penis was the only one that could make me feel good. Why was I leaving? I turned around again and saw him standing, facing me, his muscles always in view with a dominant air.

I moved closer, coming within a few inches of him, then stood on tiptoe and putting my arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly. Then I brought one arm down to touch his cock. Max moaned in a vigorous, primal way. He took that hand and squeezed my wrist hard, then dragged me into the bedroom. He threw me onto the sheets. I, as if it were natural, turned on my stomach, lifting my legs and showing him my freshly washed anus.

When he entered my ass without finding the slightest resistance, intuition came to be awareness. As his cock brought me pleasure like never before in my life, I sensed pure joy, total ecstasy. There was no more emptiness inside me, no sadness, just the happiness of being his little slut. The little bitch of a stallion who had found his purpose again. In his gaze indeed, as he gripped my hips and penetrated me savagely, I could read the same overwhelming ecstasy, the same joy I was feeling. He came inside me like a wild beast, as if I were his own female to impregnate, letting out animalistic cries as I too sprayed my belly with my seed. Then he collapsed on top of me completely satisfied, our sweaty bodies in need of a shower again.

We ended up ordering room service and ate it naked and entwined on the bed. The storm was over and evening was falling on the resort. We spent the night telling each other about our lives, discovering that we were more and more like-minded and full of things in common. Before finally going to sleep, I decided that my stud deserved another blowjob. This time I did not let go of a drop of his precious and delicious seed.

We fell asleep in each other's arms, happy as never before, exhausted and glad to have found each other. The bracelets, lit with yellow light until a few hours before, were slowly fading. I don't remember what I dreamed that night, but when I woke up I found him sitting beside the bed. He was wearing only his underwear. His clear eyes penetrated me.

- "Good morning, my little whore. Would you like some breakfast?"

And as he took off his briefs to show me his wonderful, huge cock, I plunged out of bed, ready to take it between my lips again.

My roommate is so uptight bro. He seems so stressed about his classes. He never has time to hang out with me. I wish there was a way to help him have fun again.

You wasnt sure what to expect. The directions told you to leave the bag under his pillow and everything worked out. After a few days nothing really changed. He seemed to hang out a bit more, but exams had just ended so it didn't seem weird. The third day is when shit seemed weird. An earthy smell hang around him, and he seemed not really himself. You asked him about it but he didn't seem to realise it himself.

The next day you opened the door to your appartment to find it filled with smoke.

"Ethan!!" You scream, you run around the house trying to find your roommate.

Suddenly a rush of air sucks away all the smoke out to the patio. Frowning you quickly move towards the back, your jaw dropping at what you see.

"Ey Michael, what's up. " Ethan is lounging on the couch outside, at least, you think its Ethan. The face was similar but that's about it. His arms were huge, the toned torso, thick legs and the tattoos.

"Ethan is that you?" You ask

"Ye man in the flesh" he winks at you as he gropes his unmissable bulge.

You stare as a grin begins to form on his face. He motions you over, but you hesitate.

"Sit"

His voice carries weight, enough force to move your legs against your will. You sit down next to him and he wraps his arm around your shoulder, his musk entering your nostrils, quickly turning your brain into a loopy mess.

Ethan smiles as he holds up a blunt he seemingly got out of nowhere and lights it. The burning herbs send you deeper into trance and you take it between your fingers. Your vision blurs, only Ethans handsome face and the blunt sharp. You take a deep drag and your whole body tenses. A hot rush runs all over and you begin to sweat. You groan a soft pressure pressing down on your groin.

You quickly begin to pack on muscle. Your clothes burst open, leaving you in your underwear, which, much to Ethans delight, quickly begins to tighten around your growing bulge.

You continue smoking the blunt as you increase in height, size and smell. After a while you look back at Ethan and grab his neck and pull his face to yours and make out with him.

You can't remember much, thinking definitely isn't one of your strong suits now, but you can always have a fun relaxing session with your roommate.

Hello, is this croviniac support ?

I installed the app on my boyfriends phone, I wanted to turn him into a young, hot teen (18) biker. In the past few weeks, my twink bf got more and more stinky specifically around his feet. What’s going on ?

You did a good job. I like your friend in his new role. The motorcycle outfit looks damn good on him.

But did you really really think he would stay a twink if he became a biker. Where do you think he always goes with his bike in the morning and evening? Pumping iron, of course. However, you should have paid attention to what the body hygiene settings are. "Lick and be licked" is already a hard kink.

He's not that muscular yet. He's still getting to the armpits. But you have to take care of the feet. Or change the settings again. With Chronivac nothing is chiseled in granite!

Possession isn't easy. The act requires strong emotion to fuel the take-over. At long last, I was able to achieve the difficult feat in an old run-down gym in my former neighborhood. I watched them take my gym in what was now deemed the "undesirable" part of town and gentrify it into a new, exclusive "workout spa". A rage was brewing inside me after several years now of silently witnessing the rich pretentiousness, white grievance and pervasive sexism constantly inhabiting the locker room. I snapped when overheard three trust-fund bros recount their most recent homophobic hate crime from the night before. That swell of emotion was what I needed to take over one of these bastards and flex my phantasmic powers.

Fueled by rage, I rush at the one named Kyle and become lodged inside his body. He doubles over as his consciousness becomes intertwined with mine. His body cracks and shifts as his musculature redistributes from a body that was worked endlessly on upper body bulk to one that was the result of balanced focus on definition with nicely built thighs to support a tight ass. Tattoos bloom on Kyle's skin as he stands back up straighter, taller.

Kyle's bros are shaken by the sudden transformation of their comrade. They are struck by a pang of dread as they see the cocky and hungry look develop across my face as I take full control of my new vessel. One final change catches me off guard—I involuntarily tilt my new head back and moan as pleasure overtakes my new body. My new bros can only stare as my junk fills my jock strap pouch to the brim: dick growing, balls swelling, all while unlocking new levels of sensitivity. My pheramone kicks in, putting the bros in front of me into a trance. They're not going anywhere.

The wave ebbs and I look over Brad and David. It won't be long before I've transformed them into my new gay, sweaty, jock boyfriends who will help me mold this exclusive "fitness spa" into my new harem.

No Such Thing As A Free Ride

One would do well to exercise caution when hitchhiking, don't want to end up going somewhere untoward. Hitchhiker to Bro muscle growth and personality change!

In other news I've been reblogging my favorite stories at my side blog if that's interesting to anyone! Feel free to send feedback or questions there if you have them!

Occam's Revue

As ever, Enjoy! -Occam

Jace always says that he bikes to work for environmental reasons, but in reality it’s just to save some cash. Cars are expensive after all and if he ever needs a ride somewhere it’s never too hard for him to get one, usually without even needing to use an app or anything. Case in point, not five minutes after losing a tire on his bike and beginning the dauntless task of signaling to cars he already has a bite. It’s not his first time hitchhiking, usually he gets a ride sooner than he expects but this was almost bizarrely fast. 

Pulling up just in front of Jace, coming to a stop in the shoulder, is a massive truck. He grimaces at the bumper stickers for a local infamously bro-y gym but decides to not turn his nose up and tosses his bike in the empty truck bed. Beggars should not look at gift horses and what not he grumbles to himself as he makes for the side door. Before getting in he takes note of the certainly illegal tint on the windows, the only thing visible through the blackness is a massive figure in the driver’s seat. He starts to reconsider before seeing a glint where the man’s eyes must be as a voice commands, “Get in.” He is overcome with darkness as the world goes black.

Jace feels his body buckled in and in motion before any of his other senses return. He hears gusts of wind soaring through a window, deciding he must be in the truck apparently speeding down the road. His eyes open blearily and he looks around the cabin, confirming his bike is in the back before inspecting the driver. Jace blushes as he sees a massive shirtless man with his eyes on the road. He watches as the veins in his arm bulge, tendons straining with every small movement of the wheel. Jace takes in every powerful line of the man before he squints, the edges of his memory slowly returning, what exactly just happened. He opens his mouth to speak but only a creaky groan comes from his dry throat.

This is enough to draw the driver’s attention, “Woah bro you up now? You totally conked out as soon as ya hopped in. Didn’t even have a chance to introduce myself, ‘S Chase!” He sends up the automatic windows before sticking out a hand for Jace to shake. He hesitates seeing a hand that would certainly more than encompass the whole of his own, grimacing as he concludes it surely can’t be clean. Nevertheless he meets it with a gulp and chokes out a, “Th- thanks for the ride Chase, I’m Jace.” Chase guffaws at their rhyming names as he continues speeding down the highway.

Jace then wonders where they’re driving to, Jace surely wouldn’t buckle up without knowing where they were going? But surely they didn't work something out if they’ve only just introduced themselves? He’s pretty sure they’re going in the direction of his home as he tries to dig deep in his memory, trying to understand what led him to get in this car. Before recollection can begin outright, with the windows now rolled up, Jace is absolutely overwhelmed as an oppressive body odor begins to fill the cabin of the truck. Any coherent thought in his mind vacates as he is assaulted by what must be this man’s abhorrent musk. He rachets his arm up to cover his nose and Chase turns and tilts his head, “Everything alright bro?”

Jace scowls as he looks back at the driver, it seems almost supernatural how horrid it suddenly smells in the car. He scans Chase’s figure looking for obvious sweat stains before balking as he sees the man completely dry despite each ongoing breath feeling like it is more musk than air. Putting two and two together Chase sniffs the air before guffawing once more, “Yooo bro, huhuh, you’re absolutely rank.” The idea is so ludicrous he doesn’t even think to consider it as a possibility. His arm rockets away from his nose as he opens his mouth to insult the meathead. He doesn’t get a chance to do so, feeling the telltale yet unfamiliar sensation of his arm sliding against the sweat still pouring out his armpits, his mind goes absolutely blank and his face burns crimson in embarrassment.

Chase, never scared of a little bro stink, pats him on the scrawny shoulder and laughs loudly, deliberately grating Jace might think were he able to form thoughts over the blood rushing through his head. “Must’ve been outside a while huh bro.” Jace’s eye twitches as the jock calling him bro cuts through his paralysis, he goes to sniff his pits to see just how bad the damage is, only to find it sickly alluring to him. He feels something catch in his chest, feeling almost giddy at getting off to his own pit stink. Deep laughter just as Chase has done a handful of times nearly escapes Jace, as instinctual and unconscious as a sneeze or yawn. He holds back hearing Chase ask a question, “Did you still wanna head home or get a session in at the gym first?”

Stupid question. Why would he ever want to go to the gym with some guy he doesn’t even really know, still he responds evasively, if not with kindness, given the inherent charity of the situation, “Oh! No thanks Chase, I’m, uh, a little tired and all.” Almost tackling on a I should shower to the end, the thought goes sour in his mind and he shakes it off. Chase purses his lips and shrugs, “Yeah that checks out ‘lil bro. You’d probably get in the way anyway with that long hair and all.” 

Jace feels insulted before he is torn on whether or not to be taken aback by that, as stated he doesn’t want to go so he should just let it fly. But something in his chest suddenly wants to speak up at the challenge. And what was up with that weird hair thing, he can just tie it up obviously. Jace pulls down the passenger mirror to look at his reflection, to tidy his hair or perhaps put it up to show the dunce how he’s surely able to go with him. No action follows as his reflection appears, seeing the long garish hair trailing down his back he is hit with a feeling of disdain, almost revulsion, at his long gaudy bleached hair. He puts a good deal of effort in each day taking care of his long locs, but all of a sudden, wouldn’t it be better if they were just gone? He’d look way better if his hair was like Chase’s. God he almost just wants to rip it out.

His hands rocket to his scalp and he itches with determination, as if this basal instinct was the only thing that matters to him. His long hair flies around the car no mind paid to its aesthetics or care, with each lash out the strands begin to shrink back into his scalp. Losing its carefully colored bleach and cleanliness as it rapidly sucks in, leaving behind a greasy close-cut that would do well to be hidden under a hat. His head swings back into the seat rest and he stares again at his own reflection, pride or something even more primal rises in his chest as he sees this new masc haircut framing his pretty boy face. Chase’s hand goes to hit him in the back of the head, “Nice haircut bro! You look like a real man now huhuh! You growin’ out some stubble to huh?”

Jace rubs his hair a few seconds longer watching as a few hairs start to poke out of his chin. In no time at all he’s got a messy yet deliberately maintained beard on his chin. He checks his angles in the mirror and fights back against the instinct to smirk at his own reflection. God what’s gotten into him. As if reading his mind Chase quickly interjects to keep him focused on his reflection, “your arms are lookin’ pretty tight too dude. Bet they’d look better without those tattoos though.”

Rather than retorting about his arms being sticks and bones or defending the tattoos that he spent a good deal of time stressing and dreaming over. The first thought that surfaces as his eyes stare into the small mirror is ‘what tattoos?’ His eyes glaze over as he stares at himself, his mouth lulling ajar, just short of drool pooling out as his arms rise to flex. Blotches that must be tattoos on his upper arm rapidly fade as he strains to make muscle rise on his biceps. Definitely not though as he’d never get tats, and distract from his definition? Psh- Muscle pounds out of his arms as the thought occurs to him. Veins pulse as a defined almost baseball sized hunk of meat bulges on his arm, no larger than a baseball. Jace finally gives in and smirks at himself as he is overcome with pride looking at his own reflection. Fuck his arm looks so fucking jacked.

Seeing Jace flex at himself Chase tries his luck again, “Still don’t want to hit the gym with me bruh?” Jace clicks his tongue and replies, “I literally just said no didn’t I br-” only just stopping short of calling Chase bro. Massive arms he may have but he certainly doesn’t have the head of a dullard on his shoulders. His shoulders. Meekly looking at his reflection, he can't help but focus on his small shoulders and chest, aching for more power. Chase brightens as a rare thought bursts into his mind, “Ohhh I get it bro, you’ve already been today haven’t you?”

Jace’s eyes widen as the words pour over him, already been to the gym today? His chest vibrates as muscle begins to form where there was no weight at all to speak of. His nipples rub against his shirt as pecs begin to stretch his tank top tight before straining it to its limits. He grunts as he feels the traps he only just wished for push out of his bony back, the straps over his shoulders cutting into his now expanded shoulders, as the seat belt tightly hugs the chest still pushing out larger. It is not long at all before his shirt rips off altogether, Chase shouts praise for his bro but the gears begin to slow to a crawl in Jace’s mind as he feels the heat radiating off his impossibly growing body.

Like a computer overheating, every process in his mind slows as he struggles not to just shut down in the face of this, this. He cannot waste effort thinking about what horrors are happening to him. He just needs to, ugh stop it. He just- He just needs to flex, doesn't he? His body does so whether that’s what he wanted or not. Vibrating with power and strain as whatever resistance remains in his mind begins to trickle away as he feels a pressure grow in his crotch. Jace feels his thighs strain his pants and he kicks off his shoes before they burst entirely, revealing his incredibly holey socks and loosing his inhuman foot odor into the car. No chance to react as his core rapidly tightens, abs pounding and putting on weight as from head to toe he hardens and grows tight with power.

He burps loudly, tasting something unfamiliar and chalky. It is immediately followed up by a laugh rather than the shame that something inside him desperately fights to assign it. It is met with a side-eye from the driver before he too bursts out laughing, “Brooo I thought you said you didn’t wanna get pumped with me! Why’d you have pre then?” Jace blushes as he looks down at his crotch, seeing his cock pump larger than it ever has before, though he tilts his head in confusion as he doesn’t see a pre-stain, yet at least. Jace turns to look at Chase in sheepish confusion before the man responds, “Huhuh, pre-workout you doofus, stop thinking with your balls for a sec bruh, hah!”

Jace smiles to himself, pleased that Chase found him funny even if it was at his expense. Why would he be with his bro if he wasn’t going to the gym, he did drink pre-workout like his bro said? Jace feels himself start to get a headache as he strains to think, Chase’s eyes fill with pity before darkening with a hunger as he pats Jace on the back, “ay chill chill bro, you don’t need to come if you don’t want to.” Jace’s eyes burn and his nose flares as he grunts. He does want to go to the gym, now. He needs to more than anything. His mind is filled to bursting with the desire to spend time pumping iron with his bro at the gym. Chase smirks as he watches the fire leave his passenger’s eyes and they glaze over. Clearly no original thoughts will be flashing through his mind, perhaps no thoughts at all anymore. 

He speaks up and Jace looks over like a dog to his owner, “While we’re on the way Jace, would you mind driving the rest of the way so I can wank one out real quick? You know how I get in there and I don’t want to lose it while I’m lifting bruh, huhuh.” Jace nods eagerly looking for any way to please his bro. He buckles up, tossing his leg over the wheel as Chase hops in the back. Images of his bro doing this before fill Jace's mind, alongside just as many of the two of them jacking off back there together. He shakes his head as he feels his cock start to stir in his pants, inching further down the leg of his shorts. He smirks as he thinks about their workout, and more importantly the fun they are to have together immediately after as he smells Chase’s odor start to mingle with his own. No thoughts are spared on the bike sitting in the back as it shifts to a dirty workout bag, why would he need a bike anyway when he never leaves his bro’s side.

Surfin' The Years Away

Wade reluctantly follows his boyfriend into a new thrift shop. After trying on some old surf shorts he is blasted into the past. With each passing moment and stray thought he's body and mind molded into the King of this mid-century beach.

What better time for a surfer TF than Winter huh? In season for any Aussie/Southern Hemisphere readers I might have haha! At any rate, Hope you enjoy this little time travel TF, got a cowboy TF coming next ;) Best ! -Occam

Wade and Dylan don’t know how they’ve somehow overlooked the vintage shop on Main Street until now. Wade’s more than happy to make a note of it and come back later, quite eager to get out of the cold. But when Dylan pulls on his sleeve and begs they check it out, “We’ll just be in and out babe-” the driver acquiesces with a grumble and turns into the small parking lot.

Before the engine’s off, Dylan hops out of the small car and sprints inside in search of some theoretical hidden gem. Wade sees his sigh in the icy air before he knew he released it. Longing for the end of the winter he trudges carefully along the icy sidewalk behind his happy-go-lucky boyfriend. 

The woman at the counter pages through some old magazine of vintage clothing while Dylan raids the racks. Wade eyes the cluttered store as he fights back a sneeze from the dusty shelves. Quite the eclectic shop, certainly not a store with a specific market in mind. What can only be leather fetish gear hangs on the walls next to some army surplus gear and in between are rack after rack of pastel skirts and oversized vintage suits.

He hears his boyfriend squeak in excitement as he pulls two things off their coat hangers. “Wade! Look~ Bell Bottoms!” He holds a pair of something more akin to boho pants up to his waist and poses, “Aren’t they just 60’s chic babe?” Queen that he is, Wade opens his mouth to question or debate when exactly they became vogue, but before he has a chance there’s a glimmer in Dylan’s eyes as he pulls out a piece for Wade to judge.

“And I found these for you babe!” Stretching the string waistband with a wink, Dylan produces a pair of surf shorts that are surely a few sizes too large for Wade, who remains ready to leave. Responding to a complaint not yet uttered Dylan raises a finger to silence him and continues, “C’mon just try ‘em on Wadey! You can tighten them all the way up, this way if you keep up on your gym plans they’ll be perfect for your beach bod!” 

Wade grumbles and reaches out to grab the shorts. Though he’s loath to admit it, he’s surprised at how right they feel now that they’re in his hands. Pursing his lips he doesn’t acknowledge the strange sensation. Wade shakes his head in shock as after a moment holding them, he’s filled with an urge to strip then and there to throw them on. Blushing at the strange thought he keeps silent and allows himself be dragged towards the two shabby dressing rooms in the back of the store.

Dylan, holding his bell bottoms and a vest Wade didn’t see him pick up, does a little pose before dipping into the changing room on the left. Ready to be done and slightly on edge from his intrusive thought, Wade enters the curtained space opposite. Like any other of the millions of dressing rooms throughout the country there’s a mirror, a small mounted bench, and spot to hang up your clothes. What is less expected is the bizarre silence that overtakes him as he steps past the curtain, as if he were in a recording booth.

Holding his shorts he forcefully assumes it’s just his ears popping and he’ll be right as rain any moment now. It’s anyone’s guess as to why the sound of Dylan’s humming as he changes into his little outfit is totally muted by two hanging sheets of fabric. As far as Wade is concerned his boyfriend has simply decided to go quiet, willfully ignoring how out of character that is for a man as uncomfortable with silence as Dylan is. Faced with this strange supernatural quiet Wade feels himself begin to understand the discomfort.

The man’s two feet away, Wade should hear the shuffling of clothing if nothing else. Hackles officially raised, Wade starts to investigate, though before his hands can reach the curtain he’s struck with a migraine and thought that’s not his own blaring in his head, It is of no concern, I should change into the surf shorts. Lip quivering the shorts are already in his hands as he turns back to the mirror.

His reflection flickers as his pants fall to the ground, goosebumps soaring up his legs from the shock of losing their cozy covering. Unwilling to acknowledge whatever horror must lie in the mirror he forces his eyes shut as his body moves of its own accord to pull the baggy shorts on. When he feels them cinched and tied on his thin waist he opens his eyes, holding fast to the idea that everything is fine, must be fine.

In the mirror he finds his reflection as it always is, tacky swim shorts notwithstanding. He looks exactly as he should. Wade sighs in relief before he notices that he’s not out of the impossible jungle yet. What is different is the room in which he finds himself, the curtain now striped, a harsh bulb hangs above him, the small bench replaced by a damaged wooden stool. 

Taking time to rationalize how he’s gotten these details mixed up, as is the only explanation, he sees a shimmer in the bottom of the mirror. Looking closely he sees a spark slowly panning up. When it reaches his feet he sees them slowly begin to darken, tanned by a sun they’ve rarely seen before they begin to bulge and lengthen. Seeing feet more akin to swim fins than what he knows he has he yelps and jumps away, getting tangled in the rough curtain before spilling into the vintage store’s hallway.

Dumbfounded, Wade scrambles to the floor and sees the vintage store is no more. In its place is what appears to be a cabana. Large windows show a bright beachside summer day, a far cry from the frigid world he knew it should be. Before he can pinch himself awake he flinches as some surfer bro gestures to his shorts and shouts, “Eyy Wade! Lookin’ killer brah!” 

Refusing to engage with the world he’s found himself in, Wade beelines to the tall, tanned, muscular man who addressed him by name and asks as his eyes start to tear up, “D- Dylan?” The surfer’s eyes focus in and his mouth closes into a look of shock before dropping into a slack jawed, “Whuh?” and settling on a smile as he laughs and ruffles Wade’s hair, “‘S Ray dude, you know that ahahah!” 

Ray? Wade rubs his eyes as he tries to remember if he knows a Ray, though really he doesn’t think he knows any surfers. Ray. With each searching thought comes a creeping sensation. The name feels right? It feels more at home, more familiar in his head, as if he’s thought of the man thousands of times. Ray. Yeah, he knows Ray, how could he not. Looking at the man standing opposite him, blushing at the tan pecs at his eye level he is struck with countless memories of watching him on the waves. Cheering on his, brah? No that can’t be-

“Should take your shirt off too Wade, show off for the ladies eh?” Ray flexes and Wade narrows his eyes, okay well that’s enough of this dude. He then slaps his forehead, what’s he thinking he just needs to call Dylan, obviously. He quickly runs back to the changed-changing room and arrives just in time to find his pants shifting into vintage shorts, quite like the pair he now wears. Swallowing his fear he reaches into the pocket for his phone, though the only thing he produces is a beaten up wallet and his car keys, now missing their fob.

Putting forth great effort to steady his breathing he checks the wallet to find a similarly damaged driver’s license unlike any he’s ever seen. Gone is the plasticine card he’s carried for years, replaced by some water stained, taped together laminated bit of paper with a signature sloppier than he’d ever use scrawled under his name. His eyes refuse to look at the date of birth as he opts to sprint back and confront Ray.

His feet pound hard on the few steps back to the cabana’s lobby, heavier than they had any right to. With each careening step they widen and lengthen racing to match the wretched paddles he saw in his reflection. Their soles roughening from what must be years of walking along dingy beachside sidewalks, perfect for sticking to a waxed board. “Okay dude, Ray, whatever your name is I’d like my phone back. I don’t think this stupid little prank is funny.”

Ray pauses mouth hanging open, its default state apparently, as he processes whatever it is that Wade must be whining about. He tilts his head and smirks a stupid smile at the clerk that Wade only just noticed, “Hear that Mabes? Wader over here thinks you had a phone in the changing room! Hah!” 

She rolls her eyes before turning to address the clearly apoplectic newcomer, “Wade I don’t know what your deal is today-” she pauses to look him up and down and groans, “God! How many times do I have to tell you guys, if you’re going to come in at least throw on shoes. No one wants to see your disgusting little feet.”

Ray performs indignance at this, throwing a heavy arm around Wade’s shoulder, though he shoots higher than he should as if he were expecting his bro to be taller than he is, “Now Mabe, babe. You won’t get me defindin’ the cleanliness of my brah here, but little! I’ll have you know he’s got the best board huggers this side of San Fran!” Wade narrows his eyes in confusion as whatever is going on is clearly beyond and beneath him. Though as Ray finishes speaking, the smaller man grunts as his feet cramp.

Looking down, Wade discovers that, alongside the world around him, he too has begun to change. His feet have clearly already grown, Dylan always poked fun at his small shoe size, but now they have grown beyond measure. Wade recoils in shock as they balloon once more, toes stretching further as his soles bulge wider.

They seem so large that he wonders where he’ll be able to even get shoes that big. Eyes flickering back and forth he figures he’ll just have to order them on Ama- uh? Wade’s eyes glaze over briefly as he loses his train of thought. His head pangs with pain as the idea of online shopping starts to fade. Surely they have catalogues for extra-large shoes or something, he’ll check with Ray later, yeah. Ray’ll know.

Speaking of, Ray and Mabel have continued arguing. Wade is unaware that as he was lost in his own mind, his new surfer bro has continued to defend him, and with each complimentary phrase Wade has begun to inch taller in height. Speaking of waves conquered and tubes bodied, Wade catches the tail end of one particularly exaggerated story as his mind begins to fill in the details. Back stretching and calves slowly bulking as he clearly recalls bailing from his board. He grunts again as he surges taller, thighs slowly bulking up as his new height exposes a pale midriff, attracting eyes from both of the spatting pair.

Finding he has their attention he clears his throat and begs, “Look, I don’t care about any of this-” Ray recoils in shock, “Can I borrow either of your cellphones so I can call my boyfriend?” Their eyes widen at the brazen use of boyfriend though the friends are well aware of Wade’s proclivities, what actually causes the strange stares is his asking for a cell phone. “Brah, did you hit your head or what? You know the cabana don’t have a phone.” 

Wade shakes his head, he doesn’t know that he doesn’t care, “Sure! Whatever!” he reaches out, “Can I borrow your cell phone.” Mabel and Ray eye each other once more before breaking out into laughter, “Shell phone? What are you on about dude?” Wade stares back with absolute shock and derision before his vision goes spotty and his head burns with a rolling headache. His hippocampus physically pulses as his mind and memories are rewritten.

A cell phone is foolish? A dream. A phone you could just up and carry anywhere? Science fiction. And yet he can almost picture a small black mirror in his hand. Embarrassed from their laughter and determined to not let this fact of reality be erased he continues to stare at his hand as if he’s trying to will one into existence. Unfortunately the only change that he notices is his skin bulging as his hand flexes larger, a few scars blanch from years on the beach as his hands struggle to keep up with his advancing height. One could almost hear his bones cracking as his fingers lengthen and grow calloused while his fingernails lose their polish, grow dirty, and shorten

He pounds the cabana counter and Mabel clicks her tongue, “Okay let’s cool it buddy, you wanna make a call Ray’ll take ya down the street.” She motions to the door with her head and Ray escorts him out, “Come back when you’ve worked out whatever this is on the waves huh Wade?” she pouts as she watches the pair go, taking care to stare at Ray’s defined back with a smile, then she snickers and whispers to herself as she gets back to her magazine, “been watching too much Star Trek I bet.”

Ray’s chipper as ever as he leads Wade out of the cabana, unknowingly more comfortable now that his arm rests closer to where it should after Wade sprouted a few inches. For his part, Wade finds himself distracted by the wild blue sea. Waves rise and crash into foam and he’d swear he could feel the bubbles, the surge on his skin. Like a dog staring at a treat he fights desperately with the urge to sprint across the sand to enjoy it right now.

In fact, his thicker feet begin their plodding to a surf wagon nearby with a couple boards stowed before he’s stopped by a question from Ray, “You wanna take your shirt off so you can get some sun brah? Lookin’ a little pasty there.” Wade shakes his head and tries to disregard his words, though as his mind continues to be assailed by a hunger to surf he gives up the ghost on the shirt battle and reveals his pale weak chest to the world, “s- sounds radical. I’l uhh, catch some rays. hah”

Ray starts to laugh at the pun but instead grimaces as the sight of Wade’s small pasty torso is incongruent with the reality that he knows to be true. Though with a mind accustomed to shrugging off strange ideas and problems too big to worry about he quickly throws his arm around Wade’s shoulders slowly growing wider. “Well let’s getcha to a pay phone so you can call your buddy!” 

Wade rolls his eyes and crosses his arms as the pair head down the boardwalk. He can scarcely focus on the increasingly rapid changes occurring to his body and mind as he’s still distracted by the sound of crashing waves. As the Summer Californian sun beats down on him, his skin starts to darken, closer to the shade Ray recognizes as Wade. Spreading forth in patches he tans to the customary surfer brown, ushering forth from surf shorts that aren’t quite filled and up past a core that is only now getting defined.

So too does his hair suddenly start to lighten. Lengthening into something sun bleached and salt stained. His usually clean-cut look begins to giveaway as the life he knows he should have is slowly eroded, just like the ebb and flow of the waves calling out for him. Pecs beginning to form darken and shine with sweat under the beating sun as he dreamily stares at the sea. Though despite it all, despite true real memories of life in the twenty-first century slowly fading like a mirage, he still remembers his time with Dylan clear as day. To this he holds fast as he stumbles forward from his heavier upper body.

As he continues to grow into this new form, molded by the alien world of the past around him, he begins to notice other surfers and beachgoers eyeing him with familiarity and nodding with respect. After his bicep bulges larger from returning a few shakas, he bumps his shirtless body into Ray to get his attention like he's done a million times. Finally tearing his eyes away from ogling scantily clad women, Ray tilts his head as Wade asks in a tone clearly affected by the thickening neck and shifting disposition, “Hey brah, er- Ray? Am I like, a big deal?”

Ray looks dumbly at Wade as his irises change to match the deep blue of his quarry before laughing, “Hah! Such a cut-up today brah! Course everyone knows you, you’re always ripping! If anyone needs any tips or tricks they come to you.” Wade clenches at his head as years of memories and knowledge rush into his mind. Equivalent to the sensation of bailing on his board into the choppy sea, he’s drowning in visions of showing off on the waves and taking care to help anyone who so desires to join him in enjoying the spray of a set. His chest puffs with pride and puffs larger with pecs as his jaw widens and now-blue eyes roll back. He’s the king of this beach. And just like that, as soon as the words, the idea, cross his mind he’s overwhelmed and pulled under. 

He awakens laid out on a bench somewhere down the way, he hears the Beach Boys playing through some static nearby and opens his eyes to see Ray’s face painted with concern, though as soon as he hears Wade speak up he returns to his usual happy-go-lucky expression. “Gnaaarly dude- feel like I just woke up for the first time~” The new surfer then coughs up some sea water which he finds as strange, he wasn’t surfing was he?

This small quibble with reality acts as one final life preserver to the life he once knew. Just odd enough for him to question his situation, his reality. For a moment he stares at his tanned, veiny hands and questions is this who he is? Trailing up arms patterned with sun-bleached blonde hair and briefly hung up on the quarter-sized nipples poking off a thick chest. He scratches his stomach, for some reason expecting to find a bit of a belly, his fingers instead bump against tight abs.

Unfortunately his last grasp at the future is haplessly wasted as he’s almost immediately distracted by Surfin’ U.S.A, “Ugh-” he chokes out in his now perpetually fried, laid-back voice, “Why’s this dad rock playing?” Ray laughs and helps the man up, “Maan Wade you’re on a trip today, first goin’ on and on about selling phones and some enter-net! You know your dad hates the Beach Boys! Ahahah” With this paltry grasp his past self is evermore washed to sea, Ray’s recollections sound just as strange to Wade as they did to him and Mabel. 

Even the explicit mentions of cell phones and the internet isn’t enough to prevent the rubber band from snapping as decades of lived experience with future technology is wiped from his mind. Memories of the modern world thoroughly displaced by life sprinting across the sands and mooring the foundations of surfing as a continental sport. Just as Ray has done countless times today alone, Wade smiles dumbly in brief reflection on his life lived.

 Going forward on rare occasions some fragment of his other self washes up to his mind like jetsam. Sometimes when he sees a record he can’t help but wonder if they’ll be smaller one day or he’ll reach for something in his pants out of habit when he has a question to ask, before shaking it off like a strange tic. His crew often labels him some kind of prophet as he seems almost too keenly aware of how global events will shake out.

“I swear brah, gettin’ me worried that your new guy’s slipped ya somethin’” Ray says with a wink. Wade flinches with a start, that’s right! He needs to call Dylan immediately! Putting change in a pay-phone like he’s done all his life he dials a number he knows by heart and holds his breath, begging the universe that Dylan will answer the other line as the ringing tone vibrates the receiver, and then his miracle is answered. 

Sounding as if he’s discovered cloud 9, somewhere across the town his love, Dylan, answers, “Heyyyyy, ‘s this Wadey?” The sound of his voice fills Wade’s thicker chest with comfort, “Dyl! God it’s so nice to hear you…” He stands there for a few seconds, only then does he notice how tight his swim shorts have become from his bulking thighs and building ass. Though of course, the most prominent issue at the moment is the rising dilemma in front. He blushes and bites his lip as he tries to speak with more discretion, “You uhhh, down to come over to ours later today?” 

He can almost hear the smile of the man on the other line, “Uhhh yeahh, yeah… Me ‘n my uhhh freaks are on a trip righnow. But yeaaah, think I could swing by baby” Wade can almost see the man on the other line, delighting in the feeling of his fingers twirling the phone wire in his hands, certainly too high to work out a time but Wade doesn’t mind. The promise of a future fuck and time together after is more then enough, “Righteous brah, well I’ll see you then Dyl.” His lover just giggles and the pair hang up at the same time, bonded tighter than ever despite their strange unknown journeys apart. Sighing in delight and ignoring the pulse in his pants, Wade turns to face his brah.

For the first time Wade throws his arm around Ray’s shoulder as the pair wander off towards his wagon. Ray gestures for him to try and mask his clearer than anything erection though the surfer just shrugs, “Oh sure dude, as if anyone ever misses your goose eggs you little horndog.” The pair guffaw and continue to tease eachother as they start back towards Mabel’s cabana.

 Glimmer in his eyes and too eager to not speed up, Wade hits his bro on the back and challenges him on a race to their boards. His new legs carry him faster than he’s ever managed before. Settled into his new life the feeling of his feet pounding into the hot sand fills him with contentment. There’s no place he’d rather be than soaring across the beach while his crew watches.

The Boxers

Sometimes, the perfect life just finds you, bruh.

I used to be a pretty normal guy. Wait, scratch that, I was a total fuckin’ nerd. I spent all my time playin’ video games and readin’ fantasy books and shit. I was getting a degree in computer science, so I spent all my time alone, coding shitty apps and nerding out on Reddit.

I had, like, no sex life, lmao. I was a weedy little Indian geek, bro, you know the type, right? I had negative game. Every weekend, I’d spend all night playing WoW or whatever, then go to bed and fantasise about how many bros I’d get once I was, like, CEO of a multibillion dollar startup.

I guess the universe looked at me one day and said, “Why wait, bro?”

I got back to my dorm one night and these, like, gross boxers were sitting right on my floor. I remember I thought they were totally lame, because they had the Sriracha logo all over them. “Who wears those but nasty frat boys?” I thought to myself. Huhuhu, little did the old me know.

Anyway, these boxers were totally messing up the vibes of my dorm. I used to be such a neat freak, bro. A place for everything, and everything in its place. A smelly, used pair of boxers made my skin crawl. So, obvi, I went to pick them up with two of my slim little fingers and toss them in the trash. I figured it was some kind of gross prank on me.

Once I’d picked ‘em up, I could see exactly how dirty those boxers were. The legs were stiff with layers of musky sweat, the smell wafting off them strong enough to make my eyes water. There were a couple of grease stains on them, like some dude had eaten dinner in just his undies. The crotch was crusty, too. Someone, maybe multiple someones, had cum in these boxers.

I remember wondering why the thought got me hard.

Rather than taking the Sriracha boxers to the trash like I’d planned, I found myself giving them a second sniff, and then a third. Goddamn, they were fuckin’ gross, bro. I thought it was just my disgust making me smell them over and over again. Like I was trying to figure out exactly what had gotten on them.

Before long, I was palming my lil cock through my slacks, holding the boxers close to my face with my other hand. It was, like, a total head rush every time I took another sniff. Like I could feel my brain blanking out as I took more and more of the musky stench into me. Not that I knew that was what was actually happening, huhuhu.

When I stripped off my pants and undies to jerk off better, I suddenly had an awesome idea. I could, like, wear the Sriracha boxers and jerk off in them. My brain was already at least halfway transformed by then, lol. I was definitely no nerd at that point. The idea of wearing another guy’s musky boxers got me so fuckin’ turned on.

I pulled the boxers up my skinny brown legs. They hung on my hip bones, barely able to stay on. I laid down on my bed and felt my rock hard cock through the crusty fabric. It was like I could feel the cum and sweat of everyone who’d ever worn that underwear seeping into my skin as I massaged drops of precum out of my balls.

As I writhed on my sheets, lost in pleasure, my skinny Indian body started to change. It started with my feet, which cracked and stretched as they grew big and thick. They started to sweat, a funky foot musk joining the renewed stench of the Sriracha boxers, which were getting super wet with my precum. It was like the brown leached out of my skin with my musky foot sweat, too, as my big feet got all pale.

The change continued up my bare calves, which got super hairy as the muscles flexed and swelled. My legs lengthened as huge quads and hammies swelled up under my whitening skin. God, said my musk-addled mind, I love leg day. I started to flex and wiggle my bulky thighs, feeling the muscles stimulate my growing prostate.

I let out a high pitched little bitchboy moan as my ass inflated with juicy muscle and fat, but I knew that my voice wouldn’t sound like that for much longer. I’d totally embraced the transformation as my cock and balls filled out the pouch of the boxers. They were no longer, like, loose and shit. My fat ass and big bro cock were stretching the sweaty fabric to its limits, bro!

My chest followed, going from slim to bulky so fast that all the buttons on my nerd shirt hit the ceiling. Sweat instantly started to roll off my furry new pecs, and I ran my soft little hand up and down my thick, firm belly and flexed the solid abs I knew were underneath the fat. More than the boxers and the smell, my body was starting to turn me on, bruh. I was becoming, like, a total frat god.

The curly brown hair that grew in my armpits smelled sooooo good as sweat started to drip off it. I totally buried my little nerd face in my own pits and licked up my sweat as I watched my arms bulk up and get all pale and hairy. It was so hot flexing my bicep and watching it bulk up before my eyes, dude! I felt my hand grow as I tugged my big jock cock in the Sriracha boxers, thickening up and getting some hard-earned weightlifting calluses.

The last thing to change was my head. My moans got deeper, slower, and totally dumb-sounding as my neck thickened. A thick brown beard grew on my cheeks, framing my cheesy dumb smile perfectly. My nose cracked and grew into a big ol’ sniffer, even more sensitive than my old nose so I can really take in my bros’ musk.

My old black buzzcut grew out into a curly brown mane, totally greasy from all the sweat I soak it with when I work out, huhuhu. As my forehead got all pale and my eyes turned blue, I felt my cock go over the edge, and I came right into the Sriracha boxers. Pump after pump of musky frat bro cream, taking my old self with it to impregnate the boxers with even more fratty juice. As the room filled with the smell of my thick load, I totally passed out.

The next morning, I woke up in an unfamiliar room. I was in a big bed with musky, sweat-stained sheets, a bunch of stale, unwashed gym gear all over the floor. I was still wearing the Sriracha boxers, my cum caked into the stain along with all the other bros’, along with a cap that I turned backwards as I sat up. I pulled on a tank without too many sweat stains on it and went to explore.

Turned out I lived at the Mu Upsilon Sigma frat house now. The whole place smelled like a sweaty armpit, and it was full of musky bros who were more than happy for me to get all up in their smelly pits and cracks.

I wore the Sriracha boxers for a couple days. Honestly, I dunno how long, I usually only change my boxers like once a month, huhuhu. I worked out, jerked off, got drunk, got fucked, and jerked off some more, all while wearing those boxers. Then I left ‘em in some nerd’s dorm as a prank, huhu.

It was so hot to watch the lil Japanese guy get as zonked out on the musky boxers like I had, bro. We hid in his closet and watched while he jerked off and turned into another musky white frat boy like us, then carried him to the MYS house once he passed out.

It’s been a couple weeks since then, and MYS membership has only grown, bruh! Each bro wears the Sriracha boxers for a few days, adds his personal touch to the, like, seasoning, and then we pass ‘em on to another nerd and induct him into frat life! Maybe some night soon, you’ll see these bad boys in your dorm, huhuhu. Life's perfect in the frat, bro!

Michael’s Pits

Getting into his car Michael closed the door and basked in the hot musty sedan. It was a hot day and he had left a pair or two of worn shoes sitting in his car just baking and letting their aroma amplify. Michael took in some deep breaths as he felt sweat running down his body, he had just exited the gym and the hot sun outside kept his body from cooling off. Michael loved summer because he always worked up the most stink during the sweltering summer months, lifting his arms. He turned his head to get a deep sniff of one pit and then turned his head to get a whiff of the other. Both were producing a dank scent that pleased Michael and his dim mind. Hearing his phone buzzing he looked down and saw someone texting him, the text was from his boyfriend asking what he wanted to do for dinner.

Camron was a little surprised when his boyfriend Michael texted back and told him “we shuld get a pizza bro”, Michael never spoke like that so it was very odd to Camron that Michael was texting like a dumb jock all of a sudden. “Sure babe I’ll order it” Camron texted, he called the pizza place they go to sometimes.

Walking into the pizza place a sweet looking guy was standing at the cash register, “Hi how can I help you today?” he asked Michael. Michael looked at him dumbly for a second and a dopey grin crossed his face, “Great! A fucking weirdo” thought the cashier. The cashier, Sage, asked again, “How can I help you today, sir?”. Michael’s foggy brain cleared up a little bit to allow him to tell the cashier what he needed, “Uhhh hi bro im picking up a pizza”, “What’s the name?” Sage politely asked, “Uhhhh it’s under…ummmm…” his brain was having trouble getting his boyfriend’s name out “it’s under Camron!” he shouted out joyfully. “Okay! Let me go get that for ya” Sage said, going into the kitchen Sage found the pizza box with Camron scribbled on the side. Walking back out Sage was met with the sight of Michael sniffing his armpit, Sage could smell the B.O. wafting over the counter and into his nose. “Ummm here you go sir…” Sage said apprehensively as he was being weirded out, “Do you think my pits stink lil man?” Michael asked the cashier as he scratched his fingers in his wild forest of pit hair. “Ummm sir…I-,” Sage stuttered out “Here give em a whiff” Michael said, sticking the hand he was just scratching his revolting pit with into the cashier’s face, Michael laughed as Sage took an accidental sniff.

Sage felt his body go limp as the stench emanating off Michael’s fingers put him in a trance, “Whats happening!?!” Sage thought “This…this guy…reeks”. Michael watched as the cute little cashier began to drool, his eyes became unfocused and dull upon smelling Michael’s masculinity. Removing his fingers for a second, Michael walked around the counter to be right next to Sage, getting a couple whiffs of fresh air, Sage shook his head and blinked. Wiping the drool away he shouted out “What just happened?! G…get away! NO! BACK OF MAnnn…” Sage’s words drifted off as he was put back in Michael’s stinky armpit. Holding the pipsqueak’s head into his pit, Michael watched as his musty scent did it’s job.

Sage began to grow, the first transformation Michael saw started after about a minute or two of exposure to the stink. Sage’s neck began to expand with muscle, which quickly spread into his dainty shoulders, turning them into two massive hulking mounds. Sage felt as an intense tingling descended into his arms, they quickly transformed into looking like a hillside, all the rolling muscles he had just grown were so perfect and round. His armpits filled with a peppering of hair and began to produce their own nauseating stench similar to Michaels. Michael looked on proudly as Sage’s pecs bounced out and touched him and his stomach chiseled itself into a perfect six pack. Sage’s thighs began to expand next as the transformation moved downwards, the tiny toothpicks he once had for legs turned into massive meaty members holding him up. His feet began to grow next and they quickly burst out of the sneakers containing them and released Sage’s newly developed rotten foot funk.

Pulling his victim out of his armpit, Michael got to see his new face. It had changed while stuck in Michael’s smelly pit. His skin had gotten a good bit darker, his goatee had become just a patch of hair underneath his chin, and his stache disappeared. He lost all the femininity he once had and looked like a reeking latino gym bro. Michael was satisfied and took the pizza and left, on his way out another young twinkish customer walked in and he heard Sage ask the customer “Huhuhuh bro do my pits stink?”.

Getting Comfortable

“Wait! Lemme get a little more comfortable before we hit the road,” Rhett chirped giddily in a high southern accent as he snatched the jeans and t-shirt out of his bag in the backseat. His small, pale, twig-like body flung out of the car in a hurry.

“For fuck sake Rhett, it’s an hour and a half to Nashville, how ‘comfortable’ you need to get?! We’re gonna be late to the show!” Tanner snapped angrily from the driver’s seat in a deep Tennessean accent. He’s been a fan of this particular band for as long as he could remember and wasn’t going to let Rhett fuck it up. He had always been the more alpha of the two of them: more body and facial hair (hell, any body and facial hair), deeper voice, loads of friends and admirers, thicker build. But that didn’t mean Tanner was some good ol’ boy hard ass. His politics emphasized justice, he tried his best to be an ally, and he even fancied himself sexually liberated, not really ascribing to any labels. They’d known each other since they were roughly the same size, but their bond didn’t have trouble lasting through their drastically different physical developments. Tanner and Rhett were inseparable. They’d been friends for years and years, and let’s face it, Rhett always needed someone caring enough but stern enough as Tanner to look after him.

“Just a sec, won’t take long!”

Tanner threw his hands up and leaned back against the headrest, rolling his eyes at Rhett’s delay. He reclined in the seat and rubbed his eyes, not excited to travel an hour and a half, but looking forward to the destination. He just hoped Rhett would hurry up inside.

Tanner lowered his hands and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Rhett was standing just outside the car door and he had already removed his shirt. He was lowering his shorts quickly, exposing his pale, flat ass and his limp, weak dick.

“RHETT, the fuck?!!” Tanner yelled from the driver’s seat. He brought his voice down, but to a sharp, stinging hiss, “Fuck, man, you tryna get busted for indecent exposure?! Jesus H. Christ, man…”

“Chill chill chill chill chill…” Rhett responded in a carefree, sing-song voice, busying himself with his dressing/undressing and dismissing Tanner’s scolding.

Tanner threw his hands up again and brought him down forcefully on the steering wheel.

“Almost done,” Rhett reassured as he lowered the blue jeans down and stepped into them without any underwear. He wiggled each foot through the sleeves of the fabric and pulled them up. They wore pretty damn high on his waist and seemed several sizes too big for him. “And now…” he buttoned the pants at the waist, but still had to hold up the pants to keep them from falling.

Tanner didn’t want to mentioned how clownish he looked in the jeans as risk of hurting his friend’s feelings, “Good, then put the damn shirt on and get your ass in the—“

“Hhhuurrrrrnnnnnnggggghhh…”

As Rhett grunted, Tanner could see him rise up, gaining several inches in height in seconds, seemingly out of thin air. Tanner’s jaw dropped.

Rhett cocked his head down to see into the car, “Just give me one more minute, bud, I gotta-UUhhhrrrrrnnnnnggghh…”

As Rhett grunted again, Tanner watched as he inexplicably gained more height, several more inches than the last time, shit maybe even a full foot. It was hard for any 23 year old to be 5’4”, which was one of Rhett’s many crosses to bear, but Tanner guessed he could easily be around 6’7” or 6’8”. Fuck, his friend grew well over a foot, in seconds.

Tanner swallowed hard, “Rhett… Man, what’s—“

Tanner couldn’t see Rhett’s head anymore. The jeans at least looked to be the right length on his body, but Tanner saw Rhett hold his still-too-large pants up with his hands gripping the waist of the jeans, “Now, just hold your horses, Tanner, damn, just a couple more—Oh, HHRRRRNNG, Uuuuuuuhhhhh…”

Tanner felt himself chub up as Rhett’s body suddenly started to swell all over as he made his vocalizations. His body filled up well, muscles pressing up against flat, almost emmaciated skin, which deepened to a slightly darker color, as if he was gaining more health, just slightly sun kissed. Tanner could start to see, just barely, the jeans making contact with the shape of his legs for the first time. From Tanner’s vantage, it looked as though Rhett did a modest amount of gym work, maybe 1 or 2 times per week, which Tanner knew for a fact Rhett never did.

“Ah, almost there, like a said, just a couple… more…. HHHhhhhhuuuuuUUURRRNNNGGHH!…”

Tanner was at full mast as Rhett swelled up even more, his modestly muscled body gaining mass at an unbelievable rate, his vocalizations seemingly encouraging his growth. Rhett could let go of the waist of his pants, as his legs slowly filled out the jeans some more, stopping their growth when the jeans were about one size too big. The pants were caught from falling on his ample ass, which had swelled up to an impressive rounded shelf that slightly jutted out from behind him, and exposed the root of his cock and the light blonde whisps of his pubic hair. This time, Tanner could hear bones crack dully from the outside of his car, as Rhett’s body broadened to accommodate his growth. His abdominals and pecs pulsed larger and his waist tapered down to a V, which Tanner always found so sexy on dudes. His skin rid itself of any and all imperfections and deepened even darker in color. Fuck, Rhett developed a proper swimmer’s body in a matter of seconds! How in the hell was this happ—

“One more,” Rhett panted with effort. “One more second, I.. Oh…. I just—aww fuck—I just… gotta… UUUUUUUURRRRRRRNNNGGGGGGGHHHH!!!”

Tanner started absentmindedly, slowly stroking his dick over his shorts as Rhett’s body entered its final stage of growth. Tanner heard the fastest and most pronounced series of bones cracking and shifting as Rhett expanded even more. His skin deepened to a golden, spotless tan. His legs swelled larger and larger, looking like he could effortlessly crush a watermelon between his thighs. It looked like the jeans were painted on his body, hugging every curve. Speaking of curves, his ass swelled even larger, pulling the jeans tight around his impressive glutes. The tightness didn’t help the next developement, as Tanner saw the root of his cock began to pulse and his crotch began to twitch. With each pulse, Tanner saw the root of his cock plump thicker, thicker, thicker, thicker, leaving Rhett with an imposing cock the size of a Red Bull tall boy. His bulge fattened up nicely as well, as Tanner watched Rhett’s balls make large mounds in pants that were already tight as hell. Rhett grabbed onto the waist of the jeans and pulled them up to relieve his wedding tackle of the tightness his ass created, bouncing a little to make sure all his bits were settled in. With his bouncing, Tanner saw his pecs pound hard and thicken into rock hard slabs. His arms, still gripping the waist of his pants, pulsed and bulged and hardened into a set of guns that would rival Captain America’s. Fuck, Tanner had such a weak spot for arms. Finally, his abs cut into sculpted ridges and his waist developed the most mouthwatering set of cum gutters Tanner had ever seen. Rhett was now over a foot taller, and several feet broader than he was just maybe a full minute ago. Just from what Tanner could see from his vantage, Rhett could model anywhere, he’d be scouted in a heartbeat.

“Woooo!!!” Rhett yelled out enthusiastically to the sky and the (thankfully) empty parking lot as he bucked his hips, flexed his abs, and pumped his guns.

Tanner realized he hadn’t taken a breath for several seconds and inhaled deeply, feeling like he was a hair trigger away from busting all over himself and his car.

He swallowed hard, “Uh, Rhett—“

“I know, I know, Tanner,” Rhett answered in his still-high Tennessean accent, his head still obscured by the limits of Tanner’s viability from inside his car, thanks to Rhett’s massive gain in height. He started slipping on the blue shirt, which moments ago would’ve been way too big on his body, “‘Put on the goddamn shirt and get in the car,’ ya don’t hafta repeat yourself.” He pulled the shirt down from over his head.

“No, dude, it’s—“

Tanner was interrupted by another dull series of cracks, as if bones were breaking and shifting under bags of cloth, hearing Rhett grunt slightly, and seeing Rhett’s new godly pecs and his thick neck twitch. Finally, Rhett let out a hard, wet cough, cleared his throat, and Tanner watched his upper body pivot as he spit away from the car, hearing a heavy, wet slap against the pavement.

At last, Rhett swung one foot in and lowered himself into Tanner’s passenger seat. His face was sharper, more angular, and just downright more sexy and handsome. His hair was thicker, his skin was flawless. Everything, literally all things about this new creature that lowered himself into Tanner’s car bared all resemblance to the Rhett Tanner had always know, except if you took Rhett’s fuckability meter and cranked it up to 1000 and ripped out the dial. He was a fucking hunk, in literally every sense of the word.

Rhett pulled his sleeve back as he entered, knowing it would send Tanner over the edge.

“Alright, let’s move, cowboy,” Rhett said, grinning perfect teeth at Tanner, his voice an impossibly deep bass laced with a thick southern drawl.

“Rhett—!” Tanner moaned and gripped on hard to the steering wheel, cut off by his cock exploding inside his pants, without touching it at all. He moaned louder than he ever had in an orgasm, and veins popped in his arms while gripping the steering wheel as he bucked his hips, his cock still erupting thick volleys of cum.

Rhett, still grinning and chuckling while Tanner voided his balls. He was loving the impact he was having on his friend that he had always seen as a hell of a stud, and decided to give Tanner’s ‘no-hands’ ejaculation the parting shot it deserved. He took his strong hand, turned Tanner’s head towards him, and covered his mouth with his lucious, pillowy lips, shoving his new wider, thicker, longer tongue down Tanner’s throat. Tanner moaned into Rhett’s mouth as one last powerful shot burst out of his cock head.

Tanner was still gripping the steering wheel, heaving panting breaths, “Rhett, buddy, what the hell happened to you?”

“What, ya don’ like it?” Rhett asked with a feigned insultedness. He grinned and flexed his arm a bit more for Tanner’s pleasure.

“Nahnahnahnah, s’not like that at all, but like…. FUCK, man, you got a fuckin’ god bod! You’re a goddamn stud, man! How?!”

“Appreciate it, brother,” Rhett responded in his new, deep, drawling bass with a small blush and settled into his seat. He leaned his head against the seat and rolled his head to look back at Tanner with his hyponitizing green eyes, “You know that woodsy, spiritual shit you’re always giving me guff over?”

Tanner thought for a second, then cocked his head and narrowed his eyes in disbelief at Rhett. Rhett beared his pearly teeth and then spread his arms out, as if presenting his new body.

“No. Fuckin’. Shit.”

“‘Fraid so, my guy,” Rhett responded proudly. “Tried out this ritual last night. Didn’t have a lotta confidence in it, but figured what the hell. Hadta soak these britches and the shirt in this oily solution and let it dry, but once it did,” he displayed his body again as Tanner forced out a few disbelieving chuckles. “Took a helluva lotta self-control to not lose myself in hours and hours of self pleasure…”

“Shit, man, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. Why didn’t you?” Tanner asked admirably with a small laugh, picturing the image of Rhett writhing around on his floor all night, busting nut after nut, worshiping himself. Fuck.

Rhett lowered his head and went somber for a second, “‘Cus once I bust one lookin’ like this, all this,” he punctuated his words by gesturing up and down his new bod with his hand, “is here to stay.” he smirked at Tanner.

Tanner started chubbing up again, and chuckled, “Well, shit, brother, what’s the hold up?!”

Rhett’s smirk dropped and he looked dead in Tanner’s eyes, “Well, ‘cus I wanna do it with you, man.” Rhett started unbuttoning his jeans.

Tanner’s cock flooded with blood, “… Rhett, dude, I—“ Rhett lowered his zipper, “I don’t—“ Rhett pulled out his thick, uncut trouser snake and let it flop against his torso, and son of a bitch it was even bigger than Tanner imagined, “… uh, fuck, know what—“ Rhett spat into his hand and stroked as his cock thickened even more (if that were possible) and pointed straight up, his cock head beginning to peek through his foreskin, “—what to say, I…”

“Just suck it, dude, you know you want to.”

Tanner’s breath heavied. Should he? He looked at the cock. He’d never seen a boy’s dick look so goddamn inviting. He licked his lips. This was really happening.

“Fuck it.”

Tanner threw himself over the driver/passenger divider and eagerly took Rhett’s cock into his mouth and started bobbing his head and sucking with animal intensity. He reached his hand up to Rhett’s new, sculpted tits and squeezed, greedily groping his impressive rack.

“Yeah, man, get yourself a handfula that.”

Tanner gave a blowjob that would put to shame any bj he’d received in his own life, and Tanner was no slouch. Rhett grit his teeth and groaned with ecstasy, his powerful hand running through and gripping his friend’s thick, dark hair. He grinded his hips against his best friend’s face and ran his other hand and meaty arm down Tanner’s back caressing him, reaching under his shorts to squeeze his ass and play with his hole with his new, thick fingers.

“Awww, FUCK, bro, yeah keep suckin’, I gotta little surprise churnin’ in these fuckin’ sacks just for you, my man, awww fuuuckk yeah keep suckin’…”

Tanner obediently sucked, very eager to please his friend. Rhett speeded his grinding against Tanner’s face, his lower abs pressing into the side of Tanner’s head. Tanner could feel Rhett’s mushroom tip swell in the back of his throat, fuck he’s about to nut.

Tanner started to pull off Rhett’s dick, but Rhett forced his head back down, “Aww no man, you gotta take this, gotta little something special, get fuckin’ ready, I’m gonna-gonna-HHHHUUUURRRRNNNGGG!!”

Rhett groaned deeply, his head tilted back and veins protruding out of his thick neck as he unloaded a massive cum dump into Tanner’s throat and mouth. Tanner’s eyes watered as he felt hot, fresh jizz fire down his throat and fill up his mouth until his cheeks were bulging. Rhett took deep, heaving breaths, his huge chest rising and falling, wet sweat darkening his shirt around his neck and under his pits, his face glistened in the light and beads dripped from his hair. Then, like an electric jolt, he felt a cool, fizzing pulse flow through his body. Something changed. He was new. He let out a shuddering, emotional moan. This was Rhett now, he mused. Rhett with the ‘god bod.’

Rhett realized just then, in his euphoric bliss, that he was still holding Tanner’s face against his spent crotch.

“Whoops, sorry there, buddy. But I need you to listen real careful, y’understand?” Tanner furrowed his brow and grunted, Rhett still lodged deep inside his mouth/throat and his seed sloshing around his mouth. Something was off, though… Rhett’s spooge tasted strangely sweet like fruit, and fresh like pine needles, and he could feel it swirl hot and bright, like stardust. “I needja to drink all that baby batter down for me, think ya can do it?” Tanner nodded enthusiastically. “Awright, aww fuck man you ain’t gonna regret this!”

Rhett moaned as he felt the muscles in Tanner’s throat contract and release again and again as Tanner swallowed and swallowed. It took him 4 separate swallows to get all that fuckin jizz down, but the taste made it more than easy. He lifted off Rhett’s cock with a wet *sluuuurrpPOP* and Rhett shivered.

Tanner wiped his lips and chin and crashed back into his driver’s seat, “Jesus H. Christ, Rhett, you are somethin’ else,” Rhett just shrugged and flexed. “So whadya reckon happens now?”

“Well,” Rhett began as he zipped up and buttoned his pants again. “We do have a show to get to.”

Tanner paused then laughed dumbly, “Damn, that completely jumped my mind,” *guuurrgle* Tanner felt his stomach turn. “Then after that?”

“Well, man,” Rhett stared off, “I’m thinkin’ stay in Nashville.”

“Stay??” *guuuuuuurrrrrrrgle* Tanner felt and heard something turn in his stomach. What the fuck?

“Yeah, bro, stay! New me, new city, ya know?” Tanner’s stomach gave off another heavy, loud gurgle. Rhett continued, “Maybe try my hand at music. Always did love singin’.”

“Well you got the voice and the body for music now, that’s for goddamn sure!” the two laughed but Tanner felt another massive turn in his stomach, this one making him shake in his seat. Rhett stared at him greedily, biting his lip. Tanner gave out a nervous chuckle, “Say Rhett, why were you so insistent on me drinkin’ you down?”

Rhett grinned, “Well, ‘cus I want you to stay there with me, babe.”

“Wh—“ Tanner began but was stopped by another gurgling started, only this time, it didn’t stop. With his eyes wide, Tanner, already a modestly swole, tall-ish individual, began to swell steadily. It started in his neck, as it swelled and hardened, widening to a thickness similar to his thighs in his present state. “*grrrrrrgle* Shit, Rhett, what’s you do to me?” He made concerned eyes at Rhett, but Rhett just leaned back watching him, smirking and nodding at him slowly. Tanner returned with a grin, albeit a slightly nervous grin. “Awww, fuckkkkk *ggurrrrrgggg*

Tanner next felt his shoulders and back broaden, causing the threads in his flannel to snap and the seams to tear. Tanner was always keen on wearing tight clothes, but as his shoulders, arms, pecs, and abs began to slowly inflate like he was a giant balloon, a symphony of rips and tears sounded through the car as his swelling skin peeked through dozens of holes in his flannel. Rhett squeezed his own pecs and teased his nipples with his thumbs, taking in open-mouthed breaths of air, never taking an eye off his swelling new lover. As his stomach kept turning, Tanner turned a renewed confident eye to Rhett and smiled slyly. His stretching and growing hands grabbed onto the front of his flannel, and with bulging new arm muscles, he yanked sharply with a feral grunt as the flannel exploded off him in shreds, he yanked both of the sleeves off too to free his massive arms. All that was left was one of Tanner’s loose tanks he always wore under his clothing, his skin retaining the sexy dusting of hair all over him. He tossed the torn fabric over to Rhett, who brought it to his face and inhaled deeply, rubbing his crotch and moaning, still not taking an eye off Tanner, who was swelling so large he started to seem too wide for his seat. Tanner leaned back and lifted his hands behind his head to grip the headrest, his broad triceps bulging over his hairy pits. He braced himself for the next part he could feel coming.

“MMMMMmmmrrrrrfffffff….” Tanner bucked his hips and flexed his ass as he felt it round and firm up under him, lifting him a bit higher off the seat. His thighs thudded into sinewy tree trunks and he clenched his teeth at his calves lengthened and hardened, giving him about 4 more inches in height. His new massive ass and his tree trunk thighs compounded to make his gym shorts appear like way-too-tight boxer briefs. With its tightness, opaque, white jizz rose to the surface and pooled from Tanner’s ejaculation earlier. With his shorts as tight as they were, Rhett had a perfect view for the next part. “OOOOOoooooooohhhhh…” Tanner winced and moaned, closing his eyes, as Rhett saw Tanner’s cock and balls swell and fatten and bulge and rise and thicken against the taut fabric of his gym shorts. His junk now formed three massive lumps that pressed hard against the front of the shorts.

Finally, Tanner let out satisfied groans as he felt his jawbone sharpen and point. He felt the movement across his mouth as his lips involuntarily puckered, giving him a great set of fuckable lips. He again retained the sexy dusting of hair on his face as before, but he felt the hair on top of his head straighten but thicken, giving him a naturally styled, quaff.

He turned and looked at Rhett, who was slack-jawed and sweaty in the passenger’s seat staring at him, Rhett’s thick rod, hard and long, pressed against the fabric of the jeans. Tanner was proud to be the one to make this blonde model hunk bone up.

Tanner smacked his lips, “Well, fuck, Rhett, I’d say you got some pretty potent cream.”

“Hhhaaaaaaaaaa…” Rhett moaned with a deep as hell bass and a slack-jawed grin as his jeans darkened with spurting wet spots from the tip of the bulge his cock made.

“Shit, man, you had s’more of that hulk-out juice and you ain’t gonna share? Gimme some,” Tanner goofily reached a finger across and scooped some of Rhett’s jizz that he seeped through the jeans, grazing Rhett’s still-hard cock and making him shudder, and brought it to his lips, sucking his finger.

“‘Fraid not, brother, that’s all me,” Rhett said panting, grabbing some napkins out of the glove box and wiping himself off. “Plus I think we’re both gonna be cummin’ like hydrants, my guess is that our regeneration cycles have sped up like 1000%.” Rhett tugged at his crotch as though relieving his overworked balls. He paused before his next thought, “I neglected to mention that the ritual gives your last nut has these ‘special properties’ or whatever. I’d assume most guys just slurp up their own spooge, ya know, give ‘emselves a boost on toppa what they’re already gettin’… Sorry I spooked ya… wanted it to be a surprise.” Rhett scratched the back of his head and blushed.

“Woodsy, spiritual shit…” Tanner mused admiringly.

“Woodsy, spiritual shit.” Rhett confirmed with confident nods.

If that’s the case and it really worked with this kind of success, they’re gonna have to take advantage it way more. Tanner was in love with Rhett, he just realized. Nashville, huh? All he could think about was the drug scene he’d been told about there (well, that and of course the music business. Dude’s popping those little black pills and doing all sorts of things. He couldn’t see why he and Rhett would need them anyways, now that they looked like this. Nah, they would keep each other grounded, they cared for each other too much. He’s never really been one to enjoy the big city, but he was more than happy to give it a shot with his friend. His best friend. And his lover.

Tanner leaned in, “Well, consider me very pleasantly surprised,” he turned Rhett towards him and tenderly kissed him, “and very pleasantly spooked,” he kissed him tenderly again, “and very happy to join you.” Rhett’s eyes lit up and he grinned widely with excitement. “Let’s do this, babe.”

Their tongues interlocked as they exchanged one last big smooch.

“Now, let’s get this show on the road,” Tanner stated as he turned the key in the ignition, starting up the car. “Against all odds, we still got time to catch the show tonight!”

He and Rhett chuckled. Some outlaw country crooner belted deeply from the radio, ‘That’s gonna be Rhett,’ Tanner thought, knowing it to be true in his heart. He drove out of the parking lot and headed to the freeway, rolling the windows. Rhett looked over confused as the cool air passed through the cabin.

“Got to smelling like a Turkish bathhouse sauna in here, if y’know what I mean.” Tanner responded plainly.

The two erupted in laughter. Silence fell over them for a second.

Rhett broke the silence, “Y’want some road head?”

“Fuck, yes, man, thought you’d never ask!” Tanner answered immediately with childlike enthusiasm.

The two started tried to work Tanner’s shorts off of him, but they only budged slightly due to the tightness.

“Ah, fuck it.” Tanner said as he gripped one side of the shorts and tugged sharply, causing it to split wide open, his new, massive cock springing and slapping his lower torso. Rhett grabbed it and brought it into his mouth, immediately going to work with his skillful, large tongue.

Tanner writhed and grunted in pleasure. Shame about the shorts, but he had to buy all new clothes anyways.

Some clothes, a new job (mechanic? He’d always loved fixing cars and getting dirty), a new apartment, develop a new routine, and buy new supplements to maintain their physiques for his new life with his new lover.