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Attention: Health and Safety Alert

Dear Students, Faculty, and Staff,

It has come to our attention that a serious outbreak of a virus illness has been seriously harming our campus community. We take this public health threat very seriously and want you all to be aware and alert so that you can stay safe.

As a matter of transparency, we want to be clear on the origin of this virus. The Frontal Recognizance Transmutation Arenavirus 24 (often called just arena or FRT-24) has been a known threat for some time, with clear symptoms from infected individuals. A research lab on campus was known to have been studying its effects. This particular strain, the alpha variant, was of particular interest, so when a sample went missing, we exhausted campus resources to locate it. We were unable to and are now deeply sorry to our campus community. We take full responsibility for the current outbreak.

FRT-24 is highly contagious, so it is important to know the immediate signs. Look for:

Sudden headaches or migraines

Dizziness or loss of vision

Fevers and chills, especially paired with heavy perspiration

Loss of cognitive functions

Rapid muscle swelling

If you are infected, symptoms may take up to three days to develop, and you may still be a vector in this time. As the disease takes hold, you may notice a change in mood, as a lack of interest in usual activities. Instead, the disease drives the infected towards spreading. Common hubs seem to be gyms, parties, and social gatherings. We have also noticed an uptick in fraternity membership this year, a possible sign of disease spread.

Know the signs in yourself or others, as often the infected will not show traditional signs of ailment. This student has given us permission to share his story:

This young man was a healthy Junior just a few weeks ago. He was a promising young academic in biochemistry, hoping to one day do research on emergent diseases. Since his experience with FRT-24, his life is forever changed.

The changes are alarming. He has gained over 100 lbs and been unable to focus on his studies. Instead, he was spending hours in the student rec center, consumed by his illness as he worked his body to exhaustion. Since his quarantining, he has been unable to answer any basic questions about his academic career or research project. Instead, he has shown a hallucinated knowledge of a personal training and fitness program. As an early vector, we are aware of at least 10 other students who were infected before his quarantine, and he is being held for further observations on disease progression.

Thankfully we have been able to identify the method of transmission. At this time, it seems bodily fluids are most transmissible method. It seems that this virus enhances the body in this respect. Those infected will often try to spread by any means necessary. They are very good at finding susceptible men, isolating them, and finding ways to expose them directly to their sweat, saliva, and in some cases semen. They will be desperate for any chance to get you alone with them, to join their ranks. Do no be drawn in by promises of muscle, of status, or ease of life. Their brains are no longer their own. They only seek to make you a drone for FRT-24.

While we are still in the early stages of understanding the virus, we would like to acknowledge the valiant work done by Dr. Pulaski and his team of researchers. They have lead the way in this fight, throwing themselves at this dangerous line of work. Without their noble sacrifice, we would be still months from understanding the origins of this outbreak. We have narrowed down the point of origin to a party held a few weeks ago in the PKE frat house. At this time, it is unknown if frat leadership was in any way involved with this outbreak.

Sadly, Dr. Pulaski was found earlier this week a few days after conducting interviews and performing sample retrieval from the PKE house believed to be the epicenter. He was found shirtless, flexing his newly formed muscles in the mirror at the student rec center.

When reached for comment, he only smirked and reported “feeling great, bruh,” a clear sign of decline. We are still uncertain if he has exposed any of his other researchers to the disease.

Remember, you are responsible for yourself and out campus community. If you suspect you or someone you know has been exposed, please report to the Student Health Center immediately for examination. In the mean time, please stay safe everyone. We will continue to keep you updated as we know more

Regards,

Dr. Brendan Host, President

Congrats @occamstfs on 2k followers. I hope you all enjoy a late entry to the party. Go out and check out the other writers under the #occam2000 tag, some great stuff in there. And don't worry, FML: Initiate is coming soon.

Handlebars

Day 1:

My first day of college was a lot more stressful than I thought it would be. I finally made it to residence last night, which only gave me one night to get settled before classes started. I was nervous to meet my roommate because of all of the horror stories I had heard about them in the past, but it ended up being so much worse than I expected. In my mind, the worst outcome was some lazy douche who never cleaned up after himself. So you can imagine my shock when I knock on the door and a full grown 30 something year old man answers the door.

"Hey, buddy. The names Mike, come on in."

He looked and sounded like a jock in a college movie, but when the actor is actually 30. His voice was deep and buttery, it almost gave me butterflies. I just smiled awkwardly and walked past him through the door.

"I'm Oscar by the way." I introduced myself.

"Cool, I'll just call you Handlebars." He said, without a care in the world.

He sat down on his bed, and that was the extent of our interactions for the day.

Day 7:

It's been a week and all my other worries about roommates came true. Not only is he 15 years older than me, he's a slob. He gets home from the gym drenched in sweat and throws his gym clothes wherever without cleaning them. He doesn't do his dishes, or any chore for that matter. In fact it seems like he intentionally keeps the place dirty after I try to clean it. And whatever musky cologne he wears attacks my nose every time I open the door, it feels like the smell seeps into everything, including my clothes.

The few times that he actually wants a chore to be done, he just asks me to do it, or rather he just tells me to do it. Normally I would be happy to tell him to go fuck himself, but I always find myself doing whatever he asks. I hate it.

"Yo Handlebars, be a doll and clean the dishes for me."

"Yo Handlebars, I ran out of clean gym clothes, mind running em down to the laundry for me."

It's like he's casting a spell whenever he talks.

Day 15:

I've started to settle into routine. The things that used to bother me about Mike seem a bit more trivial now. We've even started to become pretty close. I get enthralled by his conversations about business. He goes on and on about his father's enterprises, and how they'll be his soon.

I even started going to the gym with him lately. He lent me some of his gym clothes, even if they're way too big. It just made me appreciate him more. I never really clocked how jacked he was, sometimes he goes to the gym shirtless and it shows off his massive pecs and thick biceps.

Since joining him, I've noticed my body has improved quite significantly. I used to be skinny and lanky, but there is definition starting to show throughout my body.

Day 30:

Just a month into school and I was already on my way to failing out. I just don't care about it anymore, but Mike gave me a solution. He said I could just switch programs and do business with him, and his dad would even pay for it. How could I pass that up.

Now that I've switched, it's like all stress in my life has disappeared. Business is so easy, and now I have more time with Mike. We usually have a routine of going to the gym after our last class of the day.

"Yo Handlebars, you're lookin strong man. I'd kill to grow as fast as you."

He shouted at me from across the gym, when he caught me staring at myself in the mirror. Butterflies flew through my stomach when he said that. And he wasn't wrong, I've been noticing a lot of changes in my body. My face has matured, my eyebrows are thicker, my nose is bigger, and my jawline is more square. I even have to shave now, when I never had to before college. A five o'clock shadow engulfs my face by the end of the day, especially above my lip. The rest of my body has gotten hairier too, especially around my pecs, arms, and legs. And that's not even mentioning my progress at the gym. I actually look like I belong there, my biceps have a nice roundness to them and my chest actually sticks out from my body. Those gym clothes that Mike gave me look smaller and smaller every day.

Life in the dorms has also been a dream. I've been wearing that cologne that Mike loves, and it's like I unlocked a whole new level of confidence. People seem to love listening to me talk, and people seem to respect me more.

Day 60:

This past month has been the best month of my life. Now that I'm in my mid twenties, I can drink whenever I want. Mike and I go out raves and frat parties basically every night, my body is basically used to every drug at this point. And with Mike's dad paying for college, I literally don't need to show up to lectures and I get straight A's.

"Fuck, bro. I think you're bigger than me Handlebars."

Mike said with a shocked face when we were snapping pics at the gym. We flexed beside each other, and it was obvious. My biceps dwarfed his, and his gym clothes had become really tight on me lately. The shirt was skin tight against my upper body, showing off my juicy pecs and my growing six pack. And the shorts looked like they were about to burst under the pressure of my ass cheeks and thighs, to the point that the outline of my dick was constantly visible.

"Here bro, take this."

Mike handed me a package. It was filled with gym clothes and jocks.

"Just for you Handlebars."

I yanked him in for a bro hug, I could feel myself blushing.

"You got this all for me bro?"

"Fuck yeah, man. You've been grinding it out in the gym, don't think I haven't noticed my clothes straining against those muscles. And you need something to contain that snake in your pants before we get campus security called on us."

Mike chuckled, his laugh was infectious.

Day 100:

I started in the mirror. Sometimes I barely recognize myself. The confident and cocky mask goes away when I'm alone, just leaving the caring gym bro that's on the true inside.

Damn, I think to myself, Mike is making me too sappy. I give myself a cocky smile after shaving my face, leaving me with a thick moustache. I flex, admiring my guns and bouncing my pecs. Man I look good for a man pushing his thirties.

"Fuck, handlebars. Since when were you so hairy?" Mike asked me when I left the bathroom.

"What? Are you jealous I'm manlier than you bro?" I taunted him by opening my button up wider, revealing the thick pelt of hair that covered my body.

"Nah, it's got me feelin something tho." He smirked at me.

"Hah, I fuckin knew it. You want a piece of this." I bounced my pecs.

"Don't make it gay bro, it's not like that. Just a dude admiring another dude." He blushed.

The tension between us had been building for weeks. He would stand too close when spotting me at the gym, and I'd catch him staring at me in the mirror. Not like I haven't been doin it too. We also wear less clothes around the dorm. I still got that jock strap Mike gave me a while back, I'd be lying to myself if I said it fit but I don't care, and it seems like Mike doesn't mind either. And sometimes I wear an open button up just cuz it makes my pecs pop.

Day 120:

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this." Mike whispered in my ear. His breath was heavy as he threw me against the wall. His dick was bouncing with excitement against my ass.

For context, a few hours ago we were at the gym like normal. At this point, we didn't even go to class, it was just gym and parties now. The tension had been growing at the gym forever, sometimes we'd release by foolin around in the showers, but it never went further a quick handjob when no one was lookin. It was different this time, he couldn't keep his hands off me. Broad daylight in a busy gym, his hands would be far down my shorts, teasing.

At first I was dismissive. We already got caught multiple times by campus security, so close to getting kicked out of school. If it wasn't for Mike's dad being a rich alumni, I think both of us would be long gone by now. But he knew how to push my buttons, he always has. I gave in, but had the decency to drag him by the collar to the showers. At least there we could be naked.

Ok, back to the point. I grunted as his thick arms held me in place. Mike had been working extra hard to catch up to me, and it was showin. It turned me on, feelin his muscled forearms against my shoulders. But I wasn't gonna let him win that easily. What Mike seemed to forget was the near decade I spent in the Navy before comin to college.

I whipped around, using the hot water against our skin to slip out from his pin. I pushed his shoulder, sending him tripping over my foot, which I had conveniently placed behind his. I caught him like a damsel in distress, so there was no doubt in his mind who was on top.

Within seconds, it's like my training kicked in and I had him pinned down on his stomach. The bristles of my thick mustache rubbed against the back of his ear as I whispered, "You really thought you could top me?" I asked with a chuckle.

He moaned like a twink when I stuck my cock up his ass. It took a moment for his ass to adjust to takin a beatin rather than dishin one out, but he'll get used to it. The wet fur on my forearm slid across his back as I rode him like a bull. I could almost feel his organs rearrangin to fit my 10 inch rod.

I groaned as I felt months of sexual tension release in seconds, shooting my seed all through Mike's body. He was mine. And by the looks of it, he enjoyed the ride too. A trail of his cum ran from under his pinned body, to the drain in the middle of the showers.

"You're mine."

I whispered in his ear with a shit eatin grin.

"Now clean this mess up before you dare come back to my dorm."

I pushed off his back to get to my feet. I continued rubbing my cock as I walked away, making ropes of cum cover the showers. I walked right out of the showers and into the locker room, making sure to wink at campus security on the way out. Someone always calls them, and we always get away with it Scott free, so I think they gave up. It just feels good to make people know they're beneath you, and to do it while rubbin one out.

I cleaned up and walked alone to my dorm, sat on my couch, and waited for Mike to come back. After a few minutes, he walked in without a word. He walked over to me and laid in my lap as I turned on football. I smelled his hair, making sure he actually cleaned up like I ordered.

"Good boy." I reassured him while massaging his pecs.

Day 150:

I finally moved our stuff out of my shitty dorm. Mikey's father just decided to pay for our diplomas outright, instead of trying to turn all of our F's into A's.

We moved to L.A. and I fuckin love it here. I just walk around in nothin but a jock, and people love me for it. And there are so many entrepreneurs like me, so much money to be made.

Everyone just calls me handlebars, I can't remember the last time anyone called me my name. Now that I think about it, I don't even remember what it was, but who the fuck cares. I'm handlebars, the life of the party and the best fuck in this city.

Not a tf post but I was watching the umbrella academy and they had the audacity to put this man on my screen. I couldn't keep such a man a secret now could I?

There is a good chance he ends up in a tf story soon tho. I don't think I could help myself.

Somethings in the Water

Being the great team captain that you are, you show up to the locker room early. You've had a reputation throughout your entire college football career of being put together, and being a good example for your team. And now, at your final game before your graduation, you feel the pressure lift off your shoulders. It's gonna be nice passing on the torch to someone else for next year.

Footsteps echo as you walk through the empty change room. The faint smell of sweat from yesterday's game feels nostalgic. A thud rings out as you drop your heavy bag on the bench.

"Huh? What's this." You say to yourself as you notice a bunch of water bottles in a holder in the middle of the change room. You investigate and see a note nearly placed on top.

"So you don't have to bring water from your university." Is written in neat handwriting on the small piece of paper.

How nice of them to provide your team with water bottles, it'll be convenient not having to carry them all the way in.

You grab one of the water bottles from the holders and hold it above your mouth. You grip tightly, shooting water down into your mouth. It feels oddly refreshing. Sure it was cold, but there was something more. It is... sweet. And it costs your teeth in a weird way. They must put something in the water to freshen it up, you think to yourself.

Though it doesn't take long for you to realize that there is in fact something wrong with the water. The coating in your mouth gets thicker and thicker, making it hard to swallow. Did they spike your water? You ask yourself, trying to make sense of it. Soon your body starts to feel weird, as if you were high. Only more intense than you've ever felt.

You drop the bottle as you stumble back into the showers. Trying to grab at the walls to stabilize yourself, but your hands feel too weak to grab anything. Though you still manage to lean against the damp tile walls of the shower. You bend down, still leaning against the wall, in an attempt to regain your balance. You've been high out of your mind at every frat party, so you can handle any drug they gave you, you tell yourself.

Little did you know, you couldn't.

As you're catching your breath, you look down in horror. There's a big lump under your jersey. Are the drugs making you bloated? You lift your shirt, and your heart sinks. A flabby stomach bounces as you pull up your shirt, this was no bloat. With every breath it swells, becoming rounder and softer until you can't see your feet anymore. But the worst is yet to come. Your strong pecs, the ones you've built throughout your entire football career, also begin to soften under an ever growing layer of fat. They kept their shape for a while, only looking a bit swollen. But they quickly grew into an undeniable pair of man tits, that pressed tight against your shirt. As your shirt rides up more and more, your nipples also swell, making you involuntarily moan as they rub against the rough texture of your jersey.

You jerk back, recoiling at the moan that just escaped your lips. In a fleeting attempt for control, you desperately tug down on your jersey, hoping it will hide your rotund midsection, but it barely reaches past the top of your gut.

And if you think it can't get worse, it can, and it will.

A pelt of brown hairs grows all over your exposed gut, making your once clean shaven body look unkept. The hair spreads up to your chest, where you can feel the rough hairs rub against your tight jersey. You also feel an intense itch spread around to your back, down your ass, and all over your legs.

Don't worry, you'll get used to the itchiness eventually. Because shaving it will only make it worse.

The defined muscles on your back disappear under a layer of pudge and your thin waist bulges out as love handles spill over your waist band. Making even your silhouette look fat. Next your arms begin to sag slightly under their own weight, making your hard earned biceps look old and flimsy. And the hair on your arms grows much thicker than everywhere else, growing even over your hands. Which are now massive, with thick calloused fingers, perfect for catching and throwing a football.

That means you can convince yourself you haven't let yourself go old man. Oh right, I forgot to mention. Your hairline has started to recede, exposing the top of your head. And the hair that's left is not fooling anyone, you've maybe got a couple of years before even that becomes too thin. The wrinkles on your forehead and around your eyes are not helping either. Maybe some moisturizer would help. But I doubt you would use that, considering you're a crusty old man. Also, don't worry about that double chin that's forming under your softened jawline, your scruffy beard totally hides it. Trust me, no one can see it.

As you can probably tell by now, you are completely out of it. You are holding onto the wall for dear life, trying to make sure your hefty body doesn't fall. Your skin feels weird, your eyesight is fucked, and there is voice in your head narrating all of the horrible, I mean wonderful changes that are happening to your body. Those aren't done by the way.

Next, your ass begins to plump up. Your cheeks start to strain the fabric in your shorts, letting out a few ripping noises. The front gets just as tight, as your dick doubles in size, begging to escape your tiny jockstrap. Your thighs continue to strain against your shorts, becoming thick and solid like tree trunks. That's at least something you never lost from your football days in college, though they're much hairier now. And your feet burst out of your tiny size 11 shoes, now only fitting in a manly size 18.

It looks like all those drugs you took in college really paid off, as the high starts to wear off. The familiar heft of your body returns in full, and your memories start to come back. You became a full time coach at your college after graduating. Of course you put on some weight over the years, but that's only natural for a man in his forties. At least that's what you tell yourself. Your team used to make fun of you for growing a spare tire, but you're the one laughing since you've got them on a new diet. Besides, a man isn't complete without a bit of meat on his bones, and your team knows that now. The pussies on the other team aren't gonna know what's gonna hit em.

You finally regain your composure, acting like nothing happened. You fold the collar on the polo tee that has appeared over your body, and you loosen the belt on your jeans to give the belly some breathing room. The water tends to leave you with a bit of a bloat, so you've gotta leave some room.

Being the great coach that you are, you stand up tall and walk out to greet your team. You first see Colin, your team captain. He's been doing great since he took over, but he's stubborn. He questioned your judgment when you wanted to put them on a new diet, but realized his mistake and followed his coach like a good captain does. He's a little behind the other boys but he's getting there. His buddy Stephen is making sure he shapes up well before this game, thanks to that diet powder you put in the team's water.

Historians would say Colin and Stephen have become 'really good friends' recently, so it's no surprise Stephen has been helping Colin with his dieting. They always seem to shower together, and you even love to join them after a long hard game just to blow off some steam.

"Stephen! I want Colin twice that size by the time we get in the field." Your voice echoes around the room.

"Yes coach!" Stephen responds as he sprays more of your water into Colin's mouth.

Next you pass George. He's been a great offensive lineman. He was always one of the bigger guys in the team, but your diet has done wonders for his waistband. Now no one can get through that wall of a man. Looks like Brenden is feeding him his pre game dose of diet powder to make sure he's nice and plump before the game. Those two are shaping up to be done real men, the thought of them growing more only makes your jock tighter than it already is.

"Don't forget to take some too Brenden, don't let George hog it all." You shout unnecessarily loud in your deep gruff voice. And just like the good player he is, Brenden takes his dose. Looks like he's ready for action.

You stop by every player, making sure they're sticking to their diet. And if you need to force feed them spiked water to make them grow into the big football players they're meant to be, then so be it. You also make sure to slap each player on their ass as you pass by.

Finally you stop at Peter. He's kind of the runt of the litter, more of a bench warmer. You've been trying to train him to be the man he could become, but all the diet has done is made him extremely fat.

He thinks that stretchy sports shirt hides anything, but everyone knows it doesn't. You grab him by the wrist and drag him into the showers with you. You press your heavy hand down on his shoulders, and he knows his job. You pull off your shirt and drop your jeans to the ground. Peter drops to his knees, his fat rippling as he does so, and he looks up at you as if to ask for further instructions.

"Coach has gotta release his stress before a tough game." You command him.

I got bored and decided to look up this old post. Lmk what you think of my answers, it'll be cool to see what you guys like compared to me.

1. Revenge TFs or Coach TFs

2. No

3. Change myself, but they're close.

4. Santa clause or bebop and Rocksteady from the TMNT movie are the earliest examples of me being attracted to TFs

5. There is a post by @Yoink_0 on twitter of a fat batman bursting out of his costume, and he's saying into his mic 'If this is some kinda joke, I'm not laughing." The combo of a fattened version of hot superhero, plus ripping through costume, plus the text implying the TF, and it's general quality make it peak TF art.

6. I can't remember what it was called or who wrote it, but it was about an army that got attacked by a chemical that made their bodies produce a lot of fat. The protag woke up in a hospital surrounded by obese versions of his friends before succumbing to his hunger and growing as big as his peers.

7. Probably anthro, but I don't really care for either.

8. Probably their bellies swelling into big beach balls and making their shirts ride up. That or their pecs turning into saggy man tits.

9. A big masculine man by the end of it.

10. Unwilling. Though I like when someone willingly TFs themself, but the TF goes wrong.

11. No.

12. I really like tough Dom daddies, and I dabble in mpreg occasionally.

13. Something about becoming bigger has always turned me on and I'm not sure why. And becoming more masculine excites me just because I am more attracted to masculine men.

14. At first, everything did. But the more I wrote the less I cared about it and the more normal it became for me. And I tend to experiment more and more with things I consider embarassing just for them to become more normal in the process. I would say writing sex still feels a bit embarassing sometimes, just because I'm worried about it being too much. But then I remember I'm writing TF, so it's already weird.

15. Only you guys, but I'm an honest drunk so maybe that won't last forever.

17. Dom daddy stuff with insults and compliments to control the dynamic, but that's pretty vanilla.

18. All of them.

19. I didn't like mpreg for the longest time, but I like it under specific surcomstances. I like the idea of something making the man grow a big round belly, but I don't like the mention of the babies which is where most mpreg stories lose me.

20. I always used to fantasize about gaining the ability to transform into anyone and I would imagine myself turning into basically any fat male adult in my life. Or I would fantasize about being force fed laced food that would transform me into a fat male adult in my life. Usually the men would be coaches, teachers, or scout leaders.

21. I like injection of a serum, or breathing in laced gas. Though I mix it up in most stories. Honorable mentions are magic, high calorie foods, or physical contact between an 'infected' person and a healthy one.

22. I like mental changes to match physical ones, or sometimes the person hates the changes in the beginning but starts to love them by the end.

23. Clothes ripping. And I like when they have to find or buy more clothes that fit.

24. The gut or the man tits.

25. Yeessss! Everything gets bigger.

26. No, I don't know why I've always hated inflation despite loving fat TFs.

27. I don't usually think of specific people, but deadpool 3 has got me thinking about Wolverine. So I'll say hugh Jackman into a fattened version of the comic book Wolverine.

28. They keep me as massive, dumb trophy husband.

29. Probably the Terminator from Terminator 2, but that's just because Robert Patrick is hot, not because of any TF stuff.

30. Definitely bebop and Rocksteady on the TMNT movie. I had a boner the entire movie after their TF scene, and it only got worse everytime they showed afterwards. The CGI, the sound design, the design on the characters is all so hot.

31. Yes, but I can appreciate temporary.

32. Forced. Resistance only makes it hotter.

33. I don't dislike the body I have, but it would be sick to have a broad chest and a thin waist. My body is kinda boxy, but I'm fine with that.

34. I got some juicy thighs for a guy as skinny as me.

35. Age regression, or honestly any story where the guy ends up younger than like 25 or 30. And TG tends to turn me off really fast too.

36. I think science is more fun, I like mixing in some random science knowledge with my TF to add some realism to it. I just find the fact that it seems more possible in real life makes it hotter. Though I like writing magic too.

37. Coach or anything army related.

38. And 39. No, but it's something I'm interested in doing.

40. Probably be really embarrassed, and potentially never recover depending on who found out.

Questions for TF fans

Send me a number, I’ll answer that question!

1. What’s your Favorite kind of TF? 2. Do you like Inanimate TF? 3. Would you rather Transform other people or change yourself? 4. What got you interested in TF? 5. Absolutely favorite TF art? 6. Absolutely favorite TF story? 7. Anthro or full animal TF? 8. Best part of transformation for you? 9. All good TFs need to have… 10. Willing or unwilling TF subject? 11. TG in your TF? 12. What other kinks do you have? 13. What excites you about TF? 14. What embarrasses you about TF? 15. Does anyone else know about your TF kink? 16. What other kinks do you have? 17. What kink excites you most, excluding TF? 18. Any kinks you’re embarrassed by? 19. Any kinks you didn’t think you’d be into but are? 20. What’s your favorite TF fantasy? 21. Favorite way to initiate a TF? 22. Mental changes to match physical changes, or a human mind trapped in an inhuman body? 23. Clothes ripping as the transformation progresses, or changing to match? 24. Favorite part of the body to watch transform? 25. Size changes? 26. Inflation? 27. If you could transform one person into anything you wanted, who would you change and into what? 28. Someone transforms you… what do they do with you after? 29. Who is your favorite shape shifter in media? 30. Favorite depiction of a transformation in media? 31. Permanent transformation? 32. Willing or forced transformation? 33. One part of your body you want to change? 34. One part of your body you’re really happy with? 35. What kinds of TF do you find a turnoff? 36. Magic or science? 37. Favorite thing to TF into? 38. Do you RP? 39. Ever act out a TF fantasy with a partner? 40. If anyone found out about your TF kink you’d…

X Factor

"Has anyone seen Cyclops lately?" Professor X asked.

"Not since he left for his reconnaissance mission." Hank answered.

"Maybe that's why I've been so relaxed lately." Wolverine chimed in.

"This could be serious Logan! If he isn't back by tomorrow, I will use cerebro to find him." Charles said, genuinely concerned.

KNOCK KNOCK!

"See, that's Summers right there. I can smell him a mile away." Logan snapped back.

The three men all walked to the front door to greet their friend, all curious about why he took so long. Logan slowly opened the door, and recoiled at the man standing in front of him. Logan's head slowly tilted back to meet eye to eye with the now gigantic 7 foot tall Cyclops. His face was round and plump with fat with a thick ginger beard covering his soft jawline. Logan scanned up and down the man's body, just trying to confirm what he is seeing is real. Summers had soft man tits that pushed tightly against his blue uniform, and a hulking gut and thick love handles that spilled out under his shirt. Logan was eye level with the man's deep belly button, with a thick pelt of ginger hair spiraling around it and leading up to his chest. His legs and arms were just as plump as the rest of him, looking stuffed like sausages. And his hands and feet looked at least double the size they used to be, looking as if they ripped through his gloves and shoes. Summers let out a loud burp and he scratched his gut, making Logan recoil from the smell.

"Scott? Is that you?" Hank broke the silence.

"Uuugh, Scott? Yeah, Scott!" His voice was deep and lethargic.

"That's not Scott!" Charles protested.

"Oh it's him. Just with the smell of burger grease all over his face." Logan reassured.

"You got food? I'm sooooo hungry." Scott ducked his way through the doorframe and walked through Logan like he wasn't even there.

Charles chased after summers, trying to ask him what happened. While Logan and Hank stood behind for a moment, shocked.

"I'll get him food, you figure out what is wrong with him." Logan whispered to Hank.

"I'll have to try." Hank sighed.

They split up, with Hank preparing his lab and Logan following Scott and Charles into the kitchen. Logan raided the fridge, grabbing the greasiest foods he could find.

"Hey bub! You hungry?" Logan taunted Scott with his food. "Come and get it!" He yelled as he ran towards Hanks lab.

Logan ran as fast as he could, shocked at how fast the blubbery Scott could run. He felt the heavy footsteps get closer and closer.

"Shut the door!" Logan yelled as he ran into the lab, with Summers heavy on his tail. Hank slammed on the button, slamming the reinforced door and trapping the three men in the lab. Logan finally gave Scott the food, hoping it would hold him off long enough.

"We gotta move fast, this won't hold himmover for long." Logan said between deep breaths.

Hank grabbed a needle and a sample of blood from Scotts arm. He didn't even seem to notice, too distracted by his food. Hank put the blood under his microscope and had to do a double take at what he saw.

"What is it?" Logan asked.

"There seems to be another X gene attached to Scotts X gene. It must be causing the mutations." Hank responded.

"So what does that mean?" Logan asked again.

"I think a mutant did this to him. Their X gene must have attached itself to Scotts and made these physical and mental changes."

"So he's gonna be like this forever?"

"I don't know, not until I do more tests at least. Hopefully his immune system will remove the X gene, but I have no idea if it will." Hank said as he frantically pulled out more equipment.

"I'm gonna get to the bottom of this, you just stay here and keep him occupied." Logan said as he opened the labs door.

"Wait, Logan! I don't think that's a good id-" Hank was cut off as Logan closed the door.

Logan ran out of the school, determined to find the root of the problem. With the strong smell Scott was giving off, it wasn't hard for Logan to follow his trail. Though the trail only brought Logan from fast food restaurant to fast food restaurant. Scott had stopped at five restaurants on his journey to the school. After an hour of driving from place to place, Logan finally arrived at a suspicious building. The trail was faint by this point, but it seemed to end here. For all Logan could tell, it looked abandoned. Everything was broken down and covered in leaves. He walked around the perimeter of the building and found an entrance with a bunker. The bunker door had a brand new lock covering it. A single slash of his claws, and Logan was in.

The stairs seemed to go on forever, leading further and further underground. It finally led to an opening, when Logan heard a scream echo around the room. He ran further into the room and it led to a large glass window. Through the window, he saw colossus chained up in a small bare room. Almost like a prison cell. And on the other side was a mutant that Logan didn't recognise. Colossus was yelling in pain as metallic clangs echoed out of his body. And right before Logan's eyes, Colossus' body began to change. The angular corners of his metallic body started to become rounder and rounder. His six pack melted into a hard round gut, and his hard pecs swelled into thick man tits. The defined muscle of his limbs disappeared under a soft looking layer of fat. His metal bulge grew even larger as his plump ass doubled in size. Finally, his angular face became round and plump like Summers, as metal pork chops formed on his cheeks.

The metallic clanging of his body growing finally ended, as did his yells of pain. The other mutant in the room walked over to him and untied his restraints.

"C'mon Colossus. Clock him." Logan whispered under his breath.

Though to his shock, Colossus did nothing once his restraints were off. He just slowly followed the mutant out of the cell.

"What the hell is he doing?" Logan scoffed. "I guess I'll have to do this myself."

Logan backed up and lowered his shoulder, ready to bash through the window. He sprinted full speed at the window, but stopped inches away. He opened his eyes, confused at why he had stopped before the window. He was slowly turned around to face Magneto, who was controlling the metal inside Logan's body.

"What the hell?" Logan asked as he was lifted into the air.

"Aw. Look at the big bad Wolverine trying to save the day." Magneto taunted.

"What did you do to Colossus!?" Logan yelled.

"Oh him. That's just a little trick my new friend can do. He can transfer traits between people."

"And you did that to Summers too, didn't you!"

"Well that prick tried to get in my way. All of Charles little x men always try to get in my way, even though I want what is best for mutants. Just see the upside, some dumb fat oaf is enjoying the fit body and motivation of your friend." Magneto smiled.

"No you can't just do this."

"Well I already have. But don't worry, it's temporary. At least the mental changes are. Summers will have to have a nice training regimen to lose all that weight, so he might need some XXL uniforms for a bit. Unfortunately I think your metallic friend might be stuck like this forever, but I think pork chops and massive gut look good on him." Magneto signaled for the mutant to come over as Colossus stood idly by.

"No no no, don't!" Logan began to struggle.

"If it's any consolation, once the effects wear off, your little healing factor will probably burn off all the fat for you. So you won't have to join Summers on the treadmill." He let out a maniacal laugh.

The other mutant dragged in a massive Hulk of a man before starting the transfer. Logan felt a warm feeling engulf his body. He looked down and saw a small gut begin to form under his skin tight uniform. It swelled and swelled until he couldn't see his feet anymore. He heard his uniform start to rip as it rode up his hairy gut, revealing a deep belly button. His love handles made his once skinny waist blow up into wide blubber that spilled over his waist band, giving him a wide silhouette. Logan then saw his pecs start to grow, creating two mounds of fat under his uniform. They grew until they began to sag under their own weight, resting on his massive gut.

Logan looked up to see the other man in the room has become slim like he used to be, with a skinny waist and thick pecs. He also watched as the nearly 7 foot tall man shrunk in height to a measly 5"3. Meanwhile, Logan's perspective began to shift higher and higher as his legs and spine stretched to match his new height of 7 feet. His body also seemed to get fatter as he grew, making him look just as fat despite growing nearly two feet in height.

Logan then felt his arms begin to change. His shoulder broadened as fat covered the muscle definition in his arms. His arms also lengthened to match his height and his hands tripled in size, becoming hulking man hands fitting for a man of his stature. He then felt a tightness grow in his pants, tighter than they already were. His perky ass swelled with fat, ripping through his yellow spandex and giving his body a strong S shape. His dick also grew to a massive 10 inches, and thickened to the size of a pop can, making an unmistakable bulge in his underwear.

Logan let out a few involuntarily moans as the pleasure shot through his body. It made his mind cloudy, as he forgot what he was even supposed to be stressed about. He barely even noticed the fat piling into his thighs, making them rip through his pants. And his feet also tripled in size, similar to his hands, giving his new body more stability.

Finally, Logan's head began to change. His head grew in proportion with his body as fat filled his angular face. His cheeks swelled as multiple double chins formed over his neck. And his jawline disappeared as his face appeared more round. Though a thick hairy beard quickly covered his face, making the fat less noticeable.

As the physical transformation came to an end, his mind started to lose his most defining traits. His headstrong and stubborn personality was replaced by loyalty, and his anger issues were replaced by a high amount of patience. And his usual workout routines became an insatiable hunger. And how could you forget the constant horniness.

Magneto slowly let Logan to the ground as all of his clothes fell to the ground in shreds. He stayed on his knees for a moment, catching his breath as pre cum spilled out of his massive dick.

"Your mission is to capture Hank and Charles, and bring them here. And put on some clothes before you go." Magneto commanded.

"Yes sir!" Logan grunted as he stood up

Logan followed Colossus out of the room. Once out of the room, Logan cut in front of Colossus and stood eye to eye with the Goliath of a man for the first time in his life.

"I'm gonna have my way with this metal cock before we go. Just so you know who's boss in this operation, alright bub." Logan gripped Colossus' dick and winked before dragging Colossus off. The ground trembled as the two hulking men walked off.

Star Of The Show

"Is that really safe?" A snobbish man in an expensive suit snarled.

"Yes Mr. Derry, how many times do I have to tell you. It'll make you into a prime bodybuilder just like you asked." The technician sighed.

"It better be, because I am an important stake holder in this bodybuilding competition and I paid a lot for this." Mr. Derry continued to whine, despite receiving exactly what he asked for.

"Here I brought your coffee, sir." Mr. Derry's assistant sheepishly held out a Starbucks coffee. He grumbled as he read the long list of modifications he needed in his coffee to drink it.

"This has coconut milk you idiot!" He shoved the coffee back into his assistant, sending the scrawny man stumbling back. In an attempt to regain his balance he flailed his arm into the large machine that sat nearby.

"I... I'm sorry sir." The assistant panicked. "I can fix it." He reached for the machine in an attempt to minimize the blowback from his boss. He tried to move the machine back to its original position.

"Wait no! Don't tou-" the technician was interrupted.

A blinding light erupted across the back stage as a concentrated beam shot into the assistants chest. He looked like a ragdoll being tossed across the room, slamming into the wall. No one even noticed what had happened while they tried to recover from the flash.

The assistant slowly got up, his head was spinning. He assumed it was from the crash into the wall, but it only got worse after he got up. A burning heat boiled inside his chest as he attempted to recover. The burning soon turned to a tightness as his chest began to grow. His flat chest started to rise like a loaf of bread in the oven. His preppy button up strained under the pressure of his thickening pecs until the buttons started to pop off. His shirt burst open, revealing the perfectly formed pecs of a bodybuilder that created a shelf over his stomach. Speaking of which, his stomach began to melt away. His now flat stomach quickly rose back up, but with hard muscles this time. His stomach started to round out into a small muscle gut as six distinct muscles formed over it, causing the rest of his buttons to pop off in the process.

The technician and Mr. Derry were starting to recover from the flash, hearing increasingly loud footsteps rumbled from across the room and ever deeper sounding grunts and moans came from the assistant.

The assistant lurched over as his shoulder broadened, finally ripping his shirt to shreds. His upper back exploded with rippling muscles that would make any man jealous. And his lower back slimmed to give his body a strong V shape. Moments later he started to flex his arms, making them balloon with every flex. His biceps grew to the size of melons as veins surfaced all down his arms. And his hands thickened into massive man hands, twice the size of his old delicate hands.

Mr. Derry let out a loud scoff as he watched the assistant transform into the man he wanted to be. And the technician just smiled at Me. Derry's dismay. Meanwhile the assistant started to let out deep guttural moans pleasure as his body grew, and animalistic grunts every time he flexed his growing body.

Next, the man's lower body started to grow, making him nearly a foot taller than he was before, towering over everyone in the building. His thighs thickened to over twice the size of his massive biceps, making him have the man spread to make room for all the muscle. Unsurprisingly it didn't take long for his pants to rip to shreds, leaving him in his comically small underwear. Though that wouldn't last long either. His flat ass got flooded with both fat and muscle, making it large and plump and creating a shelf over his thighs. His fat ass strained against the shockingly strong fabric of the underwear before overpowering them, bouncing as his cheeks tore right through them. His calves also grew quite thick and defined as his feet burst out of his shoes, becoming a monstrous size 20. Though the only downside is his impressive package shrunk from a massive 8 inches to an unremarkable 4 inches, looking small in comparison to his hulking body.

Finally the man's head began to change to match his body. His barely visible jawline looked like it got vacuum sealed around his jaw, becoming sharp as a knife. His brow bone became more prominent, adding to his manly appearance as a well kept beard spreads across his face. And his long flowy hair recedes into a military buzz cut.

By the time the transformation slowed, his skin had a bronze tanned color with a slick sheen of oil over it. Almost as if he was getting ready to compete.

"You fucking idiot. Look at the mess you've made. You need to clean this up ASAP, and you better hope that machine has some juice left for me or so help me god I will bury you six feet under Edward!" Mr. Derry blew up with rage, it almost looked like there was smoke coming from his ears.

The assistant stood up tall with his head up and his chest puffed out. Slowly taking steps towards his boss, making the ground shake with each step. As he got close, his brows furrowed and his grunt became deeper and louder. He bent down and yanked his boss by the collar, lifting the shorter man a foot off the ground to meet eye to eye.

"You think I need a fucking pipsqueak like you! You're nothing but a bug to step on. And my name is Evan, asshole! Remember it!" Evans voice booked across the room as he chuckled his former boss into the machine, breaking it in the process.

He stomped across the room and grabbed a black pair of underwear from the rack. Then he proceeded to waltz on stage, stealing the hearts of the audience.

Evan was the star of the show, winning an easy first place. Photoshoots, magazine covers, and sponsors were all he saw in his future. And he never saw his loser of a boss again.

Corporate

John had coasted through his twenties like he thought everyone did. He got a quick degree in business and spent the next ten years traveling, partying, and fucking... A lot. His parents let him do whatever he wanted as long as he got a degree, they didn't say anything about using the degree.

He excused his behavior because every other rich white guy he partied with was doing the same thing. He had never even had an extended conversation with someone outside of the 1 percent, and it showed.

Hey, I mean at least he was really good at the one thing he did. To the point that he wouldn't remember most nights, only waking up with women's clothes in his bed. He would start swinging his massive dick around as soon as he got drunk and it wouldn't take long for someone to drag him to bed.

But it couldn't last forever. 30 came faster than he thought and it hit him like a truck. He couldn't drink like he used to, he couldn't party as hard as wanted to. His hairline was starting to recede and his six pack was disappearing under what would soon be a small beer belly. There were starting to be consequences for his actions. And as if it couldn't get any worse for poor John, his parents let him know what his birthday present was for this year. Every year prior had been something extravagant like a yacht or a sports car, so he was really looking forward to the big gift to make 30 not seem so bad.

Two weeks before his birthday, John received a text saying that his parents would take away his generous allowance if he didn't get a job by the time he was 30. His heart skipped a beat, he thought it was some big joke. He thought back to the times his parents had asked him to get a job before but he never thought they were serious. Though they did ask a lot now that he's thinking of it, and they didn't sound like they were joking.

John texted back, "haha, but seriously what is it?" Hoping they would back off and he could go back to being the old guy at all the yacht parties he threw. But they put their put down this time, threatening his 200k a month allowance and his present he was expecting for his birthday.

One week of the adult equivalent of kicking and screaming later, John gives in. Now he only has one week before it starts to cut into his allowance. He scrambled to make a shitty resume, assuming a business degree would get him any job he wanted.

He nervously clicked on a link his dad sent him to a company that works under his father's business. He submitted his resume and waited. It didn't take long for him to get a response and John patted himself on the back for making such a good resume. Although they obviously never even opened the resume, just going off of his father's recommendation.

He set up an interview for just before his birthday, and continued to party like he was still 20. He woke up the day of the interview, hungover and still wearing his disgusting clothes from the night before. He was nearly falling asleep at the wheel as he hadn't woken up before noon in ages, 10 am was such a ridiculous time to set an interview.

He stumbled into the expensive looking building and stood in front of reception.

"How can I help you?" The young lady behind the counter asked.

"Ugh... Yeah I could think of a few ways you could help me." John winked and gave a lazy smile.

"Sir, if you don't have any business here, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." The lady raised her voice, trying to hide her discomfort.

"Whatever, I'm here for an interview."

"What's your name?"

"John Fitzgerald."

The lady looked up for a moment, recognizing the name. She shook her head in disappointment as she grabbed the phone to call that he had arrived... only thirty minutes late.

A few moments later, an older man in a tailored suit approached the front desk. He walked right past John and asked the receptionist to point him in the direction of John. The lady looked over at John and raised her eyebrows to suggest he was right there. The older man turned and put on a fake smile to hide his disapproval.

"Follow me." The man put on a cheap up beat voice.

The man walked him down to a private office and opened a closet. He grabbed a dress shirt and black dress pants and basically shoved into John's chest.

"No man that respects himself wears those clothes to an interview, put these on." He let his anger slip through a bit.

"Wait really!?" John seemed perplexed. He thought he would answer a few questions about what he liked to do and that would be it.

"Yes, go on."

John sheepishly took off his shirt, revealing the small belly that had grown over his abs. It even bounced a bit as he pulled off his shirt. He then pulled down his pants to reveal his batman boxers that did nothing hide the massive bulge between his legs.

He slipped on the dress shirt, letting it spill to his knees like a dress. Then he pulled up the dress pants and held them at his waist. They were nearly 10 inches too long around the waist, and 5 inches too short, making them ride up his calves.

"They're too big!" John complained.

The man scoffed and grabbed a belt from the closet. Though the belt was also too big, leaving John still holding up the pants.

"They're still too big!" John whined.

"Oh just shut up. How long is this supposed to take." The old man looked impatiently at his watch.

"How long is wha-" John began to ask before pausing briefly, followed by a loud burp that seemed to make the room tremble.

John tried to talk but couldn't. He felt slow and groggy, more than he had before. The only noises he could muster were grunts as a warm feeling filled his stomach. Suddenly his hips thrusted forward and he let out a grunt. John looked down in horror as a sizable beer belly was now hiding under his oversized shirt. His hips thrusted again and his belly had doubled in size, making him look pregnant. One more thrust and a loud grunt and his fat gut doubled in size once more. It bounced up and down as it filled all the room in his massive shirt, finally drooping over his waistband.

John wanted to scream, but he couldn't. The only noises that came from his mouth were moans and grunts that sounded more and more sexual the more his body changed.

His sides soon followed, growing thick love handles that widened his once skinny frame, even spreading to his lower back. His chest puffed forward as his pecs disappeared under a thick layer of fat. His soft man tits finally rested on his gut, pushing up against his shirt and making them impossible to miss.

John looked up in desperation at the older man that stood before him, but he was just staring at his watch. Though he noticed something strange. He was looking up at the man, when he could have sworn that he looked down on him when he first met him. He took pride in his height, so he would have remembered being shorter than him.

This time his body thrusted backwards, making him nearly fall with his new center of gravity. With each thrust he felt the pants get tighter and tighter until his cheeks filled out all of the room in those size 42 pants. At least he didn't have to hold them up anymore. His thighs then thickened into fat tree trunks, permanently rubbing together and squishing his dick in between. Though that last part wouldn't last long, while his ever growing fat pad swallowed inches of his dick, it began to shrink as well. He felt it recede into his soft fat pad, now only having the tip peaking out of his fat. He stuffed his hand between his meaty thighs to try and find it but it wasn't there.

John then felt pressure building up around his feet until a loud POP rang through the office. He looked down to see what happened but it was blocked by his massive gut. Though the feeling of his bare feet on the ground suggested that his feet burst out of his shoes.

His arms began to twitch fat filled them like sausages, making them drop under their own weight. His hands also doubled in size as his fingers started to look thickened. He wanted to react, but it was starting to get hard to remember what he was texting to. All he could think about was finance.

Finally his face began to change. His young and spy look got covered in soft fat and wrinkles, aging him up at least 10 years. His hairline receded as thick sideburns covered his nonexistent jawline and his stubble formed a prominent mustache and goatee combo.

John let out a loud burp as his stomach grumbled. He grunted a few more times as he desperately tried to reach his crotch, but he was unsuccessful. He noticed his boss in front of him and tilted his head back to make eye contact with the man that is now much taller than him.

"What are we doing in your office boss?" John asked.

"Oh, you just had a wardrobe malfunction that's all." The boss said as he passed John a pair of shoes and a tie. "It's on the house since you've been such a good employee the last 10 years. I certainly don't mind getting you bigger clothes when you outgrow your current ones."

John panted and grunted trying to get his shoes on, he wasn't used to the extra padding all over his body. Despite that, he knows that he has been quite fat for many years now as memories of the last 10 years of his life flood in.

"Can't forget the wedding ring." The boss said as he slipped a nice ring into John's hand. "I just love that husband of yours, he is such a great cook. No wonder you gained so much weight after your marriage. It's almost like he got you pregnant." The boss chuckled.

John's face went blank as the memories of him coming out in his thirties and marrying the man that he loves. And he remembers the positive pregnancy test he had just before his 40th birthday.

"Oh my god, you are pregnant!" The boss shouted then covered his mouth. "Your secret's safe with me. Oh and also, I'll order some massive clothes for ya so you won't have to worry about it big guy." The boss said quietly as John left his office.

Athlete No More

The medical office in the university was always uncomfortably warm, and Carlo could feel the heat creeping across his whole body. He’d been horny all day, and this wasn’t helping – he’d always found summer to be the worst time of year for his sex drive, when he just wanted to writhe around and fuck anything that moved. He regretted wearing such tight clothes, even though he normally enjoyed showing off his wares to anyone who paid attention – but this heat was really intense and he knew he’d be sweating profusely soon. 

The other reason for his regret was that the university clinic had assigned him Dr. Kelly, who was famously a total pervert, who always gave hot male students the eye and had even made passing comments to Carlo before about how hot he’d looked in the student fashion show. Carlo prided himself on his looks, and took a lot of care in himself: he painfully restricted his dietary habits and worked out often as he could. The secretary at the medical office door had actually given him a stare when he arrived as if to say she’d eat him with a spoon if he let her, but he was exclusively into dudes, unfortunately for her.

Dr Kelly, on the other hand, was a chubby loser, and that was putting it lightly. The guy always seemed to have some kind of grease or food stain on his white lab jacket. Tufts of hair were always poking out from under his shirt, where his belly always seemed to be emerging too. He was like the anti-Carlo, and Carlo felt a mixture of pride in himself and horror at the world whenever he saw him. However, he had to see a doctor today – he had a slight pain in his knee and he was worried about an upcoming charity half-marathon that he’d been signed up to do. Even Dr Kelly examining his damned knee was better than nothing.

“So, what’s the matter,” the doctor said, barely even looking at Carlo’s medical notes as he strolled in, his belly wobbling as ever, his face stained with what looked like chocolate around his lips, “you’re worried about… your leg, handsome?” His tongue was basically drooping out of his mouth with hunger as he gazed at Carlo.

“My knee.” Carlo said, firmly, gesturing down but keeping his eyes firmly on the doctor’s forehead, so as not to take in too much slobbishness at once. He ignored the sexual harassment, but felt a weird twinge downstairs, as if some part of his body actually rather enjoyed it. Weird. “Could you stop looking at me like…? I mean. Yes. My knee hurts.”

“Yes, well, adding so much weight to your body in such a short time will inevitably cause aches and pains,” Dr Kelly said, a note of sympathy – or even empathy – in his voice. 

Carlo was stunned. “Excuse me?”

Dr Kelly said, “well, it looks like you… well, even your records say you’ve put on, what, 50 pounds in two months? You must know your body’s not going to love that, right? You hardly need to go to medical school for that kind of education!”

Carlo looked down at his body, arms ready to gesticulate around, as if to say “um, look at what you’re talking about”, but he suddenly had to freeze, even though he was still so, so warm. His body was no longer his own. A belly had appeared, poking out from under his tank top. It was hairy, about half the size of a watermelon, and it rumbled aggressively as soon as he noticed it. For once, Carlo was really, really hungry. And – dear god, when he tried to speak, all that came out first was a deep, resounding belch.

“Goodness me!” Dr Kelly said, “someone’s hungry! Or perhaps you’ve eaten too much? It can be hard to tell sometimes, can’t it?” He had adopted a jovial tone, not the lustful one he normally took with Carlo. It was almost like he saw him as some kind of equal. “I can relate! I was pretty skinny when I started my training, back in the day, and then things got a bit doughy when I hit my 40s.”

“I don’t know.. what the fuck is happening..”

“Language, Carlo. Look, the knee isn’t really the issue, is it? Are you here because of something else?” Dr Kelly reached out and touched Carlo’s knee, gingerly, as if it might break. “Have you been having problems at school, at home? You’ve packed on what, 100 pounds? You used to be a model or something, weren’t you? I’m here if you need to talk to someone.”

Carlo burped again in horror, this time more of a whimper than a belch. The little belly? It was a basketball sitting in his lap, rumbling even more, crushing his tortured dick and balls. He could feel it weighing down his entire body, as if his entire being had rearranged its gravity. His arms and legs looked like twigs in comparison to the gut they surrounded, and he could see now that he had mounds of flesh where his delicate little pectorals had once been. He had tits! Little tits! He was agog. 

“Doctor, what is going on? I promise something weird, something crazy, is happening!”

“Mmm.” Dr Kelly’s expression had soured slightly, he looked a bit dismissive. “I don’t really know what’s going with boys like you. College… it must be college. You come in here and stuff your little faces with your little meal cards. Even I look thin compared to some of you!”

It was true. Now that Carlo had a chance to actually evaluate a little bit more of the world around him – and the world that had become him, this globe of a belly – he could see that he was now fatter than Dr Kelly, significantly. He had a grumbling stomach and moobs and he was convinced he was sat higher on his seat than he had been before, as if his ass had pushed him higher and higher. 

Carlo felt utterly glued to his chair and his head felt foggy, as knowledge of marathon running and modeling and the gym dimmed somewhat in his brain. His tank top was straining to contain anything his torso had to offer, and as he looked at himself, he could swear he could see stains appearing as if from nowhere, as if he’d been messily eating for hours without bothering to use a napkin or change his clothes. His arms and legs felt like they were made of cement and he felt his lips were bee-stung and wet with saliva.

“And did you really have to bring your lunch to the doctor’s office?” Dr Kelly said, as Carlo literally watched a half-eaten baguette brimming with fillings materialize in his hand. “That’s more than a little unhygienic, beyond anything – can’t you go a second without eating?”

“Mmmphhhh–” Carlo tried to say, without realizing his mouth was full of soda. Some dribbled from his lips as he noticed a vat of cola the size of a child sitting by his foot. He somehow felt it would be a strain to reach down and grab it at this rate. And he was still so damn warm! And beneath his belly, he felt an erection throbbing, as if it was cursed to enjoy whatever foul fate was befalling him. 

“That’s really… not what I hoped to see today, Carlo. I really thought you were going to work on the diets and exercises we talked about,” Dr Kelly said, “I really thought there was hope for you. I mean, no one ever thinks you’re going to be a model again, but to see such a handsome boy become nearly 400 pounds… it’s shocking, really. I’m sorry to speak so frankly.”

Carlo felt tears building as his body ballooned again, his arms, thighs and feet fattening finally as his belly and tits exploded again in size. He felt a tightening around his eyes as his face literally expanded around them – and then the warmth of the room finally crested, and he felt himself get incredibly, incredibly hard, somewhere under all of the lard, and everything rubbed together perfectly for just a moment, and the heat became blinding, and he came everywhere, staining his unbelievably strained shorts and the underside of his belly, farting loudly as he did so.

“Fucking hell,” Dr Kelly, the thinnest man in the room, said, “you fat guys really are something.”

Hiking Clothes

"Fuck, that guy was weird." You say under your breath as you walk back to your car.

What else did you expect, responding to an ad for free clothes on Facebook marketplace. He was an older guy with a big gut that was too big for his clothes. He never made eye contact, just looking down at my body. And he spoke in an emotionless monotone voice.

You don't think much of it, just glad you're on your way home now. The man doesn't live far, so you arrive home in just a few minutes. As you walk up to your apartment, you see a familiar face getting into the elevator. He is looking away from you, so it's hard to tell but he looks kinda like the guy who sold you the clothes.

"I guess he just has one of those faces, huh?" You dismiss it, assuming they just look similar.

You get home and immediately get undressed, ready to try on the new clothes. You throw on the large black shirt, It's a bit loose but if you tuck it in it looks fine. You pull up the shorts and they're also too big, although they come with straps that hold them up. Good enough, given they were free after all.

You stand in front of the mirror, trying to decide whether you like them enough to keep them. They don't look that good, but something about the way it fits you makes you feel confident. But then you notice a dry white stain in the crotch area.

"Ew, what the fuck! That's disgus- aooohh ughh." You try to voice your disgust at the not so subtle stain, but you're quickly interrupted. The stain disappears as the dried liquid siphons up your dick. The euphoric feeling interrupts your train of thought with nothing but pleasure.

"Fuuuuuck that feels good." You say between moans.

You grab your cock as it starts to harden, making it stick straight out in the loose fitting shorts. The tingling feeling in your crotch continues as you can feel your dick growing in your hands. From your underwhelming 4 inches to 5, 6, 7, 8 inches. It folds to the side, trying to find room to comfortably sit in your shorts. The tingling shoots down your thick shaft and into your balls, making them drop further as they grow to the size of tennis balls. The bulge is now unmistakable under your shorts.

"Ooouugh... More." You can barely manage to speak.

Suddenly your small but perky ass starts to fill with fat. Your cheeks expand until they fill all the empty room in your large shorts, creating a large shelf on your backside. Your thighs soon follow suit, growing with fat and muscle and making you spread your legs to make room for them. Your calves and feet double in size to accommodate your growing body.

"What... Ooohh... Is happening... Ugh... To me?" You try to reason, but overwhelming pleasure has already taken over your lower half. You cups your fat ass, making your hips thrust forward as a stain of pre-cum starts to form in your crotch.

The tingling pleasure that has engulfed your legs starts to migrate up into your midsection. You feel a tightness in your stomach, looking down you realize a small mound of fat is now hiding under your large shirt. The small mound grows and grows until your belly would be impossible to hide, even under the loosest shirts. Your posture starts to lean back as you try to balance out your growing belly. Your shirt is now stretched tight over the beach ball sized gut that is hanging over your waist, making your overalls slide to the side of your belly. You even feel the soft fat growing on your sides and pushing your arms outward, leaving you with thick love handles that spill over the waist of your shorts.

"Wait... Nooooouuuggh... This isn't aauuugh... Right." You try to say as your gut starts to block the view of your lower body.

You instinctively try to reach your cock again, the tingling feeling is strongest there and it begs for release. You try to stretch and contort, but no matter what your gut prevents you from reaching it.

"No no no auugh, fuck!"

This isn't the end of it, it will get worse. His flat pecs suddenly burst outward. Soft fat engulfs them as they start to press against his shirt, his rock hard nipples showing through. They start to sag to the sides as they lay on his gut. He let out a loud moan as his fingers shot to his large nipples.

You feel your shoulders fill out your now tiny looking shirt as they grow large and broad. Your arms fill with a mix of strong muscle and soft fat, making you look strong but cuddly. And your hands double in size and fill with callouses, leaving you with massive man hands. Your arms lengthen in the process, finally allowing you to reach your dick. One hand rubbing your belly, and one hand stroking your cock. The stain in your crotch keeps growing and growing as per cum spills out.

"Ooouugh Fuck yeah!"

You barely notice your deep voice and thick southern accent. Similar to that of the man who sold you those clothes. If anything the manliness of your voice turns you on even more. You waddle to a mirror, wanting to see the package of manliness that you now are.

You stand in the mirror, gut proudly pushed forward and hand stick on the crotch. You look at your face and it seems unfamiliar. It's young and almost feminine, the complete opposite of you. But it doesn't last long. Your flowy hair completely falls out, leaving you with a shiny white head. Your eyebrows thicken as your brow bone becomes more prominent and manly. Your clean shaven face rapidly fills with a bushy black beard, covering the thick double chin that covers your jawline.

You confidently stare at your body, finally matching the manly image you have of yourself.

If only you could spread that to everyone in the world, make them understand the immense pleasure of being a big manly guy such as yourself. The tingling in your cock returns when you think about it. You stare at your gut and start to pump your hand up and down your crotch. Normally a man in his fifties would have trouble getting hard, but a true man like you is hard all the time and ready to spread his seed. Your knees buckle and you let out a loud moan as ropes of cum shoot out into your shorts. You fall to your knees with a loud thump as your cum leaks down the inside of your leg.

"Fuck I'm hungry!" You forget everything you were thinking in favour of the overwhelming need to get bigger. A loud belch erupts from your body as you slowly get up to your feet. The ground rumbles under your feet as you walk to the fridge and pull out some leftover pizza and a beer. You lay your fat ass down on the couch and turn on the tv. You surf through channels, trying to find the sports channel. But you stop on the local news, as something catches your eye. The two anchors look so... Manly. Your dick hardens as you turn up the volume. The two southern hunks are talking about donating clothes for free.

"A drastic increase in donated clothes has been reported in the last few hours. Us two anchors have received a few of these generous donations today. We highly recommend wearing these donated clothes as soon as possible, and donating as many of your clothes as possible to spread the... Ugh... Generosity."

"I should do that!" You tell as you heave yourself off of the couch.

You run to the neighbor and loudly bang on the door. It takes a few moments, but a tall scrawny man answers in his underwear and a small button up.

"What!?" He asks, irritated.

"I want you to have these. For free!" You say as you pull off your stained shorts.

"Uugh okay?" He says confused.

"Here I'll put them on for ya."

You firmly grab his ankle and lift it through the leg of the shorts.

"Hey wait, what the fuck are you doing!?" The man yells.

You grab the other ankle and pull the shorts up his legs as he struggles.

"He sto... Ooouugh ugh." The man stops struggling as soon as you button them up.

The stain you left in the shorts quickly disappears as your seed enters his body. You should feel proud for contributing to the world by spreading your manliness.

The man quickly succumbs to the effects. His belly inflated into a hairy ball gut as it popped all of the buttons in his shirt. His chest turns into two man tits with swollen nipples. His arms and legs expand into thick hairy limbs as his hands and feet double in size. The bulge in his pants grows and so too does the stain of pre cum. Finally his hair falls out and a thick beard grows in its absence. The man is left there staring at you while rubbing his massive cock and his hairy gut.

He lets out a moan as a new stain forms in his pants. You catch his as he is about to fall. You lean into his ear and whisper "Spread the message," in a deep sultry voice.

"Honey, are you coming back." A man's voice echoed from inside the apartment.

"Go get him." You tap him on the shoulder.

He smiles as he pulls off his shorts and waddles back into his apartment.

"Who are you?" You hear. Though as you walk away, all you can hear is a struggle, followed by loud moans coming from the apartment. And you smile, knowing you helped spread your manliness today.

A Recommendation from Dr. Rupert D. Westinghouse

Originally posted on Patreon in January 2023 (thank you to Trav for getting me over a bit of writer's block with the titular recommendation letter, AND the use of the word 'ratiocination'). Join now to get stories when they first go up, along with exclusive artwork and my Discord! There's a new story coming this month, don't wait a year to read it...

“Rupert? Where’d you get Rupert?”

“It’s the name of Stewie’s bear in Family Guy,” Jerry chuckled, typing away on his laptop. Two feet away, on the other side of the couch, Nick watched the words materialize on his own computer screen via the magic of Google Docs. Every few moments, the typing would stop and there’d be a click, as Jerry scrolled through the built-in thesaurus to find a pretentious replacement for a more basic word. ‘Respected’ became ‘venerable,’ ‘great’ changed to ‘superlative.’

“Rupert D. Westinghouse. No one’s gonna believe that’s a real name,” Nick laughed. “But whatever.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Nicky Fitz,” Jerry grinned, as he swapped ‘institution’ in for ‘school.’ “It’s so crazy that no one will think to look it up. I bet it’s a better fake name than, like, I dunno…‘Mike Smith’ or something.”

Nick nodded. “Yeah, I guess that’s probably right.”

“Okay, so... I'mma make up a thing for this guy to be a doctor of.” Jerry’s brow knitted together and he stuck his tongue out at an odd angle. Nick sighed.

“Biology?”

“Too normal.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“Because we gotta sell it!” Jerry said as if it was obvious. “And I know what to put. ‘Perhaps most notably... the glorious art... of... masculine’...uhhhhh…‘physical conditioning’ - yeah, there we go!”

“Dude, what does that even mean?”

“Fuck if I know, but Dr. Westinghouse sure does!” Jerry replied cheerfully. “And it sounds gay, and I’m sure college admission people love that.”

Nick looked the letter over and chuckled to himself. “This is so dumb. But it’s dumber that Mom is making me apply to schools when I don’t wanna go. So whatever.”

“At least they let you just send one application everywhere now, that’s nice. I remember my aunt said she had to look up schools in a catalog. Wild.” Jerry fixed a typo as he talked. “Your mom is never gonna think about it again once you send the application in, so let’s just get this done. How’s it look?”

Nick looked at his screen and read the fake letter of recommendation through.

To whom it may concern,

The reason I am contacting you on this day is to make a heartfelt and enlightened recommendation for your fine institution to accept Mr. Nicholas Kirby Fitzgerald as a student. Mr. Fitzgerald is an A-student with a 3.9 grade-point average; a superlative record on his school’s wrestling, football, and weightlifting teams with several championship wins under his belt; and is both charming and urbane in ways that make even a venerable academic such as myself seem positively uncultured! I have known Mr. Fitzgerald since he was but a mere tot, as his father and I are the most deeply intimate of colleagues. As such, I have no doubt in my mind that Mr. Fitzgerald’s natural talents, combined with the instruction of your learned faculty, will take him far in life. He would make a brilliant addition to your roster and one day be a shining star among your vaunted alumni.

Indeed, I am one such alumnus myself. I graduated magna cum laude and returned for two of my degrees in my fields of expertise, perhaps most notably the glorious art of masculine physical conditioning. My own sons – Chadwick and Greyson – have also graduated from your institution. They will tell you exactly what I have. Given all this, I feel I am to be taken at my word on this matter. However, should such a pedigree fail to impress, please do allow me to elaborate upon myself.

You may have heard of Dr. Rupert Danforth Westinghouse – yours truly. High-ranking bodybuilder and celebrious powerlifter, often called the height of sartorial sophistication, a world-renowned sommelier of wine and tobacco, and possessing a ratiocination that makes even the most learned individuals weak in the knees, such is its brilliance. Though I must admit, such a body does make it difficult to find good clothing and fit through certain doors!

With that, I do believe I have made my case for Mr. Fitzgerald. I look forward to his surefire acceptance into your university and to meet with a member of your administration come the new semester. I will do my best to not come off as intimidating.

Yours truly,

Dr. Rupert D. Westinghouse, MD, DPT, EdD, PsyD

Nick nodded approvingly and clapped Jerry on the back. “It’s crazy what a thesaurus will do. Reading this, I’d have no idea you got a D in English.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because I forgot about half the assignments,” Jerry said proudly.

“Do you think he’s talking too much about himself?” Nick asked. “I think he might be talking too much about himself. Like they’ll know it’s fake. Not that it really matters. I just don’t want them to like, I dunno, call my Mom or something,” Nick said with a shrug, squinting as he looked at the letter on the screen. “Don’t want her on my case.”

“Is your Mom EVER on your case? I don’t think they’d do that. And anyway, they’re not gonna be reading too closely. They’ll just be like ‘oh, he’s up his own ass.’ Which he is. If he existed. Also," Jerry continued, "how are they gonna call your Mom? How're they gonna get her number?”

“Yeah, true. I’m thinking too much.”

“Time for an edible then?”

—-----

Jerry kicked his Vans up on the dash as a thought came to him. “Any word yet?”

Nick’s mouth was full of french fries. “Word?”

“From colleges.”

“Oh! I already forgot,” Nick laughed. “I bet they haven’t seen the application yet. It’s only been a couple weeks. But who cares, really.”

Jerry nodded as he stole some of Nick’s fries. “Yeah, was just wondering if I got away with that recommendation letter. Man, I think that’s some of my finest work. I’m proud of it.”

“That guy’s fuckin’ name,” Nick remembered, shaking his head as he laughed. “‘Rupert Westinghouse.’ Maybe that should be what you do instead of college. Write fake recommendations for people.”

“Way more fun than paying a hundred grand to sit in class,” Jerry agreed. His dream job was being a Twitch streamer - the cool part was that he was already doing it, the downside was that he was making no money. Which was fine, for now, because he could live at home, but as soon as he had to get his own place it would be an issue. He and Nick had a mutual buddy who worked at Casey’s General Store, so that was always a back-up option if he couldn’t find something a little cooler. When the stockroom at the Nike Outlet was hiring, that would be the move. Shoe discounts and no customer service.

“Wanna come to Ace with me?” Nick asked. “Gotta get a bolt for my dad.”

“I have a stream I wanna watch,” Jerry said, checking the time. “I can walk over later though if you want.”

“Yeah maybe.” Nick turned on the car and chucked his Wendy’s bag into a backseat full of trash. “Just hit me up. Want me to take you back?”

“Nah, I’ll spare ya from having to drive that one entire block,” Jerry laughed. “You’d still be waiting to left turn onto Hatcher in the time it took me to walk home.”

“True that!”

“See ya.” Jerry hopped out of the car and scraped a wrapper off the bottom of his Chucks. He hit his vape pen as he crossed the street, cut through two backyards, and was walking into his house barely two minutes later. “I’m home!”

He kicked off his shoes, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, and headed up to his room.

His gaming chair greeted him, its ergonomic curves a welcome departure from the worn-out seats in Nick’s car. He’d never thought of gaming chairs as a necessity, but when he found one at a garage sale down the street, he quickly changed his tune. Like most guys his age, he had terrible posture, and the chair rectified that, along with its offering of plush cushions that made even his bony ass comfortable. 

For an hour, he watched his streams, cranking the volume up so he could hear over the sound of the SunChips he was eating. When his phone buzzed, he answered it without looking so he didn’t miss any of the onscreen action. “Yo.”

“Good afternoon, may I speak to Dr. Rupert Westinghouse?”

Jerry’s mouth froze mid-chew. He quickly checked his phone to make sure it wasn’t Nick calling and playing a prank on him. “Um…uh…hold, please, just a second-” he stammered out, smashing the ‘mute’ button on his iPhone before the caller could agree to waiting. He put the call on hold and switched to call Nick - they never talked on the phone, so Nick would definitely know something was up - but didn’t reach him. Fucker was probably passed out on the couch…

…then it dawned on Jerry, Nick didn’t want to go to college. This didn’t matter. Might as well have some fun with it, then…

He unmuted the call and trilled, “Dr. Rupert Westinghouse speaking!” 

Jerry nearly dropped the phone in shock when the voice that came out of him was not his own. Instead of his usual lazy drone, he spoke in a sharp Mid-Atlantic accent, pitched at the deep bellow of a bass. The effect was unusual and distinctive, like James Earl Jones doing an impression of Humphrey Bogart. 

The lady on the other end said something about being on her way and looking forward to seeing him, then asked if she needed to bring anything.

“Bring anything where, my dear?” Jerry thundered, trying to keep his lips shut but failing. His voice was twice its regular volume, its masculine tone deeply affected. He sounded so pretentious.

The lady said something about his house and a meeting. He felt chills shoot through his whole body, compounding when he began to speak without thinking, “Oh, goodness no, your presence is gift enough…” as he looked at his caller ID and began searching through his inbox. The top email looked to be exactly what he was searching for.

VICKERS, JULIANNE

Re: Re: Recommendation for Nicholas Fitzgerald

Wonderful! I agree it has been too long. Is it too formal to say I’m honored to be invited to your home? I’ll be there at 3:30 today…

The hairs on Jerry’s neck standing on end. His house. She was coming to his HOUSE! Who even was this lady…he hadn’t invited anyone over, and he didn’t know a Julianne Vickers…

Still speaking to her in that strange, boisterous voice, he scrolled down and was surprised to find a thread below the latest email. The message Julianne was replying to was formally written - “My dear Julianne, Please forgive the belated nature of my response…” - and indeed invited her over for a meeting. Jerry felt a chill as he read the address, HIS address, on the screen, and saw the email signature: “Warmly, Rupert.”

Someone had written an email from his account pretending to be the pretend person recommending Nick. And speaking of Nick, he was the cause of all of it: Julianne’s initial email, at the bottom of the thread, was in regards to the fake recommendation - although she was taking it to be authentic. She seemed to think she knew Rupert, making mention of “wonderful dinner parties” he’d once hosted, and said she wanted to discuss his recommendation of Nick, because any student who had Dr. Westinghouse’s stamp of approval was someone she wanted at her school.

“Wonderful, I’ll see you soon then!” Julianne said. “Bye bye now.”

“Cheers!” Jerry said, before throwing his phone across the room like it was a bomb. “That’s not my voi- THIS isn’t my voice!” He couldn’t shake off the preposterous bass. Every word sounded like it was from a black-and-white movie with the audio pitched down.

With one hand over his mouth, Jerry scrolled through his inbox to distract himself from talking. But it wasn’t his inbox. He didn’t really use email, for the most part. It wasn’t how he communicated with his friends. But this inbox had tens of thousands of emails going back years, all written stuffily and centered around boring topics like business or investing. Jerry finally checked the accounts tab and saw the address: “[email protected].”

RDW…

“Rupert Westinghouse…” Jerry whispered under his breath, the bass reverberating through his ribs. “No way.” But sure enough, all the emails were signed by the made-up man. And if someone was maintaining that detailed of a fraud, that meant Julianne Vickers, whoever she was, knew exactly where he lived and how to get there.

Jerry tore out of his room and clomped down the stairs. “If the doorbell rings don’t answer it! Anybody here??” He hoped no one was. Less explaining that way, especially since he didn’t sound like himself. “Please ignore the…door…”

Jerry froze at the bottom of the stairs. His house…wasn’t his house. It was big and grand and filled with all kinds of expensive shit, like Turkish rugs and oil paintings. Classical music emanated from a large antique record player. The living room had a fucking chandelier. “Um…I…we…” he stammered, shellshocked. What the hell was in that vape? Acid? He had to be tripping…

He turned and walked back up the stairs to get away from the unfamiliar scene, but the stairs were different too: twice as wide, and winding their way up to a second floor that was just as opulently transformed as the ground level. Jerry darted into his bedroom for safety, but it was now an office, or a library - there were floor-to-ceiling shelves packed full of thousands of hardback books, and a large wooden desk with an old computer and a fucking typewriter next to it. It looked masculine, homey, wealthy, and completely unfamiliar.

Jerry stood in the doorway, his hands on his head, mouth agape. “Oh this is…this is bad…” he squeaked. “I don’t…get…” He didn’t have words. Or thoughts. His brain was like a crashed computer, completely frozen. Should he run? But this was his house…where else would he go…Nick’s, maybe. Would Nick be behind this? Not the house, that was too extreme, but at least the fake emails…but he couldn’t think of why…

His feet were moving backward toward the stairs before he even realized they were. He just needed to move, to get away. He’d somehow blinked his way into a stranger’s mansion and he didn’t want to get arrested–

“GUH!” He swore he saw a painting move, and it nearly made him jump out of his skin. The realization that it was a mirror - a large, heavy one framed with extravagant gold carvings - was small comfort as Jerry saw what it was reflecting.

He slowly raised his hand up his head, and his reflection did the same. His fingers dug into his long, unbrushed hair, and though it felt normal to the touch, the mirror showed a dramatic change: it was white. His hair had turned fucking white. Could that happen in a moment of extreme panic, like he was feeling now? His entire head of hair just…poof, white? It looked like a fucking mad scientist Halloween wig on his head.

Thoroughly freaked, Jerry stepped out of the reflection and looked down the long second floor hallway. The walls were covered with a wide variety of art and frames; mementos from a life of travel and adventure. None of the pieces looked the same - there were tribal masks, drawings of horses, landscape photographs, peacock feathers - and yet they all fit together, each one telling its own individual story. Jerry hesitantly stepped a few feet down the hall just to survey all the treasures before he ran out of there, and found himself in front of another antique mirror. He leapt at the sight of his snow-white hair: no longer untamed, but precisely parted and slicked back against his scalp with shiny pomade. His forehead looked enormous and it dawned on him - in the form of a cold weight sinking in his gut - that his hairline started back by his ears, leaving three new inches of bare skin at the top of his head.

Trembling fingers reached up to inspect his receded hairline, but he snapped his hands away when he noticed their new swollen size. His fingers were thick as sausages, broad knuckles and wide fingernails, and as he clenched them into fists they seemed to expand even bigger, like a pair of toasters. “Wh-what is…what on Earth…” he stammered out, shaking his giant hands to get the blood flowing out of them, but only emphasizing their immensity and palpable strength. His index fingers and thumbs pressed together and moved on their own to the sides of his neck, where they met the knife-sharp points of the shirt collar that was blossoming out of the top of Jerry’s t-shirt. The new collar was a white so brilliant that it made Jerry squint, and so tall it required him to raise his chin, even with the two buttons undone to allow the collar to sit open. It looked strange, this big, bold, aggressive dress shirt collar around his neck. Jerry’s fingers gripped his collar points and gently guided them to their proper resting place on his collarbone, ensuring his collar stood tall instead of going limp.

Now he really needed to go. No more artwork, no more looking at his old-fashioned hair. He walked straight back down the hallway, shoes sinking into the expensive runner rug until they reached the stairs and made sharp clacks on the wood. Jerry stopped and looked down. He had beautifully polished brogues on his feet instead of sneakers, and their leather soles were a great deal stiffer than the rubber he was accustomed to. With a resigned sigh, he sat down on the top step to take them off.

That was when he noticed his calves. “Blast…” They were so big, they made his thighs look small. It was like he had footballs implanted under his skin. And they were shredding his ribbed athletic socks apart, revealing sheer hosiery underneath that was visibly strained by his monstrous calves. An attempt to pull them down was met by resistance, and he moved his hands upward to find leather sock garters buckled below his knees, holding his dress socks embarrassingly high. Jerry fumbled with the garters but, unaccustomed to his thick fingers, wasn’t able to unclip them. “Blast!”

The compulsion to stretch suddenly overwhelmed him, and he extended his legs outward, counterbalancing them by leaning back. He was growing, he suddenly knew; he could feel his formal hose shifting around his lengthening calves and his spine rubbing against the floor he was resting against. An erection popped up in his lap, the representation of his overwhelming emotions - fear, confusion, excitement - as he got taller far faster than he’d ever anticipated. His weighty brogues banged against a lower step as his legs finished lengthening, and he grabbed onto the stair banister to haul himself upright to his new five-ten, six inches taller than moments before. Reeling from dizziness, he pulled himself to the safety of the upstairs hall, moving himself away from the top of the stairs to ensure he didn’t fall down them. This sudden vertigo made it impossible to walk in a straight line, and Jerry bumped into the walls, knocking books down as he stumbled back and forth trying to find his center of gravity. Finally, he braced himself against the back of an enormous wingback chair, his sausage fingers digging into the expensive leather. “Ahhhh.”

He was trying to catch his balance, his breath, and his bearings all at the same time. It was a tall order. He spread his legs far apart and planted them firmly into the ground, leaning all the way forward against the back of the chair, feeling momentarily grounded. His thighs took the opportunity to swell and expand, quietly tearing out of his shorts as the fabric shifted up and caught between the engorged muscles. They doubled in size and kept going, his wide stance now a necessity thanks to the mass of his legs, which pressed together where they’d once been a foot apart. Jerry only had an inkling of what was occurring thanks to the feeling of his balls being compressed, before they popped free and rested on the top of his thighs, swelling up to the size of eggs. His cock thickened to the width of a soda can, spitting warm pre-cum into his tightening underwear. “I don’t-” Jerry sputtered out, jiggling his thighs as each grew bigger than waist, “-d-don’t wanna…don’t want to be like…mmm…”

But he couldn’t get the words out. He was too confused, panicked, and breathless to assemble his thoughts. His ribcage was constricted by his t-shirt, which had already been tight and wasn’t being helped by Jerry’s shoulders and chest being pushed through the rest of their adolescence and broadening to their adult widths. The seams were being tested by his torso’s new width even before a new roundness in his stomach began sneaking out of the bottom of his shrunken tee. With Jerry bent at almost 90 degrees over the chair, it was easy for gravity to go to work, pulling down on the small belly he now possessed. It hung like a cow’s udder before it grew bigger and rounder, solidifying as his core muscles hardened to support it. Abs like stacked cinderblocks bulged beneath his skin.

He didn’t want to stroke his fat cock for fear of losing his balance, so he propped an elbow on the back of the chair and used the freed hand to play with his right nipple through his shirt. The scratchy cotton of his t-shirt was changing to the material of an outrageously expensive dress shirt, stiff as steel but soft as a cloud, as his tiny nipple swelled between his thumbs until it was like the top of a baby’s bottle, never to sit flat again. Jerry made a cry of pleasure like he’d never heard from himself before, the sensitivity of his chest a new and intoxicating sensation. Nervy waves of pleasure ricocheted down his spine. “Ah…AH…”

With the weight of his expanding belly pulling him lower, Jerry was relieved to feel his weight shift backward, rectifying his wobbly balance. His eyes rolled back from the feeling of his glutes flexing together, tensing so tightly that a wave of muscle undulated out from between them and across his small butt. Jerry’s pants had always sagged, his lack of ass a running joke in school, but now it looked pert and round, and the growth surging through it was making it bounce and jiggle as it swelled. His underwear tore open, elastic band twanging free as a beefy muscle butt ballooned out of his backside. Jerry reddened as he felt his dick tumble free and his shorts shred completely, leaving him naked from the waist down in a house he wasn’t sure was his own. He’d been planning to escape outside but now he needed to get something to cover himself before he did that, provided he could even walk.

A groan and a push got him upright, his new belly heaving upward as it swelled another inch, now protruding out a foot in front of him. He put one hand on the nearby bookshelf as he shuffled forward, his naked thighs rubbing against each other, their friction producing leg hair that swirled around his shaking muscles. The immensity of his quads and hamstrings made him waddle, his meaty calves slamming downward with each step, but he was able to move without falling. And so he walked, out of the library and into the hall. “I can do this,” he whispered, looking straight ahead to avoid looking at his belly or hands. 

The first door he tried was a bathroom, but the second opened up into a grand bedroom with a huge four-poster bed. This seemed like a master bedroom that would have a closet attached, and sure enough, it did - the largest closet Jerry had ever seen, bigger than his own bedroom. It was immaculately organized, like one you’d see on a TV show, with all the clothes hanging in the same direction and sorted by style and color. Everything was formal, and everything was for men: suits, belts, shoes, ties, pocket squares, slacks, and dress shirts - at least two hundred of them alone. Jerry rummaged for a few moments trying to find a pair of sweatpants, but there was nothing casual that he saw, so with a sigh he selected a pair of dress trousers. They were a subtle gray and blue plaid, and they looked too big for him, though they didn’t have a tag for him to check. Realizing he needed underwear too, he found a pair of white briefs as big as a pillowcase, the only size on hand. 

Jerry was sure he’d have to hold up the oversized clothes once he left the house, and getting them on was difficult, because his body was so foreign and cumbersome. After nearly falling twice, he waddled out to the bedroom and sat on a bench next to the bed, shimmying into the huge briefs. They hung loosely on him as he pulled on the trousers, noting that the pant legs were just the right length for him, and sharply ironed. He clasped the pants over his belly, then held them up as he got onto his feet. “A belt, maybe,” he muttered aloud, shuffling back over to the closet. As he let go of the trousers to look through the racks of clothes, his belly quietly swelled larger to fill his pants, while his butt ballooned into a big ass that pressed against the tight tailoring of the trousers. The fit of the pants started to change along with his body, altering to fit the new mass he was growing, especially once his waistline started to gain inches. Ever so subtly, the hem of his t-shirt crept back down, disappearing into the waist of his pants as it grew longer and longer to fully cover his belly and be properly tucked in. 

Jerry selected a brown leather belt and began working it through his belt loops, shocked by how long it was - at least twice as long as any other belt he’d ever worn - but happy that it buckled. He straightened the buckle over his belly button and hiked his pants up, wedging his big balls into a moose knuckle. He couldn’t see it thanks to his belly, but there was no missing the shiny white buttons on his shirt. Jerry poked his finger into one, just to ensure it was real. He was wearing a t-shirt, it wasn’t supposed to have buttons. But this one did, a row of them starting at his open collar and running down the center of his torso, straight into his trousers. The buttons held firm over his big belly, the white fabric stretched taut over its mass. Jerry was still processing it all when he noticed his sleeves now reached his wrists, and as he watched they crept even longer, all the way to his fingers. Jerry pushed his sleeves up, irritated at how overly long they were, and suddenly the fabric split open.

Curious, Jerry raised his hands up and watched as the ends of his sleeves folded back double and stiffened like cardboard, the white fabric shimmering like fresh snowfall. His cuffs grew as big as his powerful hands, the edges sharpening into square points as Jerry encountered his first pair of French cuffs, as aggressive and masculine as his collar. Out of the layers of fabric appeared sapphire cufflinks depicting the two halves of the globe. “What in heaven’s name,” Jerry muttered, running his finger over the oversized cuffs. He moved his hands up the expensive fabric of his sleeves and across his torso, examining his elegant shirt. He felt so silly in an outfit like this, but at the very least he was fully covered, down to the polished brogues on his feet. He remembered seeing them on the stairs, but then they’d been gone when he pulled his pants on, but now they were back again…

“Strange…”

That was how he felt dressed like this. Strange. Like he was wearing a businessman Halloween costume. If any of his boys saw him like this he’d have to pass it off as a joke. But no one would see him this way if he had anything to say about it…until he realized that in a few minutes, that lady from the college who thought she knew Rupert was going to be showing up. He needed to text Nick about that, but he patted his pockets and realized he had no idea where his cell phone was. He would certainly need that before he left. 

“Phone, phone,” he mumbled under his breath. He had to fixate on it so he didn’t get distracted, because everything was distracting at the moment. It was all so foreign, from his lumbering waddle to the swish of his trousers, and it disoriented him.

Despite his focus, he stopped anyway when he walked past a full length mirror in the hall. “Good Lord!” he exclaimed, taking a step back so that only his belly protruded into the frame. At least it didn’t sag, he thought. He stepped forward and faced the mirror straight on, astonished by his breadth - the mirror only reflected the middle third of his body. He blushed at the sight of his nuts imprinted in his trousers, and reflexively reached to adjust them as he always had, but his muscle gut wouldn’t allow for such a direct gesture anymore. He tried to reach around it, nearly bursting his buttons off as he hoisted the steel ball up. “Goodness me,” he said, annoyed at the way his brain kept changing his words into old-fashioned ones. But it hadn’t blurted out anything on its own, until he heard himself say “But it should be even bigger!”

Jerry straightened up in shock, and his belly blasted forward, pressing into the mirror with such force that he worried his buttons had cracked the glass. “I don’t want a big…wonderful…handsome belly!” he said, his voice emanating powerfully from his gut, which was now as large and round as the same kind of globe depicted on his cufflinks. His brick-like abs were outlined in his shirt fabric, highlighting the immense power contained in his torso. “Perhaps it isn’t so big,” he said aloud. “It merely looks large because my chest has shrunk!”

Jerry’s eyes bugged. He immediately felt a stirring behind his fat nipples and watched as his shirt buttons tightened across his pecs - what was he saying, he didn’t have pecs - “I have worked very hard on my chest, and I want it to be spectacular!” he announced with a loud laugh.

He didn’t want to be laughing.

He didn’t want his chest to grow.

And yet there he was, chuckling as his pecs swelled. They started as solid flat plates already broad enough to keep his shirt tight, and then they ballooned, rounding outward without losing any of their firmness. “That’s more like it!” he said with a bug-eyed grin as his buttons began popping open. “Bigger!”

Jerry’s eyes lolled in their sockets as his nipples rubbed against his silky shirt, the pleasure overcoming him. His pecs just kept swelling, bigger and rounder and broader, each burst of growth pulling his shirt further open and baring more cleavage than he’d ever seen on a man before. He wanted to button his shirt and hide…

“And where is my chest hair? I haven’t shaved, have I?!”

No no no–he didn’t want a hairy chest…but already, he had one, as salt-and-pepper bristles fanned out from the valley of his pecs and formed his new pelt. Not overly hairy, but more than enough to show that this chest was a man’s. It felt like a pair of sandbags in his shirt, heavy and firm and fighting with the remaining middle buttons. His whole body looked different now. There was a lived-in burliness that was missing before. His chest was to be his calling card, the keystone of his incredible physique. Even in a full suit, under a shirt and a tie and a jacket, his pecs would be unmissable.

He was hard as a rock thinking about it.

He tried to imagine how embarrassed he’d feel being at school, walking down the hall in a zillion-dollar bespoke shirt with his hairy tits bursting out of it. But he only felt pride. Cocky, masculine pride that other men weren’t as big, muscular, and refined as he was.

“PHONE,” he reminded himself, pulling away from the mirror. His walk was different yet again; now accommodating for a huge pair of pecs weighing him down. His chest propelled ahead like a battering ram, ready to clear the hall of any loiterers. It was still growing as he walked, projecting out over his big belly, swelling further out of his shirt, which was tested further by his shoulders thickening. His collar rose up to his jaw when his traps bulked up and his delts inflated, creating a proper frame for his mammoth pecs.

Even breathing felt different. The natural rise and fall of his chest was like a pair of mountains in an earthquake, his huge tits hoisting up and down as he sucked in an oxygen tank’s worth of air to fill his massive frame. He wanted to avoid looking at his body, a resolution made difficult by his chest forcing itself into his view every other second.

He arrived back in the library. It felt smaller now, which - when his stomach cleared a side table of its contents - he realized was because he was so large. On instinct, he started to bend over to pick up the knick knacks he’d knocked over, but moving was so awkward that he simply left them on the floor. “You’re a wrecking ball,” he grumbled, rubbing his perfectly round muscle gut. It felt like his dress shirt was wrapped around concrete. Perhaps this gentleman dressed elegantly to counter the brute force of his physique, Jerry thought. “Now where the devil is my–”

A noise like a tiny jackhammer drew his attention to the desk, where an iPhone was loudly vibrating across the surface.

“--phone,” Jerry finished, pounding over to his phone and picking it up in his big mitt. His beefy fingers required two attempts to accept the call.

“Dr. Rupert Westinghouse speaking!” 

“Hi Dr. Westinghouse, it’s Julianne Vickers. Are you alright?”

Jerry rolled his eyes at having to talk to this lady again. “Yes, just fine! Why?”

“Oh, you sounded out of breath, that’s all!”

Jerry’s loud exhale blasted into the phone speaker. “Ah, well, I’ll admit I haven’t…felt quite like myself today. But I’m fine, my dear.”

“Good, good - I’m just calling to get the gate code?”

“Ah-” Jerry said before his jaw suddenly locked up. His iPhone suddenly pressed into his face hard enough to make his cheek throb. He adjusted his grip, the sharp edge of his French cuff scratching his face, before his jaw popped back open. “M-my apologies! The gate, erm, slipped my mind! The code is one-nine-five-nine-star.”

“Perfect, thank you!”

“My pleasure. See you soon.” Jerry grimaced as he ended the call. “Why didn’t I tell her not to come!” he seethed to himself, slapping himself on his forehead. He’d need to figure out a way to chase her off when she arrived.

His palm rested on his head, rubbing it as he recalled that his hairline had succumbed - somehow - to pronounced baldness. The hair that remained was thin and smooth, affixed to his scalp with gel. And as he moved his fingers down, he noticed his ears felt larger…and his skin was rougher, thicker…

“It’s nothing, I’m sure,” he said in a confident voice that betrayed nary a hint of his inner anxieties. “I’m quite young!” He prodded his eyebrows as he hesitantly walked to a nearby mirror mounted on a closet door. They felt bushy and heavy, not like he recalled. And were those wrinkles around his eyes? “Nonsense! I’m young!”

He thought of his jaw locking up on the phone and rubbed it. It was a big, dense box of a thing, girded by thick pads of muscle and tendon that smelled of aftershave. His hand sat there, covering his face like a mask as he stepped in front of the mirror just in time to see deep wrinkles fold onto his smooth forehead. Furry silver brows bulged out over his eyes, which were deep blue and framed by regal crow’s feet. His nose had grown bold and broad.

Jerry lowered his hand and stared at the stranger looking back at him. It was a face that demanded to be taken seriously. Handsome and imperious. He shifted his massive jaw back and forth and stared at his jutting chin that replicated the shape of his belly. His lips were thin and stern, curved slightly downward. It was a manly face. Even the jowls were muscular.

“I’m still young,” he insisted aloud to himself, the depth of his voice now matched by the seriousness of his features. “64 is not old.”

64…

One-nine-five-nine…the gate code was his birth year.

“I wouldn’t want to be a minute younger!” he said aloud, and he slapped his hand over his mouth, wanting to avoid changes like the one he’d triggered back when he grew his chest. He looked at his big, weathered hand and the gorgeous French cuff below it, his cufflink sparkling as if to say hello. His cock stiffened in his trousers. Keeping one hand over his mouth, he unzipped his fly and awkwardly heaved his fat dick out between his legs. It was difficult with his belly, and he had to bend slightly, which made his boulder ass stick out and almost rip open his pants.

He was so fucking big.

Jerry shut his eyes, hiding from the handsome older man in the reflection. His back arched further and he pushed his big tits forward, moaning into his palm as he felt them burst further out of their confines and pop open the fourth button on his shirt. 

He was hard as a rock now, already spewing pre-cum into his hand. Just needed to take care of business quickly before his guest arrived…he was a man, after all, and men had needs. Especially men like him. Huge, strapping men. That was the best kind of man to be. There was no OTHER kind, really. He needed to be the kind of hulking hunk who made the world’s best tailoring fight for its life. That would inspire young Nicholas to be one, too.

His belly pressed against the glass and he growled with joy, moving his hand from his mouth to his muscular neck. All 375 pounds of him was burning with lust. The sexuality of his body seemed to fill the whole room - it was nothing like Jerry’s old body, which no one ever noticed. This new body was built to fuck and to fuck hard. He could pin a body down with his big belly, have them motorboat his pecs and suck his nipples, grab his huge ass, hold his meaty hands, then get jackhammered by his thick cock. And even when dressed up like a genteel blueblood, not a single one of those features was hidden.

“Finally!” the deep voice erupted out of Jerry. “Finally, I’m waking up! Finally I’m becoming Rupert!” He moved his hand to one of his bowling ball pecs and twirled his chest hair between his fingers, overwhelmed with joy. “This is how…I’ve been wanting to feel…my entire life!” Jerry wondered if that was true - he didn’t recall being discontented with his old, lazy, chill self - but he couldn’t deny how centered he felt now, letting his imagination run wild with fantasies involving boarding school and Ivy League educations, lifting weights with his chums and peeling off their letter sweaters to see and enjoy the fruits of their hard work…he and his friends growing big and strong and beefy, popping buttons off their shirts, having new ones made, wearing custom suits at each others’ weddings and sneaking off to fuck…

And he quite enjoyed how smart he felt now. His affected way of speaking…his magniloquence - ah, what a divine word that was!

The doorbell rang.

“Just a moment!” Jerry boomed, although he guessed he was too deep into the house to be heard. “I’m getting changed!” He broke into boisterous laughter at the pun. “Yes, yes, I’m practically done changing!” He wanted to imagine Jerry acting like this or dressing like this, putting on his cufflinks and combing back his hair, but he couldn’t remember what Jerry looked like, or how much he weighed, or even how old he was. It was all Rupert now. Sweat dripped from his chin into his pecs as he stroked his cock and relished in his change, feeling each part of himself adjust just as he wanted, as he actively transformed himself into the man he’d unwittingly manifested. The haze was lifting as if he was rising from a long nap, knowledge of his businesses and travels and family all filing into place…

It took him longer to cum than it used to, back when he was a young, muscular buck, but he liked that. Sex was the best thing on Earth, why not make it last longer? 

When he realized he was finally thinking fully like a man of a certain age, he came. Long ropes of white heat shot out of his cock and hit the mirror as Rupert pumped his hips forward and felt his transformation lock in. Having blown a load standing up, his balance remained admirably stable for a man of his age, pushing out an orgasm as easily as a thought. He straightened up, still expelling his sex, shutting his eyes and grinning as his shirt buttoned itself over his chest and a pair of horn rimmed glasses appeared on his nose. His arms stretched out as if to hug his new self in the mirror, allowing a perfectly tailored blazer to materialize around his mammoth torso. 

Rupert opened his eyes when the doorbell chimed again. He looked at the clean mirror, puzzled, then at his crotch, where his fly was firmly zipped and preserving his modesty. But hadn’t he just… Wasn’t he… “Hm,” he said, adjusting his pocket square. “What a peculiar fantasy.” 

He eased his way down the stairs, waistline brushing the banister as he appraised himself to make sure he was presentable. He could still recall his buttons bursting open and his cock expelling several loads worth of cum all at once, but that couldn’t be real - it was the middle of the day, and what was he, some oversexed schoolboy? Not anymore! Rupert Westinghouse was a dignified elder statesman, and he reached the bottom of the stairs and opened the door quite sure of that fact.

“Ah, Julianne!”

—-----

Nick looked up from his phone at the vast brick manor before him. It seemed foreign to him, even though Jerry was his buddy and they’d been going to each other’s houses for years. Something told him this wasn’t Jerry’s house, because Jerry’s house was modest and average, while another part of him said that of course this was Jerry’s house. It was chock full of beautiful furniture and artwork, and it was on the Parade of Homes every year, along with the city’s historic registry.

But as he ascended the stairs to the front door and walked across the wraparound porch, Nick couldn’t shake the feeling that he was trespassing. He paused at the top of the steps and wondered if he should bother going further. Surely Jerry was fine. Nick was just a little puzzled by his texts not going through. He’d even tried calling Jerry - something he never did - and was told by an automated voice that the number was disconnected. So - wanting to get some fresh air anyway - he’d walked over to Jerry’s house. Or, apparently, Jerry’s mansion.

But curiosity, and the need to quell his own uneasy thoughts, got the better of him. He rang the doorbell.

A few moments passed, just long enough for Nick to assume no one was home. But as soon as he was gearing up to leave, he heard some motion from deep within the house, and a low voice call out something like “just a minute.” He couldn’t make out the exact words, but he could hear the footsteps. They sounded heavy.

Really heavy…

The door opened, and Nick jumped in surprise. Instead of his friend, he was looking at the biggest man he’d ever seen. The belly was the first thing he noticed - broad as the front door and round as a beach ball, with ab muscles visibly taut across its curved projection. It made him think, briefly, that the man was fat, but a few more seconds of appraisal showed he clearly wasn’t. He had shoulders like a set of football pads, with big traps bulging out from his thick neck, and his chest was composed of two hairy boulders each the size of Nick’s head. He was dressed like he was going to a wedding, in a beautiful white shirt that hid none of his size, its buttons so tight they threatened to shoot off like bullets. His cuffs had those fancy baubles that rich guys wore instead of buttons. He was in the process of unbuttoning the top half of his shirt when he answered the door, allowing extra space for his huge pecs to hoist out another inch. “Nicholas! What a pleasant surprise!” the man thundered, his voice knocking Nick back.

Nick looked up at the man’s face. He made wrinkles manly and a receded hairline handsome. He had the chiseled, rugged features of an actor who always played presidents and CEOs. “Um…sorry, I…” Nick squeaked out. “I was looking for Jerry?”

“What do you mean?” the muscleman asked. “And what are you wearing?! Goodness, Nicholas, what happened to putting your best foot forward.” He clicked his tongue as he ushered the younger male inside. “I just had the pleasure of catching up with an old acquaintance of mine, Julianne Vickers. She’s an admissions officer now and saw my name on your recommendation, so she personally came by to ask about you. Isn’t that marvelous? You’re certainly getting into her school, my boy, and many others. The only question is where you’ll go that excites you the most and nourishes your spirit!”

Nick stood trying to process all the words that were just thrown at him. “You met with…sorry, college? Wait, recommendation…you wrote - Rupert? RUPERT?”

“Goodness, my dear boy, what happened to your prodigious elocution?! You can’t be stammering like that on the Senate floor. I simply won’t allow it!”

Confusion froze Nick’s tongue. He stared helplessly at the hulking gentleman in front of him. “Sorry, I…don’t quite know where to begin,” he said. “I came over because the phone wasn’t working.”

“To look for someone aside from your Uncle Rupert?” Rupert put his hands in his pockets and stared directly at Nick. “You haven’t been partaking in any illicit activities, have you? You know how I abhor drugs.”

“No! No,” Nick said quickly with a wild shake of his head. He was proud that he could tell the truth. No weed yet today.

“Excellent. It wouldn’t be cause for me to rescind my recommendation, knowing you as I do, but it would give me cause for concern.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle…Rupert,” Nick said, his head swimming. Something was strange here. 

“I’ll get you a glass of water and we can talk. Have a seat.” Rupert headed off to the kitchen, the walls vibrating as he walked.

Nick didn’t sit. He walked around the room and tried to familiarize - or re-familiarize - himself with the mysterious man he was calling his uncle. Of course, Rupert wasn’t really his uncle, not biologically. Just a really good friend of Nick’s father’s. Nick remembered being in this living room when he was really little, bouncing on Rupert’s knee and covering his ears when Rupert laughed. Everyone thought that was cute. When Nick was a little older, Rupert bought him his first bow tie before a school dance and taught him how to tie it. Uncle Rupert was always a fount of information, a gateway to the world exemplifying how many places there were to see and things there were to do. Uncle Rupert seemed to have seen and done all of them. He was such an interesting guy.

Nick turned around at the sound of Rupert’s footsteps and accepted the glass of water. “Thank you,” he said, taking a drink. “Were those for your meeting?” he asked, gesturing to Rupert’s cufflinks.

Rupert chuckled. “When have you ever seen me sans cufflinks?”

“Never, I guess,” Nick said. There was some hazy memory of a guy in Rupert’s place who was scruffy and goofy. But Uncle Rupert was certainly neither of those things.

“On that note,” Rupert purred, with a hint of disapproval in his voice, “when did you begin to favor casual dress?” He fingered the sleeve of Nick’s t-shirt as if it were a roofing shingle. Nick couldn’t help but notice the contrast between his sleeve and Rupert’s, which was glossy and beautiful, tight over the man’s huge arm.

“Well, I…I wasn’t really doing anything I needed to look nice for today…” Nick said, chugging the rest of his water.

“Neither was I, until it dawned on me I had a meeting with a college admissions officer. Thank goodness I was already attired formally. A gentleman always puts his best foot forward because he never knows what the day will bring. And you have always strived to be a gentleman, Nicholas! That is one of the qualities that has forever made me so proud of you, as I know it does your parents.”

“A gentleman? Me?” Nick had no idea what Rupert was talking about. Nobody was ever going to confuse him for a wealthy, successful, charming guy. “How?”

“You were born with every quality you need, you simply have to capitalize on them! Take your styling, for example - you look rumpled today. But if we just unroll your sleeves…” Rupert grabbed Nick’s arm and pulled a long sleeve with a buttoned cuff down to Nick’s wrist, smoothing out the wrinkles with his palm. He did the same with Nick’s other sleeve. Nick looked at his arms, confused, but had no time to think before Rupert exclaimed, “And good GOD, boy, your collar is folded inside your shirt!” He yanked on the top of Nick’s t-shirt so hard that Nick coughed, and suddenly Nick could feel a tall, scratchy shirt collar around his neck. “You can leave your tie loosened, however; it gives a young man of your standing a rakish, devil-may-care quality that is quite charming.”

“My whuh…” Nick looked down at his bright blue Oxford shirt, his eyes landing on the polo player embroidered on the left chest. He was wearing a repp stripe tie composed of bold green and gold, its perfect half windsor knot jauntily loosened just enough to show the undone button of his collar.

“Now tuck it in, goodness, I know you know better!”

Nick nodded obediently and unbuckled his belt, shoving the long tails of his button-down shirt into the top of his…khaki chinos? He didn’t own pants like this, did he…and why were they ironed, he didn’t even know how to USE an iron. But he tucked his shirt as tight as he could, using his brown leather braided belt to hold it in place.

“Much improved already,” Rupert nodded, placing a hand on Nick’s back. “Stand up straight, young man. Slouching doesn’t become you.” Nick straightened up as best he knew how, but Rupert wasn’t satisfied. “No no, goodness, haven’t you watched your father and I all these years? Stand like THIS.” He pulled back Nick’s shoulders with his hands, and Nick groaned in joyous pain - it felt like several years of spinal adjustments all at once - suddenly, he felt so very tall. His tie looked so long down his front, and his khakis seemed to take forever to touch his leather loafers.

“I’m…tall!” Nick exclaimed, holding his neck high.

“See! A whole new perspective when you carry yourself as a gentleman,” Rupert said proudly. “How tall are you now?”

“Six-foot-four and a half,” Nick said, and he couldn’t believe it as he said it. Was that right? That couldn’t be right…

“Perfect for water polo!”

“W-water polo?”

“And rugby!”

“Rugby?!” Nick never thought of himself as athletic. He was lazy. He’d only played rugby and water polo because his dad wanted him to. Only lifted all those weights to get his old man off his case. He hadn’t meant to grow a thick, powerful chest, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, and a big butt that made it hard to buy pants since he had a small waist. Uncle Rupert was always the muscle guy, not Nick, but all the athletics seemed to accelerate Nick’s puberty into lightspeed. He sprouted hair on his chest and started talking in a pleasant baritone voice, and his parents kept having to have new clothes made for him as his chest widened and his thighs swelled. “I guess I do play rugby,” he said, rubbing his throat when he heard his deep voice.

“You guess?! Didn’t you play it all through your undergrad? Not to mention your wrestling and football, of course. And, needless to say, your weightlifting.”

“Yes, I…my undergrad? Didn’t you just write me a recommendation for that…”

“It feels that way, doesn’t it? I can’t believe you’re getting your Masters already either.”

Nick’s muscles ballooned. His shirt buttons drew tight over his pecs as they projected out into a firm, bulging shelf. Thirty more pounds of pure brawn piled onto every spot but his waist, forcing him to widen his stance as his thighs pressed into each other and his bubble butt hurtled outward. His long neck thickened with muscle but maintained its elegance as the changes shot up to Nick’s face. He was already sprouting the stubble of a twentysomething man as his jaw shaped into chiseled perfection and his chin grew sharp, sprouting a dimple as it did. “I feel strange, Uncle Rupert…I think I look different.”

“Yes, the wait seems interminable for our self-perception to catch up to our physical form,” Rupert nodded, patting Nick’s chest and unwittingly cupping his hand as the thick slabs of muscle grew round like a bodybuilder’s musculature, allowing Nick’s tie to sink down between his two mighty pecs. “I myself can’t believe you’re the same little boy I once held! You’ve become such an impressive man, Nicholas.”

“A man,” Nick said, his mouth spreading into a perfect Colgate smile that would make a Kennedy envious, with Hollywood perfect teeth lined up behind his pillowy lips. He looked down at his thick erection throbbing in his trousers. “I guess I am a man now…can I tell you something, Uncle Rupe?”

“Of course!”

Nick’s cheekbones were so sharp it was a wonder he didn’t cut his fingers as he traced over them. “Sometimes I can’t control myself…I get so worked up, I just…” A small wet spot spread across his crotch. “Unnghh…I mean, my muscles! I love my MUSCLES!” Nick raised his arms as his cannonball biceps swelled large, their peaks stretching toward the ceiling. His cuffs burst open as his forearms enlarged, exposing thick veins pulsing in the rhythm of his cock.

“Yes, Nicholas…the wonder of being a man does it to us all,” Rupert whispered.

“Mmmmgrrrhhh, every guy wants to be me! It turns me on, I can’t help it-” Nick shot up another inch, his pecs plumping further out, muscles engorging themselves with testosterone as his stubble and eyebrows thickened. “I’m sorry Uncle Rupe, I-I think I’m gonna-”

“You never have to apologize.”

Nicholas was groping his big tits through his shirt as he shot his load into his chinos, his newfound ego basking in the glory of his transformation. He humped the air and groaned happily, his chestnut hair styling itself into a fluffy side part, a perfect crown for the wealthy prep he now was. Rupert stared in wonder at the youthful god before him. Young Nicholas, the most handsome young man he’d ever seen, rippling with muscle and dressed like a Ralph Lauren fantasy.

He stood still for several moments, his broad chest heaving up and down as he caught his breath. His crotch was miraculously dry, as if it hadn’t endured the weight of Nicholas’ orgasm. “My apologies, Uncle Rupert,” Nicholas said, his voice now sporting the same affected accent as his elder. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It happens to us all, my dear boy. And let me let you in on a little secret…” He leaned in, allowing Nicholas to stare straight down his hairy cleavage. “...it never goes away.”

“I’d certainly hope not!” Nicholas smiled, buttoning his cuffs. “Thank you, for everything - the recommendation, and your hospitality…and most of all your guidance! I hope you know I cherish our relationship.”

“I do too, my dear boy, I do too.”

Careful What You Wish For - M2

The wind felt great on Nate's arms as he sped down the road on his motorcycle. It made him feel badass, swerving through traffic and pissing off other drivers.

He finally slowed down as he pulled into the parking lot in front of his gym. A man needs his workout, otherwise there wouldn't be much to show off while riding his bike. He parked and took his helmet off, ready for his daily workout.

Nate gave a charming smile to the man behind the front counter as he waltzed into the gym. He had a routine, always starting with the same machine. He saw it was free and took his shot to get on it. But just as he was about to get there, another man walked through him like he wasn't even there and took the machine. The man was tall with broad shoulders and biceps the size of melons. Nate's first instinct was to stand up for himself, but as his head turned up to look the other guy in the face, he backed down. The man had a buzz cut and a beard, and looked scary as hell. This was not worth it.

He swallowed his pride and decided to go back to the locker room and wait. It wasn't his proudest moment. He went back to his bag and sat down, but something was different. Someone has been in his bag. Nate opened it to see if anything had been taken, but it was the opposite. Someone had left a weird looking lamp in his bag. He pulled out the lamp to check it out but as soon as he touched it, a purple mist started to pour out of it. He looked around the locker room to see if anyone else was seeing it, but there was no one in the room. The mist swirled into a human-like figure that floated above him.

"I may grant you one wish." It whispered.

Nate just sat there in awe for a moment, unable to react. Then an idea popped into his head.

"I wish I was bigger." He said confidently. No more assholes will fuck with him now.

The mist started to circle him. It felt like a massage as the mist worked its magic on his body. His shoulders started to broaden and his traps grew thick. His biceps exploded with muscle, making him look like a body builder. His pecs thickened until they stretched his shirt to its maximum. He felt his perspective rise as his body grew taller and taller, leaving him at an intimidating 6"5. His hands and feet also grew significantly to match his new height.

The mist then receded back into the lamp. Nate sat in shock for a moment, thinking what happened was some sort of dream. But then he looked down and saw his massive biceps and juicy pecs. He got up and stumbled forward, taking a moment to adjust to his new height.

"Ha... Holy shit!" He said with a chuckle, "I'm huge."

He walked over to the closest mirror and started to flex, nearly ripping through the sleeves of his shirt. He ran back to his bag and took off his shirt. He confidently strutted back out to the gym, making sure to duck under the doorway. He made his way back to the machine he got kicked off of before, and it was empty again. He sat down in the machine, struggling to fit his large body comfortably. He saw the intimidating man across the room and flexed at him.

The man just responded with a confused look, as he could have sworn Nate was half that size just minutes earlier.

Nate set the weights much higher than usual and started his workout. About halfway through the set, he noticed a tingling feeling around his crotch. The same feeling his had felt in his upper body before. He looked down and saw that the purple mist was now circling around his crotch. The transformation wasn't over, there are more ways of being big after all.

Nate's legs buckled slightly as his dick started to grow. 6, 7, 8 inches long, a visible bulge began to form in his gym shorts. He made weird faces trying to hide the pleasure he was feeling. 9, 10, 11 inches, his dick started to slip down the side of his leg. He blushed as he tried to hide the obvious bulge running down the leg of his shorts. This was plenty big, he thought. 12, 13, 14 inches, it wasn't slowing down. It felt so good, but Nate started to panic as his dick was getting close to slipping under his shorts. It didn't help that he was starting to get hard. 15, 16 inches long and nearly as thick as a pop can, it finally stopped growing. He squeezed his legs together to hide the sable that was hiding in his shorts. This was not what he meant when he said 'big'.

He was distraught, but he continued his workout instead. After his set, he sat there for a moment, thinking about what he was going to do. He knew his dick would be impossible to hide when he got up. He thought that maybe he should just go home and buy looser clothes before he embarrassed himself. Though before he could build up the courage to get up, the purple mist returned. It swirled around his midsection and tickled his stomach. He naively thought that this might give him a six pack, but it was quite the opposite. Nate watched in horror as his stomach jiggled as far poured into it.

"What? No!" He cried out as he grabbed his chubby belly.

He got up and ran back to the locker room, hoping no one would see him like this. He ran past the mirror and saw as his beer belly bounced with every step. Even his pecs started to look a little softer. And the sharp V shape on hips was slowly getting replaced by soft love handles.

Nate threw on his shirt hoping it would fit, but it wouldn't get past his belly button. And he had to tuck his dick up into his waist band to stop it from hanging out of his shorts.

He held his bag to his stomach hoping it would hide his exposed belly and the large bulge in his shorts. Then walked as fast as he could out of the gym, hitting his head on every doorway. He made it out of the gym and to his motorcycle with only a few passing glances from other gym goers. He got on his motorcycle and had to sit back to leave room for his growing belly and his massive legs.

He hated how good the wind felt on his exposed belly. And he hated how much his body would jiggle every time he hit a bump.

Nate finally made it home and rushed inside. Finally he was safe from the prying eyes of others. Though he wasn't safe from his main issue, the mist still surrounded his midsection. He managed to find one of his dad's shirts that barely fit him. He couldn't believe he was the same size as his dad of all people. Granted he was now significantly taller than his dad, but there was no denying his belly was getting big enough to rival his father's.

He stood in front of the mirror for what felt like forever, analyzing his body. The undeniable gut that hung in front of him, and the soft moobs that sat on top of it. The double chin that was hiding under his beard. The pudgy fat that covered his thick arms. Even his hands and feet looked swollen. And that's not even considering the problem that is his cock. He pulled it out and saw as it hung nearly down to his knees, it would have gone past his knees if it weren't for the fact that his legs had increased significantly in length.

As he was sulking about his body, he remembered the lamp. It was what caused all these problems for him, maybe it could reverse them. He walked back to his bag and pulled it out.

"I wish to go back to the way I was before." He said into the lamp as he rubbed it.

The purple mist once again poured out of the lamp. This time it engulfed his entire body. He smiled, thinking it would cause all of his problems to go away.

His comfort quickly turned to regret as he felt his clothes begin to tighten around his body. If his gut wasn't bigger than his father's before, it sure was now. Surges of fat poured into Nate's gut, each one adding tens of pounds of fat into his belly. His father's shirt started to ride up above his gut as it began to hang over his waistline. He would never be able to see anything past his belly anymore. His body also began to stretch again, making his shirt ride up even more. The fat also thickened his sides, making his love handles stretch to his back and spill over his waistline. His pecs were on the edge of being considered moobs, but now it was undeniable. His pecs swelled until they started to sag over his gut and into his armpits.

"Please ...ugh.. stop." Nate begged. Barely able to get words out due to the sheer amount of pleasure his body is feeling.

Whatever muscle definition that was on his back quickly got replaced with soft rolls of fat. And you would never guess there was any muscle under the thick layer of fat that covered his arms. His ass was still perky with all of the muscle that laid underneath his fat, but that didn't last. His ass widened as it began to sag under its immense weight. It quickly filled out all the space in his pants and popped the button off of them. A large fat pad quickly engulfed part of his dick, making it appear a couple inches shorter than it was. Though his dick responded by growing a few more inches. 17, 18, 19, 20 inches long spilling past his knees.

His thighs started to balloon, making him have to spread his legs to even walk. And his legs also became longer, topping him out at a monstrous 7 feet tall.

Finally he felt his face begin to change. His chin became three soft chins that connected to his thick neck. Though they quickly got covered in a thick bushy beard. His face widened as his cheeks became round and chubby.

With that, the most finally dissipated. Leaving Nate as the big guy he always wanted to be. Although he is not very appreciative of this.

"What the fuck!" He yelled.

He looked down and all he could see were his fat man tits and his monstrous belly. Though based on how heavy he feels, the rest of him is probably not much smaller. He desperately tried to buckle up his pants, but couldn't. They snapped open every time, sending a shockwave through his blubber.

He gave up and started to waddle back to his bedroom. He stumbled at first getting used to the way his body weighs him down. His gut swung back and forth with each step. He sucked below his doorway and squeezed his fat ass through. Looks like he's gonna have to get his doorways adjusted.

He grabbed a large pair of jeans with some suspenders his father had left at his place. He had to pull hard to get the jeans on and they're not long enough, but they fit better than anything else he has. And he found a black shirt he was going to gift his dad for his birthday. It was bigger than the rest of his father's clothes because he was scared his father would outgrow them too quickly. Lucky for him that made them fit him better, though his gut still hung out the bottom of them.

"You know what, fuck this!" Nate yelled as he angrily waddled back to the lamp. "No more!" He cried out as he threw the lamp on the floor, making it shatter on impact.

The purple mist spread across the room. Nate tried to back away, but was not nearly fast enough. The mist entered through his ears and clouded his brain. His insecurities soon disappeared as his ego inflated. His worries about his hulking body turned to pride, he loved being the biggest man in the room and commanding attention from everyone.

Nate fought the feeling and managed to stumble away from the mist. He coughed as he squeezed into his bathroom and shut the door.

"Good thing I got away." Nate said in a shockingly deep voice. "What the hell?"

He walked in front of the mirror and jumped when he didn't recognize himself. He had gotten so old. His hair turned grey as his hairline receded. His big bushy beard turned white and the body turned salt and pepper. His skin wrinkled and formed sun damage from all the years in the sun.

"Wow I'm looking good, hehe." Nate gave out a hearty laugh, making his body jiggle. "But as much as I love showing off this tank, I should probably get me some clothes that fit. I outgrew my pops a long time ago, so his clothes just won't do." He said as he ordered 6XL clothes online.

How to Deal With Cops

Part 1: Breaking and Entering

Damien slowly stepped through the broken window, responding to a breaking and entering call. He carefully stepped around the shattered glass that was strewn across the floor. His slender build made it easy to sneak around the house without a sound, as he didn't want to alert the criminal to his presence. He turned to the bedroom, where a man wearing a black hoodie was piling jewellery into his backpack.

"Police! Don't move, put your hands behind your back." Damien shouted.

The slowly stood up and raised his hands. Damien approached him and reached to grab his right hand. The man suddenly pulled out a needle from his sleeve and swung it backwards. The needle jabbed into Damien's arm, and the man injected the green liquid before Damien could react.

"Ah fuck!" Damien yelled as he pulled the needle out of his arm.

The man bolted out of the room, making sure his face was obscured the entire time. Damien quickly followed, running through the thin hallways of the house. At first he was catching up, his days running track let him have the jump on most criminals when they tried to run. But it didn't take long for a lethargic feeling to overcome his body. Every step, he felt heavier and heavier. He ran more and more out of breath, until he had to stop.

He stood in the hallway, bent over with his hands on his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath. He looked down at the small belly that was now pushing out his uniform.

"Damn, -huff- I've gotta cut back on those doughnuts, -huff- I think they're starting to catch up to me." Damien whispered to himself as he rubbed his belly. "I'm fine, I've just -huff- gotta sit down for a sec."

Damien stood up straight, and slowly started to make his way back to the bedroom. With every step his belly grew. At first it was barely noticeable under his loose uniform, but it didn't stay that way for long. He soon looked pregnant, with his belly spilling over his waist line. Even his softening pecs started to press against his uniform.

His stride started to widen as he walked. Fat piled into his ass and his thighs, making him spread his legs more and more until his was practically waddling down the hall.

His gut started to widen as the fat started to fill in his love handles, and his moobs grew large enough that the fat started to fill in his armpits. This in combination with his fattening arms, made him hard to spread his arms further and further out from his body.

His sharp jawline sank into a cushion of fat as his double chin connected to his neck. His cheeks fattened, making his face look wider and softer.

His gut continued to grow, threatening to burst through his uniform. The fat started to overhang, only being held up by his tucked in shirt. And as his walk became more and more like a waddle, his gut started to swing back and forth with each step.

After what felt like forever, Damien finally made it to the bedroom. He squeezed through the door frame and flopped his fat ass down onto the bed. He could feel the fat ripple around his body as ripping sounds echoed from multiple parts of his uniform.

He sat back and laid his fat hands on his growing gut. Rubbing it felt nice.

"I think it might be time for a new uniform." He mumbled to himself.

Damien sat there for a few minutes, adjusting to the way his new body felt. The way the rolls sat on his back, and the way his fat pad engulfed his dick. Though, to him nothing had changed, he was still the same old fatass cop that loved doughnuts a little too much. He never ran track, he just threw shot put in high school.

"I should probably report this and get back." He grunted as he heaved himself off the bed.

Part 2: The Office

Damien waddled back to his patrol car and squeezed in. His slid his seat back and sped off back to his precinct.

He walked into the office as if nothing had changed. Confused glares shot from every direction, as no one recognized the man who so confidently strolled in. Though the confusion soon turned to concern as his colleagues realized it was Damien.

"Oh my god man, what happened to you?" One of Damiens work buddies approached him.

"What do you mean?" He responded, oblivious.

"Your... You're so fat."

"Ya and you're so skinny, what about it." Damien brushed him off and made his way to his boss's office. He squeezed through the door and stood over his boss at his desk. His boss slowly looked up, past Damien's hulking gut and up to his face.

"Damien!?" The Boss looked shocked as he pulled his cigar out of his mouth.

"Yes sir, I just came here to-" Damien paused as a loud growl erupted from his stomach. Moments later, he let out a loud burp that echoed through the office. A green gas, similar in color to the liquid he had been injected with, filled the room.

The cloud made it hard to see even a few feet in front of him. All Damien could hear was a series of grunts, then fabric ripping, then a few burps. The cloud soon disappeared through the cigar vent in the corner of the room. This revealed the boss laid back in his chair, smoking his cigar. His massive gut spilling out of his button up and onto his lap. His ass now pushes out the sides of his chair, and his clean shaven face now had a thick white beard covering it.

The boss stood up with a loud grunt and a squeak from his chair. He pulled his suit back to show off his now impressive gut. He gave it a good rub, as if he was just getting used to the feeling of it weighing him down.

"Oh, Damien. Where were we." The boss asked.

"Oh I uhh-" Damien stuttered.

"Nevermind, I have an announcement to make." The boss interrupted as he walked to the door.

Many people turned to the boss as he stood to make his announcement. All of them jaw slack as they see their boss now with 200 extra pounds added to him. The boss goes to speak, but is interrupted by a loud growl from his stomach. Then another green cloud erupts from the boss as he lets out a loud burp. The cloud quickly spreads around the entire precinct.

People grunted and uniforms ripped as men grew tens of not hundreds of pounds. Six packs turned to beer guts, pecs turned to saggy man tits, and fat pads engulfed dicks. Perky asses started to widen and dag under their own weight, and hands and feet were pumped with fat. It didn't take long for the sound of office chairs breaking to fill the room. By the time the cloud dissipated, every man in the precinct was left with a hulking beer guts. Some lucky ones still had their clothes on, but most had ripped through all of them. And some had grown big bushy beards to top off their bearish look. Even the men in lock up weren't safe, needing a new pair of clothes before they were set free.

The next plan of action was to call over officers from other precincts to share the news. Soon enough, no cop in America will be fit to chase after criminals.

Coach's Emergency Line

It was ten minutes until their big final was set to begin. Every player rushed through the locker room to get their gear on. College football was taken really seriously by their school, so the pressure was on.

"Ha anyone seen Coach! We've got ten minutes till it's go time." The team captain yelled out.

The room fell silent. No one had seen Coach since their last practice, and he was nowhere to be seen on the big day.

"Something's wrong, Coach prepared me for this situation." The captain said under his breath. "This is a code red team! We need to use Coach's Emergency Line." The chatter in the room immediately stopped as the words echoed around the room.

"But Coach said that for emergencies only." One player broke the silence.

"This is an emergency. He's not here for the big game, he would only miss this if something was really wrong." The captain explained.

"What do we do, we've never had a code red." Chimed from another player.

"Greg!" The captain said sternly.

All eyes pointed to the freshmen, making him sink in shyness. Up to this point he had been a bench warmer, seemingly chosen just to fill out the roster.

"I need you to use the emergency line." The captain approached Greg.

"W- why me?" Greg stuttered, feeling all the eyes in the room staring.

"Coach instructed me that it had to be you." He said in a serious tone.

"Oh... Ok." Greg smiled slightly, just happy to finally be of use to the team.

He sheepishly walked to the big red button in the corner of the locker room. "Emergency line" was displayed in bright yellow above the button. He flipped up the glass casing and slowly pressed the button down.

WOOOOO! WOOOOO!

An alarm sounded as a red light began to flash. Greg froze in place with his finger still holding the button down. A static shocked traveled up his finger and right into his heart. A grunt escaped from his lips as his heart stopped.

Suddenly his chest started to pulsate outward, slowly growing with each pulse. His flat chest quickly grew into two meaty pecs that strained against his tiny shirt. His abdomen narrowed into a v shape as muscle piled into his midsection. Although a layer of fat quickly covered his growing six pack, giving him a small belly. His torso started to grow taller as well, making his shirt ride up and revealing his slutty waist and pudgy belly.

Next his shoulder broadened as his traps grew into thick muscles, so much so that his shirt started to rip around his shoulders. His noodle-like arms started to pulsate, similar to his chest. Each pulse brought more and more muscle, his biceps became the size of footballs as veins surfaced all the way down his strong arms. Even his hands doubled in size with thick fingers, letting him easily grip a football with one hand.

His waist started to tremble and his legs began to shake. It wasn't long before his spandex pants were ripped to shreds. The entire team watched as his juicy ass bounced as it ripped through his pants. The rest of his pants ripped clean in half as his thighs thickened and his calves became large and defined. As his pants fell to the ground, his jockstrap started to struggle holding in his growing cock. Good thing he wouldn't be on the field today, because that jock is doing nothing to protect his now 8 inch dick. Even his feet busted out of his cleats, becoming a monstrous size 18.

His height further increased as his legs grew, leaving him at an intimidating 6"6. Finally his head began to change. It grew to match his massive stature. In the process, his jawline became sharp as a knife and his eyes became sleek and intimidating. His shoulder length hair fell out, leaving a short buzz cut as his hairline receded halfway up his head. Some of his hairs even started to turn grey, which in combination with his new wrinkles, aged him well into his forties. A five o'clock shadow quickly spread across his face as a mustache formed above his lip. The hair started to spread downward, covering his chest with a forest of hair, followed by his stomach. A pelt of hair covered his muscly back, then it spread down his arms and on his thick man hands. The hair created a jungle down his ass and spread a thick coat down his legs and to his feet.

By the time Greg, I mean Coach took his finger off the button, there was nothing left of the freshman. Just a 6"6 hulk of a man in a jock and a tiny shirt was left behind. Coach's hand lifted above the button and grabbed the ball cap that was now hanging conveniently in front of his. He quickly covered up his balding head and turned to face his team. He pulled on his jockstrap, trying to make it not press on his dick so hard. Then he smiled at his team as he just realized what had happened.

"Will someone get me some fucking clothes that fit me!" Coach belted in a deep gruff voice.

New Recruit

Darren wanted to take advantage of the hot weather while it lasted. He pulled on his shortest shorts and went to sunbathe on his front porch. Those washboard abs of his need to be shown off this summer, so he wouldn't dare hide them. The cool breeze and the blazing sun on Darren's skin felt so relaxing, enough so that he dozed off to sleep.

FWOOOOMP

"Ow!" He woke up in a panic. "What the hell?" He said as he pulled a small dart out of his arm. He looked around quickly, but no one was in sight. Were his friends fucking with him. Either way it hurt.

It didn't take long for the nausea to kick in. He tried standing up, but his head was spinning. A tingly feeling sprouted from his arm, where the dart hit.

Suddenly his arm swelled with muscle and fat. His skinny but defined arms doubled in size, with a thick layer of fat making them look soft. His hands thickened, growing callouses as if he'd been labouring his whole life.

The transformation moved up his arm to his shoulder. His shoulders broadened as his traps bulged out of his neck. His flat chest bounced as two soft man tits formed over his pecs, a silver ring over his enlarged nipple. His abs rapidly disappeared under a thick layer of fat, creating a round belly that protruded forward from his body.

His back muscles rippled, matching his massive shoulders as the transformation moved to his other arm. For a moment his left arm looked tiny in comparison to his massive torso, but it soon ballooned to the size of his right arm. And a biker tattoo imprinted on the size of his thick bicep.

This was when Darren finally realized what was happening. He knew he should have been concerned, but the euphoric feeling coursing through his body as it transformed felt too good.

His perky ass swelled with fat, quickly filling all the free space in his shorts. Rips crackled from his shorts as they strained to hold his growing body. His thighs then doubled in girth as they grew to a size any footballer would be jealous of. His legs also stretched as they grew, making him at least six inches taller than he was moments prior. Even his feet burst out his sandals, going from a size 10 to a monstrous size 18. Luckily the increased surface area of his massive feet made him regain his balance as he started to get used to his hulking body.

The transformation in his body had nearly come to an end as it moved up to his head. His neck thickened, matching his large traps. His sharp jawline melted into a soft double chin as patchy stubble covered his face. His cheeks puffed out as a thick handle bar mustache formed over his lip. His facial features became more rugged, aging him at least 30 years as his hairline receded. And the remaining hair shortened down to a manly buzz cut.

As his head transformed, so did his brain. Hir memories of being a sexy college student are replaced with those of a 50 something biker. His delicacy was replaced with a more aggressive demeanor, and all he could think about was sex. He could feel his dick grow in his tight pants. A final effect of his transformation, his dick began to hang out the bottom of his jean shorts. As he regained his composure, he rushed to push his dick back in his pants.

"Hey Darren! You really can't keep your dick in your pants can ya!" A biker yelled from the bottom of his driveway.

Darren blushed in response as he fully pushed his dick back into his shorts.

"Here put these on and let's go." The biker throws some leather towards Darren. "Let's go put that dick to good use." The biker said with a wink.

Could you turn me into Santa Claus? I want my cookie cravings to make me fat, furry, and bald. I’ll grow a massive white beard and my body hair will lighten to match. Ho ho ho!

It’s officially winter, and snow is starting to fall outside as you sit by the crackling fire. The smell of fresh cookies wafts in from the kitchen; you’d put in a roll of store bought dough earlier. With your stomach already growling you hop up and pull them out of the oven. The smell is intoxicating, and you set out to cool, barely able to make it a couple minutes before you grab one and stuff it in your mouth. The sweet and salty dough alongside the bittersweet chocolate is exactly the flavor rush you needed. You head back to the fireplace and leave the rest of the cookies to cool, letting out a burp. When you sit back down, your belly jiggles just a little more. As you scroll on your phone, your average frame starts growing a little heavier. You sink further into the plush chair, weighing a few pounds more. Your stomach growls again. You swear you just ate, but maybe the cookies are cool enough by now. In a few seconds another large cookie sits in your hands as you devour it. Without even noticing, another five pounds adds itself to your belly. A number of wispy hairs poke out of your smooth chest as you stuff the remains of the cookie down your throat. They’re unbelievably good, but you should leave some for later. 

Well, maybe just one more, you tell yourself as you grab another, chowing down as you walk back towards the fire. Your belly grows more, and your pecs soften as they push out slightly. Your thighs grow a few inches and your jawline starts to lose its definition. A slight shadow inches down across your jaw and over your upper lip as peach fuzz darkens and thickens. Your stomach rumbles as more and more fat begins loading itself on your frame, your arms and legs plumping up, muscle growing in but quickly buried beneath the chub. As you finish off the cookie your body starts to itch. The wispy fuzz across your chest begins to grow thicker and darker, new hairs popping up across the expanse as your pecs sag even more. Dark hairs sprout across your chest and spread up and over your shoulders before your still growing belly is also buried beneath the growing pelt. Your armpits tingle as wiry hairs blossom and quickly become a sweaty tuft of hair. Your slight stubble follows suit, follicles pumping out long dark hairs as the covering grows dense. The hairs pushing out of your cheeks keep going, multiple inches long. Even your arms and legs start growing their own fur, with dense black hairs across your forearms and crawling out of the backs of your hands. Your belly adds another few inches as it starts to hang fully over your waistline. You let out a thunderous belch as you sink further into the chair, rubbing your hairy belly as your shirt rides up on it.

A few minutes later your stomach growls again. It just won’t give up today. With some significant effort you hoist yourself to your (now larger) feet and head back to the kitchen. There’s still quite a few cookies sitting out, and right as you look at them your stomach rumbles. You swipe two and cram them down your gullet. Your thickening fingers make them look small, so eating two isn’t a big deal. Immediately your gut springs forward another inch, the hair on it thickening and growing longer. The hair in the center of your chest thickens, hairs curling together as your beard reaches down towards them, pushing out longer and longer. Your hairline begins to inch back, revealing more of your forehead as you scratch at it, oblivious to the changes. This isn’t the only thing adding years to you though, as the black hairs in your beard one by one start to lose their color. The bright white spreads through your bushy beard and mustache, both of which are still pushing out of your face, and spreads up to what little remains on top of your head as male pattern baldness accelerates. You eat another couple cookies, absolutely cramming them into your mouth to try and satisfy your body. Crumbs go everywhere, getting trapped in your thick beard and falling into the rug of hair coating your chest. As soon as the crumbs touch the hairs they too go white, the bleaching effect spreading across your moobs and belly. Your gut continues to grow larger and larger, fat piling on as you finish off the last of the cookies. With a final belch the rest of the fur across your body turns white and your beard shoots out another inch. You really do look like Santa now, just in time for the holidays.