Interactive: Preying at The Altar, ch. 5 (Patreon)

Chris squirmed as he sat in traffic.  He was feeling restless and edgy from his subpar score the night before.  

“Ow..damn…” He was also feeling uncomfortable.  He winced, shifting his weight.  His legs were sore and his jeans felt like they were cutting off circulation.  All of this conspired to make his already feeble attempt at going to work seem like even more of a bad idea.  He was in a rotten mood, and if he was this uncomfortable after sitting in the car for twenty minutes, he couldn’t imagine that hours at a desk would be any better.  “Fuck it…” he sighed, driving past the turn off for his office.  Hitting the gym seemed like a much better idea.  

By the time he pulled into the parking lot he felt like he had leggings on.  He couldn’t figure it out.  He wore these jeans specifically because of how well they fit and how well they showed off his developed legs.  From his vantage point looking down those legs didn’t seem any bigger, yet when he went to climb out of his car he could barely move.  

“What the fuck is going on…” he muttered as he leaned into the backseat to grab his gym bag.  The loud ripping sound was like a gunshot.  “Fuck!”  Chris reached around and felt the large tear running right down the middle of the back of his pants, wide enough that his fingers brushed against the thin cotton of his boxers.  “Well so much for...these…” he trailed off as he kept pawing at his backside.  Something felt wrong.  Instead of two small, solid mounds of muscle, his cheeks seemed to keep going.  “...the hell is this…” he said under his breath, trying to look over his shoulder.  When that didn’t work he used his reflection in one of the car’s window, but told himself that the larger bubble in his shredded pants was just a trick of the curving glass. 

“Whoa!  Wardrobe malfunction?”  Brent, one of the regulars, laughed as Chris walked in.  

“Apparently,” Chris sighed, knowing he was never going to hear the end of it from everyone who saw him before he made it to the locker room.  Given how uptight he was about his appearance, he was sure that everyone was just waiting for a moment like this.  Which is why Brent’s next words were so unexpected.   

“I’m surprised you even tried jeans with that thing,” the sweating, shirtless man said, giving Chris’s half-exposed ass a swat.  

Chris froze.  The pat on the ass wasn’t out of the ordinary for the gym, it was the feeling of Brent’s hand on bare skin that caught his attention.  “Uh, lesson learned I guess,” he said, the words not making sense even as they left his mouth.  He waved to some of the other guys as he hurried to the back of the gym, trying not to think about their bemused expressions as they looked at his tattered jeans.  He frantically kicked his shoes off as soon as he reached the lockers and tugged the confining denim down. 

Chris’s stomach dropped at the sight.  His mouth opened and closed wordlessly as he paled, then turned a deep shade of embarrassed red upon seeing the neon pink thong he was somehow wearing.  The plaid boxers he’d just put on earlier that morning were nowhere to be seen.  He stared at the small garment in disbelief.  The thin material left his long, heavy cock and thick balls so well outlined that he might as well have been naked, but the true horror came when he went over to the mirrors.  

Instead of a set of small, solid cheeks, Chris found himself looking at a large, gravity defying bubble.  His ass had already pushed out far enough that the back of his tight polo rested on top of the globes, and he understood why people wondered at him trying to conceal something like that in a pair of tight skinny jeans.  

He shook his head at the thought, telling himself that he shouldn’t understand any of this.  He reached around and gave the globes a squeeze, blushing when he felt his fingers bite in.  They were still impressively solid, but that firmness was covered by a layer of soft, supple skin that was eager to bounce.  

Panicking, Chris pulled his polo off and inspected his reflection.  He eventually breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that the rest of his tight, sculpted body hadn’t changed.  Same impressive pecs, same ripped abs, same beefy arms, same dusting of hair; the only thing that appeared to have changed was his inflated backside.  

“‘Sup, Cakes?”  

Chris spun away from the mirror when Josh, one of the other regulars, came into the room.  He blushed when he realized what he was wearing and wished he’d just been naked instead.  He’d never worn anything like the pink thong in his life, so to be caught in nothing but was humiliating.  Or at least it should have been.  “Hey man,” he said casually, his eyes lingering on his friend as the other man undressed.  He watched Josh peel out of his sweaty muscle shirt and drop his shorts with more interest than usual, being especially captivated by the thick bulge in Josh’s grey briefs.  The other man was every bit as built as himself, and Chris suddenly felt insecure in his bright little underwear.  Something about his strange new feelings sent a rush of concern through him.  He was more than a little bothered to even have such feelings in the first place, but that wasn’t the real cause of his worry.  He forced himself to look away before Josh noticed his staring.  

“So what was with the jeans?”  Josh asked as he pulled his briefs down and let his thick, squat cock flop free.  

Chris felt like he was punched in the gut at the sight.  Fortunately Josh’s back was turned as he dug through his locker for a towel so he didn’t see Chris actually lick his lips.  “Oh...uh...I...don’t know…” Chris finally stuttered, realizing it was true even as he said it.  

He looked away just as Josh turned back around.  “Eh, it was worth a shot, right?” the other man laughed as he headed off to the showers.  

Chris turned back to his reflection, hoping that the sight of himself would remind him of who he was.  Instead, he felt like he was looking at a stranger.  His stomach was still fluttering from the view of Josh’s brawny, naked body, and those memories mixed with his heavy, outlined bulge in the tiny pink thong didn’t make him feel any better.  He hoped getting out on the floor would help.  At least he could cover up.  

His hope only lasted as long as it took for him to open his gym bag.  “Oh, cooooome on!”  Chris’s hands shook as he reached in and pulled out a pair of small, nylon running shorts.  He should have had a pair of standard length, black mesh shorts and a tank top, but the thin, white shorts were the only thing inside.  “This is...how is any of this…” he felt like he was going into shock as he pulled them on.  Not only was his bright pink thong visible through the thin material, the slits in the sides left most of his inflating cheeks exposed.  He was extra horrified when he passed the mirror on his way out to the floor and saw the prominent whale tail he was sporting.  He wanted to bolt, but his body was on autopilot.  Part of him knew this was all wrong, but a growing voice in his head told him he was being ridiculous.  

That voice was echoed by everyone else in the gym.  As terrified as Chris was by his circumstances, no one else batted an eye.  Aside from his new nickname of “Cakes”, it was more or less business as usual.  The “more or less” came from Chris’s growing inability to take his eyes off the other guys.  Instead of viewing them like competition as he usually did, he was viewing them the same way he eyed a hook up prospect at the bar.  And the longer he was around them, the more he got the impression that the other guys knew it.  They would teasingly flex when they knew he was watching and would go out of their way to give his bouncing new ass a swat.  

And bounce it did.  Chris had been mortified when he’d started working out and felt how vigorously his new additions shook and jiggled with each movement.  If he felt like everyone was staring at him, it’s because they were.  It was hard not to look at the lean, ripped man with the oversized bottom.  He’d continued to grow, and by the time he was done with his workout he looked like he had two basketballs strapped to his back.  His ass had reached massive proportions; much larger than someone should have been able to build through exercise alone.  And given how precision sculpted the rest of him was, the disproportionate size was even more jarring.  The shorts that had been revealing to start with were wedged between the growing cheeks so deeply that Chris was left almost entirely hanging out in the open.  

Surprisingly, the changing man was starting to enjoy it.  He liked the stares he got from everyone.  He’d always enjoyed using his looks to be the center of attention, and while he knew none of this should have been possible, that hadn’t changed.  Neither had his enjoyment of flirting.  The objects of his flirtation had changed drastically, but trying to charm the guys at the gym was hitting the same button as the ladies at the bar.  

Back in the locker room, Chris took his time in the shower, knowing full well that several of the other guys were watching his every move.  He specifically bent and shook his ass whenever he could to give them a show.  Instead of feeling insecure like he had when he first arrived, Chris felt confident and in control knowing that his impressive cheeks could make even the straightest man drool.  

When he got back to his locker and found another neon thong and a pair of cotton joggers instead of jeans, he wasn’t surprised.  His polo was gone too, replaced by a brightly colored, open sided muscle shirt.  He didn’t hesitate to pull them on, thoughts of his original clothing gone altogether.  Whatever new world he’d stumbled into, it was starting to gel.  

“Hey man, you headed into work?”  

Chris turned and saw Brent smiling at him.  The stocky, sculpted man had his gym bag slung over his shoulder and looked like he was just arriving.  “No, I think I’m taking the…” Chris swayed as the room seemed to spin around him.  Hadn’t Brent already been here when he’d arrived?  His confusion further grew when he saw the clock on the locker room wall said it was almost 9:30pm.  Chris could have sworn that it was late morning when he’d arrived.  “Shit!” he said, instead of giving voice to his confusion.  “I’m going to be late!  I’m supposed to go on at ten!”  

“You better hurry,” Brent laughed as Chris scrambled.  “I was gonna come by and see you later.”  

“You better,” Chris said, rubbing Brent’s flat, solid stomach as his lips brushed the shorter man’s ears.  

Chris didn’t think about where he was going or what he was doing as he ran to his car and sped off into the night.  He just knew he needed to get somewhere fast.  He started to get curious when he found himself in the college bar district, and even more curious when he was running down the sidewalk towards Mickey’s.  Chris didn’t stop to think about why he was rushing into a gay bar as he ran inside.  

“There you are!”  The large man behind the bar shouted over the crowd.  “You’re on in five!”  

“Sorry Mickey!”  Chris waved, flashing the charming smile he knew usually won people over.  Mickey just shook his head and pointed to a door in the back.  

“Hey dude,” Chris waved to the DJ as he opened the door and scrambled inside.  He was kicking off his shoes and peeling out of his shirt before the door even shut.  

“About time.”  A sculpted ginger in a glittery bikini sighed and rolled his eyes when Chris barreled through the door.  

“Sorry! It’s been a weird day,” he said as he shucked his joggers and adjusted the small neon thong.  

“You’re such a diva,” the ginger laughed, giving him a peck on the forehead.  “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”  

Chris snapped the elastic of the man’s bikini as the music started blaring.  It wasn’t until he stepped up behind the closed curtain that the reality of the situation hit him.  Chris was suddenly aware that he was in nothing but a hot pink thong, with an impossibly inflated ass, about to go out onto a stage in a crowded bar.  His heart started pounding as a nauseating wave of terror washed over him.  Why was he even there?  Why did he think this was his job?  How did he know these people?  

All of the racing thoughts came to a head just as the curtain split open.  His world narrowed to the bright glare of the lights and the sea of hungry faces staring up at him.  There was a pause, a single moment of hesitation, and then his body knew what to do.  Chris found himself out on stage gyrating and twerking to music like he’d done it countless times.  His movements were fluid and practiced, not the drunken flailing of his usual dance moves.  

The crowd loved it.  From the front, he was the all american man; sculpted muscles, ripped abs, hairy chested and hung.  But from the back, he was a thick cheeked twerk queen.  His obscenely inflated globes were in perpetual motion.  They shook, they bounced, they clapped on command.  His granite biceps and flopping package were impressive in their own right, but they couldn’t hold a candle to the real, shaking stars of the show.  

The night passed in a blur of stranger’s faces and stranger’s hands on his body.  Chris scooped up money that was thrown on stage and snapped it into the elastic of his thong, until that too came off and he was writhing around naked.  

As with the gym, he’d started the set terrified and ended it feeling like a pro.  He was flushed and sweaty and turned on by all the attention.  The crowd had thinned and he was taking a break by the bar to peruse his options when he felt yet another hand rest on one of his thick cheeks.  “You were on fire up there tonight.”  

Chris turned and saw Brent smiling sheepishly at him.  “Hey! Thanks!” he beamed and swallowed the other man in a bear hug.  “Did you catch the whole thing?”  

“I got here just as you were making them clap out the national anthem.”  

“They’re nothing if not patriotic,” Chris said, flexing a cheek against Brent’s palm.  “So, uh, you wanna go back to my place?”  

Brent nodded eagerly.  “I’d love to.”  

“Hey, Mickey, I’m out for the night.  I’ll come back for my cut tomorrow.”  He jerked his head towards Brent and winked.  The big man behind the bar just laughed and waved him off.  

Chris was back in his element.  Despite taking a guy home instead of a girl, he knew exactly what he was doing.  He had Brent’s shirt off and pants undone almost as soon as they’d walked in his door.  The short, burly man felt wonderful in his arms.  It was as if Chris’s love for smooth skinned, large breasted women had been inverted to buff, muscular men.  He didn’t question it.  His mouth was too busy working one of the tiny nipples on Brent’s buff chest as he slid the other man’s pants free.  He dropped to his knees and used his teeth to tug Brent’s briefs down, loving how the hardening cock felt against the side of his face.  Chris’s love for going down on women had carried over like the rest and he groaned against the thick, wide cock that filled his mouth.  

It was while his head bobbed hungrily back and forth that he finally realized what felt off.  Going down on a guy no longer seemed odd, but the long, limp cock that dangled between his powerful thighs didn’t feel right.  He was so turned on he felt like he would explode.  He should have been hard and throbbing, yet his cock didn’t twitch in the slightest.  

“Whoa...whoa...not so fast…” Brent laughed, pulling away. 

“Sorry...guess I’m eager…” Chris panted, rubbing his face against the slick rod.  

“Come on then.”  Brent pulled Chris to his feet and leaned in for a long kiss that lasted until Chris shoved the shorter man down onto the bed.  With the same fluid movement he’d shown on stage, Chris crawled on top until he was straddling Brent’s waist.  “OOOOOHhhhhhh…” Brent groaned when Chris popped his hips and his ample new rear swallowed him in one expert movement.  

“FFFFFuuuuuuuccccckkkk yesss…” Chris groaned, flexing his powerful arms behind his head as he felt pleasure like he’d never experienced before.  He let out a deep, contented sigh as he rocked on his knees and worked Brent in deeper.  His own impressive cock and heavy balls were still resting limply on Brent’s abs, but he no longer cared.  The sensations he felt from having the other man inside him were infinitely more intense than how it felt to be inside someone else.  “Ready?”  At Brent’s wide-eyed nod, Chris went to work.  He started rocking his hips and swaying on the other man’s lap while his dexterous hole worked Brent’s cock like a fist.  He bounced up and down, his mammoth cheeks never losing the vacuum seal they had on the whimpering man.  

Chris had another flash of terrified awareness when his limp dick started oozing.  Again, the handsome, athletic man from the front was contrasted with the supple, muscular cheeks in back.  Thoughts of all the women he’d fucked flashed through his mind as he realized that he’d never again be on the delivering end of things.  He stared down at his soft hose, trying, and failing, to remember what it looked like at its hardest.  Chris felt helpless as he realized, somehow, the world had changed around him.  

“GGGnnfff….guh...goddamn...you’re...goooooOOOHH….” Chris’s terror quickly faded at Brent’s loud groan.  The man’s stubby fingers bit into Chris’s hairy thighs as he shuddered with pleasure.  That’s when Chris knew.  He wasn’t being fucked by Brent, he was using his ass to fuck the other man.  He may have been the bottom, but it was clear who was in control.  As the memories of the women he’d fucked faded, new memories took their place.  Chris’s head filled with countless men who he’d worked just like he was working Brent.  In each of the memories, he wasn’t some submissive bottom, but a dominant, driving force.  

“Don’t quit on me yet,” Chris purred, kneading Brent’s pecs as he renewed his attack.  

**********

Braden gasped, his vision blurring.  He felt weak and disoriented as he squirmed on the altar.  His brain reeled at the thought of handsome, ladykiller Chris suddenly becoming a limp dicked queer.  It was too much.  Watching his friend dance around naked on stage had been bad enough.  Watching him thirstily bottom for another man was more than he could handle.  

“My, my,” the dapper man said, steepling his fingers and tapping them together.  “One of your friends is hard all the time, and one will never be hard again.  One grows in the front...one grows in the back.  Nature abhors a vacuum, I guess.”  The man tossed his head back and laughed, scooping up a fingerful of the ample cum still running across Braden’s buff frame.  He licked the finger clean and sighed.  “Who are we kidding.  Nature has nothing to do with this.  It does make me wonder, though, how you’ll end up.”  

“No...please...no more…” Braden pleaded.  The man shook his head and seemed to blur.   Braden had a flash of his true, monstrous appearance again and thought he saw large shapes moving in the night skies above them.  

“You know that won’t work.  It’s a sign of maturity to take your punishment like an adult, you know.”  He rubbed Braden’s thigh encouragingly.  “It’ll all be over soon.  Who should we visit next?”