Beef To Weak - Tumblr Posts

Deflated Athletes

I would kill for a pic (3D art or drawing) of a football player (some big brick-shithouse lineman) or a super-heavyweight bodybuilder (a massive Dallas McCarver type) with their size suddenly deflated from their big body--suddenly their pads/jerseys are huge on their skinny frame, or in the case of bodybuilders, they’re desperately holding up their now-gigantic poser to cover up their shame. Before/after would of course be the coolest, but I dig the idea that the size of the equipment/posing trunks suggests how big they used to be in a one-shot. If anyone could whip that up, I’d be really grateful (and would gladly write a story to your specs). Alternatively, if anyone could point me in the direction of someone who could help me out, that would be great too.

The molly kicked in just as Richie strapped on the big Deadmau5 mask the promoter gave him. He couldn’t wait to go wild at this show–blow off some steam from last season’s hard work–and dance up on some hot slutty women.

“Feel okay in there?” the promoter asked, giving the unwieldy mask a thump.

“Feels great!” Richie replied, flexing his beefy arms. No way had anyone seen a dude his size party they way he planned–and with this mask on, he’d be the perfect spectacle. Fucked up raver chicks would be all over him.

The mask seemed to be have some kind of speakers in it, broadcasting the live music directly to his ears. As he started dancing, he noticed some cool flashy colors swirling and spiraling in front of his eyes. They made his head feel… nice and soft. He could almost hear a soft voice behind the music but they were too faint to make out. Soon his thoughts felt like warm cotton and he lost himself in the music… and what was that smell? Fragrant, delicious cheese.

Hours passed with Richie going into autopilot, bouncing from one hot sweaty whore to another. He was rock fucking hard and at one point a chick huddled up against him gave a hard squeeze of his throbbing tool, jerking him off while messed up people danced crazily around him, none the wiser.

His cock had never been more sensitive! Richie couldn’t form a thought beyond the sensations overwhelming him. He was hungry… getting tired… needed to cum, bad. Yet no matter how expertly the girl worked his dong, it was almost like he couldn’t cum.

He reached up to yank off the mask but it wouldn’t budge. Panic snapped him out of his daze enough to realize something was wrong. Still hornier than he’d ever been, desperate to cum and collapse into an exhausted pile, Richie stumbled around searching for the promoter.

When he found him, he grabbed the guy and demanded to have the mask removed.

“Easy, easy big fella… lemme take a look.” Richie’s heart pounded as the guy inspected the outside of the mask. “Okay, let’s see now… there we go.” Richie heard a click and the speakers and lights inside the mask went black. When the mask came off, Richie desperately gulped in air.

“Thanks,” he said, his mind still dull.

“No worries big man. The mask isn’t programmed to release until the full chemical dose is delivered.”

“Chemicals? Wha–” Richie froze as he felt a tingling in his mouth. His front teeth suddenly expanded somehow, sticking out from his lips, a nice buck-toothed overbite. Confused, he traced the outline of his clunky new teeth with his tongue.

Then his pants fell down, and Richie realized he was standing eye to eye with the promoter who’d been a half foot shorter than he was earlier. No, now the promoter was taller; Richie had to look up!

“You see, we run a very secret after party–unbelievably cutting edge, of course. Our guests are into the bizarre, and tonight they’re going to watch a bunch of former athletes try to navigate a maze. Hope you find the cheese before the others do!”

Richie could barely listen. Suddenly whiskers sprouted from his nose, overwhelming his brain with sensory stimulation. An insane itching above his ass grew to an unbearable degree before he suddenly felt a painful release–and whirled around to find a tail growing from his rear.

“That’s right,” the now huge promoter said to little Richie, whose shrinking slowed just as he found himself eye to eye with the promoter’s shoelaces. “We’ve got a nice little outfit for you to wear, too!” Richie turned to run but a giant hand snagged him by his new tail. He dangled painfully above the promoter’s giant face while another giant hand slid a leather harness on his body before dropping him into a plastic cage.

The changes had more or less stopped. He was halfway between human and mouse, animal features on his thick NFL-built body. He was unable to organize his awkward new mouth enough to communicate with anything other than squeaks. The giant world outside the cage made Richie queasy with fear, an emotion he wasn’t used to. The cage shook as the promoter walked and Richie wanted desperately to know where he would end up. He also desperately wanted some cheese.

————-

BrandedX2: “Big Guys Taken Down a Notch”

New content every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.

I mean it was only a “curse” in the technical sense--something I magicked up to tweak the laws of nature a little and put a little twist in Harry’s life. He was a big sturdy rugby player, so I figured I’d be helping him out.

My little incantation swapped his horniness for hunger and then amped it up through the roof. Harry’s brain and his balls were now totally rewired. Wolfing down burgers, cramming caramel covered popcorn into his mouth, washing it down with thick milkshakes, all made his dick lick like a faucet. Every night after rugby practice he’d sit down, promising himself he wouldn’t do it again, but then he’d just try to scratch the itch, just a little--just one chocolate bar--and he’d find himself naked on the floor writhing in a sheet cake he’d full-body tackled before shoveling it into his mouth by the fistful. After one of those fits I happened to stop by and find him on the floor, driven wild by these sensations but unable to fully cum.

Lucky for my boy I showed up with a family-size pack of hot-dogs and fed them to him two at a time. The last one I dangled above his anxious, desperate mouth, teasing him him for minutes until I finally let him swallow it--and his steel-pipe dick exploded all over the two of us. (I made him eat that too.) I just left him there in his mess. He probably tearfully, shamefully cleaned it all up, took a cold shower, and promised himself he’d never do that again before sobbing himself to sleep.

The pounds are just packing on Harry’s body. That’s part of the spell, too: where a normal man would get flabby and soft, Harry’s only going to get thicker and more dense the more he eats. Watching him stretch before his match, I’d estimate he’s twice the size he was when this all started, and I had no intentions of letting it stop anytime soon. I wanted to see him blow up so much he could barely move on the field, swell him into my own personal meat mule built only for feeding, fucking and cumming.

Honestly, he should be thanking me instead of tearfully asking me why I did this to him (easy answer, big fella: being pleasantly shaped but failing to like me back is enough to earn this). I’m bringing his body and his pleasure thresholds to new heights. I couldn’t wait to see how far I could take him.

---

BrandedX2: “Big Guys Taken Down a Notch”

New content every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.

To onlookers it looked like Richie Incognito getting post-game congratulations by his proud father, Richard Senior, the son scooping his father into the air with his huge sweaty embrace. “Good work, son. You’re a goddamned champion. Couldn’t be prouder.”

“You know it, pops,” Richie said with a confident grin.

Their relationship hadn’t always been so tight. Years back, when Richie was blowing his god-given talent and opportunity at being big in the NFL by getting rowdy and drunk, bullying teammates and destroying his reputation with racist voicemails, Senior decided his son needed a lesson in gratitude and respect.

One night, Richie fell asleep in his own bed after kicking out some dumb whore he’d picked up at the bar. He passed out, his big beefy body sprawled out across his silky sheets, but when he woke up he felt weak, achey and exhausted. The room he woke in looked familiar--fuck, was the house he’d bought his parents?--but he was shocked into hysteria when he looked into the mirror and saw his father’s weathered face staring back at him. He looked down at his new frame, patting every inch to make sure it was real. He hadn’t been this short, this scrawny, in his whole life!

A phone next to the bed rang, startling Richie out of his hysteria. He answered it and heard his own voice coming back at him. “Morning, son. Sleep well?” said “Richie” on the other end. “Pulled some strings, son, and called in a few favors. You know I’ve got some off-the-beaten-path connections, the same ones I called on when you were younger to make you such a big goddamned beast on the field. For a little bit we’re going to swap spots--I’m gonna get your career back on track, and you’re going to cool your heels at my place for awhile.”

“Gimme back my fucking body!” Richie shrieked, shocked at the unfamiliar voice--his father’s voice!--that came when he spoke.

“Not a chance, son. Can’t have you screwing up all I worked to give you, can I? Maybe while you’re sitting there dealing with my goddamned arthritis, pissing every twenty minutes because of my damned prostate, not even able to get it up without pills, you’ll learn a damned lesson about gratitude and putting your gifts to proper use.”

Before the swap, Senior had sent Richie’s mother on a month-long trip around the world, giving Richie-in his dad’s body--time alone to think. Richie tried calling some of his buddies from the team but they thought he was some crazy old guy playing a practical joke or worse, going straight up senile.

A week after the swap, Richie’s dad showed up at his house. “You know how much this flight cost me?” said the big body Richie was used to seeing in the mirror. He never had a good perspective on just how big he was until he was outside himself! The brawny  man stomped through the door and shoved his old “dad” to the ground. “I’ve gotta be back for practice tomorrow. I can’t be here dealing with your shit.”

“Please, just swap us back,” old, feeble Richie begged. “I swear I’ll be grateful and fix what I fucked up! Just don’t leave me like this!”

“Goddamned fuckup,” growled the oversized guard, reaching into his pants pocket and producing a little black baggy. “This shit was expensive and hard to come up with. Blew a bunch of your savings just getting it.” He untwisted the knot and unfurled the bag in Richie’s face. Black, shimmery dust clouded around. He choked and coughed, felt a tingle in his lungs and sinuses that spread warmly through his body.

“Now,” the big “younger” man said, folding his arms across his broad chest. “You ready to act like my dad now or what?”

Richie blinked and said, “Of course son, how else would I act?” In his brain, he screamed profanities, tries to form the words to tell his body-stealing father to go fuck himself, but instead he warmly uttered, “You’d better be getting back son. Don’t let a visit to me get between you and football!”

A grin spread across the thick man’s face, his dimples popping, and he winked at his old “dad.”

“Much better. Take care dad. Tell Mom I said what’s up.” Then RIchie found himself alone in his house--no, his father’s house!--calmly walking to the TV and watching some boring history show.

Weeks passed and Richie found himself totally aware in his father’s body but unable to do or say anything that his father wouldn’t. He found himself yearning for his son to call him, to tell him when things would go back to the way they were, but every time he picked up the phone he could only leave a supportive voicemail saying how proud he was of his son and how much he missed him.

Months passed, and Senior kept focused on the field, doing eveyrthing he could to right his son’s reputation. He beasted through games, and found it his honed physical prowess exhilarating. He worked harder than anyone else on the team in the weight room, dominated the field, and otherwise kept his mouth shut and his nose clean.

Originally he’d planned to swap back after he’d gotten things back on track, but he’d gotten used to being so big and powerful, having so much money to sling around, having women throwing themselves at him, and basking in the adoration of fans while beasting through the NFL. The thought of turning down that life to go back to sitting around his house, popping Cialis just to fuck his withered old wife, totally turned him off. “Just another year or so and we’ll swap back,” Senior would decide, reconsidering after the year had passed.

To onlookers it looked like Richie Incognito getting post-game congratulations by his proud father, Richard Senior, the son scooping his father into the air with his huge sweaty embrace.

“How’s mom?” asked the big lineman.

“She’s doing great,” Richie found himself saying. “We’re going on a cruise soon. Your old man is in the mood for romance.” As he heard the words Richie was horrified to realize what it meant he would be going through with his own mother.

“Too much info, dad,” his big son laughed, giving him a rough, playful shove.

“Please switch us back soon!” Richie begged silently but he couldn’t form the words. He watched sadly as his old body, bigger and stronger than it had ever been while he was in it, strutted away.

—

BrandedX2: “Big Guys Taken Down a Notch”

New content every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.

JR was in the locker room with his teammates, celebrating their win, when he got the text:

“Great game fella. It was nice to watch you play again. Care to meet up with an old buddy?”

The number wasn’t saved in his contacts (he’d deleted it when he thought he was finally rid of him) but he knew the number by heart: Thad. He also knew there was no way to say no. An address showed up seconds later, a sports bar nearby, and JR knew he had to go, and soon.

Thad came outside at JR’s texted request; an NFL player walking in an hour after a big win would attract too much attention. Luckily Thad was merciful and met him outside. He strode confidently up to the passenger side and hopped into the car. Not a tall man, Thad had to build some momentum to hoist himself up into the lifted truck. JR clenched when he found the man’s gaze on him.

“Great to see you again buddy!” Thad said giving him a slap on the shoulder followed by a squeeze that lingered. Thad looked him up and down. “Jesus, even sitting down you look big. Way bigger than in college. The NFL sure is doing wonders for you!”

“Yes sir,” JR responded, ashamed that he’d snapped back to subservience to Thad without thinking. He couldn’t even look the smaller man in the face.

“Did you miss me?” Thad asked. JR nodded slowly like a scolded child. “Be honest.”

“No…” JR said quietly.

“I’ve got a hotel room. We’re headed there. Let’s go. I’ll tell you the directions on the way.”

JR shook his head. “I have a wife, kids… a life. This isn’t college anymore.”

“Wasn’t asking, big man.” Thad’s tone made JR shiver. “Call them. Tell them you’re meeting up with an old buddy.”

Hands shaking, JR lifted his phone and dialed his wife. Of course she protested, but when Thad told JR, he just hung up. Once he’d gotten through this, he’d tell her some lie, take her on a vacation. He was far more afraid of Thad than of his wife.

Back in college Thad was a shrimpy weirdo who sat next to JR in a philosophy class. JR could tell right away the little guy had eyes for him--women and men had been swooning for his big football player body and confident swagger since he hit early puberty at age 14 and was bigger than most men--so he knew he could get what he wanted. Thad took notes for JR, let him cheat during tests, did all of his work. Then one day Thad approached JR with self-confidence he’d never had before. He told JR to come to his dorm room to pick up his midterm essay rather than just bringing it to class. And when JR got there, Thad revealed the mystical little tricks he’d learned from an old Tibetan book he’d found at the library.

Now, JR just did as he told, driving to the skeevy little motel on the edge of town. Luckily the door to Thad’s room opened right to the parking lot so JR Sweezy wouldn’t be seen dragged through a lobby by a feminine little queer.

Once inside the door, JR quickly locked it and pulled the shades. Thad just snapped his fingers and pointed to a spot in the middle of the room. JR took his spot, sweat pouring from his brow.

“You know all this mass is just too damned much…” Thad said feeling JR up, grabbing his ass, poking his belly, grabbing his massive arms. “And this hair,” he said running a hand up JR’s shirt, running his fingers through the coat of fur up there. “Ew. Plus, what’s a guy like you gonna do with a cock this size?” Thad’s other hand fished JR’s sizeable dick out of his pants and swatted it back and forth. JR flinched.

“You know what type of guys I like,” Thad said, crossing his bony arms over his insignificant chest. Then he winked and it happened.

Suddenly JR felt like he was sinking although he hadn’t moved an inch. The room around him seemed to rise as his gaze fell to below Thad’s chest. Thad was 5’5”; JR tried not to do the math for his own new height.

As he shrunk, JR felt his body getting more compact. His gut reduced, replaced by abs. Veins snaked up his arms as his skin tightened. Worst of all his big dick shrank away to a little nub and his ass firmed up--and deep within his ass, JR felt a sudden hypersensitivity, an itch, growing in intensity, he was desperate to scratch.

Meanwhile JR’s clothes shifted like warm wax. His pants melted away while his boxer briefs pulled up into a speedo with a drawstring and net panels over his hips. His shirt receded, the shoulders hardening, until it assumed its new form: a minimalist set of football pads with the words “American Football” on the front--probably as a joke. Thad reached out a hand and ran it over JR’s new muscletwink body, tracing along his abs. With every touch, JR’s mind went wild--he could barely think, and if one finger could do that much…

With little effort Thad hoisted little JR up and tossed him on the bed. “That’s how I like my men. Ripped and easy to throw around.” Instinctively JR flipped over and his ass rose into the air. Thad put his face over it, inhaled deeply, and traced JR’s crack with an invasive tongue.

“You smell good, JR… taste even better…”

Hours later, Thad shoved little JR off. He’d done something, made it so JR couldn’t cum. Every time Thad had pounded JR’s little ass, he’d gotten even more lost in a haze of horniness and sensation he hadn’t felt in years--since college. While Thad headed to the bathroom to piss, JR lay on the bed, wriggling uncomfortably. His body was desperate to get fucked again.

“Don’t worry little man,” Thad called from the bathroom over the sound of his peeing. “I’m gonna call for a pizza and see if the delivery boy won’t fuck you. Then we’re gonna parade you around to every other room in this place and see if anybody else wants a turn on that ass.”

When Thad came back to the bed he licked a finger and probed JR’s ass for fun, making the little man squirm. “Man, did I miss this… It could be days before I get tired of playing with you at this size, if ever!”

BrandedX2: “Big Guys Taken Down a Notch”

New content every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.

James absolutely hated when I shot him a text and told him to cancel all of his plans but he'd learned by now that there was nothing he could do once I decided to stop by. When I walked in the room, he straightened up to his full height, flexed his massive torso and fixed a stern gaze on me. As I looked up at him, took in his mass and savored his heavy post-gym musk, I couldn't help but laugh. We both knew he wouldn't be the big beefy bear for long. He grunted, a deep sound he wouldn't be able to make in a few moments.

As soon as he caught a whiff of my mystical cologne his composure dissolved. Soon after, his muscles began to do the same, pound by pound evaporating from his form as his height condensed, his tattoos slid away, his beard and body-hair retracted. The boxer briefs he wore slid to the floor as his thick thighs slimmed. I caught a quick glimpse of his big meaty cock before it too drained away. One place mostly spared of the drain was his ass; part of the spell was that his new form would retain a relatively sizable, cushiony ass which looked almost ludicrous on his new form--that of a slight, smooth adult man with a big juicy booty.

I was barely what one could call average, but I felt like a titan next to James' petite new body. With one hand I shoved him backwards onto the bed with ease, eliciting a high-pitched gasp from him but no resistance.

After that display of force (and the resulting hurt and nervous look on my newly little guy's face) I crawled onto the bed, hovered over him for a moment before kissing him deeply, scooping his little head up in one palm to pull him into it. He dissolved into my embrace--not literally, of course, although if I used another of my formulas I could absolutely achieve that--and his legs spread apart almost instinctively.

Once my magical cologne and I were out of range, he'd grow back to his old form, get his tattoos and fur and brawn back, but the idea that I could take them away at any time would linger with him until the next time I decided to stop in. Since the formula also made him unbelievably horny and exponentially more sensitive, he'd be overwhelmed by pleasure for hours as well. Trading his big bear body for a submissive form and more pleasure than his little brain could handle would be something he would always feel torn about--until, of course, I got my hands back on him. Then there was no doubt about how much I owned him, and how much he loved it.

BrandedX2: “Big Guys Taken Down a Notch”

New content every Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.

He was doing a set of dumbbell pullovers--lats pumped out like crazy--when I hit him with the dart. It was tiny, smaller than the insulin needle he no doubt used to deliver growth hormone to that thick abdomen--so he never noticed it. If I’d had the technology I would’ve frozen him right in this moment, dropped down on my knees and got my hands on those big bloated quads--really dug my fingers into those overdeveloped muscles, deep-tissue style, while I went to town on the shriveled dick and shrunken little nuts he’d withered almost out of existence with his roid addiction. What I wouldn’t give to bury my face into those muscle pits and cram my tongue into their deepest crevice, taste him so hard I never forgot the flavor. But alas, I hadn’t developed that kind of technology yet. Someday. Of course, what was about to happen was pretty damned fantastic too, and soon enough that body would be in my power--what was left of it, anyway.

He trained right to failure, as always, and dropped the dumbbell when he felt the elixir starting to take effect. I’d witnessed the effects in the lab before: his whole body was going to get warm and he’d be swept up in a euphoria he wasn’t expecting. That pump in his lats was going to start spreading everywhere as his oversized heart blasted the elixir to every inch of that oversized frame.

Oversized for now, that is. It all happened so quick nobody else in the gym noticed (thank god): he moaned, but the pitch started to rise from his deep growl to something much higher, then it disappeared--much like his body did, all of a sudden, dropping out of sight as his gym clothes collapsed, empty. Almost empty, that is. I scooped up his shirt--still soaked and warm, score!--into my gym bag, then did the same with the shorts, pausing, of course, to check their contents. Sure enough, a diminished little muscle man, action-figure sized, was writhing in the now tent-sized (to him) fabric. Taking care not to damage him I dropped everything in my bag and zipped it up. As I walked away one of his gym buddies bitched aloud about the discarded dumbbell--”Fucking rookies, not putting their damned weights away.” I made a beeline for the door, my prize in tow.

Back in my hotel room I hurried to my room, locked and deadbolted the door, then unveiled my little catch. He was still dazed and hadn’t completely processed what had happened to him. I pulled him out--gently, unlike the first few guys I’d done this two--and held him in my hand.

Muscles have always felt amazing to me. Once back in high school a gym class bully shoved me so I shoved him back, and at the moment of contact with my hands he flexed his pecs. The way that warm flesh went impossibly hard all of a sudden stuck with me, long after he ended up kicking the shit out of me. I jerked off to that feeling for months after, and suddenly there was an itch I had to scratch.

It wasn’t exactly the same holding the plump muscles of a 6 inch man in your hand. They felt like swollen insect bites but the hairless skin, at its reduced size, was silky soft. That combination--firm and smooth--was so perfectly analogous to a dick that I couldn’t help but think of my new little captive as one: my own swollen dick, only here for my pleasure and my relief.

I put on my jeweler’s eye to inspect my new catch. As I’d suspected, he had an embarrassingly tiny dick between those tree trunks, a little nub poking out over a nearly empty scrotum pulled tight underneath. With a Q-tip dipped in vaseline I probed his tiny dick, delighting in his shrill squeals as he writhed around.

The elixir always had that side effect. It was hard to explain why in laymen’s terms, but just imagine a big swollen juice-monkey shrunk down to dick-sized, all that testosterone now crammed into a much tinier vessel. (Not exactly scientifically accurate but good enough.) So he’d be my own little muscle whore from pretty much now on, constantly in rutting mode, unable to ever find satiation. Of course a part of his mind would be freaking out about what had happened to him, trying to fight back, but that would be overwhelmed by his turbo-boosted reptile brain, plus my rough tongue driving him crazy as it lapped him from head to toe, exploring every crevice. A lifetime in a lab had left me without the skills to score a mate of my own, but luckily I’d been blessed with the ability to build toys for my own satisfaction. And this little guy--dammit, I never got his name--was my new favorite toy... for now.

https://www.voreplay.com/oldsite/stories/hardpuc/Oiled%20Down.html

HARDPUC’S AMAZING STORY: OILED DOWN Good god, I dunno who Hardpuc is but every story I can find of his is top-notch. This tale of a little guy using posing oil to steal the size of a champion bodybuilder is everything I want out of a TF story, and more. Every time I see Phil Heath I like to imagine he was once the skinny guy at the beginning of this story, and he stole the mass of some gorgeous super-heavy we’ve all since forgotten about. Warning: there’s relatively PG-rated vore in here (shrinking, oral), so if that’s not your thing, maybe don’t read this (or don’t read until the end).

Love Muscle

Happy Valentine’s Day. Here’s my contribution to the dateless.

As little Cupie flitted and fluttered around the world, seeing all of the joyful humans and their roses and chocolates and champagne toasts, celebrating the joyful paradise of a life with love, he sensed a great emptiness. While most warm bodies blasted out warm, he sensed a place of cold metal and hard, unfeeling bodies, gritted teeth, pain and sacrifice and passion without affection. It was love’s most special day; Cupie had to do something! So he descended upon Global Gym, zipped on his magical little wings through the packed parking lot, and took a deep breath of fresh air before he entered the stagnant musk of this sweat-filled dungeon.Inside were many man, big as buffalo and hard as steel, some more perfectly carved than statues. 

As Cupie inspected the marvelously shaped men, he found each of them desperately fighting a hole in their hearts, trying so hard to hide a need for tender touch behind armor of massive flesh.At least, that’s what it looked like to Cupie. And he couldn’t allow this at all. He would fix that right away.

Gathered in a small huddle around a big metal rack were four apelike men, hairy and thick and barely able to move from their enormous swollen muscles. “Powerlifters,” they called themselves, but how powerful can you be without the power of love?

Their leader, a stout barrel-shaped man with a long beard, wore a perma-scowl as he moved many times his own bodyweight in metal, lifting it from the ground and putting it back down. The other brutes in his entourage clapped their chalky hands on his back before each lift, helped him pull his belt tight, barked at him, “You’ve got this bro!”“Deadlifting” they called it. Well, it was time to come alive, Cupie thought, and as the powerful man waddled toward the overloaded bar, Cupie pulled a special arrow from his quiver and fired.

The beastly man clapped his massive hands together, producing a cloud of chalk that surrounded him as the invisible, magical arrow struck him. As the chalk cleared, the man found himself now half his size, swimming in oversized clothes. His still-buckled weight belt clattered to the ground and he stumbled around awkwardly. He struggled to escape his now-tentlike shirt, stepping out of ludicrously oversized shoes and staring up at his three companions, now each three times his size. More overwhelming than the garguantuan men staring at him was the dull throbbing from his ass--an ass that had stayed basically the same size while the rest of him shriveled, now bulbous and unwieldy behind an otherwise petite man--that seemed to beg for his attention. That’s when Cupie let loose three more arrows for his friends.

The one who’d tightened his belt reached out with a meaty paw and yanked the big shirt away, revealing the little man in his newfound glory: a slender, hairless man with a huge inviting rear end. Each of the man felt a stirring in their loins looking at the little man, especially his bulbous backside, and each of them started to perspire. The little guy, suddenly more flexible than he’d ever been, folded at the waist, presented his prized asset to his buddies and grabbed his dainty little ankles. The former powerhouse thrilled as the buddy who’d cheered on his left reached out a thick, chalk-caked digit and gently tweaked the crack of the newly-tiny man’s voluptuous behind, eliciting a squeal that invited all three men to move in closer, their pulses quickened, their loins stirring like never before.

In another room, a powerful man stood nearly nude before a mirror, crunching up his lumpy arms and legs and making the muscles big and hard. Nearby an older gentlemen, with just as much unnecessary muscle as the younger man but gristled with age, sat on a bench, calling out strange directions. 

“Nice, Tony, now front double bi. Great. Show me that abdominal-thigh.” Cupie eyed this strange scene and sensed a latent affection between the men. The rippling Tony, his skin stained dark brown for some reason, seemed to be desperate for the approval of the older gentleman--so much that he’d put on what looked like tiny panties and squeeze his body up in public just to win it--while the older gentleman looked at Tony with a sense of pride, like he was his own creation.

Cupie could work with this.

One very powerful arrow shot into the wide slabs of beef hanging off Tony’s Chest. He didn’t sense anything at first, but then the older man said, “All right, show me that lat spread.” Tony put his fists on his hips and spread his back wide--and it just kept spreading. Tony’s wide back, his bumpy arms and veiny legs all spread out like dough, more muscle pouring onto his frame than he’d ever conceived of before. As his chest and shoulders swelled up around his head, he looked around nervously, his legs splayed out impossibly far to accomodate their thickness while remaining upright.

The older man was shocked for a moment until another of Cupie’s arrows struck him. He proudly rose from the stool and did a lap around the muscular monstrosity he’d created, surveying it with pride, and buried his fingers into the deep ridges between each blimped out muscle, causing Tony to squeal with overwhelming ecstasy. He was now a practically immobile pile of muscle, only able to barely wiggle his toes and fingers while his big dick (swollen like the rest of him, and stretching his overstuffed little underwear to the limit) burped and sputtered cum.

“Don’t worry about the mess, Tony,” the coach said, tickling the overample flesh of his freakish creation. “I’ll take care of it later. Let’s just appreciate all the muscle I’ve built on you. Later on, when they had privacy, he’d take a dildo the size of a baseball bat and get into the really sensitive parts of his muscle-beast, but for now he’d just appreciate the unbelievable mass he’d created with some deep-tissue style massage across dense muscle that was now as sensitive as a cock-head. Tony could only squeal and whimper, delighting in his own helplessness and the attentive caress of his coach.

In the musky, humid locker room, Cupie found  a giant man--six and a half feet tall, at least, wide as a door, stripping out of sweat-soaked clothes before a shower. Next to him, a man the same age but less than half his size tried not to notice the hairy brawn unveiling itself in the same room. Cupie sensed in the smaller man a deep desire to nuzzle into the powerful arms of the big guy. In the big man he sensed coldness, scar-tissue from years of smashing into other powerful men wrapped in hard equipment on big fields to the adoration of screaming fans. 

So much pain in his past, Cupie lamented. This, he could fix.

Cupie fired one of his favorite arrows--it traveled into the big ogre and then a moment later emerged from him and plunged into the body of the smaller man. Suddenly the big hulk’s body started to compress. While he remained exactly proportionate, he grew smaller and smaller while the little guy’s frame started to grow up and out, widening and thickening as it went. The not-so-little-anymore guy watched with amazement as his eye level rose, the room starting to shrink down around him. He grew muscles he never thought he’d have, patting around himself to test all the new lumps and their pleasing density.

The new giant got nervous when his head bumped the ceiling but then the changes seemed to stop. He crouched down, wondering if he was too big to get out of the locker room now, until he noticed the hulk-no-more next to him, still the same shape as before but now the size of a teddy bear.

Having watched everything grow as he diminished as a human being, the newly teddified man felt himself overwhelmed with fear; how could he survive in a world that was so big after having looked down on it for so many years? Then he felt an impossible huge tongue lick the length of his body, so forcefully he fell over, and stared up in awe at the brand new giant before him. The giant man extended a beefy arm and although he knew that he’d been robbed of his size, that it had been donated to this newly gargantuan man, the new giant’s touch filled him with warmth and safety and teddy-bear-sized hulk nestled into it, wishing he never had to be anywhere without it.

Cupie nodded his head at the change, satisfied at his work, and checked his quiver: it was full of arrows, and this place was full of people in need of love. He had work to do.

NEW PATREON STORY

“A Good Tan Is Worth Ten Workouts”

Get those palms warmed up, boys! New PATRONS ONLY story at Patreon! Like cocky muscle getting cut down to size? You’ll love this! Here’s a taste:

Trevor took a look at himself in the locker room mirror. His whole body had a considerable pump, like he’d just done the most intense total-body workout of his life. He marveled in the mirror at the way his abs looked even more chiseled, the increased size of his legs (with even deeper cuts!), the fuel lines on his thicker arms that had appeared out of nowhere. He even seemed to have an extra half-inch swinging from his groin.

“Was that it?” he asked aloud. “I look good but I don’t look any tanner…” Seemingly in response to his question the pic of the big Italian guy--not so intimidating now that Trevor had this little physique boost--slid aside to reveal another room. Inside was just a wide open tanning bed that looked no different from any model Trevor had ever been in before. Before walking in he grabbed his phone from his pants pocket and hopped in.

Come check out the story! $3 a month and you get eight stories! $6 and you can vote on what comes next.

www.patreon.com/brandedx2

***NEW PATRONS-ONLY STORY AT PATREON***

NFL AFTERMATH

A Story Set in the Omar Bell Universe I wrote a story awhile ago about how the Omar Bell virus affected professional bodybuilders. Here’s a story about NFL players affected by the virus that turns all white men into horny slender guys. (Here’s the other story I wrote if you want to refresh.) www.patreon.com/brandedx2

JJ Watt Defensive End- Houston Texans