The Pexorcist (Patreon)

Dean gritted his teeth in frustration, his heart racing at the buzzing, disembodied voice.  The sound was simultaneously grating yet smooth, the contradiction in tone just as impossible as its very presence in his head to begin with.  Or, to be more precise, his chest.  The fit brunette’s chiseled pecs had possessed a mind of their own ever since an attempted ritual-gone-wrong allowed a demon to take up residence in them a few days earlier.  Despite having a face and body that most would describe as “perfect,” Dean wanted to see if he could improve on things through supernatural methods.  He hadn’t really believed that it was possible, but after watching countless videos on social media about “manifesting” and how he could reshape his reality through a simple ritual, he’d decided there wasn’t any harm in trying.  The impish invader currently cohabiting his body was proof of how wrong he’d been, and the adjustment was proving to be a turbulent one.

It’s getting hot under here.  You’re being very unreasonable, Dean.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” the flustered hunk muttered under his breath.  “There’s not much I can do for you right…” Dean broke off in a surprised gasp.  His sharp cheeks went red beneath his trimmed, chocolate beard when first his left pec flexed and bounced of its own accord, quickly followed by his right.  The motions continued in an alternating fashion, as if a small dog was circling in search of a perfect spot.  For Dean, the sensation was jarring but not unpleasant, far from it, feeling as if his chest was being groped and massaged by invisible hands.  Watching the ample muscle twitch and bounce and flex on its own beneath his regrettably tight polo was both embarrassing and arousing, with the latter creating a feedback loop as it fed into the former.  The chocolate-haired hunk’s unwanted guest seemed to revel in his host’s discomfort, with the demon’s joy manifesting as bright darts of pleasure up and down the flustered man’s spine.  “Would you please settle down,” Dean hissed under his breath after a coworker passed his open office door.  They hadn’t seen the dancing pecs, and he wanted to keep it that way.

No, the demon said, eliciting another gasp when it centered on Dean’s right pec and caused the heavy muscle to bounce up and down.  First you try to shave me bald, and now you want to keep me locked up all day?  Is this how you treat your guests?

“Okay, one, you’re not a guest.  And two, don’t try to act like you’re my actual chest talking to me,” Dean grumbled.  “They never seemed to mind a haircut before.”  He was still amazed at what he’d seen the night before, how the chest he always kept smooth had suddenly blossomed with silky fur.  Dean wasn’t overly hairy in his natural state, sporting a light, curly coating that didn’t spread much from his chest, but given how much time he spent topless he’d kept it smooth out of habit.  He’d started shaving it in his high school days and continued through college, and he didn’t see any reason to stop simply because he’d finally crossed into his thirties.  That was the irony of the demon’s request since, in most situations, Dean actually preferred to be shirtless.  He liked to show off his broad shoulders, sculpted pecs and impressive abs.  His day job may have kept him behind a desk, but he’d worked a side-hustle as a personal trainer for years, maintaining the virile, athletic physique that had made him a hit with men and women all over town.  When his bright eyes, plump lips and easy smile were thrown into the mix, the charming stud went from “hot” to “effervescent”, his laid back personality attracting just as many partners as his stunning body.  “I can’t just pop my top in the middle of the office.”

Oh, is that all?  You should have said something earlier instead of being so difficult.

“NNnggnn…” Dean grunted and doubled over in his chair when his tiny nipples suddenly shot to attention, a pleasant mild vibration emanating from both.  As when they moved on their own or sprouted hair, the sensation was equal parts surprising and arousing, leaving the handsome hunk all the more embarrassed as his fat cock surged to a semi-hard state under the blissful buzzing.  “What…did you just do…” he sputtered, squirming in his seat.  “What’s happening?”

Let me out and see for yourself, the demon said, its tone growing impatient.

“For the last time, I’m not going to…”

Rude.  Rude is what you are, the demon interrupted.  Ungrateful, unhelpful, and unaccommodating.

“Hey!  No!  Knock it off,” Dean yelped when his arms started moving of their own accord.  He’d already learned the hard way that the demon’s influence wasn’t limited to its pectoral prison, and he’d failed to consider the possibility of a full-body takeover at the office.  He struggled in vain to keep his hands on the desk as they drifted towards his shirt, untucking the navy polo and casually peeling it free.

MUCH better, the demon sighed, tossing the shirt across the small office.  Get rid of that thing.

Dean tried to get up and retrieve it but the shirtless stud was locked in place, helpless to do anything other than sit and blush bare-chested and half hard when a pair of his coworkers walked by.  He braced himself for the shocked exclamations, but all he received were the usual friendly smiles and a lingering glance.  The same experience repeated itself a few moments later, and then again, making Dean’s head spin as yet another layer of impossibility draped itself over him.  “What is happening right now,” he finally asked, his nipples still buzzing with the same quiet intensity.

Though invisible, Dean could hear the shrug in the demon's voice.  This is where you say “thank you,” it said, its relief adding to the growing ache at the topless jock’s core.  Did you think you were the only one I can influence?  Now you’ll never have to worry about whether or not you can let me out.  You’re welcome.

“But…but…” Dean started, unsure how he felt about the revelation.  He was still horrified at the way he’d just been relegated to a passenger in his own body, but he was at least partially relieved that no one would react the way they should to his shirtless state.  The implications were staggering, far more than he could wrap his head around at the moment, and he was surprised to find that a part of himself actually was excited by the prospect.  The demon wasn’t wrong, given the option Dean preferred to wear as little as possible, but it was still an abrupt transition for the workplace.

Calm down.  You’re not fooling anyone, the demon said, reading its host’s thoughts.  Now give me a massage…using this much power when I’m still settling in always makes me sore.

“You want me to what?  I can’t just sit here groping my…”

Fine.  I’m too weary to argue at the moment.  Who was that one with the big hands?  Ah, yes, the demon purred, the vibrating at Dean’s nipples growing stronger.

“No!  Wait!  Fine…I’ll do it!  Just let me…” Dean’s hands failed to respond as he frantically tried to raise them to his chest, a battle he was still waging when his coworker Steve’s hulking frame appeared in his door a few minutes later.

“Oh, wow, you do look tense,” the burly meathead said as he hurried into Dean’s office.  Steve worked in the IT department and was a few years younger than the shirtless man, his massive, meaty frame always looking out of place behind a small computer.  They regularly crossed paths in the company gym, spotting each other and comparing notes on personal bests, and while Dean had always appreciated the buzzed-headed bruiser's rugged looks, the bigger man had never seemed like the type to be interested in giving him a rubdown.  “You should’ve called me earlier, bro.”

Dean couldn’t hold back a groan when Steve slipped around behind his chair and draped a pair of heavy arms over him.  He arched his back as soon as the bodybuilder’s calloused fingers found their way to his hyper-sensitive chest, a wave of pure, unfiltered pleasure making him immediately regret his predilection for “performance” oriented fabrics as the thin material of his chinos did nothing to obscure the sight of his thick, aching cock.  Normally Dean loved the way the fitted fabric showed off his solid bubble and muscled thighs, but at the moment he was mortified by its betrayal as it left his ample rod fully visible to the man towering over him.  And the fact that the desk at least obscured its view to any passersby did little to ease the brunette’s flustered nerves, as those onlookers were still greeted by the sight of his furry pecs being vigorously groped by the mountainous man.

“I’d ask if this feels better, but…” Steve trailed off in a chuckle, his eyes lingering on the detailed outline of Dean’s fat log.

The shirtless stud didn’t know how to respond.  “Sorry about that…I, uh, don’t usually…I mean…it’s, uh, been a rough few days,” he stammered, his whole body going crimson.

“I’m just giving you shit, dude,” Steve said, his stubby fingers alternating the pace and pressure of their probing.  “I don’t want to make it weirder, but since you’re already blushing…has anyone told you that these things feel great,” he asked, giving the muscled mounds a bounce.  “It’s a good thing the back of the chair is between us right now…just sayin’.”

Dean wasn’t so sure he agreed with that statement, a point he barely managed to keep to himself.  At the moment, the thought of Steve’s stubby cock digging into his bare back sounded far more appealing than not, and it was taking all of his willpower not to stroke himself through his pants at the thought.

Why not let yourself free and fully enjoy the moment, the demon purred in response to his host’s growing urges.  I let go of your hands when he started, and I’m relatively certain no one will mind.  You’re about to start leaking anyway.

“Absolutely not,” Dean hissed before he could stop himself, his knuckles whitening as he clutched the arms of his chair.

“What was that,” Steve asked, confused by his friend’s sudden outburst.

The demon interjected before its host could respond.  Here…let me help.  Again.

Dean felt something shift inside him, but he didn’t know exactly what until he spoke.  “The…the chair,” he said, his stomach dropping when he felt the words coming.  “It is absolutely not a good thing.  I’ve seen your piece in the showers…I’d love to feel that right now,” Dean sighed, reaching a new level of humiliation when, as promised, a damp spot began to form in his pants.

Steve let out an awkward laugh in response, clearly caught off guard by his pretty peer’s unintended admission.  “You would, huh?  Gotta be honest, I always felt like I was getting a bit of a vibe from you.  I don’t usually fuck around with other dudes, but I’ve also never wanted to motorboat one’s tits before,” he said, his fingers finding their way to the Dean’s lightning rod nipples.

It was too much for the shirtless hunk.  Dean felt like he was falling, his spinning head refusing to accept the reality of the situation when he erupted in his pants, the copious load immediately soaking through his boxer briefs and spurting through the “moisture wicking” fabric.  The intensity of the release was like nothing he’d ever experienced, the overwhelming sensation fueled rather than lessened by his burning embarrassment as he came by the bucketful.

Now you’ve gone and made me work up an appetite, the demon rumbled in Dean’s chest.

The sound of the untouched office door suddenly slamming shut drowned out the spasming brunette’s whimpers, and, before he could stop himself, before he realized that he didn’t actually want to stop himself, Dean spun the chair around.  It wasn’t until he’d popped Steve’s fly and was tugging the bigger man’s pants and boxers down that it occurred to him that the demon wasn’t making him do any of this.  It was letting him.  As with the unintended admission of his earlier desires, all the demon had done was remove the barriers that prevented him from doing what he really wanted, which, at the moment, was to swallow all of the bigger man’s short, stout rod.  Dean groaned around the wide, invading organ, his hands gliding up Steve’s lumpy muscle gut before slipping back down to clutch the brawny meathead’s massive globes.  It wasn’t the first time that the bobbing brunette had a dick in his mouth, but it was the first time he’d blown a coworker, and it was certainly the first time he’d done so while actually at work.  None of those latter points mattered, though, as Dean’s eager mouth and nimble tongue gripped the grunting hunk’s aching organ, his handsome face gliding in and out between Steve’s meaty thighs with abandon.  He loved the way his trimmed beard mingled with the bigger man’s bush and fur-covered quads, and how it felt to have Steve’s huge hands messing up his perfectly appointed coif.

“You really…weren’t…kidding about wanting to…feel it…” the brawny beefcake groaned, seeming just as surprised to find himself face-fucking the shirtless stud.  He still wasn’t entirely sure what was happening himself.  One minute he’d been sitting at his desk, and the next he’d had a sudden impulse to seek out Dean and give him a massage.  He’d known it was a strange thought even as he’d had it, but it just felt right.  And now, feeling himself about to join the other man in his rapturous release, Steve was glad he’d decided to listen.  “Oh…oh shit…dude…I’m…I’m gonnna…”

Dean wanted nothing more than to swallow the load.  He wanted to feel it dribbling out of his pretty mouth and running through his beard, but the demon had other plans.  The slurping pretty-boy pulled his face away with surprising precision, continuing to pump the spit-slick cock with one hand while his other kneaded Steve’s churning balls, ensuring that as big a load as possible blasted all over his sculpted pecs.  He wasn’t prepared for just how good it was going to feel to have one hot load after the other splash against him, and that surprise only grew when, instead of running down the hairy mounds, the sticky liquid instead seeped into them.

Mmmmm…much better, the demon sighed, sucking in every last drop until there was no evidence remaining.

If Steve noticed the odd occurrence it didn’t show in his dazed, slack-jawed expression, his own impressive chest heaving as he caught his breath.  “Hooooooly shit,” the bigger man laughed, blinking and shaking his head.  “Didn’t have that on my list of meetings for the day.”

“We’ll have to make it recurring,” Dean said, still unable to stop himself.  “You give me a massage, I give you…” he paused, suddenly thinking of everything he wanted to do with the other man.  “...whatever you want,” he finished with a coy grin.

Steve reluctantly slipped his pants and boxers back into place, giving Dean’s messy hairy another rough rub.  “Be sure to send me that invite,” he said before opening the door and sauntering out of sight.

“I…I can’t believe you just…that we just…did that,” Dean stammered under his breath as he tried to collect himself.  He waited for a typically dismissive response, and when none came it occurred to him that the weight in his chest seemed more settled and content than it had, as if the demon was sleeping.  The light, pleasant hum still lingered, but as he got up to retrieve his shirt, Dean encountered no resistance in slipping it back on.  However, the fabric rubbing against his still-sensitive nipples immediately reminded him of the soaked pants clinging to his thighs, and Dean quickly scamered back behind his desk.

He remained there for the next several hours, waiting until his pants had at least dried before attempting to make an exit.  Dean didn’t know just how far the demon’s influence would extend if it really was taking a nap, nor did he want to test those boundaries and learn the hard way.  Instead, he carried his briefcase and gym bag in front of him when he finally hurried for the door, dreading that his cum-stained trousers would be discovered at any moment.  He’d thought about simply switching into his workout gear in his office, but he didn’t want to risk waking the demon and starting things all over again.  That same fear made him skip his usual stop at the company gym on the way out, his desire to get away from the public eye just barely overriding his borderline obsessive compulsion to work out.  It was that very vanity that had gotten him into this mess in the first place, and after what he’d done with Steve, after what he’d said to the other man, Dean didn’t trust himself to be in a locker room full of sweaty men in various states of undress.

The uncommonly aching desire he felt at the thought told him he’d made the right decision.  He tried to force the arousal from his mind on the way home, but Dean was still rock hard as he walked through the door.  The first thing he did was strip out of his cum-stained pants and boxer briefs, but he didn’t quite make it to the polo before a familiar voice buzzed in his brain.

Covered again?  Really?  I thought we’d talked about this.

Dean froze at the sound, still feeling a reflexive rush of exposure at being naked from the waist down, not to mention rock hard.  “What?  You were sleeping!”

Are you saying you wouldn’t get sweaty if I bury you in blankets while you’re asleep?  And after all the effort I went to earlier…

“Look, I told you, I can’t just walk around everywhere without a shirt on, okay?  Even if I like it, even if I wanted to, that doesn’t mean I can juuuUUUNNNHHH…!”  Dean broke off in a grunt, a vice-like pressure clamping down on his chest.  At first he feared he was having a heart attack, but as the tightness grew, as his precision-crafted pecs began to inflate, he realized it was much, much worse.  “Wa…wait!  Stop!  What…what are you doing?!” he cried as the muscled mounds pressed ever outwards.  The only response he received was a loud tearing as the fitted polo fell away, giving him his first glimpse of the impossibly oversized shelf.  The hairy slabs were still solid, only now they jutted out to a freakish degree, obscuring his view of anything below and sending bright shivers through him as the bottom of his bearded chin brushed against their tops.  The nubby nipples were now huge and hard, like the tips of his pinky fingers, nearly bringing him to his knees when he tested his limited range of motion and his arms brushed against them.

There.  Now the only thing you CAN’T do is cover me.

“But…but you can’t just…you can’t leave me like this!”  Dean groaned when he instinctively grabbed at the heaping piles of muscle, eliciting a fresh round of oozing from his recently obscured member.  His stomach dropped when he staggered over to a nearby mirror, the sight of his twisted, top-heavy new frame making his formerly perfect proportions a thing of the past.  Now he was freakishly warped, his imposing pecs looming like a muscled cliff between his broad shoulders.

And why not?  You wanted to be beautiful, right?  That’s what I made you.  You wanted to be looked at and lusted after?  Now you will be.  You wanted to flaunt your body?  Now you can.  Don’t you feel good right now?  Naked in all your glory?  You’ve been reborn, Dean.  The awkwardness will pass…you just need to get to know yourself.

The stunned stud wanted to argue, but he knew the demon was right.  He’d wanted a one-of-a-kind body.  He’d wanted to turn people on.  He actually did feel fantastic and unencumbered without the confining clothes, and, despite knowing the opposite should be true, the last thing he wanted to do was cover himself.  “Oh…oh god…” he moaned, dropping to his knees as he began groping the ballooning pecs.  He’d thought Steve’s calloused hands had felt good earlier, but they were nothing compared to the muscle-melting ecstasy that coursed through him now as he ran his fingers through the curly carpet and toyed with his oversized nubs.  A part of him was still horrified by the implications, that his body could be warped and twisted at any time by his unwanted guest, he just couldn’t bring himself to focus on it with the waves of bliss washing over him.  The only thing that would make it better was an audience, or a friend to join in.

Exactly, the demon said, letting out a satisfied purr as Dean went at himself.  I’m starting to get hungry again, anyway.  Why don’t you invite some friends over?