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zangetsu

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  1. Daniel had used the ring's power to transform himself into the ideal male physical specimen by western standards. He wasn't the largest man, but he had the size and definition of a seasoned fitness model. While the club was packed both his naturally and surgically enhanced beautiful people, Daniel was the only one to boast an almost bestial attractiveness beyond the reach of the dozens of moisturizing, brow plucking pretty boys. I was impossible to say for certain that Daniel had either the best body or face, due to the wide array of personal preferences, it was undeniable that Daniel had won out in the human gene pool. Half a dozen clubbers received an eye bulging view of Daniel's well defined chest cleavage as he leaned against the counter and ordered a Jack Daniel's on the rocks. A couple more watched as the hard whiskey flew past his smoldering lips, which formed into a small half smile once the liquid past over his taste buds. He had the body and the looks, so naturally they wanted to know if he had the cock. Daniel couldn't help but feel a smug satisfaction wash over him, as several club goers openly leered at his crotch. The trifecta of muscle, looks, and genitals. Most men were luck to be born with one, let alone two, but Daniel was able bless himself with all three at a whim. He had no physical short comings, as evident by the prominent bulge just inches away from the counter bar. The distinct lines created by his cock and balls, made it both apparent that it was not air trapped under the denim nor stuffing. It was all meat. While it was a matter of opinion as to who had the best body or face, it was a fact to the many young adults that the best cock was the biggest cock, and Daniel had the biggest cock, by far. While it was certainly possible that another man with a cock larger than 99% of the population was in the club, there was no way such a man could rival Daniel's looks or muscles. Daniel set his glass down and gave a quick, discrete glance around the bar. Without even trying he manged to net half the patrons in the area. He ignored the women, he was in the mood for a blow job and a hard, powerful fuck. There wasn't a woman in the world who could out blow a seasoned gayboy. The problem was actually finding a half decent throat. The lines between straight, bi, and gay had been blurred over the years, and Daniel was too young and inexperienced to spot a hardcore cock sucker just by walking into to a room. It didn't help that nearly all the guys crowding around the bar had a deer in head lights look to them. It'd undoubtedly take some time to separate those who were simply feeling both stupefied and adequate, from those those who were curious and possibly willing to submit to a big dick, and those who couldn't wait to get their lips around around Daniel's flesh tube. Daniel didn't want to strike up a conversation just to have the guy invite his friends to gush and awe at the bulges pressing up against his jeans. He also didn't want to wander out back with a trick, who'd pussy out at the last second, leaving him hot and exposed. There was so much that could go wrong, so Daniel decided to do nothing. He ordered another drink and decided to allow his prey to wander helplessly to him.
  2. It's been a while since I've posted anything here. The usual stuff happened/happens I guess, so I haven't really had enough time to write much of anything. That's not actually true. For those of you curious, I've written the next two parts of Beyond Sexy a couple of times, but I don't know, for some reason I end up satisfied and delete them. That's a work in progress and will continue to be for awhile. Hopefully no more than a couple of weeks. Anyways, that old 'got to write something' feeling snuck up on me today and a some time later, I had this written up. Feel free to make any additions, other than incest or furry stuff. Hope you enjoy. %% Also if it seems overly complex/convoluted for a magic base story, I'm not entirely sure why I did that. So, basically the character puts on the ring to transform, the speed of the changes are controlled the by character, and any changes are permanent after the ring is taken off. Now in the ring is placed back on, then the character can again change his appearance. So really the changes are only permanent if the character loses the ring. The Ring Transfiguration. A process reserved only for the most skillful and trustworthy magicians. Usage was strictly regulated and those unauthorized were punished severely. It was only natural that such revered magic would be perverted by a teenager. Daniel Veras was neither particularly powerful nor skilled, yet through sheer determination and endless repetition he managed to create something comparable to a miracle. Crafted into a simple stainless steel ring, lacking any engraving or precious stones, was a magic born of thousands of years of arcane knowledge and countless failures. By slipping his fourth digit through the ring, Daniel was able to undergo a complete metamorphosis, adding or losing mass, changing form completely or simply making cosmetic adjustments. Unlike transfiguration spells, that only changed the physical appearance, the ring's magic recorded the changes made on the macroscopic world and altered the microscopic world to match. Giving the wearer a new genetic template meant specialized magic given form for the purpose of undoing transfiguration spells was ineffective because there was nothing to change back. It also meant the transformations were permanent once the ring was removed. **** Daniel rummaged through a drawer full of condoms for several seconds before settling on a particular size and flavor. He stuffed a handful of extra large rubbers into back pocket before wandering through the apartment making sure his roommates were gone. Satisfied and at easy with his roommates gone, Daniel ducked into his closet and entered the combination on an enchanted safe; only those able to manipulate magic were able to even perceive the solid chuck of metal. He rummaged through the mystic artifacts, searching for a familiar worn circle. Once he found it, Daniel walked to the full length mirror hanging against the back of his bedroom door and slipped the metallic circle onto its home. The changes were immediate. Everywhere, except that the waist, Daniel's jeans tightened as thick muscle spontaneously developed from nothingness. The denim molded like a secondary skin around Daniel's expanding rear globes and impressive frontal mound. The skin on his upper body tightened as the few pounds of fat melted away, revealing a network of well defined muscle. Daniel added mass to his arms and chest, while keeping his abdomen flat, yet allowing his abs to pop against his dark blue polo. As his bones thickened and lengthened, the ring expanded in size, keeping snug against Daniel's muscular finger. For several minutes Daniel stared into the mirror, admiring his imagination and the ring's power. He grabbed the hem of his polo, lifted it shoulder level, and flexed his meaty bricks for several seconds before deciding to make the cuts deeper and more pronounced. Satisfied he dropped the hem and continued model in front of the mirror. As Daniel struck pose after pose, he altered the bone structure of his face. With each cover worthy shot, Daniel's cheekbones became more pronounced and better defined, his jawline became stronger making him look older than his 21-years. He played around going from youthfully handsome to rugged manly, as a finishing touch, he added a short, dense forest of jet black hair to his face and scalp. Unable to find any further changes, Daniel walked into the garaged and started the engine of his car. Seconds later he sped out of the drive way, thinking of the fun ahead and the endless possibilities of the ring.
  3. There is something about that 'me Tarzan, you Jane' line that really gets me going. From that one line, I get the image of Lex towering head and shoulders over Superman and his body mass just completely dwarfing Superman's. The only way this could be any better, is there were actual pictures of a large bald bodybuilder dominating a man in a Superman costume.
  4. This story wasn't meant to be a multiparter like Beyond Sexy or Tristan. it was more or less a fantasy muscle sighting; maybe I should have added in a note at the beginning of the story.
  5. The main guy is straight, I just didn't put it out there.
  6. It happened at the West Oceanville Library. I was sitting at the front desk with a large stack of books besides me, just waiting to be cataloged into the library database. Behind me sat Doreen, an older woman with auburn hair and blues eyes. She was a quiet woman, did her job, participated in small talk, and went home promptly at 9:00 p.m. Mondays through Fridays. To my left sat Bill, he was about my age, blonde with steel colored eyes, and incredibly slim. The man could eat a whole chicken wrapped in bacon every day for lunch and never gain a single pound, much to the dismay of his calorie counting wife. Half a dozen others worked in and about the library, always working or giving off the illusion of working. After several months, I had finally broken my habit of watching the main doors. No longer did I glance up every time the doors slid open. Like my coworkers I fell into the habit of greeting library goers two or three feet from the front desk. It was mid-morning; the library was dreadfully empty. Just row upon row of books, magazines, encyclopedias, and dictionaries neatly scattered through the right wing of the building. To the left were dozens of computers lined up in long rows and several private rooms with electronic devices and furniture. It was very quiet and so empty; looking up even to see a coworker walking about just reminded me how empty the building truly was. Maybe that's why I fell again into my habit of watching the doors. When I first saw him, he appeared to be at the edge of the parking lot. At first there was nothing particularly eye catching about his appearance. No absurd hairstyle or piercings or tattoos, nothing that made him stick out form so far way. I simply acknowledged him and returned to my work. The moment my hand reached out top book on my large stack of books, the front doors slid up. He stepped onto the carpet; it was a heavy step that sounded throughout the library. I could feel my coworkers look in the direction of the sound, but I didn't look. I already know the source of the sound, a man in heavy footwear. As the man approached the front desk, I continued the process of cataloging. Something was immediately wrong. The man was supposed to be near the edge of the parking lot, and yet he was now inside and I could feel the man approaching. His heavy steps, the resulting vibrations, the disruptions in the air, everything about him seemed wrong. Before I could take another look at him, a shadow fell upon me. A shiver went through my spine. I raised my head and straightened my spine to find myself staring at a large grey canvas. Usually I met the eyes of normal sized men and women, but on that day I met the largest chest I have ever seen. He seemed to be seven or eight feet tall, maybe taller. The man wasn't just tall; he was a towering mass of muscle. If a woman had a son and raised him on a diet consisting purely of proteins, growth hormones, and steroids, that man would be the result. Unlike so many muscular men loitering about the towns of California, this man didn't wear an obscenely tight t-shirt. His t-shirt was loose, though it did nothing to hide his expansive chest, high traps, or ape sized shoulders. Those shoulders were simply too massive to belong to a human, an ordinary man could comfortably sit upon either shoulder. For what seemed like an eternity, I continued to stare at the man. The more I stared the more I became convinced he wasn't real. One second his chest was expansive, the next it was astronomical. Even through the t-shirt, it was apparent that the crevice between the man's pectorals was wide enough to completely engulf either of my forearms. The slabs of meat on either side were just that, slabs of meat. Granted they were slabs large enough to make any butcher groan at the task of cutting such meat. Together they didn't even form a chest; they couldn't possibly form anything that could even remotely be considered the chest of a man. Each pectoral had more flesh and muscle than an ordinary man has in his whole body. Due to their sheer size they bulged out together a seemingly impossible distance from the man's body, but that wasn't the most astonishing thing about the heaving densely packed hemispheres of muscle. Unlike most bodybuilders and gym-rats, this man's lower pectorals weren't the thickest part of the meat; his pectorals appeared to be uniformly thick. It was a strange sight, an abnormal sight, but his was fascinating, captivating, I could not look away. I continued to take in the man's dimensions for what seemed like an eternity, before he spoke up. "Excuse me, I'd like to get a library card," his voice sounded off through the entire building in a rich melodic brass tone. Several seconds passed before I could regain my thoughts. I tore my head away and started searching for the proper form, like my life depended on it. After nearly tearing through every drawer in my area, I remembered there was a stack of papers right next the stack of books. I grabbed a single sheet of paper and handed it to the man. "Fill this out. You also need to present a valid form of ID and a recent bill with you current address," I said, while not really hearing myself, just going off an old habit. How could I possibly pay full attention to myself when a Herculean giant was standing mere two feet away? Craning my neck almost toward the ceiling, I still could not clearly see the man's face. His chest was simply too big, from my angle it actually blocked out a large portion of his face. His clear ocean blue eyes were plainly visible under matching dark eyebrows. His dark black hair was short and unstyled, the urge to style my hair after his embedded itself into my mind. Looking at his nose and ears, they looked unnatural. They were straight and full, and somehow they looked just as thick and muscular as the rest of his body. If he wrinkled his nose and wiggled his ears, it would be more akin to flexing his nose and ears full of muscle instead of cartilage. Continuing to stare, I felt something was off. I was staring too much, and not doing my job enough. The man grabbed the paper, and did something unexpected. He stepped aside and pulled out a pen from his right pocket, He then placed a forearm larger than most men's quads on the counter and began filling out the library card request form. Nobody filled out the form in person, they always took it home. However than man was prepared, he planned ahead. Even without seeing his bill or ID, I knew that he had them, but at the time such trivial thoughts were blocked almost entirely out by another set of thoughts. Once again I found myself captivated by the man's muscle mass. His right bicep not only filled the sleeve, it stretched it. There must have been one or two inches of empty space when his arm was completely relaxed, but pressed against the counter, the sleeve was being stretched by an arm that would make a gorilla green with envy. His right bicep, it seemed to swell upwards toward the sky; a large beige hemisphere, sitting atop untold number of other hemispheres forming deep crevices and mountains. The muscle was stunning, but it was the veins that really stole the attention. Running down the center of the bicep was a thick tree root of a vein, except it was dark and blue. From that vein spread out an extensive network of smaller veins running throughout his bicep, up his shoulders, and along his forearm. That right forearm causally resting on the counter was larger than either of my quads. With every flick of the wrist, hundreds, thousands, of muscle fibers bounced around like an earthquake. His forearm actually bunched up together and grew. With every twitch, it seemed to grow bigger and bigger. The round hard muscles jumped around violently, the veins joined in and began twitching. It was terrifying and amazing at the same time. I could not look away; I was enamored at the sight. He kept writing and I kept watching. I knew he could feel my looking, but he didn't say anything. Not once did my eyes ever left his body, never did his eyes leave the paper. We maintained our positions for one maybe two minutes, but it seemed like forever. I had enough time to take in every single detail of his spectacular body, of every muscle, of every vein, of every hair on his forearm. He was not every hairy, in fact I assumed he shaved his arms. There were short dark hairs mixed with shorter blonde hairs. I began wondering how it was possible to shave his arms, which such bumpy muscles and thick flaring veins, when he looked at me. His ocean blue eyes locked onto my sandy brown eyes. He didn't smile or anything, he just looked and straightened his body; I was eye level with his crotch. It looked like a circus tent, like there were either three socks stuffed inside or mountains of air tucked safely away. Instinctively I knew neither was the case, the man was simply endowed like a porn star, like a beast with large genitalia. I could not see anything, not clearly anyways, but I knew his testicles were larger than eggs, his penis larger than a toilet paper roll. Suddenly I felt inadequate. Never in any locker room, restroom, or bedroom had I felt inadequate. None of my partners had ever complained, statistically I was not any longer than most men, but I was slightly thicker; thick enough to give some pain and discomfort to my fiancé, if we did not engage in sufficient foreplay. He saw me stare, he could not have missed it; I made it so painfully obvious. He really must have been used to the attention, because he did not seem angry or irritated, his facial expression did not change in the slightest. The man simply held the request form out for me to receive. With trembling hands, I took the form and glanced over it. Everything seemed to be in order; I just needed an ID and a bill. "Do you have a current ID and bill?" "Yes, sir." At some point he had taken out a driver's license and electric bill; he handed them to me. I grabbed the license and bill, glanced them over. Still sitting on my rolling chair, I pushed off against the ground toward the copier. Waiting for the machine to warm up, I noticed my coworkers were stealing glances at the man. Their faces showed a wide array of emotion, fascination, disbelief, lust, envy, among several others. None even attempted to be discrete, they just stole a glance whenever the urge hit. From his request form, ID, and bill, I saw his name was Serge Laurent. He was only 6'4 and just two months older than me. He lived on beach front property, isolated beach front property. The amount due on the bill was rather substantial, even for the large houses that comprised his neighborhood. A million and one thoughts raced through my mind, as the copier finished. I tried to piece together Laurent's life going off his body, and bill. He undoubtedly had money, which allowed him to spend all day working out and, most likely, feasting on protein rich food and various muscle growth compounds. Physically he was attractive, his face at least; his body was something else. He was obviously not a bodybuilder. Laurent's body was far beyond the reach of any old school or current bodybuilder. Of course his body was large and musclebound, but it was also perfectly symmetrical, it was aesthetically pleasing even to people who were disgusted by bodybuilders. Running through memories at the beach, I could not help, but compare Laurent to the occasional bodybuilder or meathead. He was so much taller, so much wider, he possessed unparalleled symmetry, he had them completely and utterly beat in every sense of the word. With his muscles and height and looks, he could undoubtedly do anything. He could destroy every bodybuilding competition, dominate every strong man contest, own every high fashion runway, manhandle every professional footballer or wrestler, he could literally do anything. However, I had the distinct idea that he didn’t. I returned to the man and handed him his belongings. Then I grabbed a temporary card and gave it to him, and explained that he would receive the actual card in the male. We exchanged a, 'thank you.' He went on his way toward the computer area and sat on the far side. Laurent was a towering mass of muscle, but he was not, at least from our short encounter, cocky or domineering. He was polite and, from his choice of clothing, modest. Immediately I pulled out my smartphone and started searching his name. Tens of millions of hits popped up. His website was the first; it was littered with dozens of images. In most of them he was wearing shorts and posing, either by himself, or with at least one woman. Each picture showed his unbelievable size and definition, each one seemed Photo shopped, but after staring at the man first hand I knew the pictures did not due him justice. If anything the pictures made him look 'small.' Or maybe it was the clothing that made him somehow look bigger. Either way, the man was a beast. Navigating his website wasn't difficult; I made my way to biography page. The man was the biggest thing in the world of fitness, literally. His father was a bodybuilder, his mother a dancer. They trained him to build up his body; he took to it and grew. Through his entire life he grew and grew, until he was a quarter of a century old. By the time he entered the fitness world, he was the tallest and heaviest male model. In three short years he mangled to grace the cover of over a three hundred magazines, romance novels, and newspapers, while appearing on various television shows. Continuing my search, I found that several movie studios were eager to have him take up a lead role in a summer blockbuster; dozens of companies sought to endorse him. I glanced over at the man, and gasped. With just a side view at his jawline, I could tell it was incredible; large, defined, angular. He was clean shaven, his skin smooth and clear, yet at the same time it looked rough, like sandpaper; a man's skin, a working man's skin. However that was not why I gasped. The tent in his shorts was higher than the table. Much higher than the table, it towered over the table, and it was not empty. He was not aroused, he was simply that large. Stealing glances at the man, I could not help but wonder how the man was even able to sit. He completely dwarfed the chair. His legs were far too massive to fit under the desk, his knees were uncomfortably high, his fingers had to be too big for the keyboard, but somehow he managed to type away. He must have been typing away at 80 words per minute; the rapid movement caused the muscles and veins in the arms to twitch dangerously. The towering mass was terrifying, and yet I somehow knew it was just an unintentional show. The man would never intentionally hurt anybody, it must have been apparent. After Laurent walked in, dozens of people slowly started trickling into the building. Most of them stopped near the front desk, not because were in need of assistance, but simply because they caught a view of him. Many stared, and even more chose seats that would allow them view the giant. Nearly forty library goers and staff repeatedly stole glances at the man as he continued to type away. There was not a single doubt in my mind that I was stealing the most. I became confused, as I continued to watch the man. Never in my life had I reacted to another man in such a way. The fascination was too great; he made me feel small and inadequate. It was not intentional, he did not mean to cause such feeling to bubble up, but it happened. The feeling was plainly visible on the faces of many men, who also felt small around him. A couple looked like they wanted to approach the man, but he was unapproachable with those massive twitching muscles. The more I watched the more I become enamored; I simply could not look away from his muscles. My face became red, my stomach sank. Excusing myself, I went into a restroom stall; inside I unbuttoned my pants and allowed my penis breathing room. With my right hand I fondled my penis and started picturing Laurent with all his oversized bulging muscles, those veins, his face with those clear blue eyes, and even his penis. Nothing, no growth on my part. No elongation, not a single extra drop of blood rushed to the external organ. Confusion further set in. I could not keep myself from staring at the man, or rather his muscles, but I was not psychically attracted to him. Somehow, in my mind fascination become intertwined with attraction which led to confusion. I was not sexually attracted to the man or his muscles, but I was mentally attracted to the muscles. I wanted the size the strength that he had. Returning to my station, I blatantly began searching his name again. A 28 year time line appeared with many pictures for every year. Unless he really was raised on purely protein, steroids, and growth hormones, the man was a complete natural. Each picture showed Serge Laurent a little taller and more muscular than the last. The time line was perfect, a perfect record of his growth, of his life. There was not a single picture where he was unbelievable bigger, no sudden extreme growth. The growth was gradual, a result of 28 years of working hard and eating right. At 28 myself, I could not possibly reach that man's level, nobody could. However, that did not mean I could not return to the gym, or take up running again. I wanted to improve my own physical shape; I wanted mass, size, muscle. That's what I wanted, muscle.
  7. The Traffic Jam Half a dozen drivers angrily honked their car horns in frustration at a young man, as he walked through a slow moving traffic jam. He stopped in each lane and refused to move until a blue Subaru, managed to merge into said lane. The pair repeated the process several times, until they reached the rightmost lane and exited the freeway. "Pretty sure we are not supposed to do that, Spencer," said the driver. "Come on Jacob, did you really want to wait for a two mile long traffic jam to clear up?" "Well no." "So now we're out. No harm done to anybody." "I guess." "Dude you're too intense." Jacob gave his passenger a look, "I don't think you know what intense means." "Sure I do. You're always like, 'We can't do that,' or 'We're not supposed to be here,' dude you need to lighten up a little." "Yeah, yeah, you say that now, but one of these days you are gonna end up in jail for defacing private property or trespassing." "No I won’t." The two friends continued the drive for thirty minutes before they arrived at a large government building, near the center of down town. The building was roughly eighty years old, and stood as a contraction amid a sea of modern metallic and glass rectangles. There was character in the white painted bricks, and finesse in the detailed edges and borders. "You boys are late again," said the receptionist; a dark haired, pale skinned woman with an icy demeanor. "Sorry Eleanor,” said Jacob "We got caught up in a traffic jam," said Spencer. "According to the reports, the traffic jam hasn't moved at all in the last twenty minutes. Not to mention it's been an ongoing thing since seven." "We got off the freeway and drove here on the regular streets." "Yet you are almost an hour and a half late." "It's a long drive, and it took me a while to convince Jacob to get off the freeway." "I'm sure." "What? You don't believe us?" Eleanor stared down Spencer with her steel colored eyes; a hard soul piercing stare. Jacob tried not to pay attention, to not fall under the woman's spell. "I'm sure you have work to do, so why are you standing in my lobby trying to start an argument?" "I'm sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again." Spencer broke eye contacted and started walking towards the main elevator. Jacob followed suit, and felt a wave of cold air penetrate his body, despite the lack of air currents. Once in the elevator, he turned around to find Eleanor staring right at him. Thankfully the doors closed, almost an instant later. Spencer turned to Drake with a look of anger, "Dude, why didn't you say anything?" "I don't know. She scares me?" A look of total disgust spread over Spencer's face, "She scares you. You are a man, how can you be scared of her?" "Her eyes are terrifying. Besides you caved." "Because I didn't have any back up." The elevator doors sprang open and the duo walked out still arguing, until they reached their separate offices. Spencer left in a huff complaining that Jacob needed to grow a spine. After an hour somebody knocked on Jacob's door. "Come in." "Jacob do you have a moment," asked Melinda, a slender nearly flat chested woman, with brown eyes and brown hair. "What do you need?" "All the electronics in the building are freaking out, and there isn't a single IT person anywhere." "I can't really help you with that." "Actually I just wanted to know if your stuff is acting up." "Let me check, I haven't done anything other than power on my monitor." Jacob typed in his login information and waited for the screen to finish loading. Just before the Windows logo disappeared, the screen cut off, then returned to the login screen. He again typed in the required information, but nothing appeared on the monitor. "That's weird." "Check your phone; I was having problems with mine." Jacob pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and tapped the internet app. The camera app opened up instead. He closed it, and again tried tapping the internet app, only for the calendar app to open. "The wrong apps are opening." "Mine's basically just a brick, it won't do anything." "That is..." Jacob stopped mid-sentence upon taking a look at Melinda. Her breasts were no longer A cups, but instead appeared to be rather full C cups. Gone was the thin almost stick like appearance from ten minutes beforehand, and in its place an hourglass. An hourglass with generous bottom curves and a top seemingly still developing. Her lips curled in a snarl, as she realized Jacob was staring. "...strange." A button from her blouse popped right off and hit, Jacob square in the forehead. Melinda was stunned. She looked at Jacob then down at her breasts and yelped. "Oh my god. My breasts. My breasts are huge. Are...are those my hips? I need a doc," another button pops off and hits Jacob, hit time in the eye. "Jacob are you alright? That wasn't supposed to happen. I mean...god I don't know." She was paralyzed with fear, afraid to approach. Jacob sat in his chair rubbing his injured eye for several seconds until he heard a tearing sound. With his good eye, he saw Melinda's breasts grow to the point of no return. They destroyed the confines of her bra and proceeded to completely popping all the upper buttons on her blouse. The poor woman desperately attempted to cover her abnormally large areolas, as she fled down the hall. Jacob rose from his seat, wanting to wash his eye out; he suddenly felt dizzy. Disoriented, he started rushing to the door. Through his right eye, he saw the sleeves of his shirt were several inches too short. He lacked the time to stop his momentum, and plowed headfirst into the doorway before crumpling to the floor. "Jacob, Jacob. Oh dude what happened to you?" asked a frantic looking Spencer. "I'm not sure. I think I somehow grew," he responded as Spencer offered a hand. Up Jacob went, and up, until he was nearly a foot taller than his 5'10 friend. Through the pain in his eye and forehead, Jacob saw the height difference and became started. He stumbled over his feet and fell forward into Spencer. "Whoa dude, I got ya." "Thanks. Hey you are not Spencer." "What of course I am. Dude you should lie down, there's some blood running down your head." Jacob could feel something running down his face, lots of it, and yet he couldn't focus on the flowing liquid. The stranger standing in front of him, sounded like Spencer and had Spencer's clothes, but he wasn't Spencer. His man had red hair, green eyes, a triangle jawline, dark stubble, and the body of a power lifter. The shoulders were far too massive, the thighs and arms too bulbous, but most prominent was the gut. Like the rest of his body, the gut was visible through several tears in the man's clothes, it looked like a beach ball with ridges. Like somebody inflated Spencer's six pack, by pumping air under the skin to see how far it would stretch. "You can't be Spencer. He is blonde with an athletic build." The man cranked up his head, "Obviously I know that, I'm Spencer." The man started to help Jacob lie down, but used too much force and slammed Jacob into the floor. "Jacob I'm sorry, I don't know my own strength anymore. I don't know anything anymore. Everyone is transforming; growing, shrinking, gaining weight, losing weight, changing hair color, changing eye color, the list just goes on and on. And you're bleeding. Come on let’s get you to the bathroom." The stranger grabs the injured Jacob by the waist and starts guiding him to the bathroom. Still disoriented, Jacob can hear screaming from all over the fifth floor. A naked woman holding two clipboards to her Amazonian body runs past them. Behind her runs and elven woman, short and doll like. Near the bathroom there is man or beast, crawled up in the beetle position. The duo couldn't help but watch as when they recognized the man as Mr. Williams, the seventy-year-old senior manager, balled up on the floor crying. Most of the dense white hair covering his body suddenly fell off, the remaining hair turned pitch black, a dense bush sprouted on the his head. The leathery skin covering his body came alive, all the marks and imperfections slowly disappeared leaving behind pearly white skin, completely blemish free. A lifetime of bacon, pasta, cheese, and beer disappeared in a matter of minutes; the excess skin shrank away, leaving the man looking anorexic. That didn't last. The tissues under the skin started expanding and as his bones began reshaping his body; wide shoulders to go with a narrow waist, and high cheekbones to complement an angular jawline and deep set eyes. Muscles stacked together form the impressive six pack and solid arms of a French underwear model. However the man crawled up on the floor could never be an underwear model, not without facing accusations of stuffing his underwear. A pair of lemon sized testicles and a soft six by four penis sort of dangled out in the air, as Mr. Williams straightened himself out. The dark black hair on his scalp grew longer. The pitch black hair on his head and brows, matched his treasure trail; all of it contrasted with his bright baby blue eyes. The man was no longer seventy; he was probably 22 at the most. Williams stared at his body, then at the lanky giant, and power lifter before running off, sprouting wood. "Spencer what was that?" "What I was saying before. Everyone is transforming, though I don't know why that guy was naked to begin with." Spencer pushed open the restroom door and half dragged Jacob inside. It was difficult getting Jacob's head into the sink on account of his new height. After two minutes of struggling, Spencer gave up; he forced Jacob to his knees and shoved the man's head under running water. "Here press these against your head." Jacob grabbed a wad of water towels out of Spencer's large and calloused hands, and firmly pressed against the gash on his head. The pain and dizziness subsided. His brain began thinking again, rationalizing, trying anything to make sense of the situation. He stood up to his full height. "Spencer you are taller." The thick man managed to grow four or five inches during the walk to the restroom. He looked as if somebody had taken a picture, clicked on the corner and stretched it out. No apparent loss of muscle or fat due to the height increase. "Holy shit you're right. Fuck my face itches, it's on fire." He rushed to a sink and started splashing water on his face to no effect. No fire, other than a dense red bread of fire red hair to go with his the brighter eyebrows and eyelashes. His bottom lip became fatter, the top lip thinner. The nose bridge flattened a bit, the end extended a little ways downward, past the nostrils. Something happened to his ears, but whatever changes occurred where hidden by a thick lion like mane of dark red hair. The gut started expanding again. Growing and growing outward, the six abs on the surface managed to cut deeper and deeper with each passing second. His shirt tore, his pants and underwear tore, and so did his socks. Suddenly the restroom seemed too small. Spencer's gut and pecs bulged out about the same distance. His arms were probably larger than Mr. Williams' chest; his legs were definitely larger than the pretty boy's body. He was a massive wall of muscle covered with a padding of fat. Despite being five or six inches taller than Spencer, Jacob felt incredibly small in his presence. Spencer just seemed to overflow with overwhelming power and strength. For several seconds his body continued to swell like a balloon. "I didn't want this. I don't want to be fat," screamed Spencer has he brought his hands to the sink and knocked it from the wall. It crashed on his feet, but Spencer didn't react. Surely it hurt, though his face didn't even show the faintest sign of pain. It showed excitement. Spencer stepped away from the demolished mess, giving Jacob a good view of his genitals; the carpet matched the drapes. The equipment was probably larger than Mr. Williams', but it looked smaller given the power lifter style frame. Spencer gripped the veiny shaft and started jerking off. "This is amazing. Oh yeah. Fuck yeah. I'm so hot. I'm so fucking hot." Without warning the guy just started humping a sink until he destroyed it too. Due to lack to the lack of experience with his new body, Spencer didn't last long enough to destroy a third sink. He shot a load right into the mirror in front of himself, and kept shooting until collapsing to his knees. "Dude I feel like I can cum forever. Diana, I need to find Diana." As Spencer passed, Jacob couldn't help but notice the difference in height; four inches, maybe more in his favor. He didn't open the door; the red haired giant pushed it, tearing it off the hinges. It flew across the hall and slammed into the opposing wall. 'Holy fuck,' thought Jacob. He could not believe his eyes, as his best friend turned into the world's biggest bull. He couldn't believe the strength of the bull, to tear down a sink, rape another, and to send a door flying. It was surreal, it wasn't possible, and yet the overbearing stench of his cum served as reminder that it had happened. Through the cum, cut the smell of fresh blood. Jacob looked at the paper towels clutched to his forehead, all dark red and dripping blood. He threw them on the floor, and stepped over the debris, to look in a mirror. His face was his, though it was covered in blood. Turning the cold water knob, while still staring at the reflection he frantically stared splashing water on his face. The blood slid off, revealing the gash had healed. No scar, no mark, not even the slightest hint of redness. He continued to stare at his reflection for several minutes expecting some sort of change to occur. It didn't; not after five minutes, not even after ten minutes. He stepped out of the bathroom and started walking around. The entire fifth floor was a mess. Papers thrown about, plants overturned, office supplies littered on the floor, and holes of various sizes in all the walls. "Jacob? Jacob is that you?" Jacob turned around, "Yeah it's me," he said to an Asian woman. 'There aren't any Asian women in his department,' thought Jacob. "Jacob, it's me Trisha," said the woman. Trisha was a brown haired woman, with hazel eyes, and pear build. She was motherly, probably because she had five children and seven grandchildren. The new Trisha most definitely didn't have the body of grandmother. Her hips were wider than the average woman's, but her large bust completely overshadowed them, giving her an apple build. The build was only further accented by the wide square shoulders of a seasoned Olympic swimmer. Her round face was distinctively Chinese, but that body was too out of place, far too big standing at six feet tall. "Please tell me you're in the right mind," said Trisha. "I am." "Good." "Do you know what's going on?" "Well, when I saw Williams I thought the transformation changed a person to their youthful prime, but he was made more muscular and more handsome than I remember. Then I started seeing other people. Diana became a Kate Upton look-a-like with a fuller figure. Rick shrank from 6'2 to 5'5, and now looks like a miniature incredible hulk. Spencer is a red haired giant power lifter, Samantha is an elf, Gina an Amazon, Anna a bodybuilder, Jessica and Rose look like supermodels, Greg and Tim look like underwear models, Silvia, Melinda and few other just grew giant breasts and experienced minor changes. I'm Asian. Honestly I don't have the faintest idea what's going on." "I need a moment to process." "You don't have a moment. All the electronics are malfunctioning, the doors and windows are all locked, we can't leave the fifth floor, and to make everything worse half the staff is fucking all over the place." "What?" "Richard is like fifty now and encouraged Rick and Jessica a threesome with him. Spencer and Diana are destroying everything in sight. Gina and Silvia are taking turns with Greg, and Troy won't stop touching himself. "There's nothing we can do. I am not about to get between Spencer and Diana if that's where you were going with this." "Of course not," she snapped angrily, "Look we need get out of his building now." "You just said everything is locked." "I know. And just to make matters even worse, none of the windows are breaking." "Are you fucking kidding me?" "We've tried everything, they won't break." "Damn, it looks like we'll need Spencer then." "Why?" "He is stronger than he looks. He completely destroyed two sinks and tore a door of its hinges without even trying. Maybe Rick is super strong too. We need them both." "I hate to do this to you, but you need to get him away from Diana. Do you understand?" "Unfortunately, I do." "I'll handle Rick." "Good luck." "Good luck." As Jacob ran around the broken office, he saw a muscular body lying unconscious amid a stack of bodies. Closer examination showed the body was female; Anna, unless another woman suddenly became a bodybuilder. He saw young man with a lean and muscular body thrusting his hips into the anus of an elven woman. Three statuesque women huddled together in a circle, attempting to tie together torn clothes to protect their modesty. Searching the entire floor for the thick red head turned out much harder than imagined. He wasn't anywhere in sight. Spencer was a screamer, and Jacob couldn't hear anything resembling the man's screams. He heard the voices of others having sex, but not Spencer. Refusing to give up, Jacob started running. He fell again and again, due to the lack of coordination, but he constantly rose to his feet. After half an hour of searching he saw them. Spencer had Diana wrapped in his meaty arms; he was walking around, bumping into walls, plants, and even other people. When he stopped it was only to destroy a wall in fashion. The monster pinned Diana against a wall, and began thrusting the entire length of his phallus into her, putting his entire weight into each thrust. On the fourth thrust, the muscles in his ass tensed momentarily and then expanded in one jaw dropping moment. He shoved her right through the wall, slammed her into the ground and kept thrusting away. She screamed in agony, but he didn't listen. All Spencer wanted was his prize. His body began to swell, either due to receiving a pump or another growth sequence, and he thrust into Diana with such force that something actually cracked. She screamed, he roared into her face and deposited the largest load in his life into her. Eventually he pulled out of her nearly dead body and walked away. "S...Spencer, um are uh are you..." "I'm great man." "What about her?" "She'll be alright. Just needs some time to recover and what not." "She isn't fine. There is no way in hell is fine. I heard something snap, she might have broken a bone or something. You almost killed her." "Dude relax, Diana and I have a special relationship. She loves pain. Both giving and receiving. Yeah I'll admit I was more forceful that I should have been, but when she wakes she'll want more." "I don't believe you, nobody could possibly enjoy that." Spencer gave a smirk, "Diana enjoys it. This is what I mean by you're too intense. You can't believe that somebody likes rough sex. It's too weird, too out of the ordinary for you. That's probably why you haven't finished transforming." "What are you talking about?" "I'll be honest with you. When I was a kid, I loved watching wrestling. I wanted to be big and strong like all the muscular superstars. Then one day, I saw a different kind of wrestler, the big power lifter type, with mountains of muscle hidden under thick layers of fat. At first I thought they were gross, but when I watched them throw around the bodybuilder types like rag dolls, my mind changed real quick. I've always wanted to be massive, but it just wasn't in my genes. I thought the fitness model look was pretty okay, so I settle for that. Then today happened and now I'm huge, just like I always wanted." "What about the red hair?" "The hair makes me look like a beast, a wild dangerous beast, which I am. I got the body, the face, the hair, and the genitals of a muscle beast." "It isn't possib...." "You're right it isn't possible, but it happened. Just think about it for a moment. Williams was an ancient dinosaur, now he looks a model and is probably younger than either of us. Anna over there has a muscle fetish, in case you were wondering. Almost all the women have D cups or bigger. All the guys have huge dicks. Do you know how much men and women care about tits and dicks? I wanted a large beastly body, now I have it. I wanted a bigger dick, now I have it." "It can't be that simple." "Of course it can, at least today it is. So then Jacob what is your fantasy?" "What?" "Come on man, don't play dumb. What is your fantasy? You like being tall, don't you? You believe in the height, because there are plenty of people who are 6'10, 6'11, and seven feet even. It's unusual, sure, but it happens." "That's crazy, you are crazy." "Dude yesterday we were body twins, 5'10 at 180lbs. Today I'm at least 6'5 at like 400lbs, and you're 6'10 still at 180lbs. It's time to give into your fantasy. You only have one chance so don't mess it up. Come on man grow." "What about Rick he was 6'4, why would he shrink down to 5'5?" "It was probably to see a ‘how the other half lives’ type of thing. The guy is wider than I am, and it would look amazing at his previous height." "But he shrank." "Yeah, maybe for the shock value; it adds to the fantasy." "Explain that." "Okay. It's like short people wanting to be tall. As insane as it may seem to you, there are tall people who want to be short. So anyways if Rick had kept his height, he'd be scary or disturbing as fuck to people not into muscle. As a short guy, he's not so intimidating or shocking. Now stay with me for a bit. Take a group of people and tell them to elect a leader, chances are they'll look to the tallest person in the room for leadership. People gravitate towards tall people, because tall people warrant respect. A similar thing occurs with muscle mass. Athletes, dancers, models and various other occupations go hand in hand with desirable amounts of muscle; most people think bodybuilders are over the top and don't take their passion or sport seriously. Rick wanted to put himself in a position where people didn't respect or take him seriously." "Now you are just fucking with me." "No it's great. I saw Richard trying to snag a threesome with Jessica and Rick. Richard is like 6'2 maybe 6'3 and buff, like a smaller version of me. He's like a stereotypical old muscle guy, thick arms, chest, legs, and gut, and hairy too. The dwarf was being all submissive, agreed right away with everything he said. Something about Rick was off; I couldn't look away from the site. Rick was eating Jessica, and Richard was about to stick his cock in Rick's ass. This is where shit gets crazy. Rick's ass cheeks are spread out, when suddenly he rolls away, and knocks Richard to the ground. He starts whispering in the old man's ear, next thing I know Richard is his hands and knees begging Rick to be gentle. He wasn't." "So his fantasy was to be short and wide, so he could dominate tall people?" "All people, but especially tall people." "That can't be real." "It is real just accept it," the giant starts bouncing his massive meaty pecs. Dozens upon dozens of pounds of thick muscles began jumping up and jump menacingly. Suddenly he went into a most muscular pose. Despite the thick layers of fat, all the muscles were clearly visible; his upper body nearly doubled in size. Still flexing, "This is real dude, now it's time to get into your fantasy." "No, you are just trying to rationalize something that can't be explained." "You still think I'm lying about Diana, don't you?" "Well some nasty bruises are starting to develop around her vagina." "I'll show you that I didn't force anything on her." Spencer swaggered past Jacob to Anna. During the course of the conversation she regained consciousness. He supported her head and whispered into her ear. Then he positioned himself at her vaginal lips; no foreplay or anything. His penis was still coated with his and Diana's cum, he began thrusting his hips. Gently, after a few minutes he became more forceful, though still relatively gentle. "See dude, we've been going at it for almost twenty minutes and I haven't broken anything. I'm not smashing her into anything, because she isn't into that. Diana over there is a masochist, she fucking loves pain. It's that simple." Not wanting to watch his friend have sex Jacob left the area. He watched his fellow workers, even the ones trying to fashion themselves something to cover their nudity, seemed happy. Nearly everyone wore a smile. Some women even complemented each other on their new appearances. Jacob stopped to ask several about their transformations. They repeated the less graphic details of Spencer's explanation almost perfectly. Jacob began to believe them, but a sliver of reluctance refused to leave his brain, so a coworker directed him to Rick and Richard. Rick sat on the edge of the conference table, legs hanging off the side. Lying on his lap was a cum covered Richard, ass hanging out in the air. How the table managed not to tip was astonishing on its own. Rick was tiny, maybe even less than 5'5. His chest was unquestionably larger than he was tall. Unlike Spencer, Rick had very little if any fat on his body. Beneath every square inch of his skin, was probably a solid foot of muscle. Every muscle and vein was overly pronounced, ready at any moment to rip apart his skin. The simple act of breathing, made it seem like his muscles would rupture the skin. "It looks like we have guest, and you didn't say hello boy," said Rick. "I'm sorry daddy," replied Richard in an almost fearful tone. "Sorry isn't good enough boy," shouted Rick. He raised his monstrously large right hand, flexed his arm for the guest, then opened his palm and spanked Richard. The sound was truly deafening. It shook all the muscles in Richards’s ass cheeks, it shook the table, and it parted the air to generate powerful currents. It was unbelievably painful, like a concentrated car collision in the form of a single palm. Jacob noticed that Richard was crying, but he also noticed that ejaculate was dripping down Rick's inhuman left quad. "Now what do you say boy?" asked Rick with a stern tone. "Hello Mr. Blount," said Richard in between pants. "Hello" "Good boy. Oh sorry Jacob, I'm not taking to you, I'm talking to little Dick here." "I wanted to talk to you about the recent transformations." "Ah right away. Dick give daddy a kiss and then be on your way." Timidly, the 50 year old man reached up and kissed his master of the lips. Then hairy beast jumped to his legs and began walking away, but not before Rick could deliver another spank. Richard jumped up in surprise and rushed out of the room. "What the fuck was that?" "That was my fantasy." "A mock incestual relationship with a man twenty years older than you? You sick fuck." The miniature hulk gave a hearty laugh and showed his brilliant white teeth. As he sucked in air, his diagram expanded, which in turn expanded his overly large torso even farther. For a second Jacob could have sworn he actually saw ruptures in the skin. "Calm down. That's just the dynamic in this relationship. You said it yourself; he is twenty years older than me." "Was that his fantasy?" "Yeah I think it was. His fantasy probably didn't involve so much spanking or rough sex, but the premise is the same. He supposedly wanted to be the dominate male partner, and in his mind that meant being older, 6'3, and 320lbs. Unfortunately, it takes more than height, muscle, and age to be dominate. It's a state of mind and he didn't realize or have that." "And you did?" "I had before the transformation." "Then why tran..." "Transform all. It's simple really. I thought it would be fun. Little guy bossing around the big dominant alpha male or bringing the stuck up bitch down a peg or two." "You are hardly little." "Well in terms of height I am. The muscles are bonus. They can add or take away from the situation. Look man I don't know why this happened, but believe me I am enjoying it. I'd rather not explain to my roommates why I'm suddenly 5'3 and weight 450lbs. However, I wouldn't complain about this being a permanent change." "Okay say I've accepted this whole fantasy coming to real life, how can you possibly weight 450lbs? There would be no way for you to move." "The weight is just a guess, going off my personal fantasy of course, and I don't really care for the science or magic behind it. So tell me, if you believe why haven't you transformed?" "Because I don't have a fantasy in mind." "Well when you do, I'd love to see it. Dick, come back here," he smiles, "In case you still have doubts. Dick walked back into the room and immediately took his position on Rick's lap. Rick placed his hand on Dick's lower back. It was out of proportion to the mini hulk's body, two maybe three times too large for his frame. He removed the hand and curled all but one finger. It alone was significantly larger a jumbo sized hotdog. He took the finger and started playing with the Dick's ass. "You want to leave don't you? This is what I was talking about, the mentality to dominate. Of course I could never dominate you into having sex, but little Dick here loves it. His fantasy isn't to dominate, it's to be dominated. He just gave himself a bigger body so his daddy could enjoy it more. Isn't that right little Dick?" "Yes, sir." "Good, now then." There was no warning. Rick shoved his muscle bound finger into Dick's entrance, and forcefully began exploring. Dick's entire body started bucking wildly. Rick placed his left arm around Dick's back and slipped his right calf over Dicks flapping hair legs to regain control. Rick applied more force to his finger; Dick responded accordingly but couldn't move at all due to Rick's pin. The master eventually removed his left and to grab some cloth behind him. Then wadded the cloth into a ball and stuffed it into his toy's mouth. "Will he be alright?" "Naturally, this is our fantasy," the mini hulk somehow managed to stick in yet another finger. Jacob turned away, "How strong are you?" "Why are you changing the subject?" "Trisha and I wanted to get some muscle before attempting to knock down a door or something." "Yeah she told me. It didn't work, not matter how hard I pushed it didn't budge." "Maybe if you and Spencer tried together." Rick momentarily pulled out of Dick and tossed the big man on the floor. The paper skinned hulk walked over the east wall of the conference room and rammed his forefinger through the drywall. To really drive the point home he started punching through the material, taking out massive chunks with each strike. With the last punch, he left his arm in the wall and started walking. His arm tore away at the building, as the man walked around the room. There was no resistance to be offered by the drywall, none at all. Casually, he returned to his sitting position on the conference table and waited for Dick to resume his position. "Listen Jacob, I just punched through the wall like it was tissue paper. Those doors and windows aren't gonna break anytime soon. You know, I'm amazed you can talk so casually as I finger a guy right in front of you." "You act like you've done it before." "Dozens of times." "Ordinary this would disturb me, but for some reason today it does not." "That's what Trisha said earlier, before joining in." "So the three of you?" "No, little Dick here strictly prefers dick. I on the other hand, am more flexible. Speaking of which little Dick here is nice and loose again. So unless you want..." "I'm going." Jacob walked out of the room, but caught a full view the reflection of a mirror. Dick was on the floor, Rick was plowing him hard. So hard, that with each thrust Dick was actually pushed forward several inches. 'That is going to lead to serious rug burn,' thought Jacob. Jacob continued walking around the floor. Most people had settled down, and some had even returned to working. He found Spencer still having 'gentle' sex with Anna; despite her own impressive size and power she appeared small and frail wrapped in his large arms. Diana was still half dead. He continued to wander around and by accident found the new Troy, a perfect replica of a monstrously vascular comic book character. Like Williams, he appeared to fantasize about a male model body, though with an extra thirty or so pounds of muscle. "I see you are enjoying yourself." "Yeah man." "How come you aren't out with everyone else?" "Jacob, I'm so ripped and flexible now that I tomorrow I won't have a reason to leave my house." "Assuming the transformation is permanent." "I know what's behind it, and I'll make sure the transformation is permanent." Jacob couldn't believe his hears. Troy knew the secret and instead of telling anybody he was caressing his abs and flicking a long hard nipple. "How do you know? What is going on here?" "Actually I'm not entirely sure, but I have a pretty good idea." "Well hurry up." "It's Eleanor." "What?" "Dude she is a witch or some kind of reality warper." "Well given all the crazy shit that has happened in the last few hours, I can believe in witches and reality warper, but what makes you so sure she is behind this?" "I've worked in this building for the last fifteen years, and during those fifteen years anybody who managed to piss that woman off, suddenly disappeared or has their life ruined." "Well I've worked here for two years, and Eleanor is definitely intimidating, but I've never seen hear actively go after somebody." "You've just never seen her work. She is the receptionist, okay. When some cocky little shit walks in, she is the first person they deal with. When an arrogant business person or lawyer walks in, she has to deal with them. All she has to do is stare at them with her cold icy eyes, and suddenly all the bravado, all the swagger, the self-importance, it all goes away. The most powerful and influential people in the city are completely terrified of her. The mayor's assistants don't even come here anymore; they send the interns. Speaking of which, do you remember Christine Hath?" "She was the girl who only showed up for one day of her internship." "Yeah, that's because on that day she pissed off Eleanor. From what I heard, Eleanor was going through some documents on a tablet, when Christine showed up with a manila folder. Eleanor took the folder and went through the documents, and found a couple that needed to be signed. She told the girl, 'You need to get these signed,'' and handed the folder back. The girl was like, 'I'm done for the day. You get them signed,' and then took the folder and slipped it between Eleanor's fingers and the tablet, before basically skipping away. The day afterwards human resources gets a call, Christine's mother saying her daughter wouldn't be able to continue her internship due to medical problems. Last month, Melinda apparently saw her at the high school. Her face was covered in a thick layer of makeup and looked really bumpy. Mel tried to talk to her, but she ran away; a student told her Christine had suddenly developed huge boils all over her face and body that refused to go away." "Well everything that's happened today, I guess that's believable. Anyways why are you so certain that Eleanor, with all her magical reality warping powers, will allow you to keep your body after today? Or even live?" "Because I can’t lose all this." He stood up and began posing. His body was simply amazing; hard and round in the all the right places. His arms looked like somebody stuffed in two hemispheres and some lamb chops in a peach colored bag. His waist was either too small, or his pecs and legs too large. Though the most impressive thing about his body wasn't the muscle mass or the shear vascularity, it was the penis. Probably eight inches long and five inches around, flaccid; most likely the largest in the office when erect. "My wife is going to love playing with her new toy." "Yeah. Well good luck with getting the transformation to keep." Jacob left Troy's office before the well-endowed meat bag could begin growing erect. He wandered around the office some more, to find Spencer having anal sex with Anna. Her body was covered in his ejaculate; she moaned in pleasure as she attempted to meet his thrusts. Back in the conference room, Dick was lying on his back, legs pointed straight up in the air. Rick was on his knees for once, brutally shoving a thick log into Dick's anus. Jacob eventually returned to his office, and noticed there was no blood on the floor or on the doorway. "I see you're back," said a woman. Jacob turned around, nobody was in sight. He looked around for several seconds for the source of the icy voice. Suddenly he felt a cold finger touch his lower back; he turned to find Eleanor staring up at him. She was completely unchanged from earlier. "So, are you a witch or what?" She smiled, it was beautiful and apocalyptic at the same it. "The former." "Are you responsible for this?" "I am." "Why did you do this?" "Boredom." "Boredom." "How? How is any of this even possible?" "Well as you now know I am a witch. Despite my appearance, I am actually 200 years old, and for a magic user age is power. Of course old age also leads to wisdom, which typically equates to power if not versatility. So anyways, I used my magic to enter every one's mind and pulled out their physical fantasy and then brought it to fruition." "Is it really that simple?" "Heavens no. I had to use my own power to enter the minds of twenty different people and search for each person's unique fantasy. To build the fantasies, I had to use my magic and the ambient magic in the environment to convert mass from one form to another. To top it all off, I decided to give you all the power. That way the transformations were gradual and more entertaining. Of course my explanation is still too simple." "So you did this all for your own entertainment?" "I had to. Only a fifth of the workforce showed up today. I didn't have anything to do, or anything to pass the time with." "Why didn't you just use the internet?" "I don't think you understand me. I'm a witch, why would I waste my time watching kittens play with yarn, when I can do all this." "Surely you are abusing your power." "I invented the concept of being old and not giving a damn about anything that I don't care about. Plus, I'm the leading expert in human, beast, and demon transformation, so I can pretty much do whatever I want." "Which is transforming people into their personal fantasies for your amusement." "That was just because I was because I had nothing to do. Besides nobody got hurt or died or anything. And because I'm in such a good mood today, I decided to work a little extra magic. So anybody who wants to keep their new appearance may do so." "So you can make the changes permanent." "Yes I can, but usually I don't. You see the world has changed greatly over the past few decades. If I leave you all like this, people will ask questions. Imaging going to get your license renewed and explaining why you are a full foot taller. Or Williams explaining why he is twenty-one instead of seventy. So because you all provided so much entertainment today, I will cast a spell on you. Every person you think of will have their memories of you rewritten to believe that you grew into your current form. This spell is very powerful, and it will change your appearance in any photograph or video, anything with your image will change." "That seems too good to be true." "It's not. The spell will only change memories and images, but everything else will be as it was. For example, Rick is now 5’3; there is no way for him to reach the gas or brake pedals on his truck. Changing memories doesn't help the fact that Williams is now twenty-one, or that Trisha is now twenty-eight year old Mulan with E cups, or that Richard made himself fifty. The birthdays don't match up; if they want to keep their bodies that means giving up their old lives and starting anew. Fortunately the rest of you didn't change your ages, so a few memories switches will fix everything." "Okay, so I've finally accepted this whole fantasy coming to real life thing, but I haven't shrank yet." "Yes I can see that. You were satisfied with your appearance, and only wanted to know how it felt to be taller. The magic took an extreme effect because you only wanted one trait changed. You wanted to be six feet even, but the magic added an extra tens. Tell me; were you comfortable in your old body?" "Yes." "Are you comfortable in your new body?" "Not right now. I mean if I had time to adjust to my longer limbs, maybe I would be." "Would you be comfortable in any body?" "I guess, eventually?" "Well then you won’t mind if I take this opportunity to change your body myself." She raises her hands, white smoke begins to swirl around them, and then it happened. Jacob grew another two inches taller, bringing him to an even seven feet tall. His clothes exploded off his body, as the meaty muscles under his skin expanded. They grew and grew, until he felt bloated. However he wasn't bloated. He was completely shredded; every muscle group was developed to the point where it prominent poked out of his body. His chest alone was easily the size of his desk; the skin even matched the brown shade of the wood. His traps were unbelievably high, almost to the height of his head. His arms weren't even recognizable as arms anymore. They were earthy mountains, covered with trenches and a vast network of train tracks. His legs were, naturally larger than is arms, and followed the same structure, but to a more extreme level. The witch summoned a large mirror. Jacob saw his body and jumped back in shock. He didn't even look seven feet tall, he looked eight or nine. His chest was unquestionably the largest chest on the planet. The six pack he had worked for, was still there, only larger and with deeper cuts. The most shocking thing was his genitals; large round potatoes with a fittingly large tube steak. Once he got over the shock of his body, he looked into this face. Same dark brown hair and ears, but everything had changed slightly. His nose was straighter, his jawline board and more angular, his eyes were amber colored with a gold ring around the edge. "What did you do?" he asked in his new baritone voice. "You said you would be comfortable in any body, so I gave you a new one." "I thought this was supposed to be my fantasy." "Well I decided to make it your wife's." "She isn't into this kind of thing." "I noticed. She liked your old body, but did desire a bit more muscle and height. The magic was once again extreme in your case." "Will you change me back?" "No. At least not right away. You said yourself that would probably be comfortable in any body, so try it out for a few days. If it doesn't work, I will return you to your original body." "Um, okay." "Good. Now then I've decided to close up early. You'll find a set of extra clothes in your bottommost left drawer. Now if you excuse me, I have to inform some others of my decision. By the way can I trust you to keep this a secret?" "Sure." "Good then I will leave your memories intact. Bye now." "Bye." Jacob checked his drawer and true to the witch’s word was a set of clothes: a button down shirt, briefs, shorts, and a pair of sandals. Jacob almost tore the briefs as he attempted to raise them up beyond his quads, small tears actually did appear in the fabric. It was stretched tightly in all directions everywhere, except at his waist. The shorts were easier to put on they slipped almost perfectly over his quads. He pulled a string on the waist band and tied it, then tucked over two feet of excess string into his shorts. After several minutes he found, the shirt would only button enough to cover his abs, leaving his desk like pecs exposed to the whole world. His arms, though covered, might as well have been naked. As he left his personal office, he noticed how his pecs bounced with each step. They jiggled and flexed, the veins danced across the twin surfaces. He found his entire body seemed to have a muscle seizure with every step. The striations grew and deepened, the veins sometimes didn’t stop popping out even after he stopped moving. Jacob was so in awe of his body that he didn’t notice that the entire fifth floor was completely clean and fixed. No papers thrown about, no toppled plants, no broken walls, absolutely nothing out of order except large muscles and big breasts. He found Spencer and the pair walked outside, complementing each other’s new bodies. As they approached the Subaru, Jacob remembered something the witch said. Everyone’s memories had been altered, but not the life decisions he had made. Jacob and Spencer stared at the Subaru and wondered how one, let alone both of them would fit inside.
  8. If you are new to the story and wondering where to find parts 1-7, they are all posted under Beyond Sexy. Part 8: The Gathering Waking up the first thought to race though my head is, 'Today is the day'. When an unusual amount of energy, I breeze through my morning routine only find myself with nothing to do afterwards. No classes on Fridays and no more jobs either. Suddenly my extra energy disappears as I walk to my computer room, and come lens to crotch with my custom built camera. The entire room becomes somber, as the past two months flashes through my head. After having a computer installed, I learned that several clients and various other individuals had secretly recorded me and posted the videos and/or pictures online. Irritated by the lack and disregard for personal privacy, but left with a stack of jobs for a month, I decided to continue working, if only a while longer. Once first month ended, my phone blew up with calls requesting my services. Only each caller was informed that due to repeated violation of privacy, those services would no longer be offered, and then I hung up. Without a source of employment, I only left my home to attend classes and to buy groceries and gas. Naturally the number of videos and pictures featuring me decreased, at least initially. However after about a week, I noticed people being less discrete about recording me, fellow students would wait in their cars and attempt to follow me home, and during the middle of the night, Ryder and Admiral would often scare away house watchers. One night, I woke to the sound of a man screaming in agony. By the time I finished ducking and turning through all the doors, and stood outside, I found nothing other than Admiral and Ryder barking and pawing at my gate; there was blood dripping down Admiral's mouth. Knowing it was only a matter of time before somebody decided to hurt, or perhaps kill, my pets, I decided to give in. Unsure where to begin, I called up an electronics manufacturing company, threw my name around, and a week later a large package was delivered to my door. Inside was a specially built camera; very large and elegant, but with only a handful of oversized buttons for my oversized fingers. Included in the box were various accessories and a manual. I breezed through the manual, and laughed at the situation. Despite having some sort of camera focused on me for most of my life, I had never actually held one in my hand. The first video was simple, just undressing to my boxer briefs. I was somewhat nervous, but the camera didn't show that, it showed a living breathing statue moving as if it were water. The video didn't even require editing. I set up a website, and up loaded the video. The site crashed an hour later. In need of assistance, I started an official company and hired dozens of people to run it. They did an amazing job fixing the website, and even had to build extras to in order to meet the demand for the videos. Because the sites run off a subscription model, after the first few days I became one of the wealthiest people on the globe, even though the fee is small. With so much money, I donated to some charities; for once money flowed out of my hands to other people. Due to the short time frame, I don't have an exact numbers for how many registered users visit my sites or how much money they have generated. In truth I don't want to know, that's why I hired dozens of people to oversee the day to day operation and finances of the company. Leaving the room, I wander into the living room. The weather is continuously getting colder and colder, harsh winds have started blowing across the county. Some days all the windows and cars in the area are covered with a film of ice. Today the film is a little thicker, and the early morning new weather reports shows that, the weather is unusually cold for this time of year. Turning off the television, I walk to the back yard to feel the cold air. For some reason I've always loved winter, the low temperatures, the icy winds, and the holidays, or rather I used to love the holidays. My train of thought is interrupted by Ryder and Admiral suddenly running out of their dog houses, and jump at me. They can't reach my head, because my pecs and height, so I take a knee, but they are relentless. As Ryder licks my face, Admiral tries to push my torso. Then the duo switches roles, until I finally receive the message. Carefully, I lie on the frozen glass; my body heat almost immediately melts the ice and the water is soaked up in to my clothing. The dogs are on top now, licking and slobbering all over my face. After a few moments, I stick my forearms under their bodies and carefully wrestle them on to the ground, then tickle their bellies. Time just flies by, as man and beasts wrestle, but during the entire stretch there is a fear in the back of my mind. Ryder and Admiral tire out and run inside to eat, leaving me outside with my thoughts. Great Danes and Dobermans are big dogs, strong too, but I've long see since been able to bench press massive super duty trucks. I'm not even sure about the upper limits of my strength anymore, and yet I roll around in the grass for hours with animals I could very easily hurt. In my hands just about anything is fragile, but I have control, for now at least. However, I keep getting bigger and stronger. How much longer before I can't be careful? And even if I'm always careful of my strength, accidents can and do happen. Not wanting to consider the possibilities, my mind wanders to other matters. My clothes are completely wet and covered in glass strains. Throwing caution to the wind, I cross my arms at the hem of my shirt and slowly pull off my long sleeved shirt and under shirt. In the process my pecs expand, and bounce up and down a few times. Standing shirtless in the cool air doesn't make me cold, maybe it's because my body gives off so much heat. The air currents bend around my warm body, leaving a ticking sensation; it's pleasant. I wonder if there is anybody watching from afar. Actually if anybody was watching, he or she is probably writhing around uncontrollably orgasming at the sight of my naked torso. Not wanting to add to the show, I walk into the house to change clothing and wash my face. All the clocks say it is 10:34. Needing to kill some time, I wonder around the house cleaning and rearranging furniture. Then going on the internet, cooking an early lunch, and again to the internet to discover that nobody has yet posted any videos about me. If anybody had been watching earlier, he or she would have posted it by now. The right corner of my lips curls up to from a half smile. The sensation was strange, almost foreign after months of wearing a poker face. It's such a stupid and absurd thing to be happy about on the surface, not having one's picture posted, but to me the feeling is exhilarating. Ironically, I want to take my picture to myself, since I don't have any. Not a single picture showing a genuine smile. Back in the kitchen Ryder and Admiral are lying down on the floor; maybe it's getting too cold for them. I make a mental note to stop by a pet supply store and buy some dog mattress. Taking a knee, I scratch behind their ears and say goodbye. The drive to the university is slightly longer than usual. The sky is dark with thick gray clouds. A fierce wind begins hitting the side of my truck, rattling the windows. Before even arriving at the university, I hear a howling sound, not from animals, but from the wind blowing between the buildings. The grounds are eerie quite; there isn't a single person outside. The professor parking lot behind the science building is completely full, which only leaves a student parking lot located about five hundred feet away. That too is surprisingly full, for a Friday. All the spots nearest the building are completely full. There are some spaces in the middle of the lot, but reluctantly I park at the edge of lot. Cursing the fact that if I park next to another vehicle, I won't be able to open the door enough to exit. Walking toward the building, blasts of air bombard my body, almost as if trying to tear it down, but they don't hinder it in the slightest. Nearing the building I see a group of four young women, probably twenty or twenty-one years of age, standing by the door. They shake and move their hands around talking about the weather, then stop dead upon seeing my body approach them. The doors slide open, I walk right past them. One of them falls to her knees, a familiar smell enters my nostrils as a pass her. The others stare red faced and glossy eyed; none of them are even close to reaching the bottom of my pecs. The lobby is huge, like a concert hall. The walls of various shades of earthy yellows and browns, potted plants are carefully arranged around cushions and pillars. Counting the women, there are only ten people in the lobby, all staring. My long legs take long strides down a hall toward the end of the building, where I find a staircase and an elevator. I need to get to the seventh floor, but taking the elevator means crouching down the entire time, and then there's the risk of somebody else entering. So that means taking the stairs, fortunately my long legs allow me to move at three or four step increments. Unfortunately, my feet are so long that each step leaves me with only half a shoe on the floor and the other half in the air. The initial steps are awkward, but eventually my body adjusts to having less surface area on the floor to balance the its weight. It hardly takes me anytime to walk up the stairs; cautiously I walk around the top floor. Same color scheme as below, tons of cushions spread about, trash cans, tables, metal chairs, nothing special. For some reason somebody put up a double door right in the middle of the building. The doors are held open by a set of pegs, and the doorway is probably six or seven feet long, enough to accommodate the width of the doors. I bend my knees and walk for those six or seven feet and across a curved hall to find a group of students siting around a table. They stare; I ignore them to the best of my abilities as I pass. Once they recover and think I'm out of earshot, they begin talking amongst themselves. "Oh god, he really does go here." "Did ya'll see how wide he is? I swear he's three times wida than my boyfriend." "They can't be real. Nobody can have muscles that big, not even if he ate and drank steroids and HGM" "Fuck. I...I can't stop leaking. Somebody help me." "Cool your tits, Brenda." "HOLY SHIT. MY PANTS." "God dammit, Brenda." Not wanting to hear the conversation I walk faster, but they keep talking and there aren't any sounds to drown them out. By the time I reach my professor's door, the one called Brenda is scream directions on how to be eaten. Not waiting for a response I open the door and step inside and shut the door behind me. Dr. Jenkins looks up from his work; the man's mouth falls open. His face is in utter disbelief, with eyes that are nearly popping out of their sockets, his skin is pale and clammy, the man is struggling to breath. Suddenly his body starts moving, though the facial expression doesn't change. From his desk drawer, he pulls out a large brown bottle and a shot glass. He opens the bottle, and I recognize by the smell that it's alcohol. He fills up the glass and drinks it; his face twists into a knot of pain; he takes another. "Should you be drinking that?" All the papers, metal filing cabinets, and a collection of knickknacks on his book shelf and desk start vibrating, despite my voice being an octave higher than normal. Maybe it has something to do with the size of his office, which isn't small, but with me inside it becomes almost microscopic. He starts humping his desk, hard. The sight of a forty something year old man abusing himself with a desk, makes me want to back out of the plan. I motion him to stop and follow me. Exiting the office, I can still hear screams coming from the group at the end of the hall. Thankfully across Jenkins' office is a lab. Inside are six students, all seemingly finished with their lab and now cleaning up. Or they were until I entered the room. "Sorry guys, but I'm going to need you to leave the lab immediately." Naturally they complied. However, their eyes never once leave my body as they move from their lab stations to collect their belongings. As the first student approaches I move away from the door and stand across the hall until the final student leaves. Then I motion for Jenkins to enter the lab after me and lock the door. "Dr. Jenkins, walk over to the shower head and strip." No questions and no complaints. He immediately strips down naked. The sight isn't pretty, a hairy overweight middle aged man furiously beating off to a student. Though to be fair, I'm not the typical student. In my right hand, I grab the hem of my shirt and lift it up just enough to reveal my abdomen. Eight bronze colored stones carved from an unearthly stone, separated by deep ravines show themselves to the man. The simply act of breathing causes them to moves in a rhythmic motion. The abs bulge out slightly, then contract. The space between expands and shrinks. His eyes once again bulge out, his pupils shrink. Small streams of sweat appear on his face, which has become bright red. The first orgasm nearly tears his body apart. Cum shoots of out of his penis and hits the underside of his belly, as the man collapses onto his knees. After finishing, he recovers and once again shoots a load. Then another, and another. By the fifth erection he is lying on the floor, penis pointing straight at the ceiling and shooting cum several feet into the hair. The sixth orgasm is dry, the seventh wet. As he alternates between wet and dry, I walk over to the fire blanket encased in glass. Using my right forefinger to shatter the glass, I grab the blanket and shake it a few times to remove any unwanted shards. My finger is completely unscratched, the skin isn’t even red. Placing the blanket a few feet from Jenkins, I walk into the adjacent lab room and wait. The empty lab room is massive, probably large enough for 50 or so students. Stools placed next to every station, a few plastic and glass bottle located on the far side of the lab, and some glassware laid about are the only indications that the room is used at all. The only sounds are Jenkins continued moans and screams of agonizing pleasure, and some vents. Alone in the lab with nothing to distract myself, except my body makes me ill at ease. Familiar warmth starts to spread throughout my body. I begin walking around the room in an attempt to distract myself from myself. During the third trip around the lab, I notice a cabinet slightly ajar. Inside are several textbooks and a lab manual. As I leaf through the pages, the shower in the adjacent lab starts running. Half an hour later, Jenkins appears at the doorway; face still red and looking dehydrated. “Professor you should get yourself some water.” There is a precum stain on his pants, probably from earlier. e wanders outside the lab room for a drink. Guilt begins to wash over. Hearing the door in the adjacent lab room open I say, “Professor it’s probably best if we stay in different rooms.” “Yes sir,” he responds meekly. “I’m sorry about misleading you over our emails, but I need to talk to somebody.” “You enrolled under a different name; was it to hide your identity?” “Yes.” “Never in million years would I have guessed I’d be exchanging emails with someone as stunning as you.” Between words he starts to moan once again. “Professor maybe it’s best if you keep your clothes off.” I hear him fumble to remove all the slightly wet clothing. His belt clangs against the floor, several buttons pop off, he actually kicks a shoe into the ceiling. “So about me wanting to be a research assistant…” “Yes of course. Anything, I’ll do anything you want. “ “That’s the thing, I don’t actually want to be a research assistant. I want to be the subject.” “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.” “Have you ever watched a video of me, or looked over some pictures?” “Yes sir.” “How did you react?” “I became sexually stimulated.” “Why?” “I found you attractive.” “And what about when you actually saw me, in the flesh.” “I can’t describe the feeling. It was… I man you are… uhm oh god. I’m…I’m auhhh.” Waiting a few moments before continuing, “I’d like to know why that happens.” “It’s because you are a god among men. Your muscles alone…” “If I walk around shirtless, people ejaculate controllably. Same thing applies when I smile or stare directly into somebody’s eyes. Some people are able to achieve an orgasm simply by looking at me. The blind are driven into fits of insanity and rage at their inability to see. The deaf cry because they can’t hear my voice. Heterosexual men and homosexual women fall to their knees. The chaste are nearly rendered comatose by their suddenly sexual urges. I can think of dozens of more examples; even as I talk you are about to reach yet another orgasm.” He gasps and shoots another load. “Obviously I’m not normal. I need you to find out why this happens, and if it can be stopped. That’s the reason I came to this university.” “What would you have me do?” “Collect whatever samples you want. Run any test you want. Anything you can think of, do it.” “Please don’t make me say yes. I have my own research that I’ve spent my entire adult life working on. I don’t have time. There isn’t any even money for such a thing.” “I know, and I’m sorry, but I have to know. The research starts next semester, start gathering your assistants. After I have gathered more professors, we will all meet up to make plans.” “What about the money? Are you going to take it from my research budgets?” “No, I will personally finance any costs of the project. To make up for taking away your time, how about we make a deal?” “What kind of deal, master?” “If you comply and put aside all your current work to discover the secrets of my body, afterwards I will personally finance all your research for five years. No hoops to jump through, no red tape. However much you need, no, however much you want will be yours. What do you say?” “Yes. Yes. Anything for you, sir,” he says while running into the room. Unfortunately he trips and falls face first onto the hard stone floor. Almost immediately he stands up, as if he doesn’t feel pain. He still looks dehydrated, and it doesn’t help that his penis is still rock solid. “Good, I’ll contact you once I have more staff members.” I leave the room, but through the door I can hear Jenkins once against abusing himself. The group of students from earlier is gone. Several of the cushions have small wet marks on the seats and on the arm rests. Once again taking the rear stairs, I wander the building searching for my biology professor’s office.
  9. Tristan Part 3 Going down an escalator, Tristan stares from one shop to another, trying to familiarize himself with all the stores while also looking for a help wanted sign. "So Tristan, did you find anything you like?" "Yeah, I found a couple of shirts and a pair of shorts." "That's good." Looking around, Tristan notices that it's noon, on an early July day, but the mall isn't even moderately crowded. Just a few groups of high-schoolers, some parents with their kids, and a dozen or so senior citizens spread about. Most stores are empty or at least seemingly empty, and a few are actually closed. "Hey Drew, why is it so empty? Back where I'm from the malls are insanely crowded during the summers." "Well almost two thirds of the town’s population leaves during the summer, so everything gets real empty around here. Two, three weeks before the semester starts everybody floods back here and this place becomes a mess. Thousands of freshmen free from their parents running around buying all kinds of unnecessary things. Worse when they have their parents, fussing and encouraging them to buy something advertised by some morning news show. The whole mall becomes a disaster." "Yeah?" "Yeah. So how's the job hunt?" "No luck. Every place that's open is fully staffed, and apparently the owners give jobs back to the returning students before hiring any new faces." "Tends to happen, but you'll find something eventually." "I hope so, not doing anything all day is staring to drive me nuts." "Well I see you have been hitting the gym. You're arms look bigger than when we first met. Oh hey there's Afano and Blake." Afano sits in the middle of a bench meant for three people; his shoulders make it impossible for somebody to sit next to him. Blake sits adjacent to Afano, on another bench, and is first to spot Drew and Tristan walking over. "You guys ready to go?" asks Blake. "I am" "Me too." "Alright let's go." "I was telling Tristan how his arms look bigger, compared to when we first met him," starts Drew as the group begins walking toward an exit. "It's hard to tell, with his height gain," says Afano, "that's why I keep telling him to hit the gym. He's surprisingly strong, I mean you look strong, but you definitely are lifting out of your weight class," he continues as he looks at Tristan. "I used to work at a metal recycling center, so I'm used to lifting heavy things.." "So is that the kind of job you're looking for?" asks Drew. "Not really. I mean the money was great, but I'd rather not spend all day lugging around metal scrapes under the hot sun." "That's how you got shredded, by lugging metal?" "That and eating healthy." The group passes by a tall mirror, positioned right between two bathrooms. Afano takes a moment to admire himself. The Samoan giant is literally spilling out of his stringer tank top. His immense pecs are so large the fabric can't reach over to fully cover his exposed nibbles. Afano smiles to his reflection and begins running his hands over his abs. Blake takes notices that Afano's gargantuan arms and pecs are missing from his peripheral vision. He turns around to spot the giant flexing in front of the mirror. "Guys wait up, we got a bit of self-worshiping going on," says Blake to Drew and Tristan. "There's nothing wrong with admiring your body. God I spend so many hours in the gym, I should be allowed to walk around shirtless anywhere I want," decrees the giant as he removes his tank top and continues flexing. After striking several poses, Afano leaves his reflection and walks back to the group. However, instead of taking his position next to Blake, he walks right up to Tristan. He close to three inches taller than the new comer, but significantly wider. Much wider, so much wider, any person standing behind the giant wouldn't know there was a young man facing opposite the giant. "Is something wrong?" "No not really. Walking over here, I noticed that you look 'small.'” He pauses for a moment to take a look around, “Mostly everyone here is wearing some sort of tank top and shorts, except you. At and around the apartment you go shirtless sometimes, and you're unbelievably shredded and you have mass. But every time we go out, you always wear a t-shirt and jeans, to hide your muscles and make yourself look small." "Okay, where is this going?" "You have an insane physique, the kind most guys would kill to have, and most girls would do anything to fuck. So how come you hide it?" "I wear what I find comfortable, which is mostly t-shirts and jeans. If my physique is hidden it's because the clothing is loose, not because I'm consciously hiding anything. Besides, why does any of this matter to you?" Afano thinks over the question for a moment, still shirtless. Some of the few mall goers stare at his immense body; some turned on, others repulsed by the bulging oversized muscles. Opposite the giant, mall goers either see Blake or Drew; they pay little if any attention to Tristan. Blake breaks the silence, "You look weird." Before Afano can add to the conversation, Drew begins talking, "Let me explain. When we first interviewed you for the spare room, you didn't strike us as anything really all that notable. No tattoos, no piercings, no strange mannerisms, honestly neither your personality nor physical appearance were noteworthy, or at least at first. When we started narrowing down the candidates, you sort of popped up. That guy with brown eyes, black hair, over six feet; we called you up again and arranged another meeting during your next college visit. Then we agreed to offer up the room." "I'm gonna be honest. The second time you showed up, I thought, 'this guy is pretty cute,'" adds Afano, "During your second visit, I couldn't help but notice how your facial features just popped out, or that you were relatively tall and looked solid. Then actually living with you, pretty cute became really handsome, and solid became shredded as fuck." "Tons of people have said that to me. I still don't get the point." "I'm just saying you should show off a little. Add a little swagger to your walk, wear tighter clothes, do something," urges Afano, oddly full of passion. "Yeah, if he didn't pester you to go to the gym, you probably won't have left the apartment at all, I mean except to look for a job. You're 18 and on your own, and the first thing you do is look for a job. Seriously?" adds Blake. "Of course I'm going to search for a job, I need to support myself." "You have plenty of money saved up," counters Afano. "Hey, some friends of mine are throwing are throwing a big birthday party at the end of the month, and we're taking you. No objections," "Okay." "Alright so it's settled, we are going to get you shit-faced. Also you're going to the gym with Blake and me." "Alright, alright, just so long was we can leave; we've been standing here forever." The next day, Tristan spends mid-morning and all afternoon searching for a possible job in another town, but turns up empty handed. He drives to the apartment to switch clothes and then drives toward the university gym. The gym is incredibly large, and well stocked, but most surprisingly it's open 24/7. Once through the doors he immediately spots Afano, Blake and even Drew, who usually works out during the mornings. "Alright so I'm ready to do something." The next day. "Should my legs have a pulse?" "That's normalish, especially for such an intense work out. Here drink this and take these," says Drew as he gives Tristan a glass of water and various pills. Tristan takes the pills and swallows them, along with several gulps of water before asking, "What do they do?" "Most people ask and then sallow. There's protein in the water, the pills are to help promote muscle repair and growth. You are going to need a ton of these." "Does any of that stuff actually work? I mean there are tons of vitamins that don't do a damn, other than led to really expensive urine." "Trust me these work. The month after I started taking all this stuff, I gained some pretty serious mass, and I increased all my lifts. Believe me; you'll want these to maximize your results." Tristan looks down at his calves; no longer red or swollen. They look exactly the same as they did yesterday; however, the muscle tissues have been completely destroyed. Every time his brain sends a signal to his calves, they angrily respond by bursting into pain. "I feel like dying. You people are monsters." Afano walks into the kitchen to find Tristan, legs spread out wide in a V. "You're the monster. Fuck, for a novice, you squatted weights that experienced lifters would be proud of," smiles Afano. "I get the impression I shouldn't have done that." "Maybe not for your first time, but you need to push yourself to get real results," says Drew. Tristan stares at Drew and Afano, both wearing just boxers and sandals. Drew has a solid V shaped torso, though Tristan's attention immediately goes to his bulky arms and pecs. Those specific body parts look like they belong on somebody who weighs a good twenty pounds more. Still, Drew doesn't seem to be out of proportion, in fact his confidence and natural charisma seem to flow into his muscles. He likes his large upper body and works hard to build and maintain it, and he can somehow look impressive even while standing next to Afano. The college senior outweighs Drew by close to a hundred pounds and is four inches taller; his body screams power and strength. Afano's muscles aren't as toned as Drew's, which isn't to say they are soft or flabby, but are instead just plain bulky. His waist is probably 40 something inches, though it looks significantly smaller do to his immense shoulders. His legs and arms look like a grocer stuffed several melons into long plastic brown bags. His bulbous body occupies an absurd amount of space, every time he moves the kitchen seems to get smaller. "Tristan, you still in there?" "W...what?" "We were asking about your old job. Didn't you ever get sore?" "Sometimes, but I was never expected to move almost double my body weight, using just my legs." "Well the more you do it, the less it'll hurt." "I doubt that." Tristan gets up to walk away. Upon standing his legs buckle, almost turning to jelly. He takes a step toward his bathroom, immediately his legs respond by shouting, "Fuck you," with every step. Right, "fuck." Left, "you." After a short eternity of searing pain, Tristan sits in his bathtub running a warm bath. He stretches out his tall body, out along the tub and tries to relaxing, before falling asleep for two hours. For the next three weeks Tristan continues going to the gym with his roommates, to avoid their nagging to, "do something." Initially the workouts are hellish, but gradually his body begins to adapt to the harsh one or two hour sessions. The soreness following a day's work out becomes less severe, and his recovery time decreases. Tristan puts on a shirt from back home. After two months, a little over an inch in height, and several pounds of muscle, the shirt is snug. It shows off his chest and arms nicely, but still hides his abs. His shorts reveal a pair of matching brownish calves covered with sinewy muscle, and covered with a dusting of hair. Glancing over his reflection, on his bathroom mirror, Tristan walks out to find Blake standing outside his bedroom door. "The guys wanted to check if you were ready." "Just need my wallet." Blake watches as Tristan bends his arm to pick up his wallet. A month ago his bicep would have sort-of-mostly filled the sleeve, but now it actually stretches the sleeve. He notes how Tristan's shirt hugs his pecs and upper arms, yet is incredibly loose around his waist. 'He needs to tailor his shirts,' thinks Blake as he and Tristan head out the door. As Tristan walks to Blake's truck, Afano and Drew take notice of his newly improved physique. They have been monitoring his developments, but today he really shines. In the rear view mirror, Afano is treated to a full view of Tristan climbing into the truck. He notices how round and tight Tristan's ass looks in those shorts greenish brown shorts. The shorts themselves are positively hideous, but a fine ass can make even the ugliest of shorts or paints stunning. Blake begins driving toward a house located near the end of the county line. A lone house, two stories tall and surrounded by trees and hills. No a single neighbor in any direction for almost an entire mile. Already the music is blaring and there are people running around with red cups in hand. "So little buddy, welcome to your first of many parties."
  10. Good god man are you even human? Every single one of your stories is a ridiculously hot source of endlesss pleasure. I don't think you have a single safe for work type of story. You made me a fan of Mr. Hugeness and his causual dominating muscular body.
  11. Looking at the tags, my story so far is kind of boring, but the growth will start in the next chapter so bear with me. Tristan Part 2 With A.P. exams and finals over, Tristan finds himself without much of a reason for staying with his father and siblings; he wants to get away. The morning after taking his economics final, Tristan says his good byes to the family and begins a cross country road trip. Stopping only for gas, food, and sleep, he arrives at a large apartment complex, two days after his departure. Slightly nervous at the prospect of living with complete strangers for a year, he takes up the elevator and walks to his soon to be apartment, and firmly knocks on the door. A large shirtless Samoan man of immense height and mass opens the door; even by Samoan standards the man is big. His shoulders nearly occupy the entire length of the doorway, before tapering down to a thick waist. His abs are incredibly thick and round, like brown soda cans. His pecs are square shaped and so large, his nipples appear to almost point straight down. "Tristan, you're here," loudly exclaims the large man with a smile. "Hey Afano, I decided to come up here a day early. I hope it's not a problem." "Dude it's fine, Josh already packed his stuff and left. The room's all yours," Afano says while stepping aside, "come in I'll show you his room." The living is room is exactly how Tristan remembers it, a sofa with some tables and laps. The entire apartment has hard wood floors and the walls are painted an eggshell color, or maybe they just need to be cleaned. Afano leads his new roommate to a room on the far right of the apartment. "So this is it, pretty basic room you got yourself a desk, a bed, and two dressers. It's decent and cheap, a lot better than some of the other places around here. No cracks, no peeling paint, no splinters, it's actually a pretty good deal. Dude, you need any help with your stuff?" Tristan looks at Afano, and notices that he is only wearing a towel. A tiny little thing wrapped around his expansive quads. The muscles fill out in all directions before collapsing at the knees and again expanding around his shins. Right in the center of the towel is a rather sizable bulge. Without warning, Afano's lower body begins bulging. "Do you like what you see?" says Afano with a smirk. "I didn't mean to stare." Afano's face softens and he lets out a deep jolly laugh. His large round muscles begin jiggling, especially his pecs. As Afano inhales deeply, his pecs push out forward making his chest cleavage more pronounced. After exhaling, he takes a good look at Tristan and says, "Dude relax, I'm just messing with you," while bouncing his large pecs. “Okay.” Tristan looks away and wonders down stairs to his car, with Afano following. As he starts unloading boxes of clothes from the truck of the car, he can’t help but wonder whether it’s lawful for Afano to be outside. “Should you be outside like that?” “Like what?” innocently asks Afano. “Nude, save for a towel.” “Dude it’s fine. Like three fourths of the apartments are empty, and it’s like three in the afternoon. Besides, who’s going to complain about this?” He once again begins bouncing abnormally large pecs, however instead of just moving up and down, they actually move outward. Striations leap out from his arm pits and travel across the formerly smooth beef. Afano smiles and winks at Tristan, then motions at him to look around. Not a single person is in view. There is one window with the blinds partially raised, but the moment Tristan takes notice, the blinds close. “See, nobody has any complains,” smiles Afano while striking a few more poses. Tristan feels a little irritated. He left home to get away from his father’s showboating, but now he has to deal with a giant three hundred and something pound Samoan with exhibitionist tendencies. Still, the other two roommates seemed normal enough, the rent was fairly cheap, and besides it was too early to complain or start regretting the decision. The two men make three trips up and down the stairs, carrying various boxes. Afano goes through some house rules or housemate agreements that may need updating. Tristan was already well aware of most topics, but he wanted to address the bills. “Right so the electricity in this place is fucking pricy, so we make do without air conditioning during the day and only turn it on during the night. Water and gas are fairly cheap. We don’t have cable, because I have Amazon prime and Drew has Netflix. You can talk to the building manager about getting cable, but you’d have to pay for it yourself. I personally think it’s a waste of money, just let me know if you want to watch something and I’ll let you use my account. Drew is the same way, if you prefer something else.” Afano goes into detail about bringing girls and guys over for studying or sex. Then starts talking about food and refrigerator space, which is empty except for some beer and a box of baking soda. He and another roommate, Blake, both have trucks, but they typically carpool to save money. For about thirty minutes Afano goes on in surprisingly deep details about various living arrangements, all while still only wearing the towel. Tristan can’t help but notice that it doesn’t even look wet. “Hey Afano, we’re back,” comes a shout from the living room. “Alright,” he shouts back, “hey come to Josh’s room.” Several seconds later two guys wonder into Tristan’s new bedroom. Drew is roughly Tristan’s height, but with a thicker build, broader shoulders and arms that completely fill out the sleeves of his flannel shirt. The shirt is open, revealing thick pecs covered by a tight white t-shirt. Dark stubble is evenly spread over his broad jawline. Dark eyebrows frame his eyes, which are more green than blue. His hair is blonde, and cropped closely around the sides, but somewhat long on the top. Blake walks in behind Drew. He is the shortest guy in the room, standing at about 5’10, and looks fairly wiry, like a runner. His exposed forearms are covered with various veins that disappear into the sleeves of his shirt, which is also tight. He has long dirty blonde locks and is clean shaven. His face is very angular, with full lips, and grey eyes. “Hey roomy, good to see you,” says Drew while extending his hand. Tristan accepts and firmly shakes hands with Drew, then Blake. “Afano you couldn’t bother to put on some clothes? Seriously he just got here and you are already parading around here in your towel,” says Blake. “What he didn’t complain. Hell I think he likes it,” says the Afano with a smile, while striking a pose. “Sorry about him, he likes showing off,” apologies Drew. “It’s fine,” Tristan pauses, “kind of.” Drew and Blake spend several minutes further briefing Tristan on the living arrangement and ask if he would like accommodations. They offer to help unpack, but Tristan declines. “Hey, you’re not too tired are you?”asks Drew. “No,” replies Tristan. “After you’re done, we’ll take you out for some food, on us,” smiles Drew. “Okay.” “Great just let us know when you’re ready to go.” Drew, Blake, and Afano walk out of the room to let Tristan unpack in peace. He didn’t pack many things besides clothes, books, a hand held gaming device along with the appropriate games, a laptop, and a mattress cover. Still it takes him around an hour to unpack everything. The room looks a little barren, but livable. He wonders in to the living room to find Drew and Black on their phones and Afano actually wearing clothes. The giant is wearing either a 3XL or 4XL grey shirt, that is tight around his pecs and upper arms, and some red shorts that hug his quads. “Hey guys I finished unpacking,” says Tristan. “Finally. Come on, we’ll go in my truck,” says Afano while thundering to the door. Drew and Blake follow, but Drew stands by the door waiting for Tristan. As he walks out the door, Drew places his hand on Tristan’s shoulder and inquires, “Did you get taller?” “I don’t think so.” “No you’re definitely taller. I remember last month we were eye level, now mine are slightly lower. Let’s compare.” Drew calls out to Blake and then stands right next to Tristan, shoulder to shoulder. “Tristan is a little taller, like half an inch maybe more,” confirms Blake. “Well aren’t you lucky, 18 and still going,” smiles Drew.
  12. I loved this story and I hope you keep writing.
  13. I love Dylan, but I've got to ask, are you planning on posting any other stories? I'm a particularly big fan of Jacky five years later and Beowulf. There isn't a single one of your stories I don't love.
  14. I`d love for this story to continue, please continue.
  15. zangetsu

    no-sex Tristan

    Tristan Savage sits in the fourth seat of the second row of Mr. Blum's hot Calculus one class. The A.C is broken, and even with all the windows open, the classroom doesn't seem to cool down. Dark amber, almost brown, eyes along with his short pitch black hair give an almost boring description of the young man. In truth his face is an acquired taste, so to speak. The more one gazes upon him, the more his features begin to poke out. A prominent triangle shaped jaw line, a strong forehead, and a straight nose. His skin is clean and bright, long since devoid of any teenage acne. After really gazing at Tristan, one can't help but talk about him. Students comment on his strange form of attractiveness, and ponder various questions regarding his personality and appearance. Under his school uniform hides a lean body, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Year around his arms and legs are completely covered by long sleeved shirts and slacks, even in this warm weather despite the school allowing short sleeves and shorts. Many expect such a handsome and well-built young man to be lively and talkative. A youth entering the prime of his life should be energetic; he should ooze testosterone, and walk with swagger. Tristan Savage should be an alpha male, atop the high school food chain. Upon entering a room he should command respect and loudly greet his buddies. However, he hardly talks, rarely initiates an actual conversation, and spends most of his time alone. His personality is carried online, or rather isn't online. Tristan doesn't have an Instagram, Facebook, or twitter account; he never even had a Myspace. His disposition and lack of presence leads to various character interpretations. To some students, Tristan is a weird looking guy suffering from low self-esteem and no self-confidence. Others view him as painfully shy and lacking any social skills, or as an arrogant prick simply refusing to socialize with his fellow students. At first glance, these and many other descriptions can apply to the young man sitting on the uncomfortable plastic seat, half-heartily taking notes. From 7:25 a.m. to 1:25 p.m., he robotically writes down notes and practice problems for the upcoming AP tests. Once fifth period is over, he exits the calculus classroom and walks across the campus to the school gym, were sixty other students have already changed into their gym uniform and divided themselves into four classes. Tristan, along with five other seniors, waits to check in with Coach Johnson. As seniors they are given certain privileges, especially from Coach Anna Johnson. Coach Johnson is woman in her early thirties, has medium length brown hair, grey eyes, and a runner’s build. She and many other faculty members blatantly play favorites; she in particular favors the state championship winning football and baseball teams, as well as her track team. So long as they don’t get caught, she allows the seniors to skip class and for her dear and precious athletes she even comes up with excuses to get them out of school or reasons to have the school pay for large lunches and clothes. All the seniors waiting for her are members of at least two school teams, whether they be athletic or academic, except Tristan. She and many other faculty members have always held some level of distain for Tristan Savage, son of the legendary high school, college, and NFL athlete Robert Savage. Tristan Savages bears almost no apparent physical resemblance to his father, who at Tristan’s age measured 6’6 and weighted 250lbs. The man was a member of nearly every sports team and club the school offered. A natural born leader he inspired various teams to win many championships, and then moved on to repeat his actions in college, winning title after title. During his NFL career he won five Super Bowls, and used his fame and ruggedly handsome good looks to transition flawlessly into the world of corporate business. He now travels the world closing multibillion dollar deals and graces the covers of various magazines. Occasionally he visits the school where it all started; completely captivating all the students and faculty with his charisma and swagger. Coach Johnson stares at Tristan for a moment and feels disappointment; many other faculty member and students feel the same way. He is seemingly nothing like his father. The young man stands at about 6'2 and weighs somewhere between very lean 170lb and 180lbs. Besides his statistics, his personality is also disappointing. He appears to lack confidence and ambition; to them he is a lazy bum. The idea for this story popped up recently into my head, so I quickly wrote down the beginning and decided to post it. I plan to finish Byond Sexy before continue with this story. By the way the growth will happen in later parts, this part and the next part will be set up. Part 1 As Johnson marks Tristan’s attendance, a strong gust of wind suddenly picks up and hits Tristan's torso. The front of his shirt is pushed into the crevices between his abs, revealing a three by two matrix of round perfectly shaped abdominal muscles. Each set of abs becomes more pronounced as they lead up to his chest. Two large round mounds of muscle pop out a few inches from his body. Almost as if refusing to be out done, his obliques press against the soft piece of cloth. They look almost angry, like they want to tear to the fabric to shreds. Large veins are clearly visible through his shirt. They appear from his shoulders and run along his large biceps before seemly disappearing into his forearms. Broad round shoulders curve in to form a small valley between his large round biceps. Another valley is located between his biceps and upper forearms. Tristan doesn't take notice of the wind, but many students and coaches, especially Johnson do. Everyone seems to forget that hidden underneath the school uniform is the body of a dedicated fitness model; though it doesn’t belong there. They gaze in wonder as Tristan walks way; the air still hitting his body, now exposing an expansive network of iron cables running along his backside. He has no possible reason to possess such a body. Tristan doesn’t participate in any form of athletic events, whether they be school or privately sponsored. He isn’t the type to work out simply for the sake of looking good, after all he never even wears short-sleeved uniforms. None of the students or faculty members has a clue how he managed to grow into such in impressive physique. Over three-fourths the school's student body is enrolled in some sort of athletic team or club that requires strenuous physical activity whether it be football or dance, and none of them have bodies even resembling Tristan’s.
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