Celeb - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

Theres a new mugshot photo of the coz goin round and a medical record that went public. Apparently his pee pee did in fact fall off in prison. Probably from too many pudding pops.

Sup Smallies. I've largely been working on these green screen comedy bits as of late. Might get back to drawing one of these days heheh.

Watches favourite movie with siblings/parents and favourite actor starts taking his clothes off

Me:

Watches the same movie, but alone and favourite actor starts taking his clothes off

Me:

I Am Weed

Fuck. You were tired. So tired of being pushed around by everyone at school. You were much shorter than everyone else in your class, and that meant that the taller guys would pick on you. Although you were a freshman in college, your voice still had yet to deepen with puberty. You sounded and looked like a whiny teenager.

You loved music and saw that the school rock band was looking for a new frontman. There was no way they'd ever take you on. You were too short, too whiny, and had no star quality. You were not the rock star that they needed. You wanted to try it anyways. You never know!

To calm your nerves before heading to the band, you had bought some weed from Chuck down the hall from you. You had never smoked before, but Chuck told you it was strong and would make you feel much better. He even rolled it up for you, so that all you had to do was light it and enjoy the ride.

Returning to your dorm room, you pulled out your Boy Scout lighter and lit the end of the blunt. Hesitant, you slowly lifted the end to your mouth and inhaled.

Cough, cough, cough "Man, this shit is strong" you sputtered.

You lifted the blunt to your lips and inhaled once again. Everything became slightly fuzzy. Your head felt lighter, but your body felt heavier. As you sat down on your bed, you took another hit. You felt a warm sensation on your back, almost like the sun. As you sat there, taking hit after hit. The warmth spread across your body, becoming almost unbearable. You stripped naked, trying to ease some of the discomforts of the heat. As the warmth further spread, it brought with it a fuzziness and color. Almost as if someone had rubbed paint all over your body, the color snaked way across your torso, snaking around your side onto your chest and up and down your body.

As the warmth continued stroking your arms and legs, you felt them stretch. Bright, blond hairs began poking their way out of your follicles and curling on your body. The warmth stretched your torso, distorting the colors until they began to resemble intricate patterns, images, and letters.

The warmth stretched you further. You were 6'4" now, nearly a foot taller than before you had lit the blunt. The warmth massaged your face as your features began to sharpen, and your hair grew out and lightened into a fierce blond. On the opposite end of your body, the warmth pulled at your toes and feet, stretching them in your socks several sizes larger. You wiggled your toes as that blond curly hair grew all over the tops of your toes and feet. They were now Size 12s, wide and long enough to support your new height.

The warmth dissipated around the rest of your body, concentrating on your dick. As it stroked you, you moaned in pleasure, not noticing your large Adam's apple bobbing in your neck and the deep voice coming from your mouth. Your dick began to grow further and further away from your body, escaping the ever-thickening jungle of blond, curly hairs surrounding it. As you neared climax, you felt everything in your head being churned into your balls. You screamed in ecstasy as you shot out all of your memories of being a skinny, good-for-nothing dweeb.

Gasping for air, you grabbed the towel next to you and wiped the cum from your strong, inked chest. Throwing on a dirty tank top and some old white pants, you snapped a pic to upload to Instagram.

You uploaded, and the thirst comments were already rolling in. Smiling to yourself, satisfied, you put your phone away. Opening the door, you found yourself in the backstage area. Being ushered by people wearing black, you were handed a microphone. Someone lifted a jacket over your arms. You could hear the roar of the crowd: you are a rockstar. Waiting for the cue, the cheers became deafening. At the nod of the stage manager, you ran out onto the stage, at which point the crowd went insane.

As the band started playing, and the fans started jumping with the beat, you screamed into the mic:

"I Am Weed"

Free Vacation

When you saw the email in your inbox announcing that you had won the sweepstakes for a free stay at a "magical" beachside resort in Bali you were skeptical, to say the least. But as you arrived at the airport, and you saw a muscular suited man at the terminal with your name on a piece of paper, something clicked. Escorting you through the terminal, the strong man pushed the weary travelers aside to part the way for you. Reaching a set of double doors, he pushed them open, revealing the tarmac with a large limousine waiting for you. Without saying a word, the man grabbed your suitcase and placed it in the trunk, opening the door for you.

Stepping into the back of the limo, you felt your cares melt into the leather upholstery. After driving for just a few moments, the driver stopped, exited, and opened the door for you. Pushing your head through the open door, you saw a large luxury jet.

"Is this for me?" You asked, incredulously.

"Of course it is, sir." The driver responded with a big grin on his face. He was savoring your childish disbelief.

With a gasp of shock and excitement, you sprinted towards the staircase. The driver panicked at your sudden speed burst and rushed to grab your suitcase from the trunk. Barely acknowledging the gorgeous stewardess, you threw yourself into the cabin, reveling in the stunning interior. Planting yourself firmly into the leather armchair, you laughed to yourself. This was going to be one hell of a vacation.

The flight was uneventful and went by surprisingly quick. Time flies when you're traveling in luxury. The seemingly endless stream of champagne helped too. By the time you landed in Bali, you were intoxicated beyond belief. The poor stewardess you had hounded the entire flight now had the privilege of half guiding and carrying you to the next limo.

This driver couldn't care less about you. You were just another drunk passenger heading to this resort. Nothing out of the ordinary. Driving from the airport to the resort was another surprisingly fast ride. You might've fallen asleep if you're being honest. Arriving at the resort, a young woman, presumably an employee, opened the door of your limo. You stumbled out, face-planting on the floor. You could hear her speaking to the driver but couldn't make out any words. Trying to force yourself to stand up, you found that every move you made was uncoordinated. When you were getting off the plane, you could at least walk a little with the stewardess's help, but now, you were immobile. Were you getting... drunker? You felt two sets of large hands grab onto your shoulders, pulling you upright, face-to-face with the woman. Though your vision was blurred, you couldn't help but let your head "fall" to see her breasts. Before you even tried to focus your vision, she grabbed your jaw and pulled you into a wet kiss. Unable to move away, (and unsure you wanted to) you let her tongue explore your mouth. The hands that were on your shoulders pulled you away and carried you through the doors. The unmistakable click of high heels followed you. You heard the woman say, "I'll see you later, Robbie." Who was Robbie? That wasn't your name.

Your vision blackened. Darkness. Suddenly, you woke to a tugging at your dick. Someone was jerking you off. It was dark, you couldn't see a damn thing. But it felt so good. Moaning in delight, you lifted your arms up behind you. Your large hands cupped your head. Large hands? You felt sore all over. The tugging increased, and your dick felt wet. Were you being sucked off? God, it felt so good. With each motion, each care melted away. You were getting so close. With a grunt, you came.

Jumping awake and with a loud scream, you jolted upward in the bed. A dark spot formed in the sheets. Shit, that was some dream. Looking at your surroundings, you remembered all that had happened. You were in Bali. Looking out onto your balcony attached to your room, you could see the white sand and the bright blue waves crashing upon them. Taking a breath to recover from your dream, you stepped into the bathroom to take a piss, only to see someone else in the mirror. A large muscular man wearing boxers. Startled, you jumped back, only the see the man in the mirror jump as well. Moving your hand, the man followed suit. You reached for your head, and he did too.

Holy shit. It was you in the mirror. What the fuck happened last night. Stumbling back into the room, you fell backward onto your bed. Only to feel another body beneath you. Twisting around, you saw the beautiful woman beaming at you from underneath the covers. "Good morning, Robbie" she cooed. It was her. It had to be her. "What did you do to me?" You seethed. "Nothing you didn't want, Robbie." She smirked, enjoying your little tantrum.

"My name is not Robbie." You retorted. She indicated with her head that you should turn around. Slowly, you turned your head to face a full-length mirror. Your body was chiseled. Your face was angular. God damn, you were hot. Forcing yourself to look away, you saw a tank top on the dresser. Trying to cover your sexy abs that weren't yours, you threw it over your torso. "What's wrong? Don't you think you look good?" the woman said mockingly. Still staring at yourself in the mirror, astounded at how you looked, you said "This isn't me. I'm just some average guy. I'm not a muscle dude." The woman chuckled. "We can make you bigger if you'd like." Your arms were forced upwards against your will, exposing your hairy armpits and showing off your large biceps. A warm tingling erupted in your arms, and you watched in amazement as they grew right before your eyes.

In disbelief, you turned back towards the woman with your mouth open ready to object to whatever the hell was happening, but she had already risen from the bed, and firmly planted her lips on yours. Her tongue explored your mouth, just as she had done last night. Her hand fondled your crotch, which stretched the confines of your underwear. Blinded by the pleasure erupting from your penis, you allowed your tongue to return the favor and explore her mouth. Pulling away, she lowered herself down and pulled down your boxers, exposing your throbbing member. As you closed your eyes, with your head laid back in ecstasy, you felt all of your worries and memories of who you used to be pool up in your balls. With one final bob of her head, your body tensed up, flexing every new muscle in your hot body, and you shot everything that you had used to be out.

Italia rose from below you, meeting your eyes. "Are you ready to enjoy our vacation, Robbie?" Ripping your shirt off, showing off your rocking body, you smiled at your hot wife.

"Sure."

It's All In The Hair

<<Thanks @transformation-fan for the suggestion. This was a fun one!>>

After a long day at work, you had finally begun the long drive home in your beat-up sedan. Working a fifteen-hour shift at the gas station was hard, but it was the only job you could find willing to hire you. The forty-five-minute drive home was usually pretty relaxing. Standing at the counter all day meant your legs were aching by the end of the day. The fatigue set in as you continued your drive through the suburbs and back into the city.

Arriving at your apartment, you found the nearest curb and parked your car. This wasn't a great neighborhood, but you never really worried about someone breaking into your car, because it was so beat up that it almost looked abandoned. It was your ride to work though, so you nonetheless locked it tight and hid anything in the seats in the glove compartment and center console. Satisfied, you turned and keyed into your building. Walking up the three flights of stairs, you fumbled around in the dark trying to find the other key to your apartment. The bulb in the hallway had long since burned out, and the landlord refuses to pay for another bulb. Finally feeling the teeth of the key, you poked it around blindly until it found its home in your doorknob. Twisting the key and pushing, the door flung open into your pigsty of an apartment. Pizza boxes and dirty clothes littered the floor. You worked so many hours a day that you never had time to clean up after yourself.

Throwing your keys onto the counter, you checked in the fridge to see if you had any leftovers. There were some Chinese take-out boxes that were probably still good. As you reached your arm into the fridge, you got a whiff of your body odor. Your face squinched in disgust. Although your apartment was a mess, you hated to be dirty yourself. Working at the gas station, you often came home reeking of gasoline, but today was especially hot outside, and you must've sweat through your deodorant and then some. It was time for a shower.

Stepping over the piles of clothes, you headed towards the bathroom. Peeling off your sweat-filled shirt, you twisted the handle of your shower bath. It would take a few minutes for the water to heat up. Pulling down your jeans, you stared in the mirror at yourself. God, there was so little of you. Your diet of pizza gave you a round paunch, but absolutely nothing else. You were a hairless cat with a gut. Rubbing your smooth chest, you began to wonder what it would be like to have luscious hair. The kind that people would want to run their fingers through. Maybe some muscles? Anything would be better. Sighing to yourself, and deciding that maybe next year you would start working out, you stepped over and into the shower.

The water was lukewarm, you hadn't given it quite enough time to become scalding hot. Underneath the stream of water, you began rubbing your hair. It was short enough that you didn't need to worry too much about styling or combing it, just wash it every now and again. With your face turned upwards towards the waterfall washing down over you, you reached your arm out to grab your shampoo. Fumbling about, you felt the bottle with the top of your hand, and it slipped, crashing towards your feet with a loud thud. The sound startled you, and you flinched causing you to tumble backward. The curvature of the bath allowed you to slide for part of the fall, but you still landed on your back.

Startled more than injured, you sat for a moment, astounded at what an idiot you were. Cursing to yourself, you pulled yourself into a sitting position. Finally finding the shampoo bottle, you pulled it toward you to open it, but it looked different. The generic logo on the front was gone. In fact, the bottle had no logo, no words, no anything. Assuming you had just ripped off the label some other night, you opened the cap to pour it into your hand. Immediately, you knew this was not your shampoo. The smell was divine. It was indescribable. You were going to enjoy this shampoo.

Pulling the drain closed and flipping the faucet, you started filling the bath. Luxury. You poured more shampoo into your hand before lathering it around your hair. Keeping your eyes closed to prevent the suds from getting in your eyes, you felt a strange, but pleasurable sensation. Your head was warm and fuzzy. God this shampoo was incredible. With each rub of your hands, your hair grew longer and longer and thicker and thicker. The suds dripped down over your face as you continued to massage your head and growing hair. Your eyebrows thickened, becoming sharp and defined. Dense stubble pushed its way out of your upper lip and around your jawline. The shampoo dripped down your arms, still raised towards your head. Dark hairs sprouted from your thickening forearms and bulging biceps, and your exposed armpits grew forests of thick brown hair. Dripping down your chest, the shampoo caused a forest of curled chest hair to shoot from your growing chest. Two lean pecs pushed from your chest, with a new pelt of hair adorning them. Your navel sprouted a thick treasure trail as the shampoo pushed your gut inward and traced the lines of your new abs. Finally, the shampoo reached the water line, mixing into the water and causing the surface to become sudsy and foamy. Dark hairs grew on top of your feet as they stretch along the floor of the bath. Your calves and thighs bulged with muscle as the dark curly hair swirled around. You felt your stomach get colder as your ass swelled, pushing you ever-so-slightly further out of the water. The hair curled up your thighs and into your ass, tracing underneath you towards your balls. A mass of hair grew above your crotch and around, as your dick stretched further and further away from your body. Still rubbing your shampooed head with one hand, your other hand lowered down into the water and began stroking your new, large dick. Your hand was still slippery with the shampoo, and the pleasure was intense. With each rub of each head, everything felt more and more amazing. With a final rub, you shot your load into the bath water, mixing with the suds.

Rinsing your hands of the shampoo and rubbing your eyes, you opened them. Right in front of you were large hairy legs. Looking down, you were greeted with a still semi-erect throbbing dick covered in hair. The chest below you was thick and had swirls of hairs. What the hell was happening? Trying to stand up, you underestimated the sleekness of the bottom of the tub, and you fell once again, hitting your head, knocking you unconscious, and sinking into the water.

It was dark. Oh my god, were you dead? You couldn't speak. You tried to scream for help but no sound came out. It was strangely warm, were you in hell? Oh my god, you were in hell. What had you done wrong? With one final desperate scream, you jolted upward and found yourself in a hotel room. Scared and confused you turned about, finding that your pillow was wet, and smelled amazing. Of course! You had just taken a bath with your favorite shampoo before the convention. Turning your body off the side of the bed, you saw your large manly legs and chuckled. Throwing on a yellow shirt and some pants, you stared in the mirror at your hair. God, even after taking a nap your iconic hair still looked immaculate. Smirking, you unbuttoned the top of your shirt, displaying a moderate amount of your thick chest hair. That'll surely drive the girls (and the gays) wild for you. You could have anything you want with the wave of your hand. They adored you. You were Joe fucking Keery. The chartered car came and picked you up, dropping you at the convention. On the red carpet, you heard their screams. They loved you. You knew why: it's all in the hair.

Live from New York

Standing in line to board your flight, you basked in the feeling of possibility. From here on out, anything could happen. After years of working minimum wage at Dairy Queen, you had finally saved enough money to move to New York City. You loved your small town in Iowa, but there was something magical about the Big Apple. There, you could start over and be somebody new. After high school, you wanted to go to college. Some prestigious university would've been your dream, like Harvard, Yale, or Fordham. You had the grades, but you couldn't afford to pay tuition. So you stayed. Luckily, the DQ was hiring, and you got decent pay. By no means were you living large, but you got by. Now, with enough money saved up, you bought a one-way ticket from Des Moines to JFK. You had reached out to a friend living in the city, and they agreed to let you stay with them for a little bit until you found a job and your own place. Armed with just your backpack filled with a couple hundred bucks, some clothes, and a dream, you boarded the flight.

Once you landed in Queens, you desperately navigated the terminal, trying to find your way to the E train into Manhattan. Finding the station, you waited patiently for the subway to arrive. Turning your backpack onto your stomach, you pulled it tightly into your torso. Everything you owned was in that bag, you couldn't bear to lose it. The roar of the approaching train filled your ears, and it skidded to a stop in front of you. The doors opened, and you found the car absolutely packed. You had never seen so many people in one place all at once. Forcing your way into the car, and finding a place to stand near the opposite door, you kept a close eye on the screen, waiting until the 5th Avenue and 53rd Street stop appeared. Then, as the subway stopped and the doors opened, you clutched your backpack and stepped onto the platform.

Exiting the station, you were engulfed by the sounds and sights of Midtown. Your friend lived in a small one-bedroom near 50th and 6th, right in the center of everything. Walking around, you found yourself enamored with the tall buildings and the busy people walking extremely fast. The route you were taking to your friend's apartment took you right past Rockefeller Plaza. Being the tourist you were, as soon as you passed the sign for NBC studios, you decided to pull your phone out of your backpack. Reaching in and then throwing your backpack over your shoulder, you looked up at the words. Growing up, you had seen this marquis on television, and now it was really here. Lifting up your camera, you snapped a photo.

Just as the shutter clicked, a man ran up from behind you and snatched your bag. "Hey!" you screamed. Without stopping, they continued to sprint and turned the corner before you even thought to run after them. Shit. Now what? Looking at the doors of the studio, you figured that they must have security cameras. They could help you. I mean, after all, everything you owned was in that bag. Stepping through the glass doors, you were astounded by the vast ceilings and smooth architecture. You were definitely in the big city.

Approaching the desk, before you could even open your mouth, the attendant looked up at you and gasped. "Sir, you're late, we need to get you upstairs now!" Before you even had the chance to respond, you were whisked away, being led towards an elevator. Shoving you into an elevator, the attendant mashed the button that said "8H." Looking dumbfounded, you opened your mouth to speak, but just as you did the doors shut and you began to ascend into the building.

This was weird, but hey, you had nothing else to lose. It's not like you were breaking in, you were put here. Once you got off the elevator, you would explain exactly what happened, and they would help you find security to figure out how to get your backpack back. As the elevator doors opened and you opened your mouth to speak, two female stylists rushed in and began ushering you through the hallways. The taller one began chastising you for running late as usual, without letting you get a word in. Giving up, you let them guide you into a dressing room. There, you were shoved into a seat. Finally, with the hustle and bustle finished, you finally had a chance to speak. "What's happening?" You managed to finally ask. The stylists looked at each other amused. Without saying a word, they reached towards your body and ripped off your clothes, leaving you nude apart from your underwear.

"Hey! What was that for?" You screamed at the pair. The shorter one explained. "We don't have time to take them off, Sir. Now hold still." The tall one pulled a white jar out of her bag, and the two began applying some sort of cream all over your chest. As the cream made contact with your skin, it began to heat up. As it did, firm muscles began pushing their way from your torso. Thick pecs formed a shelf and dark hair spread its way across them. The stylists massaged the cream into your arms, which flexed with new strength and were covered in that same hair. Your hands cracked as they grew large and manly. You were left with a thick beefy upper body.

The stylists massaged the cream into your feet, which grew and expanded, dark hairs emerging from the tops. After applying the cream to your calves, they stretched and ballooned as well. Your thighs were next, the short one was intensely working her hands around your thighs and shoved her hands under where you were seated. The cream made your legs thick and hairy, and your ass lifted you upwards on the chair. The short one continued to massage your thighs as the tall one applied the cream to your face. Your teeth whitened and your jawline sharpened. Your eyes lightened to a piercing blue. The tall one massaged your scalp, as your hair thickened and became immaculately styled, your head felt fuzzy. You remembered attending Harvard? No, you could never afford that. You were from rural Iowa. The shorter stylist lifted her hands from your thighs and pulled down your underwear, revealing your cock. Reapplying more cream to her palms, she began to massage your cock. Your head felt even fuzzier as the pleasure built up. You weren't from Iowa, you were from Staten Island. Your dick grew longer with each tug. You were married, and your wife loved your amazing body. The pleasure built up even more. Shit, everyone loved your amazing body. With one final tug, your thick cock shot out ropes of cum, and with it, every memory you had of your previous life. You lived in New York now.

The shorter stylist pulled out a towel and began to wipe your thick and muscled body clean, as the taller one grabbed your tailored suit off of the hanger. Standing up, you lifted your thick legs as the stylists pulled your pants on. You lifted your thick arms outward, exposing your forested armpits, as your dress shirt was brought onto your body. The two stylists buttoned you up. Lifting your arms again, you felt the fancy jacket pulled over you. Sitting down again, you were handed your tie. As you tied, the shorter stylist lifted your large feet into dress socks and placed them in your shoes. Once you finished tying your tie, you stood up, and without acknowledging the two women, you turned towards the door and began walking through the halls. You knew exactly where you were headed. As you reached the backstage area, a man placed your mic on your jacket. Finding your seat, you heard the intro music play. This was your job. The audience was applauding for you. You read your cue card.

"Welcome to Weekend Update, I'm Colin Jost."

An Olympic Diver

The local community center had recently set up a high diving board at the pool, and you were super stoked to give it a try. Diving through the air, and landing into the water after doing some flips and other moves, it all looked so graceful and awesome. If you were able to really pull those dives off, you would be the talk of the town. Maybe one day you could even win a gold medal at the Olympics! All you had to do was learn.

Since it was just diving, you decided that there was no need to take any lessons or classes or anything. You had seen plenty of videos of people on the high dive before, and you were confident that you could easily replicate them. Mounting to the top of the board, you had absolutely no hesitations or second thoughts as you approached the edge of the board.

Looking down and past your feet, you could tell just how high up the board was. But you were confident that you could effortlessly land a dive after a couple of front flips. You knew how to dive, and you knew how to flip into a pool. How difficult could it be? Plus, even if you messed up and somehow landed incorrectly, you would be landing in water, so it couldn't possibly hurt. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

With a final deep breath, you jumped off the board towards the surface of the pool. Attempting to flip, you curled yourself into a tight ball, only to open up for a dive at the last moment. However, you had accidentally released too early and lost your momentum. Unable to shift your trajectory, your arrogance shifted to intense fear as your body rapidly descended through the air. You futilely tried to thrash your body in order to shift back towards the dive, but it was far too late. With a large splat, you belly-flopped directly into the pool.

Your body was on fire, and everything stung. Your ears were ringing and you were dazed. You could feel your heart pumping in your head. In your disorientation, somehow you managed to swim to the side of the pool and pull yourself out of the water. Everything was blurry, and you were stumbling toward your towel, which you had left on the bleachers.

Fumbling blindly, you finally grabbed a hold of your towel and began to attempt to dry yourself off. When your towel made contact with your body, it began to bulge outwards. You felt a pumping in your chest as your pecs expanded, with your nipples erect from the cold breeze on your wet chest. You rubbed the towel over your stomach, as new washboard abs emerged out of thin air. You lifted your arms above your head to dry your armpits. Thick, wet patches of hair pushed their way out from under your arms, which ballooned at the contact with the towel. Your forearms thickened and your biceps grew massive with a tattoo etching its way across. Wrapping the towel around your waist, your swimsuit transformed into a tight speedo, allowing your swelling thighs to rub against each other. Your calves thickened as well, with hair etching its way up your legs and towards your crotch, which began to push further and further into your new speedo, sending immense waves of pleasure throughout your body.

The pleasure erupting from your dick was so indescribably intense that it sent you into a euphoric haze on top of your disorientation. Looking down at your swelling dick, you paid no mind to your new muscular body. All you needed was to pleasure yourself. Reaching underneath your towel, you began to rub your dick through your speedo. Almost immediately, you began to orgasm, sending ropes of thick cum into your already wet speedo. Moaning in delight, your body spasmed as the pleasure overtook you. You threw your head back in pure ecstasy. As you continued to shoot out your seed into the speedo, slowly but surely the haze and disorientation dissipated.

Finally, the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced finished. You opened your eyes to look down at yourself, only to finally notice your massive muscular chest and abs. In disbelief, you raised an arm and flexed it, in awe of the mountains of muscle you now had on your body. Ripping the towel off of your waist, you saw your massive cock in the speedo, which had white fluid dripping from it onto your feet and the floor.

"Bloody hell!" You exclaimed.

You jolted, taken aback at what just came out of your mouth. You sounded British! Suddenly, against your will, your hands raised the towel to your head and began to dry off your hair. All of your previous memories began to disappear. You were born in the U.K. You were an Olympic diver for Team U.K. You were here at this pool practicing for the games next year. Another gold medal would be nice for your collection.

As all these thoughts and memories rushed into your head, you heard your phone ring on one of the bleachers. Answering the call and holding to your ear, you heard that it was your husband, Lance. "Thomas, are you finished with practice yet? You know I can't keep my hands off of you when you're all worked up and sweaty like that." You grinned at his desperation for your sexy diver body. You had this man in the palm of your hand. Who wouldn't want a piece of you? It was good to be Tom Daley.

The Main Event

You always took a weekend to go to the nearby music festival on the beach every summer. It was always a blast. There were usually some good artists playing, sometimes a few minor celebrities: nothing too crazy. After a long, cold winter, you were ready for another good summer of live music and a little bit of drinking. However, it seems also though the vibe of the festival had been slightly changed this year.

Arriving at the beach, it was clear that something was different. There were thousands of people all huddled around the stage. Where there usually were some picnic tables or beach chairs there were crowds of people. There was no space to sit. On the stage in the distance was some DJ playing his set, and the area by the front of the stage was crowded with sweaty, intoxicated teenagers, trashing around wildly.

Although the energy was wildly different this year, you were still determined to find some way to have a good time. Resigned to the back of the crowd, you found an empty spot on the sand and sat down, allowing yourself to bask in the warmth of the sun. The morning had been cold when you got in your car to drive here and the forecast hadn’t called for so much sun, so you were dressed for colder temperatures. Your yellow chinos and white t-shirt reflected the sun's rays and seemed to be glowing in their own right. However, the brightness of your clothing didn’t prevent someone from stepping right into you and tumbling face-first into the sand.

Looking to your side, you saw an older man with a lanyard around his neck that said “Event Promoter”. He had managed to sit back up but he was wiping the sand from his eyes, aggressively trying to clear his vision.

Rushing to help the man back to his feet, you grabbed his hand. Almost instantly, you felt your mind empty. You had no more thoughts. You were fixated on this man. The man, having cleared the sand from his eyes, looked you up and down, and nodded. Still holding your hand firmly, he stood up and began guiding you through the crowd of energized people. The warmth of the bodies around you caused you to sweat profusely, but you didn’t care. This man was guiding you, and all you needed was to follow him. Approaching the front of the stage, the man separated with an aggressive shove two people open-mouthed kissing, before taking you around the side to the wings of the stage. Dripping with sweat, you stopped walking when the man turned around and held your face with his hands.

“You’re going to be the main event”

With those words, your eyes rolled toward the back of your head. You began panting heavily, trying to cool your body down. With each breath, your body swelled. Your chinos grew tight around your swelling ass and thighs. They grew taut and muscular, stretching those poor pants to the absolute limit. Your chest, as it heaved, began expanding into a shelf of raw muscle. Your abs pushed their way one at a time from your torso. Your shoulders stretched outward from your neck, ripping your shirt into pieces as it fell towards your feet. Your biceps swelled into mountains of muscle, veins snaking their way down your forearms, which thickened, and towards your now massive hands and fingers. Dark, sweaty hair swirled its way from the center of your chest, encircling your nipples and nestling its way into your armpits, which were dripping with your odor. The hair crawled down your chiseled abs towards your crotch, which pushed against your pants, swelling to an incredible size. The man took his hands off of your face and you looked down at yourself. You felt incredible. You looked incredible.

The man beamed at you, admiring your massive frame and admiring his handiwork. “Okay, Zac. Are you ready to give this crowd the greatest show they’ve ever seen?”

Staring back at the promoter, you nodded with a cocky grin and stepped out from the wings and onto the stage. As soon as the crowd caught sight of you, they went apeshit. Why wouldn’t they? You were an international superstar. You were the main event. You were Zac fucking Efron. They had all come to see you and your massive sexy muscles. Through the roar of the crowd, you could make out voices yelling at you to show off your muscles. Staring back into the crowd with all of those screaming, lustful faces, you smirked. So they want a show? You’ll give them exactly what they want.

Heartstopping Tank Top

You had always been a skinny guy. Growing up, people often made fun of you for how little you seemed to look. During your spring semester of junior year of college, you decided to study abroad in London. You had a job lifeguarding in the summer, and you wanted to make sure you were in good physical condition and looked good for the girls at the pool. You made a promise to yourself that you would return to the U.S. with a more muscular physique. 

So, you found a gym near your dorm and went to sign up. After singing some forms and paying for a day pass, the attendant at the front desk handed you a large white tank top and said, “Oy, this’ll help you grow into a real muscle lad”.

You shrugged it off as a harmless sales pitch and went to the locker room to put on the tank top. It was way too large, but the attendant seemed really enthusiastic about you wearing it, and you didn’t want to be rude to someone in a foreign country, so you decided to stick it out and start your workout.

Exiting the locker room, you made a bee-line for the first open machine you saw. After reading the graphics and demonstrations on the metal, you sat down and began your workout. It felt… surprisingly great! You could get used to this! With each machine you went to, you felt a strange sensation pulsating from your tank top. Unbeknownst to you, they seemed to be growing at an accelerated rate, much faster than should be naturally possible, stretching and bulging under your skin. 

Your arms were the first to change. Your once skinny biceps and triceps began to thicken and expand, stretching the arms of your tank top with bulging muscles. As you flexed, you could see the new definition in your arms, and your veins popped out from under your skin.

Your chest was the next area to change. You pecs began to swell and harden, pushing out from your ribcage with an impressive mass. Your nipples stood out like little knobs atop your chest, and you could feel the fibers of your muscles contracting with every heavy breath you took. Hair began to push its way from your pecs and swirled its way into your armpits, which were moist from your intense workout.

Your back muscles were the next to grow. As you pulled down on the lat pulldown machine, you could feel your lats expanding like wings on your back. You could feel as your spinal erectors bulged out, creating a column of muscle that ran down your spine, widening your torso and giving you immense bulk.

Your abdominal muscles became chiseled, with each muscle fiber becoming visible through your top. Your six-pack was now a washboard, and your obliques became well-defined ridges.

Your legs swelled too, with your quads becoming massive and your hamstrings bulking up. Your glutes expanded into globes of muscle, stretching your gym shorts. Your calves became rock hard, with the muscles contracting and relaxing with every step you took.

As you continued to work out, your hair began to lighten, and your facial features began to change. Your jawline became more pronounced, and your face became wider. Your eyes turned an intense hazel, and your skin took on a healthy glow. You had become someone… new.

Dropping the weights, you looked into the mirror, and you recognized exactly who you were. You were Kit Connor. You had never been an American. You had worked hard for these big muscles and your successful career. You had always been Kit Connor. You flexed your new massive muscles in the mirror, admiring your physique.

With your British accent, you mused “I am one fit lad.” You turned back to the mirror and posed for your Instagram. In no time, you're sure it'll be filled with a bunch of gay lads trying to get your attention... just how you liked it.

Rihanna at Christian Dior’s SS 2017 in Paris. (30th September 2016)

☆

Marilyn Monroe photographed by Milton Greene (1953)

Changing Up

Trevor was tired.  Tired of being a hick from the middle of nowhere Texas.  He idolized those who were in the spot light.  Able to be whoever they wanted and still loved by hundreds of thousands of people.  The person in his mind who personified this the most was Justin Bieber.  Sure, he peed in buckets and sped down streets in expensive sports cars.  But lately, he’d gone back to his roots.  People appreciated it.  Trevor noticed.

One night while at a local country bar, Trevor saw a guy in a hoodie and a guitar in a case walked in.  He looked, similar to the Biebs.  The guy walked onto the stage and took a guitar out of the case.  He started playing and singing.  It was him.  Justin was here.

People stopped dancing and started chanting for him.  Trevor included.  Justin took his shirt off while another patron came up and played the guitar for him.  Trevor was in awe.  His body wasn’t much different than his.  Some tattoos and more definition.

Trevor started growing taller in the audience.  His muscles becoming thicker and more noticeable.  His hair becoming much thicker and coifed under his hat.  Trevor’s face became more angular and defined.  Justin on stage seemed concerned like he felt weird all of a sudden.  He said on the mic he’d be right back and ran to the restroom.  Trevor followed.

When Trevor walked in he saw that Bieber was thinner and shorter.  Trevor say his own face looking back at him.  When Trevor looked in the mirror, he was instantly hard.  It was Justin Bieber.  He was Justin Bieber.  Trevor smirked and went out to finish the set.