It had only been a few days since the formerly scrawny Tyler somehow exploded into a musclebound stud, but since then the two of them had been going at it constantly. The first time the normally straight Dylan found himself on the receiving end, he’d been more than a little confused. The athletic ladies’ man had no idea why he was suddenly desperate for another man’s cock. He’d initially blamed it on his shock surrounding Tyler’s impossible growth, but they both knew it was more than that. When they were together, he couldn’t take his eyes off his roommate, and when they were apart, he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was like a lovesick teenager all over again.
Logically, he knew they should be concerned. Like the change to his friend’s body, Dylan hadn’t had even the slightest interest in men prior to a few days ago. The fit young man had been around enough naked guys in locker rooms over the years to know at this point if he’d had a hidden desire. He wasn’t a closeted homophobe, either. He had no problem with gay guys or with admitting a man was attractive, and he didn’t care when guys hit on him, which was often. Yet, somehow, a flip had been switched inside him. It wasn’t even that just the thought of women did nothing for him now. The thought of doing anything other than getting stuffed left him cold.
Tyler didn’t seem to have a problem adjusting. The now-brawny ginger had been in a perpetual good mood since waking up with the body of a sculpted adonis. Dylan couldn’t blame him for that, but if he was bothered at all by a sudden interest in men, he wasn’t showing it. When they’d talked about it, Tyler had just shrugged his enlarged shoulders and said he’d do whatever felt good. Dylan knew for a fact that Tyler was, or should have been, as straight as himself. Or as straight as he used to be, at least. Now the freshly sprouted hunk was just as eager to fuck him as Dylan was to get fucked. Tyler had gone from a skinny, angsty artist to a horny, cheerful stud and neither of them could bring themselves to worry about it. No one could.
It was clear that something strange was happening all over campus. Everyone was talking about the strange behavior they either witnessed or engaged in since the other night, and Dylan had seen that behavior firsthand. The day after Tyler’s transformation, he’d walked into the locker room at the gym to find guys going at it everywhere. There were two men clearly fucking in one of the shower stalls, another pair pawing at each other by the lockers, and a trio getting handsy in the small sauna. The men were of varying ages and several reminded him of Tyler: impossibly muscled, with bodies and faces that he would have remembered seeing around the gym if they’d built their impressive physiques the old fashioned way. All around, the other men, several of whom Dylan did recognize, were throwing themselves at the beautiful newcomers. Instead of panic at their bizarre behavior, the guys all seemed to have the same giddy, eager energy. Himself included.
He was halfway through his workout that first day when he caught himself staring at a ripped goliath. The man, who looked to be in his early forties, was clad only in pair of small, thin shorts that did practically nothing to cover his bulging body. Dylan knew he was hard and tenting, as were many of the men around him, but he didn’t even think to cover himself. No one else was, so it seemed foolish. He was embarrassed, he could tell all the guys were, at least a little, but it only served to turn them on even more. The women who saw this all happening didn’t seem any more concerned than the affected men. They watched the group of nearly naked, erect guys fawn over each other with nothing more than mild disinterest.
Dylan managed to keep himself under control until he got home, at which point he practically tore his clothes off and threw himself on Tyler’s lap. They’d since gone back to the gym as a pair and joined in the fun with everyone else. Dylan still had a hard time wrapping his head around the sight of his new lover easily hefting heavy weight after heavy weight. He’d tried for years to get Tyler to bulk up, but his skinny friend’s metabolism refused to cooperate. Now the red haired hunk was bigger than he was and Dylan loved how that felt more than he ever thought possible. As with his current pounding, he was content to spend as much time as he could with Tyler on top of him.
“FFFFfffuuuuuuuck man,” the prone jock groaned, squirming under Tyler’s increased weight. The fact that his friend was bringing him this much pleasure in bed still seemed as impossible as everything else. When his body grew, Tyler’s skill and stamina had apparently grown with it. Even the inflated man had been surprised by his sharpened talents. He’d be the first to admit that he wasn’t the best lay around, but now he could expertly roll his hips and vary his pace for what felt like hours.
“How ya doin’ big guy?” Tyler plunged in deep and laughed at Dylan’s loud gasp. He knew his friend liked it slow and steady, a rolling tide as opposed to a jack hammer. That suited him fine since he loved having his friend’s firm, perky little cheeks clutched around his pole just as much as Dylan loved having it inside him. The only thing he wished was that his friend was laying on his back. He loved the feeling of Dylan’s hairy pecs against his hands and watching the other man’s ecstatic expressions.
“Pr...pretty good…” Dylan laughed drunkenly.
“Only pretty good,” Tyler asked with a tone of mock disappointment. He gave two long, rough jabs that made Dylan squeal. “That better?” His deepened voice dripped with a smug arrogance that had been growing since his change. The passive personality he’d always had was slowly being replaced by an aura of confident dominance. He’d always viewed Dylan as so strong and in charge, but now he viewed his friend through a condescending lens that made the buff jock seem small and helpless.
“Much...much beeeEEEHHHH!” Dylan’s voice cracked into a whimper when Tyler repeated the motion in quick succession. The pinned man turned his head and buried his face into the mattress, trying to push back against the pressure he felt building. He didn’t want to cum yet. He didn’t want this to stop.
**********
“Oh shit...oh shit...oh shit…”
Across campus, a stocky mound of fur and muscle gazed up with burning eyes at the older man looming over him. “Come on prof...fuck me like...you….mean iiiiIIIEEEE!”
“Careful what you wish for, young man,” Anderson sneered, jackrabbiting his thick, solid cock in and out of the young man’s tight hole. He turned and bit one of the meaty, hairy thighs on his shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave an obvious mark.
He didn’t know the young man’s name, just that he was a student in one of his larger algebra classes. A few days ago he never would have given him a second thought. Despite the young stud’s impressive appearance, Anderson would have viewed him as nothing more than another faceless undergrad. At the time, he had no reason to do otherwise. He was more than twice the young man’s age, and despite his student’s jet black hair, bearded cheeks, broad, beefy body, and thick lower half, there was no cause to think of him beyond an exam that needed grading. Then everything changed.
Anderson didn’t remember exactly what happened, just that he’d been a doughy man in his mid-fifties one moment, then a ripped, gorgeous stud the next. Like most of the altered men, he’d blacked out when the change hit. A number of hours passed that he had no recollection of until he came to in his shredded clothes with a new body. His thinning grey hair was now a full, salt and pepper mane atop a face that didn’t look older than 35, with a body that most twenty year olds would kill for. He had no idea what to do with himself. He’d always had an average build at best, even in his younger days, and had contented himself with growing old and fat in his dull, sexless marriage.
At first, it seemed like a miracle. His body was impossibly built without the slightest bit of fat on any of the ample, striated muscle. The stringy patches of hair that had covered his old body spread out into a consistent, appealing dusting that accentuated the bulging curves of his newly acquired bulk. He had the broad shoulders, tapering waist, and sturdy legs of an underwear model, with an inflated package to match. Not knowing what else to do, he’d hurried home to his wife. He was desperately horny, but as soon as they looked at each other it was clear that his desires went in a new direction. Surprisingly, even Maggie wanted nothing to do with him. There was no shock or concern, just a disinterested look and a declaration that she was going to stay with her sister. He didn’t try and talk her out of leaving; he was naked and jerking off in front of the mirror before she was even out the front door. He went at himself all night, flexing and parading naked around the house, his new body surging with unaccustomed vitality.
The next morning, he learned how strong that vitality was. He didn’t know what to expect at work given his new look. He was still recognizable as himself, if he’d had plastic surgery and gone through multiple cycles of steroids. Anderson knew at the time that he should have been more alarmed, more nervous, but all he felt was a giddy happiness. And other than a few oddly flirtatious compliments from his male colleagues, no one said anything about it at all. He might as well have walked in with a new haircut for as much as the office reacted, but his first class was a different story.
The normally sleepy young men in his early morning lecture were all suddenly paying rapt attention. They stared at him with obvious hunger in their eyes, which he surprisingly returned. His formerly baggy clothes were plastered tight and revealing on his buff new frame, and he caught himself practically posing for the class. The first few times he’d stopped himself, but then he realized he liked the looks he was getting. When he turned his back on the room he flexed his enlarged, granite globes, and when he turned around again he made sure to puff his bulging new pecs out. Only the countless hours of teaching the same class over the years allowed him to stay relatively on topic as his brain focused itself on the room full of increasingly attractive men.
The skinny young blonde from the track team that always sat in the third row was his first. Normally he watched the lean young man sleep through his lecture, but that morning the toe-headed jock’s sparking blue eyes had been alert and attentive. As soon as class was over several of the male students mobbed Anderson’s desk, but the lithe young man was like a beacon. A few minutes later they were in his office with the wiry man’s tight, bony rear bouncing and impaling itself on his lap.
After his second class it was a particularly handsome brunette from the swim team. Then a beefy baseball player after his third. Then a curvy theatre major. It didn’t matter what they looked like to Anderson; he enjoyed himself equally with all of them. A seeming lifetime of unfulfilled desire was suddenly pouring out of him and he had no wish to stop it. He didn’t even think he could. He’d gone from having a mostly non-existent sex drive, even in his younger days, to being insatiable. No matter how many young men he plowed through, he was never satisfied.
The constant need was enough of a distraction to keep him from focusing on what was happening. He knew he wasn’t the only one that had been affected. There were several young men in his classes that he knew in his gut had been changed like himself. He could feel it just looking at them. They were beautiful and striking, but they didn’t elicit the same response that the comparatively average man next to them did. It was the same with them. They never flirted with him after class the way the others did, and they all seemed more interested in their fellow students than in himself.
Anderson didn’t care. There was more than enough to go around, like the beefy furball wrestler he was currently reducing to grunting moans.
The young man rubbed his wide hands over his panting face, his large arms flexing in the process. “Does this...count as...extra credit…?”
Anderson stroked a hand through the carpet of hair covering the thick slabs of muscle on the breathless stud’s chest. The young man couldn’t have been more than nineteen, a fact that filled the older man with joy since he knew he was in better shape. He slid his free hand down to clutch the stout, throbbing cock slapping against the hairy muscle gut, eliciting a wordless gasp as he tugged on it.
The older man couldn’t help but wonder how many young women had been on the receiving end of the fat tool. The short, beefy jock was handsome enough to get laid often, and he seemed like the type to spread it around. Before the change, in his more sour moods, Anderson would be filled with resentment looking out over the sea of virile young men, envying and hating them for living a life that he never did.
“I’m sure we can work something out,” Anderson purred, stroking and pounding in unison. “Tell you what...wear your singlet to class tomorrow. Dress like you’ve got a match...no underwear, no shirt...nothing else...and maybe we’ll talk.” He beamed, watching the young man’s bearded cheeks flush. Knowing that he was regularly dominating the young men he used to envy was almost as satisfying as the sex itself. “Deal?”
The blushing young man looked hesitant until Anderson gave his hefty balls a rough squeeze. “Ye...yeah! Anything you say, prof,” he gasped, nodding quickly.
************
In the void beyond, things were stirring. Invisible strands of wispy energy drifted from the gaping wound that floated in the middle of the walkway. Oblivious people passed it by all day, sidestepping the tear in reality without fully realizing or knowing why. Occasionally the strands would latch onto a passerby, seeping into their bodies without the host knowing they’d been infected. Those unfortunate souls would continue to be oblivious until they started changing, and even then they wouldn’t know what caused it.
Watching it all happen from the window of the frat house, Randall almost envied them. He knew all too well the blissful shelter that ignorance provided. It was only his newly limited intellect that was keeping him from going stark raving mad at the moment. On the one hand he was aware of everything, but forcing a thought through the quagmire of his obliterated brain was a tenuous process at best. He felt awful watching the young men in the house slowly wake up around him. Their actions hadn’t changed, but he could see the dawning horror in their eyes as they realized they weren’t stuck in a bad dream. The nightmare wasn’t just real; it was getting worse. They’d all seen the results of the first wave, the gorgeous herd of hunks suddenly strutting around campus. The altered men must think it a miracle, but nothing came without a price. They were all proof of that.
Carter had left him stationed at the house to keep an eye on things while he called for help, and deep down Randall knew that no good would come of that. He doubted that the kind of people someone like Carter associated with would pass up an opportunity at limitless power for altruistic reasons. The monsters on the other side were the oily rags, and all Carter could do was gather a box of matches.
Randall listened to the deep, ever present hum and watched the green light grow brighter. Another wave was coming, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
***** What does the next wave do? *****
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