Overcast, ch. 20: Magic Wand (Patreon)

Evan could feel another one coming. His heart picked up the pace of its pumping, with bright little beads of pleasure crawling along his spine like ants. It seemed like it would be more of a squirmer than a howler, but Evan had been wrong about that before. Not that it mattered. Whether he let out a quiet grunt or bellowed like a beast, no one reacted at all the way they should have. The same went for the sight of his oversized cock, the permanently exposed, permanently hard organ garnering no more than a second glance or a hungry stare. Standing a respectable six feet with wavy, cognac-colored hair, sharp features, and an athletic build, Evan was well accustomed to those lingering eyes. But he’d never imagined receiving them for something like his current circumstances. He’d been well aware that hiring an unlicensed caster was risky, and he knew that things could take an unexpected turn. Horror stories weren’t hard to find, the Bureau of Magic Regulation was aggressive in their warnings; he just never thought it would happen to him.

All he’d wanted was a better dick. He’d wanted a cock to match the rest of his pretty-boy frame, not the thin, barely five-inch member that served as a constant source of embarrassment. And he didn’t want to wait. Even if he could have eventually saved up enough for a legitimate caster, Evan didn’t want to waste his mid-twenties prime. He wanted to be hot AND hung while he could fully enjoy it, not simply the former. Given the rest of his above-average appearance, the fit hunk knew his actions could be perceived as greedy. He already had the Three A’s, arms, abs and ass, in abundance. His pecs popped, his legs were sturdy and toned, and he’d never actually had any complaints about the utility of his compact equipment. He knew it was all in his head, that it wasn’t his problem if someone didn’t like the way he filled out his briefs, but the temptation was too strong.

From what he’d gathered since, he’d been in the wrong magical place at the wrong magical time, landing at the center of a perfect arcane storm. Not only had the bootleg caster been woefully negligent, they’d attempted the casting during the eldritch equivalent of a Red Flag wildfire warning. The energies were too potent, the ley lines too flooded with mystical forces, meaning that the slightest spark of a spell could turn into a raging inferno. Evan guessed that things still would have gone sideways even if the caster had waited for things to calm down, but at least then the effects would hopefully have been limited to just himself. His cock likely would have swelled to its thick, ten-inch proportions, and his inflated, churning balls likely would have kept the beast hard and hair-triggered. The aching organ would probably still be fully displayed by his automatically-altered clothing, shooting out through the absent fabric that vanished as soon as he put something on, but he wouldn’t have had to worry about what that organ did to the world around him with each eruption.

As it was, Evan had become a walking font of uncontrolled energy, his inflated cock a literal magic wand. Every orgasm sent a ripple through reality, the frequent explosions warping the world around him. As Evan’s potent rod sprayed, pumping out load after load, the sticky fluid sublimated, turning into a wispy smoke that changed whatever it encountered. Smaller explosions, like the random ecstasies that constantly occurred throughout the day, produced smaller effects. But the more potent releases, especially the ones that were generated the old-fashioned way, had a greater area of impact. Fortunately for him, Evan’s thickened club still functioned as a source of pleasure, as long as he was willing to accept the collateral damage that came along with it.

Spence, the bald beauty currently sitting across from him, was a constant reminder of that risk. When Evan first found himself in his new normal, as he’d watched his bedding and the color of his walls and the decorations in his room change, he had no idea what was happening. Those initial eruptions had come on hard and fast, wracking his fit frame with muscle-melting bliss, and when he’d staggered out of his room he had no way of knowing that he was putting Spence at risk. His friend had barely looked in his direction before Evan blew, and while the brunette questioned the other man’s lack of a reaction, he was far more concerned with what he saw. He’d watched the ropey strands swirl like incense smoke, sucking towards the strapping blonde as if his brawny, boxer-clad body was an exhaust fan. Spence was built like a slightly bulkier version of himself, same height, same chiseled features, with a full head of golden hair that had rapidly evaporated before Evan’s wide eyes. At the same time, the other difference between them was accentuated when Spence’s loose boxers shrank to an aqua jockstrap, his girthy package filling the straining pouch to capacity.

Evan had been horrified, but all Spence did in the moment was blink and shake his head, a broad grin on his face as he looked at his stricken friend. He was actually the one who’d asked the stunned brunette if everything was okay, not the other way around, apparently oblivious to the alterations he’d undergone. When Evan finally managed to sputter a response, his confusion had grown when Spence suddenly started acting like it was all some kind of roleplay. He’d watched the former-blonde’s fat cock twitch in the jock, and before he even knew what was happening, he was sitting on the couch with his friend bouncing up and down on his lap, eagerly impaling himself on the enlarged organ that had started everything. As far as Evan knew, Spence had been entirely straight until that point, but as the other man blissfully whimpered and moaned, he had a hard time holding onto that. His friend’s muscled globes felt entirely natural swallowing him to the hilt, as if they fucked around all the time. As if it was perfectly normal for Spence to be a bald, beautiful power-bottom.

His friend certainly didn’t seem to mind at the time, or during their daily encounters in the weeks since. Spence wasn’t just perfectly at ease in the bright, revealing new wardrobe that had replaced his previous clothes; Evan had never seen his friend happier. The bald jock was unburdened and uninhibited, acting for all intents and purposes as if he’d actually come out of the closet. Their relationship had shifted to something much more than friends, and while Evan had previously considered himself at least “mostly” straight, he’d gone along with the new status quo. Part of it was that he didn’t know what else to do, and part of it was that he felt guilty for what he’d unintentionally wrought. If Spence had a new craving for cock, the least he could do was provide sustenance. And it wasn’t as if it was a big shift. They were already as close as could be; they’d simply added in fucking and blow jobs and making out. Evan had been worried at first that his friend would continue to change with each release, but, fortunately, the magical changes were a one-and-done. Unfortunately, as he’d since learned, that also meant there was no reversing them.

To the caster’s credit, they’d at least done some research and followed up with Evan to explain what happened, and what would continue to happen. Small eruptions meant small changes, big eruptions meant big changes. Usually they were cosmetic in nature, affecting hair or eye color, occasionally making someone a few inches shorter or taller, or a few pounds heavier or lighter, but sometimes they went deeper. Every so often, personalities and orientations shifted. Voices changed. Thoughts and thinking power swayed. Considering their less-visible nature, Evan didn’t always know when these internal alterations occurred, and he was happy to keep it that way. Seeing the aftermath was like a punch in the gut. He’d been horrified the first time he’d popped off in the locker room and had watched a stocky bear’s fat log recede to a petite nub, but that was nothing compared to what he’d done to Dawson.

The raven-haired hunk had come over to hang out with him and Spence like always. They’d been friends for years, the three of them forming a handsome pyramid of which Dawson claimed the top spot. He was sculpted and smoldering, with pouty lips and dreamy eyes softening a body that appeared to have been carved from marble. Evan had always known how attractive his friend was, which he blamed in part for the strength of the release that occurred shortly after Dawson arrived. The brunette had arched his back and howled out of nowhere, spraying like a geyser and creating a fog cloud that encircled his friend. At first, Evan thought he’d lucked out. When the smoke cleared, Dawson seemed unchanged. The other man had blinked rapidly and shook his head, but, as the agonizing minutes passed, it became clear something fundamental had shifted. Dawson seemed increasingly distracted, fidgety, his hands absently sliding along his firm abs and meaty thighs. Evan kept catching his friend looking at himself and Spence, with a noticeable tent forming in the sculpted stud’s gym shorts, but it wasn’t until Dawson spoke that the weight of the changes sunk in.

The grinning hunk had asked if “it was, like, time to fuck around yet,” his once-shrewd tone now sounding considerably duller as he’d casually exposed himself and started stroking. It eventually became clear what happened, that Dawson had become a hunky, raven-haired himbo, now earning a living through OnlyFriends instead of his former job as an IT professional. Evan had been horrified at the thought of what he’d done, at how the formerly sharp Dawson now had an elementary reading level at best, but, like Spence, his friend had never seemed more content. The chipper stud was a sculpted teddy bear, freed from all the worries and anxieties that plagued his peers. He was a big-hearted hunk, eager to strip and flex and fuck if it made other people feel good. Dawson was making more money than he ever had in the past, and he had Evan, Spence and the rest of their friends to look out for him. He certainly didn’t appear to be suffering in any way, which was the excuse Evan used to keep from turning himself in.

The caster had explained that, due to the potent timing of the spell and the wires that had gotten crossed, he’d essentially become a blind spot, that neither the BMR nor Caster’s Inc. should ever pick up him, or his creations, on their respective radars. That left all the responsibility, and the guilt, on Evan’s broad shoulders, but he’d convinced himself that he was actually doing good in the world. Just because he wasn’t the one in control of the changes didn’t mean that the affected people weren’t, and he’d started to believe that what happened was for the best. Everyone seemed so happy afterwards that he told himself he was granting their wishes, whether they realized it or not. And, either way, it was a moot point. He was the only one who ever knew anything happened, even when other people witnessed the changes, and it was hard enough for him to hold onto that knowledge. Already he could barely remember Spence as anything other than a bald bottom, or Dawson as anything other than a dumb jock. And if a person’s life was impacted in a major way, if someone’s wife or children suddenly became incompatible with their new existence, that just meant they’d made the wrong choices.

But, even then, Evan had yet to see anything truly apocalyptic. The beefy bear whose cock he’d shrunk still showed up to the gym and still had a ring on his finger. His boss still had a wife and two kids in college despite the fact that the mid-fifties man now walked around the office with no pants and his button-downs tucked into a pair of skimpy bikini briefs. In the next cube over, Jerry’s life hadn’t been impacted either by his shift from ginger to blonde, or by the forty pounds of adorable paunch he’d acquired. And Damon, their burly security guard, still bragged about all the pussy he got, only now he was talking about his own slit getting pounded. So Emmory had gone from a six-foot stud to a five-foot twink? So Mitch had a perpetual whale-tail sticking up from between his inflated rear? The work still got done. Morale hadn’t suffered. As far as Evan was concerned, there was nothing to turn himself in for. After all, if he could find the silver lining to his altered lot in life, so could they.

Which is why he no longer dreaded the building pressure. Sitting in a crowded bar with his fat cock on display and ready to pop, Evan had nothing to fear and nothing to hide. More than anything he was excited, eager to see the gift that he was about to give someone.

“Ohhh, I know that look,” Spence chuckled, taking a sip of his beer. “Someone’s got ‘I’m about to cum’ face.”

“You don’t have to say it like I’m…shitting…a diaper,” Evan grunted, trying to let things build.

The bald beauty doubled down. He reached over and ruffled the brunette’s wavy mop, his meaty pecs bouncing in his skimpy tank-top from the motion. The tiny top and brighter, tinier shorts were a drastic departure from Spence’s former bar attire, but then again so was the gay bar itself. “Awww, is someone cranky,” he cooed.

Evan rolled his eyes and pulled away, the sight of his friend’s powerful, flexing arm pushing him closer to the edge. “Fuck you,” he spat, his smile giving him away.

“I hope so,” Spence nodded. “And I hope we can find a friend for the night. Dawson doesn’t dance for, what? Another hour? Gives us plenty of time.”

“Is dancing what we’re calling it now?” Evan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean…that’s how it starts. And even when he’s up there going to town on himself, he’s usually stroking to the beat, right?” Spence shook his head, his expression wistful. “Maybe we should just tell everyone he’s coming back home with us? Bet we’d get half the bar.”

“Which would give you a…quarter…of the…dick you…wannnNNNGGG…!” Evan tensed and grunted, finally losing the battle with the building eruption. A part of him was still surprised at how normal the public display of such an intimate action had become, but another part didn’t register anything odd at all. Instead of trying to cover or conceal his spurting he leaned back and let it fly, watching as the mist formed and floated to the nearby bar. The cloud didn’t have far to travel before it settled around a wiry, chocolate-haired man with pointed features and form-fitting clothes. The tight black t-shirt showed off his toned, trim torso and the skinny jeans highlighted his little bubble, none of which lasted for long. Evan had succeeded in building up the potency, and he grinned as the man began to inflate. Bony shoulders pushed apart, arms swelled, pecs ballooned, and a muscle-gut formed. Had it remained as it was, the small t-shirt would have been no match for the bulky growth, but the sleeveless crop it had become managed to, barely, contain the meaty new muscle. The edges were rough, as if cut with scissors, just like the excessively small, open-front denim shorts that clung to the man’s trunk-like thighs and plump, ample rear. They were so small the pockets hung exposed, just like most of the man’s ass, and, when he turned, the open button and unzipped fly showed a patch of dense, dark bush. Whoever he was, whoever he’d been, the man had gone from looking like a runner to a rugby player, his once-delicate features having taken on the same rugged edge as the rest of him. “What about that guy,” Evan said, nodding to the bar and taking a deep breath.

“Oh shit! Where the fuck did he come from,” Spence cried with an exaggerated gasp. “Dude’s about to give you a run for your money,” he laughed, nodding to the outline of the man’s thick cock as it came tantalizingly close to the sawed off leg of his shorts.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Go say hi.” Evan grinned as Spence adjusted his tank-top and sauntered over, barely getting out a few words before the man leaned in for a rough kiss. He’d gotten the impression that their new friend would be eager, and if there’d been any doubts the hands that disappeared into the back of the bald man’s shorts erased them. The pair was back at the table a few moments later, both breathing heavily.

“Sooooo…we’ve seen Dawson dance a bunch, right? We can maybe skip a night,” Spence said, his fingers brushing through the inflated stranger’s bush as he spoke. “I think we’re ready to take this party home. Do you want to text the big guy and tell him to get a ride to our place after?”

Evan smiled and nodded as he pulled out his phone, the phantom pulses of another impending release already beginning to register. It was looking to be a productive night on his end. “I’m telling him to bring some friends, too.”

**********

Voting Options

Option 1: A young jock tries to prank his friends by having a caster enchant a cup that causes hair growth in anyone who drinks from it, only to end up creating a group of horny, hairy bears. (hairy, muscle growth)

Option 2: A group of contractors working on a caster’s house find themselves changing to match the man’s tastes, growing hulking, rugged bodies while developing exaggeratedly pretty faces and giddy attitudes. (muscle growth, cock growth)

Option 3: A man who just wants to be handsome and desired gets more than he asked for as naked images and erotic videos of himself start popping up all over town, despite the fact that he doesn’t remember making them. (muscle growth, cock growth, stripped)

Option 4: BMR agents investigating a ruin inadvertently unleash a demon and get stuck in a lustful loop, continually embodying variations of each others’ fantasies. (stripped, various)