Down In The Valley (Patreon)

None of them wanted to be stuck working in Bowen Valley, even for an easy job.  It wasn’t a place where people lingered.  It was the kind of place teenagers got drunk and dared each other to visit, though few ever actually went through with the journey.  The thrill was in the dare, in an excuse to beat adolescent chests in exaggerated displays of bravery and false manhood.  Just talking about the plethora of urban legends was usually enough of an excuse for a conveniently seated young stud to put a comforting arm around the frightened girl next to him, which was the real point of the whole thing.  No one really cared about the monsters, just getting laid.  

Mike had been one of the few to make the trip.  The sturdy, practical-minded young man didn’t buy into any of the stories surrounding the valley.  To him, it was just an open, ugly patch of ground.  The dense, midwestern forest that ringed the tall grassland was spooky enough in its own right, especially after dark, but the open field had never much bothered him.  

Even as a teenager, a time not overly long ago for the twenty five year old, Mike had always scoffed at the stories.  There were so many of them it was hard to know which one you were supposed to be scared of.  Everything from aliens to bigfoot to ghosts to witches - there was a story about all of them down in the valley.  It was simultaneously home to secret government experiments and devil worshipping cults, all depending on who you asked.  

When the guys on the baseball team dared him to go, Mike shrugged his broad shoulders and went.  There was no tail on the line, no girls to impress.  He hadn’t done it to be brave, he’d done it to prove that there was nothing to fear in the first place.  It was just an old farm.  Aliens hadn’t cleared away the forest, the Bowen family had when they settled the land.  There was no mystery.  The house had simply rotted away over the generations after the family picked up and moved, hardly an uncommon occurrence in rural areas like theirs.  

Mike had heard the stories about the Bowen family just like he’d heard all the stories about the valley, and he believed them just as much.  The Bowens were cannibals and witches.  They conducted dark rites under the full moon.  They lived off on their own because they’d been excommunicated from the main village after accusations of curses and dying animals.  To this day, when the night was quiet enough, you could still hear their wild chanting to their unnameable gods.  

Or so it was said.  Mike didn’t see any ghosts, bigfoots, witches, or aliens the night he went out.  He’d hoofed it on quick, agile legs through the woods without issue, accompanied by the regular, staccato sounds of nocturnal forest animals.  These weren’t the quiet, doom-haunted woods of legend, but a vibrant, bustling forest.  The full moon had played tricks with his eyes, making him see people in the shadows of the tall pines, while the reaching branches of the maples overhead cast disorienting, web-like shadows on the uneven ground.  He told himself it was just a trick of the light and kept going.  His heart did beat a little quicker than normal, but he was strong and fast and knew he could handle himself should he come across a surprised black bear or angry buck.  

And then he was in the valley.  He broke through the trees without warning, the long, moonlit field suddenly apperating before him.  But that’s all it was: a field.  He’d listened for a moment, his ears alert for any devils or cryptids.  When none showed themselves, Mike casually completed his journey and strolled across the field to Crone’s Rock, the large boulder in the middle.  The lack of graffiti on the massive stone was the true testament to the power of the local legends.  Mike had been surprised to find its craggy surface unmarred, as if even the elements didn’t want to touch it.  

Like the rest of the valley, Crone’s Rock had its own mythology.  Some said it was a secret gateway to the underworld while others said it was the titanic gravestone for a hideous monster.  To Mike it was just a rock.  Slightly taller than his six foot height and considerably smoother than his hairy frame, but still just a rock.  He’d taken a picture of himself touching it and headed back to his friends, not even bothering to quicken his pace through the now-familiar forest.  

That was then.  Now, in the sweltering heat of the midday sun, Mike knew that people had it backwards.  The valley wasn’t frightening at night, but during the full light of day.  His eyes stinging with the constant sweat dripping from his brow, Mike stared out across the field in confused wonder.  The wavy heat distortion rising up from the sun-parched grass gave the landscape a fluid, otherworldly appearance.  The valley seemed somehow longer and wider than it should, while at the same time feeling oppressive and cramped for all its open space.  The atmosphere had a weight to it, like the air itself was trying to hold something down.  The same went for the bright, blinding sunlight.  There wasn’t a shadow in sight, not the smallest patch of darkness for evil to hide.  Mike hadn’t been bothered at midnight, but at noon he wanted to run screaming.  

“Yo, kid!  Pull yer head outta yer ass and get over here.”  

Mike shook his head and wiped the sweat from his forehead for the thousandth time.  He’d lost track of how long he’d been leaning on his shovel, just staring.  “Sorry Manny, this heat’s gettin’ to me,” he said, flashing the stocky man a charming, apologetic smile.  In the intervening years, Mike still hadn’t lost his boy-next-door looks.  The shaggy mop of dark brown hair on his head was as full as ever, and his work on the crew kept his tanned, athletic body tight and well-muscled.  The sculpted, hairy girders that formed his arms hung from broad shoulders next to the rounded edges of the equally hairy, equally firm pecs that stuck out through the open sides of his loose muscle shirt.  Coupled with the tight, dirt-stained jeans plastered around his powerful thighs, Mike could still pass for the eighteen year old version of himself that had been here before.  

“It’s fuckin’ all of us, kid.  The sooner we get this damned rock outta the way the sooner we can leave.”  Though he was only three years his senior, the burly, Latino bulldog refused to call Mike anything other than “kid.”  The shorter man certainly looked older, with rough, weathered features lurking under his raven goatee and buzzed black hair.  Like Mike, Manny’s loose muscle shirt did nothing to conceal his massive arms and wide, rippling back.  He was powerfully built, but looked like someone had squished him from the top down, having a body nearly as broad as it was tall on a set of meaty legs.  The lack of height didn’t stop Manny’s booming voice from commanding respect as he barked out orders.  “Graham...you ready in there?”   

“I’ve been ready...you guys are the ones dickin’ around,” the beefy man called from the seat of the backhoe, his balding scalp glistening with sweat from the effort of merely staying upright in the all-encompassing heat.  He may have been the oldest of the group, but the beefy, full-faced giant looked like he could have moved the stone by himself if he got too impatient.  “Is Trev cool back there?”  

“Trev?  You good?” Manny called around the boulder.  

A smiling, shirtless ginger stuck his head around the corner and nodded.  His lean, shoulders were peppered with freckles that trailed down his tapering back and across the tops of his ripped pecs before flowing down his toned arms.  “All dug out back here.  Let’s see if she’ll roll.”  

Manny nodded over towards a thickly muscled man who looked like a taller version of himself.  “Ben’s got the straps ready.”  

Mike watched the lumbering wall of muscle nod proudly.  He’d gone to school with the hulking man, who had only managed to barely graduate because of his skills on the football field.  The beefy giant was great with his body, not so much with his brain.  His role on the crew was mostly support; running and fetching tools, holding traffic signs, lifting heavy objects.  The technical aspects were left to Mike and Manny.  Mike may not have gone off to college like many of his friends, but he had a sharp mind and was a quick study, making him the stocky man’s second in command.  “All set,” Ben grinned.  

Their current project was to remove Crone’s Rock.  A new branch of highway was being punched through and they needed to clear the way.  A large swath of forest had already been leveled; now they just needed to prep the field.  Mike and Trev had been digging around the bottom to try and loosen the large boulder that, like the rest of their surroundings, was much more disturbing in the light of day.  The first time he’d been there Mike hadn’t noticed the lichen-like markings that covered the entirety of the stone, nor had he been able to see how perfectly shaped the sphere was.  It sat like the top of an obelisk or sculpture, not something shaped by nature alone.  

He hoped the shape would at least make their job easier.  The plan was to roll the stone over onto the straps, hook it in place, and then lift it onto the back of the truck to haul away.  Mike took a step back when Manny nodded towards Graham and the backhoe lurched to life.  There was a piercing screech that made them all wince as the metal bucket scraped across the stone, searching for purchase.  It eventually grabbed hold, the tread of the machine lifting off the ground as it struggled to move the immense object.  They weren’t sure which of the two would give first, but with a loud thud the backhoe fell to earth and the stone lost its hold on the ground.  The men all told themselves it was just the rock settling that caused the low, moaning sound, and the sudden rush of cold wind they felt was just the result of the damp earth meeting the hot air.  

“Keep goin’...keep goin’...” Manny yelled, motioning in the air for Graham to keep rolling the stone up out of its hole and over onto the waiting chains.  

Mike wrinkled his nose, turning his head away and covering the bottom of his face with the crook of his elbow.  “Ugh...what is that smell?”  The hairy young man was hit with a foetid odor that nearly made him gag.  

Next to him, Trevor shrugged.  “I don’t smell anything?”

“How can you not...uggh…” Mike was interrupted when the threat of gagging became real.  It felt like the scent was a physical thing, worming its way up his nose and down his throat.  “Goddamn...that’s gross.  It’s like something’s rotting.”

The lean redhead looked over at Manny who was coming back from inspecting the now-stationary rock.  “You smell anything?”  

The stocky man shook his head.  “Just dirt.  What’s with Mike?”  

“None of you smell that?  Seriously?”  He looked surprised when his coworkers all shook their heads.  “Whatever...let’s just get this done.”  

Manny gave him a lingering side-eye before inspecting the crater left by the boulder.  “Deeper than I thought it’d be...wait...what’s that…” the other men watched as he took a shovel and prodded the just barely visible corner of a metal box.  “Fuck’s buried under here…” he muttered under his breath as he carefully uncovered the rest, exposing a metal, four foot by four foot box that was entirely untouched by rust.  Even the clinging dirt seemed to fall away more easily than it should, the earth eager to lose its hold on whatever lay inside.

As they hoisted it to the surface Mike could see that it was covered in the same strange markings as the stone that kept it buried.  It wasn’t heavy, but there was clearly something rattling around inside.  “What do you think’s in…” Mike’s question was answered when, as soon as they set it down, the top sprung open of its own accord.  

“Awww, Christ!” Manny yelled, kicking a clump of loose dirt into the hole.  Inside the metal box was a pile of bones that looked to have belonged to something at least human-like.  The skull was longer and thinner than it should have been, a trait that carried over to the rest of the remains.  Hands and feet were long and spindly, as were the bones that connected them to the rest of the body.  Of hair, flesh or clothes there was none, making it impossible to tell how long the body had been there.  

“Is that a fuckin’ person,” Graham asked as he lumbered over from the backhoe.  

“Sure looks like it,” Ben said, taking a step back.  

“Is this…” Trevor looked over at the stone and back down at the remains, “...is this the Crone?  Like, from the name of the rock?”  

“Oh fuck that!”  Ben walked farther away as quick as his thick legs would carry him.  

“Who gives a shit about some witch,” Manny sighed.  “Look...if they get word we found remains, this whole project grinds to a halt and we spend the next six weeks sittin’ here with our thumbs up our asses while some dick from the state makes us jump through a bunch’a hoops.”  He gave each of them a serious look before continuing.  “We could make this go away right now.  The family’s gone...no one’ll ever know there was anything under here.  We take that box and dump it somewhere else and we can all move on.  Right?”  They all exchanged silent, uncomfortable glances but eventually nodded in agreement.  The thought of being forced to spend even more time in the oppressive valley was bad enough to make the risk worth it.  “Good.  This never happened.  Who wants to take it into the woods over there and bury it?  The road’s not gonna run that wide...anyone eventually finds it can deal with it then.  Ben?”  

“No way, dude.  I’m on board, but I ain’t touchin’ that.”  The big man was still several paces away, his burly arms crossed across his chest.  One by one, the other men followed suit.  

“Seriously?  For fuck’s sake,” Mike sighed, slamming the lid of the box closed and grabbing a shovel.  “Guess I’ll do it.”  

“You’ve been wantin’ a girlfriend, right?” Graham laughed over the metal clang of the closing lid.  

“She’s not really my type.  Too bony.  I like ‘em big on top and bottom.  Blonde and dumb doesn’t hurt either,” Mike laughed, trying too hard to make a joke to hide his nervousness.  Not wanting to look crazy in front of the others, he didn’t mention how the box was the source of the noxious odor that only he could apparently smell.  Nor did he mention the way the metal made his skin tingle as he carried it off into the woods.  Digging the hole, he kept thinking that he saw tall, thin figures standing at the edges of his vision, but when he turned to look no one was there.  All of the fear that had been absent on his first trip out as a teenager hit him in full force, and it was all he could do to keep from running back to the others.  When they finally packed up and left he kept his eyes glued to the road in front of them, refusing to look any other direction for fear of what he might see.  

Not surprisingly, Mike’s dreams were filled with spindly, horrifying figures.  He dreamt that he ran through a dark forest, but no matter which direction he went, he always found himself back in a wide clearing with a large, terrible house standing at its center.  In front of the house was a circle of looming, misshapen people, their lanky appendages swaying like seaweed on the ocean floor.  They were chanting in a language that he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, understand.  

As soon as he’d see them he would always turn back to the forest and run, only to be deposited back in the clearing shortly afterwards.  Each time he burst back out of the forest he landed closer and closer to the group, even though the edge of the woods remained the same distance away.  Eventually he found himself rushing out of the trees directly into the middle of the circle.  There was nowhere to run.  Every direction he turned brought him face to face with one of the terrifying creatures.  They were humanoid, but definitely not human, with chittering, razor teeth on their almost featureless faces.  Each was rail thin, their distorted bones clearly visible beneath their pale, naked skin.  The rest of their bodies were as featureless as their faces, and Mike couldn’t shake the sensation that the true horror of these beings lurked inside them, like they were cocoons for something even more terrible.  He felt a slender, wrought iron grip on his shoulder and woke up screaming.  

“Fuuuuuuck me,” he panted, wide eyed as he stared around his messy, dimly lit room.  A barely risen sun illuminated the back of his blinds, the diffused glow a welcome warmth after his seemingly endless nightmare.  “Never should’a fuckin’ gone back there,” he sighed, flopping back down onto the bed and rubbing his face.  

It was only after he pulled his hands away that it occurred to him.  “What the…” he reached back up and ran his fingers along a smooth jaw, feeling none of the scratchy stubble that should have been present.  “Fuck!”  His eyes went wide again when he bolted upright and saw that none of the persistent body hair that had covered him since his mid-teens was present either.  It should have ran over his shoulders and down his chest and arms, covering his stomach before flowing further south to coat his legs.  Instead, he found himself looking down at perfectly smooth, tanned skin.  Even the patches under his armpits and the small bush at the base of his cock were gone, leaving him entirely clean shaven from his eyebrows down.  

At first he thought he was still dreaming.  As he stood naked in front of the mirror prodding his now-smooth body, none of it felt real.  He’d never had an unobstructed view of the muscular frame that lurked under all that hair and even through his confusion he had room to be surprised by how good it looked.  Mike knew that he was in great shape, but looking at himself now and seeing how ripped he actually was, the masculine hair he’d been so proud of seemed unnecessary and cumbersome.  His body was shredded with definition, and while he felt a confused rush of embarrassment at the absence of his usual fur, the sight of his washboard stomach and broad, striated shoulders filled him with pride.  

Because he’d never seen them totally smooth, Mike wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination making his pecs look bigger.  They seemed rounder than normal, with a deeper valley running between them.  The same went for his already-perky rear.  The solid cheeks seemed to stand out further and lift up higher, a suspicion that was confirmed when he got dressed after a quick shower.  He’d been so busy marveling over how different the water felt streaming across his smooth skin that he didn’t immediately notice how tight the straining grey cotton of his boxer briefs was stretched across his backside.  It wasn’t until he was struggling with a pair of plastered-on jeans he could barely close that he realized his hairless cheeks actually had grown larger.  Instead of being terrified as he stared at his altered reflection, now complete with bubble butt and bulging pecs, all he felt was a flustered giddiness.  He knew something was happening to him, but he could only focus on how good his tanned muscles looked now that they were free to be seen without all the obnoxious hair.  

The other guys noticed the change immediately.  Mike had barely shown up on the worksite before the ribbing started.  

“Whooooaa!” Trevor laughed as soon as Mike walked up and he saw the other man’s sculpted, hairless arms.  “You do some manscaping last night, dude?”  

“Uh...yeah,” Mike grinned bashfully, trying to think of an excuse.  He didn’t want to sound crazy and say it had magically vanished.  “It was, like, soooo hot yesterday I couldn’t deal with it anymore.”  The smooth stud felt his cheeks flush at the unintended words leaving his mouth.  He hadn’t meant to punctuate his sentence with a “like” or a drawn out “so” the way he had.  Trevor raised an eyebrow, but Graham stepped in before he could continue.  

“Damn son, you’re gonna stop traffic with this thing,” the big man said, giving Mike’s new bubble a slap.  “You forget how to do your laundry?”  

The patches of red on Mike’s cheeks deepend when he heard himself give a short giggle.  He tried to cover it by quickly clearing his throat, but the look on Trevor’s freckled face told him they’d all heard it.  “Too many squats I guess.  Bigger is better, right?”  

Graham exchanged a confused look with the equally baffled ginger as Manny and Ben walked over.  The stocky, dark haired man gave Mike a surprised look but didn’t say anything else as he started barking out the morning’s orders.  Since they’d completed their project yesterday, they’d been moved over to a much more mundane setting.  Instead of a barren, legend-haunted field, they were in the middle of town on a standard road widening project.  The heat reflecting up off the asphalt and concrete around them was just as intense as what they’d felt the day before, but at least all they had to worry about were the passing cars, not demons or witches.  No one brought up the strange box of remains, happy to relegate the previous day to a memory they could soon forget.  

After a few hours of sweating in the sun, Mike had stopped thinking about the strange events of that morning.  The way his sweat-soaked shirt rubbed and clung to his now-smooth skin no longer felt strange or new, and the tightness of his pants was oddly comforting.  Even the other guys had given up harassing him about it as they’d all gotten down to work.  It was turning into a day like any other, until Mike took a break to wipe the sweat from his brow.  

“Dude!  What the fuck, man?”  Graham’s deep, boisterous laugh froze Mike in his tracks.  

“What?”  Mike asked, confused.  The roasting young stud had lifted the bottom of his sleeveless, fluorescent green safety shirt to wipe the dirt and perspiration from his face.  He stood with the shirt lifted halfway, his ripped abs exposed, unsure why his coworkers were all smiling in his direction.  

“You’re just tryin’ all sorts’a new stuff, aren’t you?”  

Mike stifled a gasp as he followed Graham’s gaze towards his waist, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from going wide with shock.  Instead of the elastic band of his grey boxer briefs, Mike saw a bright purple whale-tail escaping from his straining jeans.  As soon as he saw the unfamiliar underwear he felt the change.  He could feel the denim pressed against the bare skin of his backside and thickened thighs.  His face, already red from exertion, didn’t show the embarrassment he felt at the sensation of the thin string wedging itself between his plump cheeks.  The fear he’d felt earlier returned in full force.  Not only was Mike certain he’d put on his standard boxer briefs that morning, he’d never even owned anything like the bright, revealing underwear.  

“I mean, geez, guys, you don’t have to like, freak out over it,” he said defensively.  

“Yeah, like, let him wear, like, whatever he wants.”  Ben’s mocking laughter hit before Mike had even processed what he’d just said.  

“Gawd, you don’t have to be a total dick about it,” Mike glared over at the burly man even as his stomach dropped.  He’d meant to tell Ben to simply fuck off, but what came out had been drastically different.  

“Easy princess….no need to pout, we’re just fuckin’ with ya.”  Manny’s deep voice, with its note of condescension, was oddly reassuring.  Mike let the shirt he hadn’t realized he’d still been holding up drop, his tensed features relaxing.  The short bulldog gave the crew a stern look and waved a thick arm.  “Back to work everyone!”  

Mike’s return to work was short-lived.  He couldn’t stop thinking about what was happening to him.  He puzzled over the unfamiliar thong, equally concerned over why he was starting to like it as he was over where it had come from in the first place.  He was also starting to notice that as the morning was wearing on, his movements were becoming increasingly uncoordinated, like his body was still changing.  The already-tight jeans felt like they would burst at any moment, and his arms kept colliding with the growing lumps of solid flesh on his chest.  Eventually, when he bent over to pick up yet another dropped piece of equipment, the tortured denim finally gave out.  There was a loud rip, and Mike felt an immediate relief of pressure as the denim exploded around his lower half and his expansive cheeks bounced free.  

“Whoops!” he laughed, clutching at the shredded pants.  “Wardrobe malfunction!” 

“For fuck’s sake, Mike,” Trevor sighed, shaking his head at the sight of the other man’s bright, purple thong hanging free.  

“Sorry!  I didn’t, like, do it on purpose.”  Mike didn’t know what was worse, the sound of his whining or the feeling of the warm air on his entirely exposed rear.  He stood rooted in place, muscled arms hanging at his side instead of covering himself.  

“No one thinks you did,” Manny said gently as he hurried over.  There was more of the same tone, like the stocky man was talking to a child.  Mike knew it should have bugged him, not made him feel better.  “Does anyone have something he can put on?”  

“I’ve got some shorts in my gym bag,” Trevor offered.  “Probably be a little small, but it’s better than nothing.  Just grab ‘em out of my truck.”  

“You got that,” Manny asked, locking eyes with Mike, who nodded quickly.  “Alright, go get changed.”  

Mike heard another unintended giggle escape his lips when Manny gave his bare cheeks a swat.  He tried not to think about how much they bounced as he made his way to the truck, the short walk feeling like miles.  Passing cars took notice of his current outfit, honking or catcalling through open windows as they drove by.  Mike was mortified.  He tried desperately to stomp down the growing part of himself that was saying all of this was normal.  

His thickened thighs shaking as he kicked off his boots and tugged down the skin-tight jeans certainly didn’t feel normal.  The sight of the stuffed purple bulge looking small between legs that were growing to accommodate his inflated rear also didn’t look normal.  He reached down absently to palm his meaty package, confirming that it was still the same size even if the smooth flesh around it wasn’t.  Thinking of his long, thick hose and heavy balls as looking small was just as jarring as the sudden discovery of his changing hair.  As he stared at his pantsless reflection in the side of the truck, Mike ran a hand through the sweaty mop on his scalp that was nowhere near as dark as it should have been.  Instead of a deep chocolate color, his hair was a light, sandy brown.  It wasn’t uncommon for it to lighten during the peak of the summer as he toiled away in the bright sun, but it had never gone this far.  

Despite his concern, Mike’s attention shifted back to his clothes as he pulled Trevor’s shorts out of the truck.  “A little small” turned out to be a vast understatement as the addled man pulled the mesh gym shorts up his expanding quads.  They were no doubt a perfect fit on Trevor’s lean, whipcord body, but on Mike’s increasingly curvy, muscular frame they fit like the boxer briefs he should have had on.  The tops of his shelf-like cheeks were left exposed, the unwanted whale tail hanging out more prominently than before.  Mike couldn’t even pull his shirt down to cover himself as the back of the tight garment rested firmly on top of the bouncing cheeks that jutted out at an almost perfect right angle.  The front was no better, with the shorts coming to a rest at the base of his cock, leaving a bright shock of purple pouch on display.  

Mike couldn’t believe he was looking at his own reflection.  The tanned, muscular man looked ridiculous in his work boots, unintentional booty shorts, and bright t-shirt.  Even the way he carried himself looked different.  He had an increased arch to his spine and stood with his shoulders pulled back, causing his ballooning pecs to jut out even further.   

“Like, ohhhh myyy gawd I…” Mike bit down on the rest, shaking his head.  “No...what the fuck’s happening to me…” he hissed through gritted teeth, making a Herculean effort at normal speech.  “This isn’t me.  This isn’t possible.  I’m not…like this...” he said, his voice dripping with disgust as he closed his eyes.  He tried to picture his proportional, hairy body.  He told himself that when he opened his eyes he’d see the athletic, furry frame he was used to.  “I’m still dreaming.  That’s all.  This is just a nightmare. I’m gonna wake up and everything’s gonna be back…to...normal...” 

His voice dried up in his throat when he opened his eyes.  As if being punished for his resistance, he found that his shirt wasn’t as it had been just seconds before.  Instead of resting on the back of his unwanted bubble, it was now cut off just below his prominent slab of a chest, leaving his washboard stomach entirely uncovered.  The bright fabric was little more than a skin-tight harness that his broad shoulders and chiseled arms hung out of, making his already trim waist seem even smaller by comparison.  “What...no no no no…” he whimpered, palming his oversized pecs.  

Viewed from the side, Mike started to understand his inflated rear.  Without it, he wouldn’t have anything to counterbalance his topheavy torso.  Already when he looked down he could barely see over the cresting mounds of his chest, and if things kept going he’d soon have difficulty even clapping his hands.  The proportional body he longed for was clearly a thing of the past, somehow being replaced by the overly muscled frame of someone who did far too many leg and chest days at the gym.  

“Everything okay over here?  Manny sent me to check on you.”  

Mike pried his horrified eyes away from his reflection at Trevor’s approach.  He wanted to beg the other man for help.  He was desperate to tell someone what was happening to him, no matter how crazy that might make him sound.  “These shorts are sooooo cute!”  Mike’s chirping voice as he looked over his shoulder at his ballooning ass was far from the pleading he’d imagined.  

“They look better on you than me,” Trevor laughed, looking Mike’s curvy, solid body up and down.  The scantily clad man wasn’t used to seeing such hunger directed his way from Trevor.  Normally the lean ginger reserved it for women he was trying to land at the bar when their shift was up.  Now that lustful gaze was fixed squarely on Mike’s exposed, tanned body.  Instead of squirming uncomfortably, Mike grinned and gave his hips a shake, causing the barely contained globes to bounce wildly.  

“Nothing is what looks best on you,” Mike said flirtatiously, poking at his bottom lip with his finger.  His own hungry eyes were tracing every line of defined muscle that stood out from beneath Trevor’s sweat-soaked shirt, memories of the other man’s tight, naked body in the locker room suddenly swimming in his head.  

Trevor took a deep breath, his toned chest rising and falling slowly as he ran a hand through his red hair.  “Duuude, are you trying to get me fired,” he half-laughed, half-sighed.  “Manny would break me in half.”  

Mike reached over and lifted the bottom of the other man’s shirt, exposing a small patch of flat, freckled stomach.  The waistband of Trevor’s plaid boxers stuck out above his baggy jeans and Mike was suddenly hit by the contrast between them.  Trevor’s smaller body radiated masculinity in a way his no longer did.  Mike was all chest and ass and giggles while Trevor was strong and confident.  “I mean, hellllooooo, I can, like, enjoy the view,” he purred. 

Trevor took another deep breath and pulled away.  “Not while we’re on the clock.  Come on, let’s get back to it.”  Mike couldn’t stop his expression from going into an exaggerated pout as he trudged along behind Trevor, his eyes glued to the thinner man’s small, perky rear.  

When they got back to the group he was promptly put on sign duty, taking Ben’s spot as the one who was given the menial tasks while his beefy classmate picked up where he left off.  At first, Mike was humiliated to find himself standing in front of an endless stream of cars.  They all at least stared, while most honked and whistled as they passed.  More than a few insults were flung his way by passing men, each one landing like a physical blow to what remained of his old, masculine self.  

It wasn’t long, though, before he stopped caring.  His attention would wander constantly, usually landing on his rugged coworkers before he’d snap back to attention, feeling humiliated at having just been fantasizing about the other men.  It wasn’t merely that he’d been picturing Graham’s bearish body naked, but that he’d been picturing himself bouncing up and down on the other man’s lap while Graham’s pudgy cock worked it’s way inside him.  Just as his own cock would start to twitch at the thought, he’d come to, burning with disgust until he started picturing himself flat on his back, meaty legs in the air while Ben’s brawny body towered over him.  

It was Manny who captivated him most.  He couldn’t keep his eyes off the broad wall of brown skinned muscle.  Mike’s mouth watered at the sight of Manny’s own sizeable rear bulging out the back of his jeans, and every time the shorter man lifted his shirt to wipe his face was like a quick glimpse of heaven.  Though he stood a whole head taller, Mike felt small and insecure at the thought of his boss, but in a way that left him confusingly content instead of intimidated.  

He was almost disappointed when Manny called out that it was time to wrap it up for the day.  He’d grown to enjoy the attention from the passing cars, working the traffic as if they were an audience and he was on stage.  He flexed and bent and posed, loving as opposed to dreading how little he had on.  

“Good job today, big guy,” Ben said, giving him a high five when he rejoined the others to pack up the tools.  Instead of the ribbing he’d received earlier, everyone was almost too nice to him, as if they were afraid he wouldn’t understand that they were joking.  That thought only barely registered, drowned out in Mike’s head by the genuine pride he felt from their simple compliments.  

“You gonna make us look this good tomorrow?” Graham laughed, packing up the last of the equipment.  “Seems like you were a hit.”  

“How could he not be, right?” Manny said before Mike could answer.  The shorter man wrapped an arm around the altered man’s tiny waist, sending butterflies through his bare stomach.  “Ready to call it a day?”  

“Yep! See you tomorrow, boys,” Mike waved cheerfully as Manny led them towards his truck, bouncing his cheeks for the other guys to see as he walked.  They were already on the road before Mike stopped to wonder why he hadn’t gotten in his own car.  

“Man, I am beat,” Manny sighed, his hand resting on the exposed portions of Mike’s smooth thigh.  The altered young man barely noticed as he was too busy staring at the reflection of the now golden blonde hair on his head.  “Hey...you still with me?”  

“Huh?  Oh!  Wow, I, like, tooootally spaced out there,” Mike giggled when Manny’s rough palm gave his leg a squeeze.  

“S’alright,” Manny said with a cocky grin, his hand pivoting up to pinch one of Mike’s oversized pecs, “I don’t love you for your brains.”  

“Hey!” the now toe-headed man cried in mock offense before peeling out of what remained of his shirt.  “Like, can brains do this?”  Mike flexed each hairless pec individually, causing the oversized mounds to jump.  “Or, like, this?”  He reached over as he spoke, unzipping Manny’s fly and fishing out the other man’s long, thick rod.  Mike felt what remained of his old self shatter when his fist closed around Manny’s throbbing cock.  He still didn’t know what was happening, but by now he knew there was no going back.  

“Brains are...overrated…” Manny sighed as Mike started pumping.  He pulled his hand away from the bare pecs and draped it over the taller man’s broad shoulders.  The addled new blonde loved how Manny’s strong fingers felt dancing through his hair.  Though he was only a few years older than himself, Mike viewed Manny as the pinnacle of masculinity.  The buff twenty eight year old was in charge, and Mike was all too happy to do whatever he was told.  Manny was strong and took control.  He could figure out all the things that Mike had such a hard time with.  The shirtless stud felt nothing but gratitude when he thought about how well Manny took care of him.  “Mmmm...al...alright...let’s not get carried away,” he laughed, guiding Mike’s hand away.  “Aw, come on, don’t pout, we’re almost home,” he winked.  

Mike sighed exaggeratedly and dropped his blonde hair back against the headrest.  “I soooo cannot wait to get you outta those clothes.”  

“Me neither,” Manny said, pressing down on the accelerator to speed the rest of the way home.  

Mike wasn’t questioning any of it.  He knew on a basic level that he shouldn’t be viewing Manny’s small bungalow as home.  He felt like he should have an apartment of his own somewhere, but that didn’t stop him from eagerly bounding in behind the shorter man.  As soon as the door shut behind them he had Manny in his arms, their lips pressed together.  He squirmed against the other man’s solid body while Manny’s rough hands slid down into the back of his shorts and began kneading his humongous globes.  Mike relished the way the other man’s goateed chin felt against his smooth face as their tongues wrestled for control. 

When he had Manny’s shirt pulled free, it was like he was trying to absorb the other man into him.  He pressed their torsos together, the wiry hairs on Manny’s chest and stomach tickling his bare skin as he drank in the sweaty scent of the smaller man.  Mike’s aching cock finally burst free from it’s confines, spilling out through the bottom of the shorts as he worked his mouth lower.  The salty taste of Manny’s body drove him wild until he was on his knees, eagerly undoing the other man’s jeans.  The musky scent was overwhelming as he tugged the dirty denim and sweaty briefs down in one quick motion.  

Face to face with another man’s hard cock for the first time in his life, Mike was surprised at how natural it felt.  There wasn’t enough left of his former self to even muster a token resistance as he leaned in and ran his tongue up along the insides of Manny’s hairy, steely thighs.  Not only was he blowing someone; he was loving it.  Mike took his time, giving each of Manny’s sizeable balls a bath before licking his way up and down the large, rigid pole.  His enlarged cheeks squished against the backs of his thighs, flexing with each bob of his head as he finally swallowed Manny’s aching cock.  

The massive organ slid along his tongue and hit the back of his throat with no resistance.  It all felt like this was a regular occurrence that he’d had plenty of practice with.  He knew exactly how to increase the frequency of Manny’s lustful moans without going overboard.  This was just the warm up for the main event.  

“Fuuuuck, babe….your talents are wasted at work,” Manny groaned, pumping his hips to work himself in and out of Mike’s mouth.  

“They don’t...mmmff….hafta….beee…” Mike said around a mouthful of Manny.  

“We’ve talked about this,” Manny said, pulling out and guiding Mike to his feet.  “Not when we’re on busy roads.  Out in the middle of nowhere, fine.  But not when we’re in town.  And only with the other guys...I know where they’ve been at least.”  

“Fiiiiine,” Mike sighed, rolling his eyes.  “Be a party pooooooOOHH!”  The bigger man let out a voice cracking howl when Manny’s finger slid down into the valley between his mammoth cheeks and pressed against his eager hole.  He didn’t say anything else, he just gave Manny a wide-eyed look and reached back to spread himself.  “UUUUnnngggg….gaaawwwwwddd that’s goooood,” he moaned slowly as Manny worked a few fingers in.  His untouched cock twitched and spasmed wildly, but he couldn’t see the six inch rod over his inflated muscle tits.  Mike usually wasn’t overly vocal during sex, but as Manny fingered him, he couldn’t stop grunting and groaning.  

“Ready for the real thing,” Manny finally asked, laughing at Mike’s immediate, desperate nodding.  He watched Mike strip out of the tiny shorts and thong and then pulled the curvy blonde behind him into the bedroom, barely having time to lay down before Mike’s meaty thighs had him pinned in place.  “OOOooof,” he laughed as the other man bounded on top of him like an eager puppy.  “I guess I’ll just lay here, then.”  

“Like, let ME take it from here, stud,” Mike purred, dropping his hips back and swallowing Manny’s rod inside himself in one quick plunge.  The sensation was like nothing he’d ever felt before.  His entire body lit up, all of his pleasure centers being triggered at once as he started rocking his hips and bouncing up and down.  The contrast between them only turned him on more.  Manny’s body beneath him was like a granite pillar while his own inflated muscles moved around fluidly.  His heavy pecs bounced up and down against Manny’s groping hands just as much as his rippling rear, sending little jolts of pleasure through him each time that made his already fuzzy head swim.  

Looking around the room, Mike felt new memories crowd in against the old.  He suddenly knew that the second dresser drawer was full of bright little thongs like the one he’d worn today, just like he knew that the bottom drawer held similar, tiny shorts.  The piles of jeans and t-shirts scattered around the room didn’t belong to him, but to Manny.  He knew he didn't have a shirt left that hadn’t been cut down to a third of its original size, and he knew that it didn’t really matter since he never wore much of anything anyway.  He’d noticed his complete lack of tan lines when his pants had ripped and when he’d pulled his shirt off in the truck, but hadn’t been able to piece it together until now.  

The old Mike felt one last stab of horror as his life was slowly consumed by the tanned, ditzy blonde valley boy with the distorted body he’d become.  He knew the rest of his days would be spent showing off his unwanted new features while everyone talked down to him.  Worse, he knew he’d love it.  

A thought gnawed at the back of his brain, half remembered.  It was the five of them, standing around a strange metal box in a bright field.  He liked ‘em blonde and dumb, with big tits and a big ass.  He saw himself then, blonde, hairless and curvy with muscle, naked on his knees in the middle of that group while a tall, spindly figure looked on.  

“OOOhhh….oh fuck...oh fuck…” Manny’s deep moan shattered the thought, pulling Mike back to his new reality.  

“Like, give it to me hard,” he begged, bellowing lustfully when Manny started bucking his hips up off the bed.  His plump pecs slammed up and down from the force of the thrusting and ripples ran through his cheeks like water.  “Uh-huh...like that...oh fuck...yes...yes please...yyeeeuuUUUUHHH!”  

They came in unison, the last bit of his old self trickling away like Manny’s fluid from his punished rear.  Mike stared down longingly at the stocky man between his legs, his fingers toying with the puddles of fluid on Manny’s hairy chest.  

“Like, let’s do THAT again,” he chirped, pressing his hefty pecs against the shorter man as he leaned in for a kiss.