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I haven't posted in some time. I'd like to get back into writing these stories more regularly, though. Anyway, onto the story. Forgive any errors. Disclaimer: the Incredible Hulk is owned by Marvel. I do not claim ownership over the character, and this story is not meant to infringe on their copyright. Table of Contents: YOU'RE HERE: Chase and Jakob, Pt 1 Chase and Jakob, Pt 2 (Coming soon) If you'd like to support my writing, feel free to buy me a Ko-Fi. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Chase and I always had a good relationship. We were friends since high school, sharing the same math class in freshman year before hitting it off and becoming best buds. And that was despite how different we were: he was 6’0”, short brown hair with an undercut, bright brown eyes, lean from his years of playing sports (and he seemed to gain more muscle recently), and he was seriously attractive. I was Jakob, just an inch taller, but much more scrawny than him. I had medium length blond hair, blue eyes with it, and I had an affinity for photography. Nonetheless, we were closer than we were with our other friends. It just so happened that we were going to the same college. Us being roommates was a no-brainer. And now we’re in our second year of college, sharing an apartment. “Hey!” He pulled out a beer can and tossed it to me. He was wearing one of his homemade cut off shirts like usual, along with a pair of black and purple shorts and some socks. I caught the can, noting how just the way he threw the can showed off his athleticism and his muscles. “Thanks,” I said. “How’d you get all this again?” “Got it from Bryce in ATO.” Chase grabbed his own beer and opened it up. He chugged some of it before continuing. “Said he didn’t care as long as I didn’t say anything.” It was Sunday. If he wasn’t getting stoned with friends and I wasn’t busy editing photos, we’d just chill and drink a beer. Sunday nights were our thing, and we’d never missed it. He seemed kinda antsy for some reason, though. We were probably gonna play something on his Xbox, but I decided to take a look outside. “Dude, look. The moon’s fucking huge tonight.” I pointed outside to the full moon hanging in the sky. It had taken on an orangish hue, so I was guessing we had a harvest moon. Chase started to walk over to take a seat next to me on our couch. He laughed as he looked up. “The moon’s fucking what —” He stopped in his tracks as he saw the moon through our large window. His eyes widened as he stepped back. “Is that a full moon?” “Uh… yeah,” I said. Chase was definitely acting a bit off. I decided to joke about it. “What, are you a werewolf or something?” “No, just… shit, I thought I marked it.” He pulled out his phone, frantic. “No, no… This is… Ugh, getting dizzy.” Chase suddenly groaned. My danger signals were going off. I looked toward Chase more attentively, concerned. “What, what’s wrong?” I watched my friend slowly get more and more disoriented, but not bad enough that I felt I needed to get up. “Fu… Fuck,” he let out. He lowered his voice to a mutter, but I could still tell his voice was breathy. I watched Chase dropped to his knees, his whole posture changing. He grabbed ahold of his head, and it was clear that something was wrong. “What’s going on?” I asked. Worried was an understatement — for a second I was afraid my friend was about to have a painful stroke. But Chase was very competent, only in pain. His breathing was getting heavier and more intense, and as he lurched forward, he took his hands away from his head and put them down against the floor to support himself. It looked like anger was taking ahold of him, judging from the look on his face. He turned to me and growled, “Get away!” Oh god, I thought, my roommate’s actually a werewolf! Everything suddenly made sense: his sudden leaves, his disappearances during full moons, and his increased aggression recently. But then he shut his eyes tight, like he was trying to painfully suppress something inside, before his eyes shot wide open. His eyes… they went green — an almost glowing, radioactive, volatile green. But werewolves don’t have green eyes. Do they? I was frozen on the couch, watching Chase writhe in pain as a precursor to what I realized was a transformation. I felt like I should’ve run away, but… I couldn’t help but just watch — a gross, strange curiosity — and I let myself stay in place. “Go!” Chase bellowed again. His voice dropped down an octave or two. That’s when I realized he wasn’t in pain; he was struggling to restrain the transformation. It became more obvious as his grunts weren’t ones of pain and sounded more like the kind of grunts you make when trying hard to hold something back. He punched the tile on the floor (I heard a small cracking sound) as his lean arms started to grow. Chase’s biceps, triceps and deltoids became larger and more pronounced. The change was dramatic as I watched them bulge. The fact that they were already exposed made it more amazing. And for some reason hot. Between the deep groans and huffs, his eyes kept locking with mine. He rose from the ground and a wicked, cocky smirk crept across his face, unlike the friendly grins that he usually wore. He stretched his arms and fingers and spoke again. “I told you to get away… I gave you a chance… But if you don’t want to, then let me put on a show.” Oh fuck. At that point I finally stood up from the couch and slowly backed away. There was an obvious shift in the way Chase was carrying himself. He acted more cocky, more confident. This wasn’t the Chase I remember, but it’s the Chase right in front of me. He raised his arms and flexed them in a double biceps pose. His muscles expanded further, with his skin getting a greenish tinge. His shirt was starting to look even tighter than before, straining against his growing, muscular frame. Before, it hung a bit loosely on his body. Now, his pecs were ballooning, becoming more defined. The smirk on his face remaining, Chase leaned forward and hit a most muscular pose. The flex was obviously going to push the fabric on his torso to the limit. Chase growled and moaned, then yelled as he grew even more, him gaining height, his shirt starting to rip apart. From where I was standing, I could see his shirt tear straight down the middle as his back widened. Traps grew around his neck as Chase stood straight once again, causing his shirt to stretch and rip again. This time he decided to grab the shredded shirt and rip it off his body, exposing his well-defined, slick-with-sweat torso. And it definitely wasn’t just his upper body getting the Hulk out treatment. Throughout that whole change, his legs stretched and grew as well. His quads and calves pushed out and became more defined. His thighs gained a good amount of mass, along with his glutes, now straining his also once-loose shorts. It’s like every day was leg day. As he added up another 7 inches in height — his feet widening and growing, ripping through his socks to accommodate his new musculature — his skin color continued to shift to that emerald green, as his now-messy hair darkened to a shade of green as well. And slowly the transformation, Chase’s hulkout, slowed down as he seemed to reach his final form. Where my friendly, casually athletic best friend once stood was now a huge, cocky, green, presumably gamma-powered Hulk that towered above me. His body would definitely rival any bodybuilder in the gym now, but his huge muscles were less bulky and more brawny. This Hulk was still distinctly Chase, but I was scared by the change. “Oh you liked that, didn’t you Jakob?” Chase taunted. His eyes were directed towards my lower regions, to which I realized I was very hard right now. Despite the fear of my friend changing into this huge Hulk, I was aroused by that very same thing. “If you liked that, you should like this too.” I looked back up at Chase, and it was clear that his own dick — at least 6 inches already — was hardening also. “The change is like a full body orgasm bro. God I wanna nut so bad… but not yet.” Chase was rubbing himself through his shorts before he slid his right hand down his pants and pulled it out. To my surprise and amazement, Chase started to stroke himself in front of me! He worked himself until he was fully hard, his girth and length beyond anything I’d seen or even heard of. Even though we were close, we’d never seen each other this close up. And now he’s stroking and approaching me practically naked. Wait — what? “Chase… Chase, what the fuck are you doing?” I yelled at him. I backed away from him until I felt a wall behind me. I looked at him, and his eyes, full of the most insane lust, were focused directly on me. I was not gay, and I thought neither was he, but now my best friend is jacking off in front of me! “Come on, Jakob,” Chase said. “You didn’t run when I gave you the chance. You know you want this. My strength.” He lifted and flexed his free arm and admired himself. He looked down at his bicep rising then looked at me. His stroking steadily got faster. “When I’m like this, I’m a fucking god, bro. And I know you fucking want this.” “What are you talking about? You gotta stop, calm down or something,” I pleaded. As he came closer, I got a whiff of musk. He must’ve been giving off some kind of pheromones, because it only made me more horny, even if I was scared. “Calm down? Not happening bro,” he said. I tried to move away, but before I knew it Chase was right up against me. Still stroking, his huge pecs started to slowly push up against my face as he looked down on me. He leaned forward and pushed against the wall with his free hand. Again his strokes got faster. “This is the only way.” I was confused. Horny and confused. “Chase please, get away from me man.” I tried looking away, but Chase had me up against the wall. I knew I couldn’t fight him, he was probably three times stronger than he ever was. More of his scent filled my nostrils, but I didn’t want to admit this was turning me on. “Come on bro,” he said again. He suddenly slid his left hand down my shorts and started stroking my cock. I yelped a bit, surprised, but started moaning as I pushed myself against the wall. One hand on the wall, the other tightly gripping the side of my shorts. This felt wrong but at this point I didn’t care. I was about to blow. I leaned forward and grabbed Chase’s muscular shoulder. Panting, I finally looked up at him, and he looked back at me with the expression of an alpha who knew exactly what he was doing. He picked up the speed of his strokes on both himself and me, his breathing also picking up. “Chase, please,” I said. “Please, I’m… I’m about to…” I gasped suddenly and moaned loudly as I emptied myself straight into my boxers. My release, with the musk of my Hulked out friend, made it the most euphoric orgasm I’d ever had, and he kept jerking me off as I orgasmed. I lost all grip and as soon as he let go off my dick I slid down to the floor, exhausted. Chase finished soon after, his huge cock shooting load after load of his off-white cum onto the wall while he stepped back. I was still below him, so I covered my face. He yelled, almost roared, as he came and it was like his orgasm was better than mine. It felt more massive, more pleasure-inducing. I watched as his whole body involuntarily flexed, his muscles flaring, as he shot his last load. Then Chase finally seemed to calm down, slowing his breathing as his skin and hair color returned to normal and his body and muscles shrunk down to a more familiar size. He was breathing heavily as he sat himself down with his knees up. No longer were his muscles huge — they were normal. The expression on his face softened. He looked at me with his still bright-green eyes before they faded back into their normal brown. He looked exhausted. He rested his arm on one of his knees and gripped his head, the same way he’d do if he was embarrassed. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “That was… I’m sorry.” I wasn’t sure what to say. I was at a loss for words, still enjoying the strange afterglow of what happened with my friend. We cleaned up. Didn’t say anything about it to each other that night. Someone came by our door asking what all the noise was about, and I lied saying that we were arguing about crafts. Yeah, right. Eventually I found out, though, that this… condition of his was a new one. Chase was a were-Hulk, hulking out during full moons, but also when he was angry or extra horny. It’s spread through a bunch of ways, his way being that he accidentally consumed the cum of a Hulk. He kept it from me because he was scared, but now I help him deal with it in more ways than one. The funny thing about it is who turned him into a Hulk: Bryce from ATO. I guess it’s a campus-wide problem.
Some quick smut I banged out today. Give it a like on my Tumblr if you're so inclined. Inspired by a photo Michael Kidd, shot by Rey Rey's Photography. He is not the character, this is fiction, you're an adult so you know the drill. Please, don't sue me. I'm poor. *** Dad wouldn’t tell me what he was up to but he was bigger. The way he filled his shorts in was obscene. He said he was just working out harder. Right. It had only been a month since mom left him and he’d grown. He been growing. He kept growing. My father got visibly larger every day. We’d worked out together before. Lifting weights was our regular father/son bonding since I was twelve. Even when I came out, we didn’t miss a session. But almost imediately after mom left, he insisted on training alone in the basement. He would’t let me down there anymore. Said it wasn’t me, just that he needed space alone. I figured he was crying down there, needed a place where he didn’t have to be “strong” when he felt weak and helpless. Then I heard the grunting through the vent. At first I thought he had a dog down there. A weird ass dog to boot. Maybe one of those mutts from Ghostbusters. Mom was allergic to dogs but dad had grown up with them. He actually got choked up talking them. He always stopped to pet dogs who came across him when he was out. But I never heard those sounds when he wasn’t down there. He’d have told me if he had a dog. None of those dogs made the sounds I heard. They were borderline sexual. That’s why I had to go down there. I needed to know what he was doing, why he had to be alone instead of spending man-time with his only child. He left the door unlocked one day while he was out. I’d been coming over mre often to check on him. Dad had said some stuff that made me worry he might hurt himself. Break-ups will cause that, especially one after thirty years of marriage. But I was glad he was out. I thought he might have found a girlfriend. And it gave me a chance to snoop. But I wasn't ready for what I found. The muscle mags were one thing. Dad was working out hardcore. Okay. Not that I ever knew he had so many. Then I saw that some of those mags had nudes. I didn't even know they still published skin mags with the Internet going strong. So my dad was gay and didn’t even bother to tell his queer as fuck only son. Terrific. And the mags were scattered everywhere. Pages were lying loose on the floor. Some were stapled to the wood paneled walls. Then there were the rags. Torn up t-shirts. Ripped pants. Jockstraps with the jock torn open. All scattered everywhere. So my dad was turning into the Incredible Hulk in the basement? No wonder mom had left. One of the shirts--a nice polo shirt I’d gotten him for his birthday, I might add--was stuck to the wall like he’d thrown it there. I saw splatter marks from the impact. That splatter? It was cum. Cum was fucking everywhere. Some of it was even fresh, scattered all over the mags and the exercise equipment. Pools of it. The smell was overwhelming. And it made me hard as a rock. I’m not even a smells guy but it turned a switch on in my brain and I couldn’t turn it off. I tried. Something about that stench made me feel manlier, like I was getting bigger and stronger just from inhaling my father's crazy-ass super loads. I took deep snorts of the stench. It made my nose buzz. It didn't even smell like cum or sweat as much as it smelled like manhood. And manhood smelled terrific! It felt terrific! I put my finger into some of the cum that he'd shot on the lifting bench and thought "fuck yeah, dad." I had a vision of him in his more powerful body pushing those weights up and down while he was rock hard and... I snapped back, sickened. I was in my childhood basement, holding my crotch in my hand while I was putting a cum coated finger into my mouth while rock hard, thinking about my own father. I got the hell out and thanked my lucky stars that Dad hadn't come home to catch me. But I was still rocking a stronger hard-on of my life for two hours, even though I tried to think about anything other than sex. Then the call came. “Abel,” dad said, “Let's go for a walk.” His voice was cold. Growly in a way that was unfamiliar. I hesitated but said yes. If he wanted to yell at me, so be it. I had some yelling to do too. When I got to the park he walk looking alpha as fuck. That had become standard but the effect never diminished. On that day, he seemed twice as manly as the day before and I hated it. On any other man that would be instant boner fuel. Thick, vascular thighs. Pumped arms. Gray beard. But he was my dad. Even gay boys don’t get hard to their own dads. I never had before. Then I caught a whiff, just a little whiff, of that freak man-smell, It might have been my imagination. Didn’t mater. I felt my dick buzz all over again. And I felt shame. “I’m not mad, Abel. I wish you hadn’t gone down there but, well...” Dad kept his eyes on me and I was the one who looked away. “That’s fucked up, Dad. That’s really... I don’t wanna know.” Sometimes we tell lies thinking they’re the truth. “You have to know now. I can’t keep it secret much longer anyway.” “Secret? What?” Just because dad wasn’t yelling didn't mean I couldn't. “Is this the shit that drove mom away?” “No. But if she hadn't left, this wouldn't have happened. I'm glad it happened too." “God damnit. Just tell me what's going on so you can get it off--" I winced. Bad word choice "--your chest." And, with even better timing, I noticed Dad's chest flaring. He'd always had a good shape to it but, for the first time, I realized my dad had pecs. Big ones. "Are you gay, Dad? Did you let me come out to you and not tell me you were gay too? Because that’s really fucked up. That’s fucking cruel. That’s...” My voice was breaking. “It’s not quite like that. I mean...” I shouted “Then what the fuck is it?” “Shut up.” If he'd slapped me with the back of his hand, it wouldn't have been as effective. “Follow me.” And I did follow, red faced and sniffling. We followed a paved trail deep into the woods, then he went off on a dirt path. I thought it was for bikes but it was too narrow and unkempt. “It happens at home sometimes. I like that. Gives me a chance to explore it on my own. But it's better here.” I screwed my face up in disgust but, before I could complain, I caught that scent again. “It’s better with the others. It’s stronger. Fuller. I dunno. I need to be with the others.” “There’s a group of you? Aw, dad. You were always warning me about internet freaks and now--” “This ain’t on the internet, Abel. And you better not tell anyone. We can’t let outsiders know.” That was when I noticed Dad's voice. It was deeper. Strained. He huffed and puffed. He put his hands on a tree and stretched out. His back... it was wider. "That smell means it's coming, son. It's coming real strong." I heard footsteps. Leaves rustling. “I’m sorry about this. But you won’t be. It’ll bring us closer together, I promise.” He punded his fist against a tree. I heard something snap. Not a branch from the men walking towards us but from his body. There was another snap. Then Iooked down at his ass. How and when my father had gotten a bubble butt, specifically a perfect bubble butt, was beyond me. And all of the sudden, as he arched his back forward, popped that ass out, cried out, and the cloth split open. I saw my father's ass crack for the first time in my life. And I smelled that superhuman man-funk erupting from his skin, stronger than what he'd left in the basement. And as my dad grunted and groaned and swelled and stretched, I saw those others come out. They were not men. Men aren’t that big. Guys spend whole paychecks on drugs and gym hours to look half as powerful. Now I know it’s a waste. They wore tatters that were wrapped around their carved-stone arms and legs. One man tore the remains of a shirt from his chest. Schwarzenegger could only dream of having a chest that big with a waist that small. I didn’t say no. Didn’t say yes either. I might have flinched or pushed a hand away once. But I walked head first into someone's someone’s hard, hairy, inhuman chest and any resistance I had went at that touch. I sank to the ground, surrounded by a set of Tom of Finland super cocks that all had a variation of my father’s freak smell. Then I found the one that wasn’t a variant. “I have to do this, Abel" he said. He pressed my head against his crotch. "I tried to fight it but I don't want to anymore. I wan’t you to be one of--” The moment he said “us.” I clamped my mouth on his cock and he growled. His voice dropped another octave. “I should have done this sooner!” the others laughed. Then they cheered. They cheered because the saw the start of my body swelling up and stretching out. I moaned because I felt stars exploding inside myself. I roared because I felt like a man. More than a man. More than an animal. When people ask me what's going on, I tell them I'm working out harder. It's true. I haven't bought new clothes yet. I don't want to. I'll do so when I'm down to my last set. Then I'll buy a new wardrobe to destroy. I've moved back in with Dad. It's easier that way. More private. More satisfying. When the urge overwhelms one of us, we both go for the ride. The house is a mess now. We fuck too much. Break too much. The neighbors are complaining. They say there's a smell coming from the house. The women don't like it. But the men? They've been poking around. Trying to see what's going on. Needing to smell what's going on. I think they'll come around soon. They might do it without us. I'm already seeing the changes on their bodies. Less fat. Less bone. More muscle. More men. They're looking alpha as fuck these days, but Dad is the real alpha. I'm second in command. We're sitting back. Watching it happen. Waiting. It won't be long. We can wait. Barely.