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  1. Pete or ‘Squirt’ as he was quickly becoming known around campus was regretting pledging at the Zeta Alpha Zeta Fraternity, they were the jocks and preppy alphas of the college. He was only being considered for the frat because of how wealthy his dad was. The nickname though had come around the first night, the brothers got all the pledges to line up and Pete had stupidly stood next to a basketball player and a brick shit house who’d just joined the football as a linebacker. The brother’s laughed at him, but the linebacker who was Pete’s roommate and decent guy called Drake said 'Leave the squirt alone’, and the nickname stuck. Pete wasn’t stupid so he embraced the name and took all the mocking and humiliation that the brothers dished out. It worked, Pete’s money and thick skin got a lot of attention and the brothers accepted him along with a bunch of the hottest guys in freshmen year into the frat. ——————————————————————————————————— Squirt wasn’t even on Dionysus’ radar when the god of wine arrived at one of Zeta House’ legendary parties. He was pretty impressed by the Zeta boys set up, they’d converted their house’s huge dining room into a makeshift bar, and Dionysus would be posing as the bartender for the night. But the little nerd quickly got the gods attention, everyone else in the frat were already frat boys, Squirt messed with the demographic of Dionysus new priests. He needed guys who were ready to party, who loved to drink and loved sex, little Squirt needed to change. He looked idiotic in the baggy red Zeta shirt, the frat only made the shirts in large and X-large, they didn’t expect a little guy to ever wear one. “Here you go little guy” Dionysus smiled He handed Squirt a large glass, a golden liquid filled it to the brim. “I didn’t order anything” Squirt said confused Dionysus leaned in “I’m doing you a favour, you’re a frat boy now, you need to start drinking, or your new brothers might regret bringing you into the frat" Squirt thought for a second, Dionysus continued to smile almost worried that Squirt wasn’t gonna drink it, but the little nerd downed the glass in one go. Dionysus smirked and moved back to his bar tending, proud at how quick the kid had downed that drink, his new temple would be in good hands. Squirt leaned against the bar, his arms draped along it. He watched his new brothers drink and dance with the dozens of sorority girls they’d invited. He cracked his neck, it felt like his back was straighter, making him feel taller. The bar seemed to be moving further down his back, a second later his bony ass was resting on it. He’d gone from leaning to sitting on the bar a minute after downing Dionysus’ drink. His shoes stretched as they caught up with his new height. His jeans shrunk into shorts, barely making it halfway down his skinny thighs. The Zeta shirt was still baggy on him, but it stopped above his bellybutton. Showing off his flabby stomach. He didn’t notice it however, he was focused on the party, making sure everything was OK. “Party, Drink, Fuck, Party, Drink, Fuck” a voice chanted This was the party part, he was resting before throwing himself into the fray. He’d mingle, he’d wing man, he’d hookup, then he’d fuck. The drinking would happen throughout. He involuntarily gripped the bar as the bones in his hands snapped into a larger shape, the wood splintered slightly as change spread up from the reshaping bones. His forearms thickened and his biceps bulged, his skin tanned and the arms of the Zeta shirt faded from reality. Every new swollen muscle flexed, like they were getting used to their sudden size. “You cut the arms off before even putting the shirt on” a voice explained “You do that for every shirt, why hide your godly arms” the voice continued His small thighs started to spasm, each movement made the thigh grow. The muscle fibres stretching and thickening, his calves were the same. By the end his thighs looked to be permanently flexed, so thick and well shaped. “Always wear shorts, if you swim wear speedo, show off your legs” a voice commanded “And never wear underwear” Squirt smiled and ran his new large hand over his flabby waist, his fingers running over the skin beneath the waist of his jean shorts, he never wore underwear since he worked out how to use his cock. His touch jolted his stomach muscles to life and the fat melted from his torso, the skin darkening to a golden tan, complete without tan lines. “Always tan naked” a voice cooed His abs popped through the skin, two, four, six. His adonis belt appeared as the fat melted. His stomach and waist was tight and ripped, fitting in with his long muscled arms and legs. His Zeta shirt started to fill up as his shoulders packed on pounds of muscle and his chest inflated into two hard slabs of pec meat. “Got to have big show muscles” a voice echoed through Squirt’s head As Squirt’s body changed his mind changed with it. Expert skill at beer pong, playlist mixing and that ability to down any drink faster than anyone else replaced everything to do with college, with literature, with a life outside of the frat. “You belong to Zeta, you are Zeta” a voice explained “An everlasting student, always and forever a frat boy” Squirt was immortal now, he smiled as that dawned on him. He would party, drink and fuck forever, always having a fresh flock of teens to bring into the voices influence. He knew the voice’s name now, it was his god Dionysus. Squirt turned and the barmen winked at him, Dionysus poured out a drink and then dropped a shot of something into it. “You’re missing two things Squirt” Dionysus said both from his barmen body and inside Squirt’s head “A face and cock worthy of that body” Squirt downed the drink and pulled Dionysus in for a kiss, the god allowed it, he had made it Squirt’s instinct after all. Once the frat boy finished every drink he’d mouth fuck the nearest hottie, and Dionysus had to admit Squirt was a good kisser, and the god hadn’t even changed that skill yet. “Thanks master” Squirt cooed, his voice dropping an octave half way through Dionysus winked and left Squirt to it. He’d make a good high priest the god thought. ——————————————————————————————————— Squirt pulled at his jeans, the zipper straining against his now monstrous cock. His face had just finished cracking into a new shape. It was confident, chiseled and very frat boy looking. A couple girls passed and giggled. Squirt winked at them, he was living up to his name, Squirt made the girls squirt. He would have been called stretch, but his frat brothers didn’t know how big his cock was and how much it would stretch their straight virgin holes till after they’d named him. Those memories weren’t real though, a clever way for Dionysus to make the frat easier to control, nothing better than a big fat cock fucking you to bring you into line. “Hey big man” Drake shouted over the music as he looked up at Squirt “Hey” Squirt slapped him on the back as Drake leaned against the bar next to him His big hand slid down Drake’s body and cupped his sculptured ass. “Very nice, won’t have to do much work with his one” Dionysus echoed through Squirts head Soon all the frat will be hearing Dionysus, all Squirt needed to do was fuck them for real, not like the fake memories Dionysus had implanted to spread the knowledge that Squirt was the big man on campus. Drake looked up a little nervously at Squirt, his own arm wrapped around Squirt’s waist. “Come with me” Squirt ordered and he led Drake out of the main room The frat house was slowly changing as Dionysus used the last of his power to take it over. Photos changed from grinning preppy frat boys, too near naked playful party animals. The first floor rooms morphed into party rooms, like the entire frat house was just for drinking and music. Every frat boy wore the cut-off Zeta shirt like Squirt did, six packs being a new requirement for pledging. Squirt took Drake by the hand and brought him up the stairs to his room. Squirt had never slept in his room, but it reflected the fake memories that Dionysus created. The bed was coated in sweat and cum, the room reeked of long hours of sex. “Strip” Squirt ordered Drake pulled off his jeans and tossed his shirt to the floor, Squirt smiled. Dionysus appeared in the corner, the god was eager to watch his priest make his first conversion, he could already feel his power growing as Drake’s desire to get fucked grew. Squirt pushed Drake onto the bed, the big football player fell onto it like he weighed nothing. Squirt quickly stripped and pulled Drake’s thick legs wider apart. The bed creaked as Squirt moved onto it, his monster swelling and already dripping with pre-cum. Other frat brothers made their way into Squirt’s room, it was the inner sanctum of Dionysus’ temple now. Some started to worship Squirt, a couple joined Dionysus at his perch and kissed his hands and arms. “This might hurt” Squirt explained, stroking Drake’s hair affectionately, he then gripped Drake’s hair fiercely “Who am I kidding, this is gonna tear you apart”
  2. First in a popular series from my tumbler where the gods try to rebuild their worshipper numbers by using the last of their power to make an 'apostle' like figure. Demeter wasn’t like the other gods, most of them were brash and impulsive. But Demeter goddess of grain, the harvest and all thing farming was all about investment, she was in it for the long haul. While the other gods were rushing to find someone to risk all their power on Demeter had already chosen hers. She’d met him at a farmers market over twenty years ago and was very impressed to find a farmer of the modern age who was so saddened by the way farming had changed. His name was Ernest and at the age of 97 he was still working his farm like he had his entire life, he’d had to downsize and been force by old age to modernise, but many were surprised he was still up and about. It was really thanks to Demeter and her calling in a favour with her son in law (and brother) Hades that Ernest was still around, Demeter just didn’t want to see a man who still treated farming like a sacred rite vanish from Earth. So he was the obvious choice for her gift. ——————————————————————————————————— Ernest was getting ready to plant the seeds for his next crop when this breeze grazed his skin, he even felt it beneath his shirt and jeans. Like it was wrapped around him, but he forgot about it and pulled himself up into the tractor cabin and started it up. He did three rows of freshly plowed field before the tractor died. He punched the wheel, a sudden surge of adrenaline fuelling his strength. He swore and jumped out of the cabin, landing firmly on his feet. That wasn’t right, he thought, it had taken him ages to climb into the tractor, it usually took the same time to get back down. He felt his legs, they were thicker and the constant ache of old age was gone. He shook off the oddity and jogged back to the barn for his tools, the tractor was getting old and was always in need of maintenance. He stopped dead in his tracks, he was jogging, with his back straight and pain free. Ernest had been walking slow and crooked for over a decade. A soft voice in his head urged him on. “The crops need you, the field needs you, the farm needs you” Ernest agreed, his farm wouldn’t wait, he had a job to do. He set off at speed towards the barn, his horses in the next field watched as he moved quicker than they did. Ernest loved the feel of the wind on his face and the thuds of his footfalls. In mid run he tore off his shirt so more of him could feel the wind and warm Kansas air. He reached the barn in record time and with immense force pulled the doors open. He moved for his tools, his booted feet barely visible behind his swelling chest. This arms swung with great weight and his work gloves were tight around larger hands. Picked up the tool box and stared at the deep tan of his arm, the thick muscle and swollen veins on this foreman didn’t even register. “A tan like a real man who works in the sun“ the soft cooed in his ear Ernest smiled and put the tools back, a memory returning to his mind. At the back of the barn hidden beneath a sheet was the old plow, the one his horses parents pulled decades ago. With one hand he flung the sheet off. He pulled his cap off and scratched his suddenly lush brown hair, his arm flexed and swelled with muscle. He put the cap back on and hooked his fingers in the waist of his jeans, they were tight on his thick legs. He sighed, his lats spread and his heavy chest heaved. The plow would need two horses at least, but the field needed to be plowed now. Ernest hooked the plow over his broad bronzed shoulders and pulled it out towards the field. The horses and his cows watched with amazement as the formerly skin and bones farmer worked the field like a mad man. His face showed the strain of his task, but the voice urged him on. He was soon done and got started planting the crop. “When the harvest is done more can join you” the voice cooed Ernest smiled, he knew who the voice was now, it was Demeter, his goddess, the one he would now strive to impress. He knew that one harvest in Demeter’s name was just the beginning. It would give Demeter the power to bring two more farmers into the fold, and the next harvest would then bring six, it was all a waiting game, like farming was. But Ernest knew how he could bring in new followers, the local high school had hundreds of teens wasting their lives on education and sports. The now 6ft4 22 year old Ernest could show up one day and come back to the farm with a dozen strapping men to expand Demeter’s farm and even more girls to bring a new generation of followers into the world, Demeter was also a fertility goddess, she’d make that easy for Ernest now. With the crops planted and Demeter’s harvest secure Ernest hopped onto his fastest horse and galloped bareback towards the high school, with the wind against his ripped torso and his stallion like cock already hard beneath his skins tight jeans he couldn’t wait to break his soon to be farmhands in.
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