Short, aggressive, and dirty. In keeping with the season, I figured I'd sneak this one out in the middle of the night, like Santa but pornier. Merry Christmas!
I apologize for any typos or the like and will get back to them later. I am bone-tired from baking cookies and running D&D.
Logan couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he realized he was in too deep. It was probably around the time he finished tying the knot in the rope around Troy Larkin’s wrists. At any moment, the unconscious jock would come around, and there’d be no going back.
Truthfully, though, Logan had passed the point of no return a few days prior. He’d been driven to the line a number of times, like when Troy had casually knocked a weight out of his hand while he was doing shoulder presses, or all of those times he and his dumb jock buddies had mocked him while he was getting changed. But all of those paled in comparison to that fateful Saturday when he decided he’d finally had enough of the humiliation.
In retrospect, calling Troy a “roided up asshole” in the locker room was exactly the wrong way to retaliate to the latest round of jeers and snickers. One shove led to another, and suddenly he found himself on his knees in the middle of an otherwise empty locker room, staring at Troy’s donkey dick eye-to-eye. The jock had slapped him across the cheek with it before hefting his balls in one hand, grinding them against Logan’s face.
“Do these look like they’re shriveled up, bitch?” Troy had asked.
He needn’t have asked. Everyone at the gym knew that Troy freeballed at the gym. It was impossible not to notice the thick bulge of his dick swinging in his shorts. Logan had always wanted to see it, but not in this scenario.
He had struggled, but Troy’s grip was like iron on his shoulders. He’d been forced to endure the whole, humiliating scenario, tears stinging his eyes and his heart pounding like a jackhammer. To make matters worse, he’d been painfully hard the whole time. At least Troy hadn’t seen that.
Shaking with rage in the car afterward, Logan knew he needed to get revenge, but he might not have gone through with it if it weren’t for the old man he’d nearly hit on the way home.
He had slammed on his brakes and threw open the door, hurrying to make sure his near-victim was all right. To his surprise, the old man--a dapper old fellow with stark white hair and a suit that seemed out of place in the summer heat of San Cristobal--seemed far calmer.
“You must have been in a hurry,” the old man had said.
Logan had helped him to his feet, apologizing all the while.
“I’ll be fine,” the old man had assured him. “But you, son, you look like someone’s got under your skin.”
For some reason, Logan found himself sitting on the street corner, telling the old man all about Troy. He wasn’t sure why he shared so much, except that there was something calming, reassuring, about the pale blue eyes that regarded him while he talked.
When he was finished, the old man said, “It sounds like you already know what you need to do. Put this bully in his place. You’ll come out of it the bigger man.”
That flew in the face of everything Logan had learned in school. His parents had always told him not to rise to the bait. That was what made you the bigger man. But as the old man talked, he became surer and surer of his course of action.
Troy’s eyelids fluttered. Groggily, the jock shook his head, lifting his head from the locker room floor. He looked around as if seeing the place for the first time, but when his gaze settled on Logan standing there before him, he came sharply awake.
“The fuck are you doing?” he asked, ever-so-eloquently.
Logan didn’t respond. He let Troy’s dawning awareness take in the fullness of his situation, the ropes binding his arms and legs. Logan standing before him, thin arms folded over his narrow chest. Troy struggled against his bonds and let out a mindless cry for help.
“No one’s here,” said Logan. “One of the perks of working out this late, I guess. We have the whole place to ourselves.”
That part of the plan had been easier than Logan expected. The desk clerk had been eager to get off of his shift early. Logan had waited until he and Troy were the only clients at the gym, and then he’d offered to lock up so the clerk could go home early. The kid had been all too ready to accept.
Troy strained against the ropes again. The corded musculature of his arms bunched impressively, and all over his shirtless torso, hard slabs of beef tensed and rippled into sharp relief. Logan could have sworn he heard the individual fibers crying out in protest. He almost took a step back. But no, even Troy couldn’t break out of that.
He slumped back onto the ground and shook his head, still clearly woozy. His eyes, full of fury, speared Logan.
“You put something into my drink.”
Logan shrugged. His heart was pounding in his chest like he’d just run a hill sprint, but his voice sounded oddly calm and detached.
“You shouldn’t have left it lying around while doing supersets.”
Troy snarled. “What’s this all about? You try anything, you little fa--”
The clap of flesh against flesh surprised even Logan. Dimly, through the rushing adrenaline and endorphins, he felt stinging heat in his palm.
“Don’t use that word with me.”
Troy’s face went scarlet as he struggled against his bonds. One cheek was a deeper red where Logan’s hand had connected. He sagged again, quicker this time. A sheen of sweat glistened over his body, highlighting the wide taper of his lats and the thick, bunching traps that framed his neck.
“What’re you going to do?” Troy asked.
“You fucked with me one too many times,” said Logan. “This is payback.”
He hiked his trembling thumbs under the waistband of his gym shorts and pulled them down. In his baby blue boxer briefs underneath, his cock was already half-hard and inflating to its full six and a half inches.
Troy looked up at him blankly. Then comprehension dawned.
“You’re a sick fuck,” he spat. “When I get out of these, you’re dead.”
The threat hit Logan with a physical force. Throughout all of his fevered planning for revenge, there had been a cold voice of warning in the back of his head: there would be consequences. He had shut that voice away, time and again.
He tried to do so again as he peeled his boxer briefs down. His cock, at least, had no worries. It sprang up and bobbed in the air, a bead of precum glistening at the head. No, Logan told himself. He had come this far, and he was going to see his revenge through.
One hand slid down the length of his cock. A quiver of pleasure echoed up his spine the hard flesh under his hand bucked like a startled horse. The sight of Troy’s pecs, pumped from his efforts and rippling with the jock’s impotent rage, only fueled his boner.
“Don’t you fucking do it, you little pervert.”
“Try and stop me,” Logan grunted, lost in pleasure and vindication. Was this how Troy had felt when he had shoved his junk in Logan’s face? He had expected to feel guilty, but every stroke of his cock washed away a bit more of the remorse and fear in his belly. He was in control. It felt good. Powerful.
His strokes sped up, the sound of skin against skin an odd counterpoint to Troy’s raging. To Logan’s surprise, a higher-pitched edge of helplessness soured the jock’s litany of threats, until all of a sudden, he let out one shrill word.
The sound of it, the knowledge that he had complete and total power of Troy Larkin, sent Logan over the edge. Hot white pleasure arced up his spine and burned down his limbs as an orgasm built in the base of his balls. He felt them pull up as his dick went rigid in his hand.
That was the only word he could use to describe the explosive wave of energy that tore through him, the only one he could hold in his mind against the blinding tide. It was unlike any orgasm he’d ever had before, a thousand times more intense.
The first spray of cum spurted out across Troy’s beautiful face, a streak that crossed from temple to chiseled cheek. He opened his mouth to protest, and a second blast splattered across his lips and into his mouth.
Not that Logan could see. His eyes were shut against the storm of pleasure raging around him. Every millisecond of it stretched into eternity as searing euphoria hit him in waves. That dim voice of warning perked up, telling him that something was not normal about this, but its shouts weren’t even a whisper against the roar of his own pleasure.
He realized that the roar wasn’t in his head. It ripped from his throat, a sound of purest, primal exultation. But something had to be wrong with his ears. His voice sounded deeper, as if he had a cold.
Still he came, drenching Troy’s face in jism. Warmth poured down his spine and into his limbs. He felt like he was being *stretched* somehow in every direction at once, like the air was pulling at his skin.
And then he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He’d gotten used to the sight of his form, short and lean, over the course of months failing to put on any muscle. He knew immediately that his reflection had changed.
He was still thin, yes, but the guy in the mirror might as well have been a stranger. The Logan he knew didn’t have horseshoe triceps when he wasn’t flexing, or a tangled blue vein down each arm. And he definitely didn’t have the solid four-pack he saw in the mirror.
As he stared, knees still buckling under the power of his orgasm, the figure in the mirror changed further. With every improbable shot of cum, muscles swelled and tightened. Two more abs resolved themselves into stern definition on his stomach, and his newly forged six-pack rippled and hardened. Mass mounded up on his shoulders and traps, giving his body new breadth.
The changes in his lower body were even more pronounced. Logan’s ass had always been bony, but firm globes of muscle were pulsing outward, even as his meager quads expanded in fits and spurts.
None of the miraculous growth could have prepared him for the strange sensation of his dick expanding in his hand. His cock had been at full mast the whole time, but it was as if he was getting an erection on top of the first. The head strained forward, lengthening past his clenched fist, even as his shaft pulsed thicker and wider, forcing his grip apart. Hips still bucking, he gave a powerful stroke of his new cock and marveled at how long it took to travel the full length of it. It had to be a good seven and a half inches, and so thick he couldn’t close his fingers around it.
A moan from Troy drew Logan’s attention downward. He realized two things: first, that he was looking further down than he was used to, and second, that he wasn’t the only one changing.
The metamorphosis working its way through Logan’s body was mirrored and reversed in Troy. As Logan’s orgasm began to subside, he watched as Troy’s bunched biceps softened and dwindled, losing mass and definition at once. The jock’s huge feet visibly retracted, leaving them merely large. Everywhere, from his cannonball delts to the heaving globes of muscle at his chest, it looked like air was being slowly let out of a ball.
Logan sagged against a locker as the orgasm finally ebbed away. It was a strange dichotomy. He felt so spent from the pleasure that he could barely stand, but his newly muscled legs carried his weight more easily than they ever had before.
Troy, too, slumped down onto the ground. All of the fight had gone out of him. He was still muscular, though hardly the amateur middleweight bodybuilder he had been before. And with Logan’s cum still dripping down his face, he had never before looked so pathetic.
“What the hell happened?” Logan asked, not expecting an answer.
He turned to the mirror again. One hand roamed over his chest. Hard plates of muscle met his hand as he explored the uncharted topography of his new physique. He let out a gasp as a stray finger brushed over a surprisingly sensitive nipple.
His hand voyaged lower, sliding over the sweat-slicked grooves of his abs. There was no fat there, only skin shrink-wrapped over taut bricks of muscle, leading like cobblestones toward the heavy cock at his groin. It felt too big, slapping against his thigh as he turned to flex in the mirror. No, not too big. Fucking great.
Logan raised one arm up and bent it, sucking in a breath at the hard tennis ball of muscle that exploded upward as he flexed. He wasn’t huge by any means, but he’d packed on years of progress in a matter of minutes, and he was taller besides--maybe 5’9 now. Just barely above average, but he’d stopped growing in high school and had resigned himself to a life of needing stools to reach high shelves.
His growth--and Troy’s shrinking--was impossible. Utterly impossible. He’d heard stories, of course, like everyone in San Cristobal did, but those were just silly tales people at the college told. Staring at his mounding biceps, he wondered just how many of them were true, and how this had happened to him.
You’ll come out of it the bigger man, the old man had said.
Impossible. Logan let out a laugh at the absurdity of it. He was so consumed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice that Troy had gotten free.
Logan had tied the ropes tightly around Troy’s hamhock-sized forearms, but they had shrunk with the rest of the bound jock. Somehow, he had managed to get one hand loose and clamber to his feet. All of this passed through Logan’s mind as the jock’s still-sizeable bulk hurtled into his back.
He went down, face slamming against hard tile. Wind exploded from his lungs. He tried to suck in a breath, but Troy’s weight pressed down on his back.
Still stunned, he felt like a rag doll as the jock twisted him onto his back and pinned him down. Hate-filled eyes bored down into his. Spittle and spent cum rained down on him as Troy’s fingers dug into his shoulders.
“What did you do to me!?”
Logan stared at him, half numb from the pain and half devoid of words to describe the impossible. A sudden, delirious laugh tore free from his battered lungs.
“Stop laughing!” Troy shrieked at him.
Through fits of laughter, Logan blurted out, “My cum’s--”
“Change me back!”
“--on your face!”
With a wordless roar, Troy drew back a fist and swung down at Logan. Desperate, the smaller man raised his hand to block the blow. His hand caught the punch.
The strength of the blow drove Logan’s hand down to the ground, but he saw awareness dawn in Troy’s eyes. The big jock was still stronger, but the gap between them had narrowed. Emboldened, Logan struggled against the muscled physique pressing him down onto the cold tiles.
He fought as Troy drove down on him, the jock’s hot breath stinging against his ear. Somehow, he managed to wriggle one sweat-slicked leg free. Desperate, he drove his knee up into the jock’s crotch. The feeble kick lacked momentum, but a grunt of pain and fury shook Troy's body. Logan took his chance, throwing his full strength at one of Troy’s arms. He wriggled out from under Troy and tried to get back to his feet.
The jock clawed at him, bringing him back down. Logan lashed out blindly. His fingers closed on fabric as he fought to free himself again, and he pulled frantically. Troy’s shorts gave way with a rip. As they battled, Logan felt something big, hot, and thick press into his side.
“This what you want?” Troy jeered as his cock slid across Logan’s ass.
Sheer fear lent Logan strength. He caught Troy around the midsection with one arm and got a grip on one of the jock’s wrists with the other. Ignoring the throbbing in his head and the protestations of his battered body, he managed to twist Troy’s arm behind his back.
The jock tried to yank free, but he’d spent too much of his strength trying to escape his bonds, and was at a bad angle besides. He let out another enraged grunt as Logan managed to get on top of him.
His grunt went suddenly high-pitched. Logan looked down, taking a moment to realize why. Amidst all of the other concerns of his body, he’d barely noticed his still-hard cock pressing against the crack of Troy’s huge bubble butt.
A wicked grin spread across his face, fueled by delirium and pain. He tugged Troy’s arm backwards and leaned in, whispering, “Is this what you want?”
Logan shifted his hips, using his thighs and free arm to press down on Troy’s back. The jock bucked, his incredible strength almost dismounting Logan, but he just tugged on Troy’s bent arm once more. The jock let out a hiss of pain.
It was nothing compared to the curses he let out as Logan positioned his still-hard cock against Troy’s exposed hole. The jock had violated him, made him feel like less of a man.
“It’s time to return the favor,” he said, and drove his cock in.
Logan had topped before, but this was a whole new experience. Always before, he’d been on the smaller side of average. As he pressed into Troy’s virgin hole, he felt the walls inside gripping his dick like a glove. Mixed with the rush of endorphins, it was bliss all over again.
“Beat the hell out of me if you want,” Logan spat. “You’re always going to remember that you were my bitch.”
He didn’t know where the words were coming from. Logan had never talked like this before, never been so brutally aggressive in his life. But it felt so good, the raw, mean masculinity of it. He pulled back and drove his dick in again, savoring the length of the strokes.
It didn’t take long for his pleasure to crescendo once more. He couldn’t brace himself against the volcanic surge from his balls as he blasted a volley of cum into Troy’s ass. His moans deepened as he began, again, to feel the tugging at the edges of his limbs, the swelling heat in his muscles.
This time, he luxuriated in the power of it, bringing his arms up into a savage flex as his peaks climbed higher. Every muscle in his body felt pumped with blood, overfilled and huge, but they only grew bigger. He was dimly aware of Troy’s dwindling beneath him, but that was nothing compared to the sensation of his lengthening cock driving deeper into the vanquished jock.
Logan’s back stretched and lengthened. He threw his head back as his pecs surged forward, going from solid plates to dense globes of striated muscle. Below, his abs refined themselves into a perfect eight-pack.
He widened, too, his shoulders going from merely broad to impressively so. At the same time, he felt his lats unfurling like wings, the expanding musculature of his back giving him the depth of a lightweight bodybuilder.
As his orgasmic transformation subsided, he began pulling out of the man beneath him. Calling Troy a jock now would be charitable. He was toned, perhaps, but only slightly larger than Logan had once been. Logan could barely spare any attention for that. He was awed by the sheer size of his dick as he pulled slowly free. It felt like the shaft could go on forever. He was definitely over eight inches, maybe closing in on nine, and thicker than his wrists--or at least, his wrists as they had been earlier that night.
Beneath him, Troy was shaking. Logan stared at his enemy as he flipped him over. Gone were all traces of the defiant alpha male. He looked so small now, in every sense of the word.
Well, not every sense. Logan glanced down as something hard prodded him in the thigh. Troy’s dick was definitely not small. It wasn’t the monster that it had been, but it was still above average.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” The cocky sound of Logan’s voice surprised him. This wasn’t him, taunting someone after they’d lost everything. He almost stopped himself.
“All of that time. All of that abuse. I took it, Troy, and I didn’t say anything. I guess that does make me the bigger man,” Logan said.
He reached out with one meaty hand and gripped Troy’s dick tightly. Instantly, the former jock began to protest, dull ‘no’s bubbling up on his lips. His treacherous hips, however, bucked into Logan’s hand.
“I guess your buddies are going to have to find a new lifting partner,” said Logan, smirking. “You probably can’t keep up with even the smallest of them any more. But you know what? I think your muscles look better on me.”
He raised one arm in front of Troy’s face and bent it slowly. The high, vein-tangled peak rose before Troy’s eyes. He let out one last whimper, and his entire body tensed. Hot cum sprinkled up into the air.
The last of Troy’s definition began to fade away as his remaining mass flowed into Logan. The flexed arm swelled, denser and higher, until Logan felt like his arm might burst from sheer size. In his hand, Troy’s cock dwindled, retreating into Logan’s expanding fist, and Logan’s began to attain truly monstrous proportions.
He stood, still growing, and regarded himself. It was impossible not to admire the god in the mirror. Well over six feet, he had to stoop a bit to see his entire body, but it was worth the effort. As he watched, pound after pound of competition-ready muscle poured into his body.
Logan bent and went into an astounding most muscular, and for the first time in his life, he looked anything but ridiculous in the pose. Not that he’d be competing. The huge shank of meat between his legs was almost a foot long and thick as a beer can, and there’d be no hiding that in posers.
He tore himself away from his reflection and went to the former jock’s locker. To his shock, Troy’s clothes were small on him. They still smelled like the jock, but he wasn’t going to drive home naked. With some effort, he squeezed himself into a tank top and shorts. They’d never fit Troy this well.
With a last glance at his nemesis, he headed for the door. Troy called out to no one in particular.
“My muscles,” he wailed. “You’re dead. You’re fucking dead.”
Logan almost let the rage come over him once more, let that cockiness out for one last blow to Troy’s ego. But as he looked down at the bully, the shadow of a man who’d never bully anyone else again, he shook off the threats. They were as impotent as Troy himself. He left the locker room, saying nothing at all.
After all, he was the bigger man.