Make It A Double (Full Text) (Patreon)

Ben turned the book over in his hands, absently fanning the pages.  For something he’d found laying out in the open it was in surprisingly good condition.  The brown leather of the cover and binding were scuffed and scratched with age, but otherwise the volume looked like something he pulled off a library shelf, not picked up from the forest floor.  

He’d found it on his jog that morning, near the end of the trail he’d run so many times he could cover it with his eyes shut.  He made the trek daily, his lean legs devouring the rough terrain in easy, graceful fashion.  Working in a crowded bar surrounded by drunks all night, Ben had never been able to stomach a busy gym for long, but a solid body brought in solid tips, so he needed to make sure he looked good behind the bar with his shirt off.  At twenty four it still didn’t require much effort on his part, and what his broad shoulders and sturdy arms couldn’t accomplish on their own, his charming smile and razor jawline more than made up for.

His lungs burning and his muscles aching, Ben had just made it to the top of the final hill when he spotted the book in the dirty roots of a fallen tree.  The thick, twisting oak was freshly toppled, as evidenced by the patch of earth that had been torn up when the ancient tree lost its hold.  There’d been a nasty thunderstorm that knocked out power all over town the previous night, so a downed tree wasn’t exactly a surprising sight, but a book tangled in the roots certainly was.  He’d stood and stared at it from a distance, wiping the sweat from his toned pecs and thick, brown hair while he tried to convinced himself he really saw what he thought he did.  

It wasn’t until Ben touched it that his brain let him believe it was real, but even then its existence only raised more questions.  He’d had to work it out of the gnarled roots, almost as if they’d grown around it, meaning someone hadn’t just left it there that morning.  But the confused young man also knew it was impossible for an ordinary book to be buried in the ground and come up intact and unsoiled.  Literally.  The damp earth and mud that eagerly clung to everything else seemed to shun the book, leaving the cover and pages without a speck of stray dirt anywhere in sight.  It didn’t even smell musty.  

Thumbing through the pages only added to the mystery.  It appeared to be a journal, but the handwriting varied from entry to entry, hinting at multiple authors, and the dates, on the passages that had them, made no sense.  Ben saw an early page with a date from nineteen ninety five, written with what looked to be a modern pen with modern handwriting, but then a few pages later there was an entry dated from eighteen eighty eight, written in elaborate cursive with flowing ink suggestive of an old fountain pen.  

And then there was the content.  Even a quick glance through the book made Ben blush as he skimmed passage after passage that left a person very different at the end than from when the detailed descriptions started.  He read about people being stripped of muscle and height, or being given excessive amounts of both, while other people were reduced to mindless slaves and eager concubines.  Ben felt a tingle in his tiny running shorts as he read a particularly detailed description of a man’s cock being inflated to mammoth proportions, wondering what it would have felt like for his own average organ to be dangling out the bottom of the thin material for everyone to see.  

He’d intended to leave it where he found it.  Whether he’d stumbled across an art project or the ramblings of someone off their meds, he wasn’t really interested in finding out.  Ben thought of himself as easy going, not the kind of angry person to scribble out an entry in a revenge journal, but as he jogged back to where he’d started he discovered the book still clutched tightly in hand.  He would have sworn he’d set it down, he even remembered doing so, but somehow it wound up coming home with him.  

It was all he could think about for the rest of the day.  The passages he’d skimmed through were fresh in his mind as he showered, imagining his own lean frame twisted in the horrifying ways as the men in the book.  He wondered what it would feel like in the moment.  If it was real, if the people writing those entries really could change someone, what would that be like?  Would it hurt?  Did it happen in the blink of an eye?  Did the writer feel better afterwards?  Was there anyone out there who’d want to do that to him?  

The last question made him shudder as he toweled off and gave himself a once over in the steamy mirror, the beads of water accentuating his ample definition as they cascaded down his muscled abs.  He wasn’t arrogant about it, but Ben knew he looked good.  His handsome face and perky ass were nightly targets of men at work, and he’d had more than his share of hook ups that he ghosted on afterwards, but he didn’t think he’d left anyone angry enough to dedicate a passage to him.  Or is that what all of the victims had thought?  

Towel wrapped tenuously around his trim waist, Ben sat at his kitchen counter intending to give the book another quick going over.  It was several inches thick and about two thirds full, and as he thumbed through the blank pages at the back, he started to second guess his initial reaction.  Was there anyone he wanted to write about?  There were more than enough annoying drunks that could stand to be taught a lesson, as well as a few of his more arrogant coworkers.  But did they really deserve the kinds of things he read about?  

“Oh, shit!”  Ben dropped the book when he caught the clock out of the corner of his eye.  He’d been sitting at the counter for hours, not minutes.  “How the fuck did that happen?”  He hopped off the stool, his now-dry towel falling to the floor, and scampered naked across his apartment to get dressed before he was late to work.  

**********

“Don’t think you’re gonna have much reading time tonight...it’s Wednesday.”

Ben waved at Adam as he came around behind the bar and gave the sculpted blonde a confused look.  “What are you…” he trailed off when he lifted his other hand and discovered the brown book wedged firmly in his grasp.  He blinked at it with the same disbelief as when he’d first discovered it, sure that he’d left it sitting on his counter at home.  He clearly remembered getting dressed, fixing his hair, and hurrying out the door, none of which included the book that somehow continued to follow him like a stray.  “Sorry man, it’s been a weird day,” Ben laughed awkwardly, stashing his belongings in their usual spot behind the bar.  

“Better get that game face on...gonna be lots of bros in here soon,” Adam sighed, rolling his eyes.  At first glance the muscle-shirted adonis, with his rippling back and brawny biceps, could easily be lumped into that category.  It wasn’t until someone got a closer look at the way he swayed his hips and stuck out his large, solid rear that they’d start to second guess themselves.  The handsome muscle man may have looked like Ken, but Adam was all Barbie deep down.    

“Why do we even have a “sports night”, anyway?  Trunks is a gay bar, not a fuckin' sports bar. All we get are straight girls who drag their uncomfortable boyfriends here because it's the one night they'll agree to come.”  Ben forgot about the book and fell into his pre-opening routine with Adam, checking supplies and prepping garnishes while Zack, the young barback, flitted around sweeping floors and wiping tables.  

“At least they’re not as handsy,” Adam said, giving one of his solid globes a swat.  

“Yeah, but they don’t tip either.  And since when do you care about handsy,” Ben laughed.

Adam held a hand to his tanned, bulging chest in mock offense, pouting.  “What kind of lady do you take me for?”  

“The kind who’s been taken by every guy in here,” Zack called from across the room.  The lithe, dark skinned young man wagged his own ample bottom towards the bar as he spoke.  “Maybe you can land a few curious boys later?”  

“Weren’t you the one bragging about blowing that cute redhead who was here with the extra annoying girl last week,” Ben asked.   

Adam shook his head as if he were tossing his shaggy blonde hair.  “You mean Alyssa, who just, like, looooooves gay guys,” he mocked, raising his voice a few octaves. 

“Clearly, considering how quick her ‘boyfriend’ was to reciprocate,” Zack said with a smug laugh.  “And that was definitely NOT his first time.”  

“Bitch you never told me that part,” Adam said, winging a towel in Zack’s direction.  The nimble young man ducked out of the way and made a show of adjusting his hair.  “Leave out anything else?”  

Ben sighed and shook his head as his two friends chatted back and forth.  He was busy lining up glasses and checking bottles, but more and more he found his attention drifting back to the book.  His friends’ conversation turned into background noise as he thought about the passages he’d read, his hands itching.  

Ben tried to ignore it, but the harder he pushed the louder the voice in his head became.  It was going to be a long, crowded night with plenty of deserving patrons.  Surely there was someone he could write about.  

************

Chapter 2

************

“Dude, why the fuck did you drag me here?”  Greg clung to the bar, stiff and uncomfortable on his stool.  His gaze only traveled between his drink, his friend, and the game on the TV, not wanting to make eye contact with any of the men around him, lest they get the wrong impression.  “You got something to tell me?”  

“Calm down, dude,” Damon laughed, punching Greg in a meaty arm as he leaned back against the bar.  He ran a hand through his short, dark hair and eyed the crowd, making sure that his chiseled pecs and tight abs were displayed appropriately against the clinging black fabric of his polo.  

The shaggy haired brunette was unconvinced, his muscled frame making the stool look small as he hunched over his drink.  “Seriously, man.  Did you know we’re in a fag bar?”  

“That’s the whole point,” Damon sighed.  “Look, the drinks are cheaper here and picking up girls is like taking candy from a baby.  Their defenses are down, bro!  You can win ‘em over before they even realize what’s happening.”  

“Yeah, cause they think you’re queer,” Greg spat.  “Which in your case…” 

“Fuck you,” the dark haired man said, taking a sip of his drink as cover for checking out a nearby blonde.  “Who cares?”  

“They probably think we’re together or some gross shit like that.”  

“I could get a much better guy than you,” Damon said, looking his larger friend up and down.  He wasn’t as built as Greg, but he was more defined, with sharp, angular features adorning his lean, whipcord frame.  

“You’re in the place to prove it.”  Greg flexed an arm, popping a prominent bicep as he picked up his drink.  “But I don’t think you’re gonna meet a guy with arms like this in here.  These ladies have probably never lifted a day in their life.”  

“All the more reason to come here!  We’re like gods to these guys...they want real men, and that’s us, right?”  Damon would never cross the line, but he was clearly more comfortable with the idea of being checked out by other guys than his larger friend.  

“If I’d known this is where you were gonna take me I wouldn’t have dressed this way,” Greg said, tugging at his equally tight polo and shifting in his plastered-on jeans.  “What if one of ‘em hits on me?” he grunted.  The beefy man was doing his best to look inconspicuous, keeping his boy-next-door face and beefy body as unappealing as possible.

“Get a drink out of it?  It’s about time WE get to use a guy for a change,” Damon laughed.  “Or just hit back.  Wouldn’t be the first time you gave one of ‘em what was coming.”  

**********

Ben bristled behind the bar, his hands burning.  He’d been eavesdropping on the straight duo’s  conversation since they’d arrived and he’d officially had enough.  It was one thing when they’d just been a pair of smug, arrogant jocks, but once the pair started joking about beating people up they’d crossed the line.  

He tapped Adam on the shoulder yelled over the din.  “Hey, I need to take a quick break.  You good here?”  

The tall blonde nodded towards the obviously uncomfortable man sitting at the bar.  “They giving you a hard time?”  Adam was easily as large as the brunette and had no problem tossing guys who thought they were stronger out of the bar.  

“Nah, they’re just douchebags,” Ben sighed.  “They’ll get what’s coming sooner or later.”  He ignored the puzzled look Adam gave him and grabbed the book on his way out from behind the bar.  The worn, brown leather was warm to the touch and seemed to vibrate in his grip as he made his way to the cluttered storage room.  

His hands shaking, Ben opened to a blank page.  “Alright, book.  I don’t know how this works...do I just write?” he asked aloud, half expecting an answer.  He took a deep breath when none came and set his pen against the page, second guessing his actions.  He didn’t see himself as the most creative person and this was definitely out of his comfort zone.  “Alright...let me think...what’d that asshole say?  They’re ‘like gods’ in here?”  Ben smiled, the ideas forming effortlessly in his mind.  He could see exactly what he wanted in vivid detail, all he had to do was write it down.  “Not dressed like that, you’re not,” he said, writing away the drab polos and generic denim.  He left them both shirtless, replacing their jeans with tiny, white paper thin running shorts.  Guessing them to be boxer briefs kind of guys, Ben instead gave the beefy brunette a neon purple jockstrap and his leaner friend a glittering, cherry red thong.  Their makeovers were capped by bright, hot pink hi-tops in place of their unremarkable boots.  

Ben felt winded when he stopped writing, a sudden commotion catching his attention.  He stuck his head out the door and saw the source; a pair of shirtless, panicking men sitting at the bar, surrounded by equally surprised patrons.  

“Fuck!  Didn’t think about everyone else,” Ben hissed, his heart a jackhammer in his chest as he frantically scribbled in the book.  The sounds of panic died down almost immediately, and when he stuck his head back out he saw nothing but a calm, normal crowd.  The two men were still shirtless and had stunned, wide-eyed looks on their faces, but no one else was reacting.  

“Muuuuuch better,” Ben said, sagging against the door and breathing a sigh of relief.  “Now let’s see what you can really do.”  

**********

“Wha...what just happened…” Greg whispered, afraid to move.  One second he’d been fully clothed, and the next he was suddenly exposed.  There’d been no warning of any kind, just a rush of air on his bare skin as his shirt vanished and his jeans became a pair of shorts smaller than his underwear.  Or at least they would have been if that hadn’t vanished as well.  He couldn’t see what he had on in place of his boxer briefs, but the sensation of his bare cheeks against the thin polyester told him it was very different.  

“I don’t….I don’t know….” Damon stammered, staring down at the chiseled torso that was now on full display for the entire bar.  The light dusting of dark hair that spread across his solid pecs and down his washboard abs drew everyone’s eye to the small shorts and bright, obvious thong underneath.  “Where did our clothes go…” 

“We gotta get outta here man,” Greg said, spinning away from the bar for the first time.  His stomach dropped when he saw the sizeable crowd, and the number of heads that turned in their direction.  He looked down at his exposed, meaty thighs and the stuffed, purple jockstrap that everyone could see beneath his shorts.  “Come on…” 

It was hard to tell who was more surprised when Greg reached over and grabbed his friend’s hand.  “Dude, let go!” Damon said, though he made no effort to resist.  “What are you doing?”  

Greg’s face went beet red as he clutched Damon’s hand in his own, pulling his friend towards the empty dance floor instead of the exit.  His horror grew when they reached the floor and he pulled the other man in close, his hands dropping to his friend’s trim waist.  “I...I can’t stop!” Greg cried, even as he started wiggling his hips and grinding against the leaner man.  

“Come...come on, man...people are staring,” Damon whimpered, reaching around to take handfuls of his friend’s ample rear.  A crowd had formed almost immediately, a sea of eager faces all focused on the beefy jock and his wiry, athletic friend.  

“Get your hands off my ass, dude!”  Greg spun in Damon’s grip, but only succeeded in letting his friend slip his hands down the front of shorts instead.  The big man gasped, pressing his plump cheeks back as Damon kneaded the pouch of his jock.  He could already feel his stout, seven inches starting to twitch and tried not to think about the solid lump pressing into his backside.  “Hey!  Don’t…!”  Greg yelped when Damon suddenly tugged his shorts down, the crowd cheering as the tiny garment was worked down his thick thighs.  He stumbled out of them, blushing as he felt his exposed cheeks shake, and turned to see a horrified Damon toss them aside.  

“I’m sorry!  I don’t know why I just did that!  I…” 

The dark haired man was cut off when Greg lunged forward.  He expected to be tossed through the air, but instead he found himself swallowed in the bigger man’s grip.  Greg’s mouth landed on top of his own, the other man’s strong tongue working its way against his.  They both writhed against each other, not trying to pull away, but to press together.  Damon felt his shorts being pulled free and felt Greg’s hands swallow his perky bubble, but he couldn’t break off the kiss.  

Greg was equally frozen, stuck in a loop of exploring Damon’s mouth with his tongue while his hands roamed over every inch of his friend’s body.  The sensation of the smaller man squirming naked against his meaty pecs should have been revolting, but Greg was already at full mast in his jockstrap, and he could feel Damon’s six inches digging into his thigh.  

“OOHhhh...fuck...dude...let me...let me go…” Damon sighed as Greg finally lifted his lips, only to drop them to his slender neck.  His lean arms were wrapped around the wider man, his fingers digging into Greg’s broad, thick back.  “I’m not...we’re not...fuckin’ fags, man,” he whined, just as a rush of tension shot through him.  

Greg felt the smaller man go tense and lifted his face from Damon’s neck just in time to watch it suddenly widen.  His friend’s face seemed to drop towards his broadening shoulders as the lean man started to inflate.  Muscle piled on top of muscle, his modest pecs ballooning outwards while his ever-growing arms started to hang at an angle.  The stunned man’s tiny waist shot outwards in all directions, widening and thickening into a distended ‘roid gut that matched his newly expanded quads.  The thong became almost invisible as Damon’s perky bubble puffed outwards into a set of huge, muscled globes, and what had once been a proud, hefty package shrunk to a short little poker barely visible between the overly muscled thighs.  

The beefy jock let go and took a step back from his altered friend, only to discover that he was in mid-transition himself.  He’d already gone from brawny to shredded, his extra bulk being replaced by the same impossible muscle that covered the other man.  He watched as his chest became a shelf of solid flesh that rested on top of his rounded muscle gut, feeling a stab of horror as he reached down and felt his sizeable rod dwindle in his grip.  He couldn’t see it over the crest of his chest and stomach, but he knew it was no larger than what remained of his friend’s.  

Greg and Damon stared at each other, looking back and forth at their twisted bodies in horrified silence.  Like their vanishing clothes, in a matter of seconds they’d somehow been turned into a pair of ‘roided out meatheads, only they knew that wasn’t an appropriate label either.  As the changes to their bodies stopped, they watched their hair grow and shape until they had perfectly styled coifs above faces that were wrinkle and blemish free.  With each passing second their body language changed, adopting an arched back, jutted-hip stance.  

“OH MY GAWD GIRL LOOK AT US,” Greg squealed.  “We’re, like, jacked!”  

“I KNOW, RIGHT?!” Damon yelled back, a limp wrist flapping as his huge arms flailed.  

“What happened to our dicks?!”  Greg tugged at the loose pouch of the jock, wincing as he felt his new flesh rub together.  

“Girl, please.  What were you gonna do with that little thing anyway,” Damon said, his eyes going wide as he heard himself.  ‘I’m gonna get my pussy stuffed tonight,” he purred, slapping his rotund new rear.  

Greg didn’t know how to process what he heard Damon say versus the pleading look his friend was giving him.  He felt like a deer in headlights as everyone stared at the two of them.  A part of him wanted to turn and run, but even as he had the thought, he no longer knew where he’d run to.  Their old lives were quickly fading away, replaced by memories of the muscle queens they’d become.  Gone were the days of being straight, former frat boys, their interest in sports and women melting away.  Now they were a pair of primping, overly built bottoms, always on the prowl to get topped and more interested in dancing and fashion.   

“I think I see someone who can do the job,” Greg winked, pawing at Damon as he spun his friend to face a pair of gawking men who were waving them over.  “Let’s get to work hunny!”  

**********

Ben stared at the men he’d changed, both nauseous and excited by the possibilities.  He was in shock, still not believing that what he’d just witnessed actually happened.  It was impossible.  There was no way he’d found a book that could change the world.  

Or had he?  

************

Chapter 3

************

“Well that night took an unexpected turn,” Adam laughed, wiping down the bar.  “Have you ever seen those two in here before?”  

Ben shook his head and did his best not to let his giddy triumph show.  “No, but they put on a hell of a show.  I’m sure they’ll be back.”  

“I thought those straight guys’ heads were going to explode when they started dancing up on ‘em.  Good things those two were so jacked or that could’a got ugly.”  The tall blonde sighed and reached down to adjust the front of his jeans.  “They sure could move, couldn’t they?  Haven’t seen an ass shake like that in a minute.”  

“Shame they weren’t workin’ with much up front,” Ben said as he leaned against the counter, his hands brushing against the book.  “Gotta make up for those little guys somehow.”  

Adam tossed a towel in Ben’s direction, sticking out a plump lower lip in an exaggerated pout.  “You never complained about size before…” 

“I’m still not,” Ben laughed.  He walked over and put a hand on Adam’s sculpted chest, the other reaching down to squeeze his friend’s solid rear.  “Feel like giving me a refresher?”  The lean man was ready to pop, turned on by the rush of his newfound power and the display the former straight bros had put on for everyone.  Watching them strut and prance in their overly muscled, overly gay new bodies while knowing that just hours before they’d been a pair of average guys was a potent aphrodisiac.  

“I could be persuaded,” Adam grinned, leaning down to kiss the smaller man in his meaty arms.  He stood nearly a head taller than Ben and was twice as broad, looking like a viking with his shaggy blonde hair and ample muscle.  The strapping hunk could be aggressive when he needed to, but mostly the muscles were for show, a way to catch attention and rope the boys in.  It had certainly worked with Ben, who didn’t care about Adam’s smallish package in the least.  For all his other size, the handsome stud topped out at just under six inches at his hardest.  And despite knowing how to use every one of those inches to the fullest, Adam had always felt self conscious about his limited endowment.  

Reaching down to squeeze the small, solid lump in his friend’s pants, it occurred to Ben that he might be able to help Adam out.  “Meet me at my place,” he said, giving a final squeeze before grabbing the book and hurrying out of the bar.  

Ben sped back to his apartment, having to fight the urge to start writing as soon as he got in the car.  The book felt like a physical presence in the passenger seat, as if another person was sitting next to him.  Whispers hissed at the edges of his hearing, a buzzing, static white noise that just barely registered.  He couldn’t make out what was being said, or if it was even language to begin with, but the longer he listened the more he felt the urge to write.  

Back in his apartment, the book fell open to a blank page as soon as he set it down.  The cover lifted of its own accord, the pages fanning from a phantom wind.  Like a man possessed, Ben didn’t question any of it.  He grabbed his pen and started writing.  

**********

“OOooof, right to it then,” Adam laughed as Ben planted a rough kiss and shoved him back against the counter, eagerly clawing at the waist of the brawny blonde’s pants.  The bigger man leaned back and sighed, stroking a hand through Ben’s thick brown hair.  “Someone’s thirsty.”  

“You have no idea,” Ben groaned, fumbling Adam’s pants open and tugging the tight denim down his friend’s sturdy legs.  His cock throbbed at the sight of Adam’s tiny blue briefs and the small bulge in the front.  If what he’d written in the book came to pass, it wouldn’t be small for much longer.  He slipped a hand inside, kneading the twitching package to get one last feel of the short rod and furry balls at their current size.  

“I think I like horny Ben,” Adam groaned, peeling off his muscle shirt to expose his tanned, chiseled torso.  His plump, round pecs broke out in goosebumps when the other man leaned in and began licking at one of his tiny nipples, his hand slipping out of the briefs to stroke his washboard abs.  

Ben lapped at Adam’s chest, backing off and raising his arms only long enough to let the other man lift his shirt free.  Adam’s tiny briefs were tented by the small rod that was begging for release, but Ben wanted to draw things out.  If he’d written it correctly his friend wouldn’t start changing until the briefs were pulled down, and he wanted a few more minutes with the old Adam.  The knowledge that his friend was literal putty in his hands, to be shaped and molded however he saw fit, was intoxicating.  

“You know that’d...be...easier...if you...took ‘em….off…” Adam grunted, overwhelmed by Ben’s eager assault.  The smaller man was squeezing and rubbing him through his briefs to the point where he was ready to blow.  Normally when they hooked up Ben was reserved, almost shy, not a frenzied whirlwind of hands and mouths.  He didn’t know what had gotten into his friend, but he wasn’t complaining.

“You’re right,” Ben grinned, wrapping a hand around Adam’s throbbing little pole while he tugged the briefs down with the other.  As soon as the tight underwear slipped over the cresting mounds of Adam’s ample rear, he felt the change.  The small cock seemed to throb, growing longer and thicker in his grip.  When he let go, both he and Adam stared down at the now-eight inch rod with wide, hungry eyes.  The furry balls underneath had grown to match, inflating and dropping with their new weight.  

“MMMM…..that’s better,” Adam purred, a slight shudder running through him.  Ben watched his friend for any other reaction, breathing a sigh of relief when the big man remained calm.  He’d written things so that Adam would accept the changes as normal, but he still worried.  He didn’t fully understand how all of this worked, which meant his friend was just as likely to panic.  

“It definitely is,” Ben laughed, stepping back and staring at Adam’s naked body.  With his new above average endowment, the muscled blonde truly was an adonis.  Sparkling eyes, lantern jaw, broad shoulders, tapering waist, solid bubble and meaty thighs, Adam was walking perfection.  

“Are you just going to stare or are you gonna join me?”  

“This is about you right now, big guy.”  Ben crossed his toned arms over his flat, bare stomach and grinned.  “Work that thing for me,” he said, nodding at Adam’s inflated member.  

For the first time that Ben could remember seeing, Adam blushed.  “What?” he laughed awkwardly.  

“Come on...bounce it around, make it wag, thrust it,” Ben goaded, making a pumping motion with his hips.  

“You ARE in a mood…” Still blushing and grinning bashfully, the chiseled blonde shook his hips, causing the aching club to slap noisily against his thighs and up against his ripped stomach when he began thrusting.  The slapping grew louder as Ben watched the bobbing organ inflate again, pushing out to a fat ten inches with plump balls the size of small oranges as Adam shook the size into it.  “That what you wanted,” Adam asked, still oblivious to the extra weight between his meaty thighs.  

Ben’s only response was to drop to his knees and swallow as much of the oversized hose as he could.  The bulbous head just barely fit into his mouth as he clutched at Adam’s solid cheeks.  He bobbed his face back and forth, only managing to fit a fraction of the powerful rod before he started to choke, and then only briefly.  After a few moments of being worked by his rapidly aching jaw, Ben had to pull away as Adam underwent another growth spurt.  The growing club shot out another few inches, until it topped out at just over a foot.  Ben pumped the enlarged cock with both hands, running his tongue along the underside of the wide beast while kneading the balls that had grown large enough to spill out of his palm.  

Looking up at the whimpering wall of perfect muscle, Ben couldn’t help but wonder what Adam would think if he knew.  Would he be happy?  Or would this be too big?  It was occurring to the kneeling man that he hadn’t entirely thought things through.  At his current size, there was no way he’d be able to take Adam, and he doubted that there were many who could.  And they still had more to go.  

“Oohh...fuck, Ben...you’re...on a roll...tonight…” Adam moaned, rocking his hips to work his third new forearm against his friend’s face.   “What’d I do to...deserve...this…”  

“Just thought I’d help you out,” Ben grinned, rising to his feet and pulling Adam along by the enormous cock.  He shoved his friend down onto the mattress when they reached his bedroom, the enlarged organ standing rigid and tall as the brawny man sprawled on his back.  The lean young bartender finally shucked his pants and underwear before climbing on top of his friend, the throbbing club wedged between them as they kissed.  Ben pumped his hips, working the rigid organs together, his six and a half inches looking pitiful compared to Adam’s oversized monster.  “Feel like helping ME out?”  

Adam smiled, his huge hands swallowing Ben’s perky bubble.  “It’s not like you can ride this thing,” he said, jamming his cock up against the other man’s wiry torso.  

Ben made a mental note, surprised to discover that not only did the other man treat what was happening as normal, his brain was adapting on the fly as if he’d always been like this.  It wasn’t abnormal for them to switch off, neither of them were locked into a top or bottom role, but now Adam was acting resigned, like he didn’t have a choice.  “I’ll make it worth your while,” Ben said, feeling a slight stab of guilt as he hefted Adam’s heavy legs onto his shoulders.  

The hulking blonde grunted and arched his back when Ben worked himself inside, clutching at the sheets as he gazed longingly up at his lean friend.  “I can’t...tell you..how..muuuuuhh...much...I appruuunnn...appreciate...you..notttuu...not...being...freaked out...by this…” Adam whimpered, his heavy pecs bouncing as Ben slammed into him.  Even as he spoke, the blonde beefcake’s weighty cock wormed its way further up his torso, sliding into the valley between the muscled mounds of his chest before finally stopping just below his chin at an impossible sixteen inches.  It was like an extra arm, as thick as wine bottle with balls the size of grapefruits that shook and jiggled as Ben plunged in and out of his solid rear.  

The smaller man was torn, equally thrilled and horrified by the sight.  When it had all been theoretical, the thought of Adam with a monstrous package had seemed fun, but seeing it in person was another matter entirely.  Ben felt another rush of guilt, knowing full well that his friend’s behemoth was just as useless as the tiny nubs he’d given the bros at the bar, even worse because of its cumbersome size.  Adam may have lamented his smallish cock, but he’d been a stud in every sense of the word, able to make Ben scream regardless of its size.  Now, all the freakish organ could do was pulse and ooze against Adam’s prominent chest while he was forced into the role of permanent bottom.  

“Of...of course…” Ben moaned, reaching down to cup the oozing head and give the heavy pole a stroke.  It was leaking like a faucet, leaving the chiseled blonde increasingly covered in a sticky layer.  “I louuu...love this….thing…” 

“Feeling’s...muh...ohhhh fuck….mutuaaaauuuunnnn!”  Adam grunted and spasmed, his eyes going wide as he erupted in volcanic fashion.  He blasted all over his gorgeous face and shaggy hair, pumping out load after load.  He was still cumming when Ben reached his own breaking point, barely registering the meager stream that hit his insides.  “Whooooo….sorry about the mess,” Adam blushed, wiping the dripping cum from his face when the tide had settled.  The bed was as soaked as he was.  

“Worth it for a show like that,” Ben laughed, pulling out and letting his friend’s legs drop.  His eyes were glued to Adam’s dangling beast as the other man rolled off the bed and began stripping the soiled sheets.  Even soft, the obscene hose dangled a foot long, nearly reaching Adam’s knee. It was made all the more prominent by the way the hairy bull balls thrust it forward, causing it to sway like an elephant’s trunk.  

It was at this point that Ben had intended to undo the changes.  He’d had his romp and given Adam a taste of the other end of the spectrum, so now it was time to put his friend back to normal.  But staring at his friend’s freakish, swaying pendulum, the copious release dripping down Adam’s bulging pecs and broad shoulders, he suddenly changed his mind.  He told himself he could always undo it later, and since Adam saw this as normal there really wasn’t any rush.  

He followed his horse-hung friend into the bathroom, loving the private show of Adam scrubbing his plentiful muscle clean.  

“Ugh,” the blonde groaned, “I just remembered tomorrow’s amateur night.”  

“Oh, great.  All the wannabe go-go boys,” Ben sighed, secretly amazed at how quickly Adam was adapting to his oversized hose bumping into the shower walls.  “Think Tim’ll show up?”  

“Of course,” the big man spat.  He cranked off the shower and stepped out, hefting the massive organ as he toweled off.  “He’s gotta feed his ego somehow.  Like, yeah, we get it, you’re hot, but that’s no reason to be a dick to all the other guys.  And you’re kind of a shitty dancer.”  

“Who knows,” Ben grinned. “The way things have been going….could be an interesting night.”  

************

Chapter 4

************

“Oooof, all the winners came out tonight,” Tim scoffed, turning back to his drink.  He checked out his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, making sure his baseball cap was exactly in place.  

The young man pouring drinks pretended not to hear the arrogant jock.  “You say somethin’ honey?” Zack asked, rolling his eyes at Ben.  

Tim ignored the question, turning his head from side to side to admire the way the dim lighting accentuated his sharp cheeks, lantern jaw, and prominent nose.  He pursed his full, soft lips, grinning with satisfaction at his striking reflection.  “Just wondering why all these guys even bother showing up,” he said, taking a long sip off his vodka and soda.  “We all know who they’re here to see.”  He purposely flexed his huge biceps as he reached up to turn his white baseball cap around, showing off the trim taper to his waist beneath the tight, red t-shirt.  

“You know it’s not a competition,” Zack said, unimpressed with the handsome man’s attitude.  

“Not when I’m around it ain’t,” Tim grinned, coming off more smug than charming.  He tensed his large, granite pecs as he leaned forward against the bar, sticking his denim-clad bubble out behind him.  “You thirsty bitches drink this shit up.”  

“I don’t hear anyone complaining about Vic up there.”  Zack nodded to the shredded, dark skinned adonis currently twirling on stage.  The writhing wall of muscle was moving expertly in time with the music, popping his hips and rolling his abs without missing a beat.  The overy stuffed pouch of his jockstrap bounced and swayed rhythmically, the thick beast it contained threatening to spill out at any moment.  

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, he’s got the moves,” Tim shrugged, “but his legs and ass are way too big.”   As if hearing the conversation, Vic turned and did a slow bend, showing off the huge, muscled globes of his solid rear.  

“You think these guys are going to care about something like that?”  Zack had to shout above the sudden roar of the crowd.  “Do you hear that?”  

“Yeah, ‘cause they all wanna piece of it.  That’s not how I operate.”  

“You should try it sometime...find out what you’re missing,” Zack winked.  

Tim laughed and shook his head.  “Never gonna happen.  I’ll fuck you guys if you ask me nice enough, but this is a ‘look don’t touch’ situation unless I’m the one doing the touching.”  

Standing next to his young coworker, Ben listened to Zack go back and forth with the arrogant hunk.  His hands burned from the overwhelming desire to start writing, but he was determined to wait until Tim had taken the stage.  He wanted the vain adonis to be in front of everyone when it happened.  While all the guys teased the crowd during their routine, it was different with Tim.  He used his looks as a weapon, as a way to put others down.  He wasn’t there to give the crowd a show, he was there to get off on the adoration.  Arrogant or not, Tim was right that he was the best looking of the bunch, but considering that it was amatuer night, the bar was set low to begin with.  It was the equivalent of kicking a puppy to get an ego boost, and Ben was determined to make sure Tim finally paid the crowd back.  

“Well, that’s my cue,” Tim said, draining the rest of his drink as the music slowed and Vic’s routine came to an end.  “Enjoy the show!”  

Zack sighed and rolled his eyes again.  “Can you believe that bitch?”  

“I can’t stand him,” Adam said as he lumbered down from the other end of the bar, his recently enlarged hose bouncing noticeably against the thin cotton of his joggers.  Instead of his usual denim, the strapping blonde had to wear something with a bit more room for his oversized package.  Though the joggers were more comfortable the downside was that, since they wouldn’t fit into any underwear anymore, his impossibly huge cock and heavy balls were always on display.  Already Ben had noticed an increase in tips.  

“I’m gonna sneak out and watch,” Ben said, handing over a drink and wiping his hands.  

Adam seemed legitimately offended.  “Since when do you give a shit about that asshole?”

“Don’t be jealous,” Ben said sliding a hand up beneath Adam’s tight tank-top to stroke the other man’s firm abs.  “I promise I’ll watch you too if you ever get up there.”  

“Like he needs to,” Zack said, nodding at Adam’s outlined beast.  “He’d take someone’s head off.”  

“Girl, fuck you,” Adam laughed, giving Zack the finger.  “Anytime you wanna try and ride this thing, you just let me know.”   

Ben grabbed the book and slipped away while his friends teased each other, making his way to a spot in the corner where he was out of sight but still had a view of the stage.  His hands shook as they lifted the cover and flipped to a blank page, the words already forming in his mind.  He was going to have to phrase things very carefully to avoid a panic, but it was going to be a show none of them would forget.  

He put his pen against the paper, forcing his fingers to remain motionless as Tim climbed up on stage.  Pursing his lips towards the crowd and rubbing his lantern jaw, the smug young jock was every bit the fratboy fantasy in his baseball hat, tight t-shirt and straining jeans.  As Ben started writing, that was all about to change.  

**********

Tim flashed his smug grin to the cheering crowd.  This was his favorite part, lording his body over everyone before he’d even taken anything off.  He walked from one side of the stage to the other, flexing his sculpted pecs and thick upper arms, occasionally lifting the bottom of his shirt to show off his ripped washboard and the tantalizing elastic of his briefs.   He toyed with his hat, turning it forwards and backwards and lifting it to run a hand through the short chocolate hair underneath.  

When the music started he tossed it aside, flexing his arms with his hands on his head as he rolled his abs and turned away from the crowd to show off his broad back’s prominent taper, and the way it culminated in his round, swaying little bubble.  After letting the view sink in he spun back around and lifted the front of his shirt all the way past his bulging pecs with one hand, giving the crowd a partial view of the tanned, chiseled torso while squeezing his bulge with the other.  When the inevitable cheering started, Tim let go of his jeans and used both hands to ever so slowly pull the shirt free, shooting an arrogant sneer at the roaring crowd while his perfectly proportioned upper body glistened under the stage lights.  

Tim ran his hands across the wiry hairs coating his pecs and down his shredded washboard stomach, pushing the front of his jeans down low to expose the top of the red briefs underneath, and draw attention to how the pants that were tight on his thighs hung loose around his trim waist.  He popped the button and kicked his shoes off in one smooth motion, tugging the zipper down but turning away from the crowd before the jeans fell open.  

At this point, Tim would normally tease the crowd by slowly pushing the jeans down, but instead his hands found their way to his head again.  The stripping stud was glad no one could see the confused look on his face when he started popping his hips and shaking his perky little bubble towards the crowd.  

“What am I doing…” he muttered to himself.  He thought it was just a sudden impulse until he quickly discovered that he couldn’t stop.  His heart started pounding when he tried to turn back around but found himself frozen in place, helplessly twerking for the hungry crowd.  

Tim’s confused terror grew when he felt an increased shaking coming from his lower half.  His solid cheeks had never had much in the way of jiggling before, but he was starting to feel a strange reverberation.  Looking over his shoulder, his fears were confirmed when he saw a set of cheeks that were significantly larger than they should have been.  

The expanding globes had already pushed his jeans down, exposing the straining backs of the little red briefs.  Instead of fitting perfectly as they should have, the stretched, crimson fabric was starting to leave more and more of the shaking mounds on display.  First the widened sides of his bouncing rear spilled out, but they were quickly joined by the top as the deepening valley between them was slowly put on display.  More and more of the fabric was sucked into the gulf until what had been an entire back panel resembled little more than a small patch of fabric between the pillowy globes.  

Tim wanted to throw up at the sight.  He was nauseous with horror as he helplessly watched his perfectly shaped rear inflate like a balloon, the solid globes expanding from firm mounds to jiggling melons.  The body he’d worked so hard to keep in perfect synch with itself was thrown off balance by the oversized lower half, making his tiny waist seem even smaller as his quads expanded to keep up with the growing bottom.  

He wanted to scream for help as he bent like Vic, slowly tugging the jeans down while his flouncing cheeks kept the crowd enthralled.  Instead he grinned from ear to ear as he spun back around, the tightened briefs leaving nothing to the imagination as his heavy cock fought for freedom.  The reflection he’d so eagerly admired earlier brought nothing but horror as he watched his impossibly altered rear sway behind him even when viewed from the front, the cheeks growing so round and wide it looked like he was towing something behind him.  

Just as Tim was thinking it couldn’t possibly get worse, his hands dropped to the straining briefs and tore them free, his confined package flopping free.  Instead of the usual thrill he felt at the roaring crowd, Tim was mortified.  He’d never gone all the way before.  He’d flashed a peek here and there, but he’d never fully stripped naked.  Now, all he could do was purse his lips helplessly at the crowd as his cock hardened, seeming small when compared to the mountainous cheeks crashing like tidal waves behind him.  

Sensing what the crowd wanted, the altered adonis turned and dropped to his knees, wagging his plump new globes before sliding a hand down his lower back and into the canyon between them.  The cheering crowd drowned out Tim’s horrified groan when he slipped a finger inside, working the digit around his exposed, virgin hole while his aching cock throbbed like never before.  

The chiseled stud tried to tell himself that it was all a nightmare.  His ass couldn’t really have quadrupled in size, and he really wasn’t fingering himself on stage.  There was no way he was actually pulling an older, heavy set man up on stage with him.  He wasn’t actually opening the man’s jeans and fishing his cock out in front of everyone.  There was no way he was turning back around to present like an animal about to be mounted.  

The jarring, mind blowing surge of pleasure that shot through him when the strangers fat cock slid inside told him it was all terrifyingly real.  Tim howled, arching his back and flexing his arms as he slammed his ass back against the man’s stomach, swallowing the entirety of the strangers blissful rod.  Tim’s smug, handsome face was twisted by orgasmic bliss, the soft, full lips he liked to purse at the crowd hanging open as he let out a continuous, low moan.  

He barely registered when the man blew his load moments later and another climbed up to take his place.  All that mattered was scratching a suddenly overwhelming itch.  Tim was horrified by the way his perfect pecs bounced as much as his ass from the force of the pounding he was receiving, but he was hungry for it to continue.  He needed it like nothing he’d ever needed before.  He wasn’t an arrogant, teasing alpha anymore; he was a bottom heavy cum dump, so desperate to get fucked he was willing to do it on stage in front of a crowd.  The cock he’d always been so proud of was little more than an afterthought when he finally came.  There was more sticky fluid dripping out of his battered hole than anything that shot from the pulsing organ.  

**********

“Okay, I’ll admit...he was more impressive than usual,” Adam said as Ben came back around behind the bar.  On stage, a confused looking Tim smiled and waved to the crowd as he waddled off, a waterfall of cum running down his meaty, naked thighs.  

“I can tell,” Ben laughed, nodding down at the huge club tenting the burly blonde’s joggers.  

Adam blushed and shook his head.  “There’s really no fooling anyone with this thing.”  

“Would you want to?”  Ben squeezed the massive organ, laughing as Adam yelped and pulled away.  

“Hey!  Not in front of the customers,” he said, adjusting his blonde locks. “Not unless they pay, anyway.”  

“You know...I bet Tim could handle that thing.  You ever give it a shot?”  

Adam cocked his head to the side and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.  “You know...I don’t think I ever have…” 

Ben slapped his friend’s solid rear.  “Go get ‘em, stud!  He’ll be thrilled.  Trust me”  Ben had written that last part in as a whim, making it so that Tim was adaptable to however big or small his partners were.  It didn’t completely eliminate his guilt over leaving Adam with his colossal equipment, but it was a start.  

He turned back to the bar as Adam scampered away, his own cock aching for attention.  Each time he used the book left him more turned on than the last, and after what he’d just witnessed he was approaching desperate himself.  

“Gotta be someone…” he muttered, slowly scanning the crowd.  “Oh, wait,” he laughed, drunk with power.  “It can be anyone.”  

************

Chapter 5

************

Ted gasped, a sharp jolt of tension running across his solid pecs.  The sizeable mounds burned and ached as if he’d just spent the past couple hours pounding out rep after rep at the gym, not drinking and dancing.  He started to worry if what he was feeling was the beginning of a heart attack.  At 47 he wasn’t as young as he used to be, and he’d messed with plenty of steroids over the years to build the bulky muscle he loved to show off.  

As he turned to look for his friends, Ted’s fear that he was having a heart attack was put to rest, replaced by another kind of terror.  There was a sudden release of tension along his bulging pecs, like a bubble bursting, as the meaty shelf expanded outwards.  The already-large piles of muscle inflated like balloons, pushing out at the sides and puffing forward until they completely obscured Ted’s view of anything below them.  Looking down, all the stunned man could see were the round, granite slabs, like someone had strapped pumpkins to his chest.  Had he been wearing his shirt, the impossible growth would have torn it to pieces.  

“Wha...what the fuck…” Ted stammered with a shocked laugh.  He stood in place, afraid to move lest something else change.  When his body stayed as it was a few moments later, he finally reached a shaking hand up to the enlarged lumps, already noting how the sudden growth limited his range of motion.  His meaty paw could barely palm the small mountain of muscle.   “This can’t be reeeeaauuuuhnhhhnnn….” he groaned, his knees going weak as soon as he gave a tentative squeeze.  The surge of pleasure was like nothing he’d ever felt before.  “Oh...oh shit…” he panted, his stout cock achingly hard in his pants.  He looked down instinctively to see if his tent was visible, only to come face-to-face with the cresting piles on his chest.  He couldn’t even see his ample muscle gut, or his large feet, just the oversized pecs and the barest tips of his solid, nubby nipples.  

Ted had to get off the dance floor.  Obvious erection or not, his tight jeans were already plastered around his thickly muscled thighs and they didn’t leave much room for his throbbing cock.  His heavy balls and stubbornly rigid organ were painfully confined, pinching and squishing with each lumbering step.  The new weight across his chest threw off his balance, forcing him to adopt an arched-back stance that only further accentuated his top heavy look.  He was starting to notice people staring as he made his way through the crowd, gasping and shuddering every time his sensitive new pecs brushed against someone.  

Just when Ted thought he was going to burst from the constricting pants, there was another release of tension.  He let out a relieved breath when the pain at his crotch faded, replaced by a growing confusion.  There was a sudden rush of air against the tops of his stocky quads as if his pants had torn, and he could feel his solid cock bouncing free in front of him.  He couldn’t see over the new growth at his chest, but reaching down he felt his stout rod and heavy balls covered in a loose, soft material as they hung on display outside of his jeans.  

Desperate to see what was happening, he barreled his way through the rest of the crowd, gritting his teeth against the surges of lust washing over him.  “This...can’t be happening,” he gasped when he finally broke free and came face-to-face with his altered reflection in a mirrored wall.  Seeing how they looked compared to the rest of his brawny frame, Ted paled at the comically large pecs strapped to his torso.  They were unnaturally huge, bigger than anything that could be built in a gym, giving his beefy frame an unbalanced look as they hovered above his muscled gut.  His powerful arms and broad shoulders were an afterthought next to the granite heaps, his full, rugged face looking small as it appeared to sit directly on top of them.  

Adding to the horror were the alterations below his waist.  The plastered on denim had been dramatically tailored, a large hole appearing where his fly should have been.  They still buttoned across his firm abs, but underneath was a gaping opening that spread to both legs, allowing his stiff pole and plump balls to hang free while also giving a tantalizing glimpse at the hairy thighs inside.  Even more confusingly, instead of the briefs he should have been wearing, all Ted saw was what appeared to be a dark purple sock or pouch covering his girthy equipment as it bobbed and swayed when he moved.  

The older man blushed as he realized he’d just pushed through a crowd with his package on display, but it occurred to him that no one reacted as if it was odd, a fact that was reinforced when his friend Derek made his way over.  

“Everything okay,” Derek shouted above the music as he watched his top-heavy friend stare at himself.  

“I...don’t know…” Ted stammered.  He’d fully intended to plead for help, but as soon as he opened his mouth the thought seemed ridiculous.  Nothing was really wrong, was it?  He looked down at his muscle tits and motioned to the exposed sock poking out of his pants.  “Do I...look weird?”  

The other beefy man grinned, folding his thick arms across his huge, if plausible, pecs.  “For you?  No, everything looks like it should.”  

Ted didn’t know why he wanted to argue.  Looking at Derek’s shirtless, proportional build, he didn’t know why he felt they should look more similar.  “It’s weird, man...I kinda freaked out for some reason,” the burly man said, smiling bashfully.  He still didn’t feel normal, but the odd panic was fading.  

“You just need to get laid, dude,” Derek laughed, clapping his friend on a meaty shoulder.  “Speaking of…” he nodded over to the lean young man watching them from a distance.  “Go get ‘em,” he winked, turning and making his way back out onto the floor.  

Ted grinned as the other man approached.  He recognized him as one of the bartenders, and while he normally didn’t go for lean, wiry guys, his aching cock just needed a release.  “Hey,” he said, his head nodding as best it could on his missing neck.  

Ben smiled and made a deliberate show of looking Ted slowly up and down.  “Hey yourself,” he grinned.  “Everything okay?  I saw you beeline off the dancefloor…” 

“Just got a bit claustrophobic out there,” Ted shrugged, shivering slightly as even that small motion caused little jolts of pleasure to shoot from his shifting chest.  

“I can see how spaces would get tight quick with those,” Ben whistled, his eyes glued to the older man’s hulking mounds.  

“They’re a bit unwieldy,” Ted laughed before returning the same slow, up and down look in Ben’s direction.  “You show this level of service with all your customers?”  

Ben nodded over his shoulder to a closed door.  “This is nothing.  I’ve got a break if you want to see what our VIP treatment is like.”  

That was all Ted needed to hear.  The older man lumbered awkwardly behind, each bob and wag of his exposed cock making him doubt again whether something was wrong, but as soon as they were in the small break room he didn’t have time to worry.  The younger man was on him in a flash, whipping off the purple sock and tossing it aside.  

“Clock’s ticking,” Ben grinned, peeling out of his tight t-shirt and pressing their bare torsos together.  

“NNNNnnnggggnnnnnnhhhh…!”  Ted hissed when he wrapped his beefy arms around the smaller man and felt Ben’s defined body rub against his chest.  The younger man bent down and tongued the massive mounds, nearly bringing Ted to his knees with the sensation of his stubbled chin dragging across the heaving pecs.  It took all of his focus just to fumble the other man’s pants open and pull them down, barely even registering that his wide pole was being stroked the whole time.  

“Someone’s about to pop,” Ben laughed, lubing Ted’s eager rod with the slick juices oozing from the leaking head.  He groaned when the older man’s fumbling hands tugged on his own aching pole, but he guided them away as he turned.  “Mmmmm…that’s better.” he sighed when Ted wasted no time worming a few fingers into his eager hole.  He’d had fun with Adam the other night, but after watching Tim’s show he was in the mood to go for a ride.  

Ted was just as eager.  He kneaded the young man’s solid little bubble with one hand while working him open with the other.  Ordinarily he preferred to hook up with meatheads and gym rats like himself, but he was always willing to show someone what a real man was like.  “There it is…” he sighed, his voice an arrogant growl when Ben grunted at his entrance.  His hands gripped the younger man’s trim waist like a vice as he guided him deeper onto the wide pole.  

Ben moaned blissfully as he bent forward against the wall and pushed his ass back, bracing himself as the burly stud behind him started pumping in full.  His lean body shook from the force, his quiet whimpers lost in the rough sound of slapping flesh.  He’d chosen well.  Ted was a beast, rolling his hips and thrusting with expert precision.  He’d pegged the older man as the dominant, top kind, and he hadn’t been wrong.  He couldn’t wait to see how Ted reacted to what came next.  

“FFuuuuuuuck yyyyyyeeeeeesssss….” Ben groaned after a few minutes of silent fucking.  It was taking all of his effort to hold himself back as Ted pounded away.  “Yo...you’re….really...good at this…” he grunted.  

Ted’s smile faltered as he thrust against Ben’s shaking rear.  The longer he fucked the younger man, the more he started to notice how different things felt.  The waves of pleasure were coming from his bouncing pecs, not the throbbing cock sliding in and out of Ben’s tight hole.  The mounds of muscle slammed up and down with each of his thrusts, causing him to whimper and moan, but the sensations from his stout cock were tepid at best.  

“Something...wrong…” Ben asked, his defined body vibrating as Ted started hammering at a rapid pace.

“I’m not...sure…” Ted grunted.  “This usually doesn’t...take...so long…” 

Ben righted himself and slid off the other man’s thick organ.  “Let’s try a different position,” he said, shoving Ted down onto the couch and climbing on top so that he straddled the older man’s muscled stomach with his toned thighs.  He grinned as he sat back, impaling himself once again on Ted’s frustrated member.  “How about this?”  

“OOHHHHHHHooohhhHHHOOOO!”  Ted howled when Ben reached down and started squeezing his enlarged chest.  He spasmed and bucked his hips, causing the younger man to clutch his chest even tighter as he became a writhing bull.  It was like nothing he’d ever experienced.  His hands dug into Ben’s thighs so tight he was going to leave bruises but he couldn’t help it.  All he could do was moan and writhe ecstatically against the young man’s soft hands.  All technique was forgotten as he thrust his hips with wild abandon, barely even registering that his cock was being worked in the first place.  The sensation of being buried between Ben’s little cheeks paled in comparison to what was happening to his chest.  “Do...don’t stop….don’t stop...!” Ted begged as he stared up at Ben with wide, shocked eyes.  He had just enough awareness left to register the irony of his situation.  Ben may have been riding his cock at the moment, but he was clearly the one getting fucked.  His deep rumble came out as a wailing shriek when Ben started pinching and thumbing his nubby nipples, his forgotten cock finally erupting.  

The sight of Ted’s overwhelmed expression caused Ben to blow moments later more than anything the older man’s spasming rod was doing to his insides.  The spewing hose felt wonderful, but it was the sudden surge of power that really got Ben off.  “Seemed like that...did the trick…” he panted, finally letting go of Ted’s sweat-slick tits.  

The older man shivered as even the slight sensation of Ben’s cum trickling down into the deep ravine of his chest sent a jolt through him.  “Sorry if I was rough,” he said, nodding towards the thighs he couldn’t see over the muscled piles.  

Ben slid off the couch and smiled when Ted spasmed as he wiped the cum from the older man’s torso.  “No complaints here.”  

Ted watched the younger man get dressed as he caught his breath, momentarily confused by what he felt.  Though he’d just blown harder than he could ever remember, his cock was still as rigid as if nothing had happened.  It finally occurred to him that he still had his jeans on, too.  With the new access port in the front, he hadn’t needed to remove the straining denim at all.  “Thanks,” he said as he sat up and took the purple sock from Ben, feeling like he was pulling on his underwear as he slid it back over his stout pole and furry balls.  “Should probably put this back on too…” Ted reached around and pulled his shirt from the back of his jeans, looking at the tight lycra as if he’d never seen it before.  His brain told him he should have a loose muscle shirt, but even as he had the thought he knew that was ridiculous.  The skin-tight lycra was bad enough against his sensitive chest, a loose, constantly rubbing muscle shirt would have him cumming all over the place.  He took a deep breath and shivered as he pulled the shirt on, the clinging material showing off every inch of his thick, curvy torso and the large, solid nipples underneath.  “Thanks for this,” he said, smiling over at Ben as the younger man watched him get dressed.  

“No, thank YOU,” Ben laughed, waving Ted off as the older man left to rejoin his friends.  Watching the purple sock bounce and the impossible pecs shift beneath the lycra tank top, Ben suddenly felt sick to his stomach.  The triumphant glow faded and he started trembling, the full realization of what he’d just done sinking in.  

He knew nothing about Ted.  He’d simply seen the burly, middle-aged man with the thinning, salt and pepper hair and matching mustache from across the bar and decided to take him for a spin.  He usually didn’t go for the ‘roided out types, but he was curious about Ted’s veiny bulk and all the things he could do to it.  Ben didn’t know if Ted was a nice guy or a total asshole, but he did know that from that moment on, the older man would spend his days walking around with his permanently hard cock on display beneath his obscenely large pecs.  Whether that meant the other man would be strutting around the office with a sock-covered package sticking out of his slacks, or fumbling around a construction sight with huge pecs always getting in the way, he didn’t know.  Ted could still be a top if he wanted, but the beefy man wouldn’t be getting off unless his tits were worked.  On the other hand, he could now get off JUST by having the meaty mounds fondled.  If Ben walked up behind and gripped them, it would only take a few moments of tweaking and toying before the thick hunk’s cock would be spraying like a fire hose.  

“Oh god,” Ben stammered, dropping to the couch.  His hands burned, already eager to write someone else into a new reality.  “What did I just do?”  

************

Chapter 6

************

Ben felt nauseous over his actions at the club that night.  He was disgusted, replaying the events in his head while he drove, the book looming like a physical presence in the passenger seat, taunting him.  Even now he wanted to pull over and start writing.  It was a compulsion; it didn’t matter who the subject was.  His knuckles were white around the steering wheel and his heart a jackhammer in his chest.  He would have thrown the book out of the window if he could have trusted himself to touch it.  As it was, he knew the second he made contact he’d flip the cover and start scribbling.  

His plan had been to undo all the damage as soon as he got home, but now he wasn’t so sure.  If nothing else, he was determined to at least put Adam and the older man he’d just fucked back to normal.  He could live with the former straight bros and Tim staying as they were, but his rationalizations crumbled when it came to innocent victims.  Though even then he knew, deep down, that leaving the others as they were was a crime of cosmic proportions.  He’d somehow warped the very fabric of reality, upending everything he thought he knew about how the world worked.  It was fun at first, a rush of pure, overwhelming power, but as time passed the full weight was starting to sink in.  If something as foundational as reality could be twisted by an average man with a simple disposable pen, what did that say about the true nature of the universe and his place in it?  

There was a second, growing voice happy to answer Ben’s question.  If reality was so malleable, it whispered, why shouldn’t he change it to suit his needs?  If nothing was set in stone in the first place, where was the harm in making a few tweaks?  He hadn’t left anyone miserable or significantly worse off than they had been.  Different, yes, but concepts like “better” or “worse” were all a matter of perspective.  Things needed to be shaken up every so often to keep from going stale, the voice told him.  

It was too much for Ben to sort through.  He’d clearly gotten in over his head and he was starting to look for a way out.  He wasn’t interested in the building blocks of reality, he just wanted to put things back to normal and get rid of the book for good.  

“Okay...you can do this,” Ben said to himself as he parked the car and looked over at the book.  He picked it up with shaking hands, his clenched fingers refusing to give in and open the cover as he hurried for home.  The short trek across the dark parking lot felt like an unending desert, the humming streetlamps overhead casting tantalizing pools of light that reflected off the sleeping cars.  He could stop in any one of them, the voice said, and start writing.  He didn’t even need to wait until he was inside.  

“No...not gonna happen,” Ben spat.  He bit down on the urge and successfully made it to the sidewalk, stepping up onto the cracked pavement when he heard a familiar voice behind him.  

“‘Sup, homo?”  

Ben tightened his grip on the book, desperately clinging to his quickly fading resolve.  “Not now, Logan.”  He kept walking without turning around, his eyes focused on the door to his building.    

The brawny man reached out and put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, purposely giving it a rough squeeze.  “Awww, what’s wrong?  Couldn’t find anyone to fuck your faggot ass tonight?”  

Ben pulled out of the grip and spun on the other man, his rage building at the sight of Logan’s smug expression.  “I did, actually,” he said, looking around the otherwise empty parking lot.  “What’s your problem?  Couldn’t find a girl drunk enough to come home with you?”  

“Fuck you,” Logan growled, drawing himself up and sticking his prominent chest out like any schoolyard bully trying to establish dominance.  Ben was unimpressed, having witnessed the same display countless times since moving in.  Logan was his upstairs neighbor, which meant he and the ignorant meathead crossed paths with unfortunate frequency.  As soon as the other man caught wind of him being gay, the torment had been constant.  It was to the point where Ben couldn’t exit or enter the building without Logan yelling something at him.  It never escalated beyond verbal harassment, and even if it had Ben was relatively confident he could take the bigger man if it came down to it.  Now, his hands burning, he knew he had a much better option.  

“Do you want me to,” Ben shrugged.  “I mean, you’ve always been pretty vocal about NOT wanting that.  But if you’ve changed your mind...”  He cocked his head to the side, his eyes slowly traveling down Logan’s meaty frame.  The former jock had clearly been in excellent shape at one point, but his athletic build had put on some extra weight over the years.  He was the same age as Ben, but where the smaller man had kept himself lean and trim, Logan had grown thick and beefy, his lumpy bulk straining against his too-small polo and unflattering khakis.  The trimmed beard coating his full cheeks was an obvious attempt at hiding his softening jawline, just as his dark, short-cropped hair was a way of making his size seem intentional.  

Logan balled his hands into fists and glared while Ben’s eyes lingered on him.  “Just keep runnin’ that queer mouth and see what happens.”  

Ben raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk.  He was only going to have a second, but all he needed to get down were a few words.  “Huh.  That’s not a bad idea.”  He flipped the book open, using Logan’s confusion to his full advantage.  The last thing the beefy homophobe had expected was for Ben to pull out a book and start writing.  

“What the fuck?  Are you writing in your sissy journal?”  

“Stop,” Ben said as Logan reached to grab it, breathing a sigh of relief when the other man’s hand froze inches from the book.  

Logan’s arrogant grin faded as he slowly realized his arm had failed to reach its intended destination.  “The hell…” he stammered, his eyes going wide when he discovered that he couldn’t move.  “What the fuck?!  What is this?!”  he barked, his arm locked in its outstretched position.  

“You said you wanted to see what happened when I ran my mouth,” Ben grinned.  “So let’s find out.  Take your shirt off.”  

Logan’s face was purple with fury as his arms betrayed him.  He reached down and grabbed the bottom of his tight polo, casually pulling it free and tossing it aside despite his brain screaming at himself to stop.  Ben watched the other man’s hairy torso break out in goosebumps against the warm night air as he eyed Logan’s thick pecs and firm, undefined stomach.  The wiry hairs spread across his plump chest and up over his broad shoulders to coat his large, hefty arms before flowing down to dust his expanding midsection.  It was solid with muscle at the moment, but Ben could see signs of Logan’s gut starting to push out with a pair of small love handles that the tight pants bit into.  

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you,” the shirtless brute hissed in impotent rage.  

“No you’re not,” Ben chuckled.  “You’re going to take your pants off.”  

Once again, Logan’s eyes went wide when his body acted of its own accord.  The bulging sockets darted around the parking lot for any potential witnesses as he kicked his shoes free and undid the fly before tugging the pants down, nearly bringing his thin, worn boxers with them.  The plaid underwear stopped just before the base of the thick cock that was clearly visible bouncing around when Logan pulled the pants free, his wide, hairy thighs shaking with the effort.  

“How are you doing this,” Logan whispered, his brawny body flushing with embarrassment as he stood in nothing but his boxers and socks.  

“Magic?  I don’t actually know,” Ben shrugged, smiling at the big man’s obvious discomfort.  “Hey, come on, relax!  Let’s go up to your place and I can show you what this thing can really do.”  

Logan’s horrified expression softened as he was told to relax.  Ben gathered up the other man’s discarded clothes and they made their way for the building as if they’d been hanging out all evening.  Instead of going in the back door, Ben took Logan by the hand and led them through the front lobby, prolonging the bearish man’s humiliation as he was paraded through the halls in his boxers.  The ratty underwear was still low on the other man’s hips, letting the top of Logan’s ample backside hang free.  Given the late hour they only passed a few other neighbors, but Ben could feel Logan cringing every time.  He laughed it off to the people they passed as the burly man being drunk, knowing full well that Logan was more worried about being seen in his underwear in the company of a known gay man.  Ben didn’t help matters by winking and adding that Logan just couldn’t wait til they got home whenever they passed someone.  

“Well this is about as gross as I thought it’d be,” the smaller man sighed when they finally reached Logan’s messy apartment.  It was a mix of worn, mismatched furniture, sports memorabilia, and empty liquor bottles as decoration, the scent of cheap cologne lingering in the air.   “You actually bring girls here?  Eh, I guess if they’re drunk enough to go home with this,” he said, patting Logan’s hairy gut, “the bar’s been set pretty low already.” 

Logan tensed at Ben’s touch, his relaxed expression never fading.  “Okay man, you made your point.  I’m sorry...I won’t fuck with you anymore.”   

“I appreciate that, but we’re not done yet.”  Ben pulled Logan along into the bedroom, shaking his head at the piles of dirty laundry on the floor.  He rooted through the big man’s dresser, pulling out old boxers and gym shorts before doing the same with the drab clothes in Logan’s closet.  “Wow...this is all...so boring.”  Ben let out a deep breath and gave the big man a sympathetic look.  “You know that’s what you are, right?  Just another unremarkable man living an unremarkable life doing his best to make other people feel as shitty as he does.”  He sat on the edge of the bed and opened the book on his lap, tapping the pen against his chin.  “But don’t think of this as punishment.  Think of this as a fresh start.”  

“What...what’re you do…” 

“Don’t talk,” Ben interrupted, pointing to the mirror on the back of the closet door.  “Just watch.”  He waited for Logan to shuffle across the room, mulling over the infinite possibilities.  “First things first, that hair’s gotta go.”  

There was a tingling sensation at his scalp and Logan’s jaw dropped open when his short, dark brown hair lightened to a golden blonde as it thickened into a full, coiffed pompadour.  He tried to protest, but his voice wouldn’t come.  All he could do was watch while his trimmed beard and wiry body hair lightened to match.  The beefy jock’s humiliation at being turned into a blonde against his will only grew when all of the newly golden hair south of his eyebrows vanished.  In a matter of moments he went from furry to nearly entirely smooth, a small, blonde bush poking out of his boxers all that remained of the former carpet.  Arms, legs, chest, ass, armpits; everything was perfectly shaven, as if the hair had never been there in the first place.  

“Alright...now we’re getting somewhere,” Ben said, watching Logan’s wide eyes travel up and down his pink, hairless frame.  “Gotta do something about that body, though.  The bulky look wasn’t bad with the fur, but now that it’s gone we can do better.”  

Logan tried to beg Ben to stop, but his voice still wouldn’t come.  All he could manage was a stilted gasp when the tingling broke out again, this time over his entire body while, bit by bit, his burly build shifted and reshaped itself.  His wide gut and budding love handles sucked inwards, a set of defined abs sprouting over his now-trim midsection as the plump pecs above solidified into a chiseled, granite shelf.  Logan felt a moment of panic as his arms appeared to shrink, the excess weight vanishing until all that remained were the sculpted biceps and triceps hanging off his broad shoulders.  The process repeated itself at his legs, the meaty thighs shrinking slightly until a matched pair of shredded quads sat above his defined calves.  Unlike with his arms, the extra flesh didn’t vanish as much as it pushed upwards, puffing out his ample backside into a round, supple bubble.  

“Muuuuuuch better,” Ben clapped.  He stood and let a hand drift down Logan’s tapering new torso, pinching the solid muscle beneath the smooth, tight skin.  The boxers that had been tight now hung loose around the altered man’s tiny waist, only held in place by the inflated rear.  

Logan gave a stunned smile as he stared at the athletic body he hadn’t seen in years.  He wasn’t thrilled with the hair, or with the size of his pillowy backside, but he’d gone from burly to shredded in the blink of an eye.  What had started as a nightmare was becoming a dream come true.  Or so he thought until Ben continued speaking.  

“Now let’s do something about that face.”  

Logan’s stomach dropped from the whiplash he felt at his growing relief plummeted back into dread.  Already he looked like a stranger.  His thin lips puffed and inflated between cheekbones that went from barely present to exaggerated cliffs, his flat, wide nose shrinking into a petite button.  All the while his horrified, dark brown eyes lightened to a bright, sparkling blue beneath his softening brow until what had been a rugged meathead was replaced by a doe-eyed pretty boy.  

“Almost done,” Ben nodded.  “Just gotta dial in some of the details…” 

Logan braced himself when his skin started tingling again, going from a pale pink to a deep, uninterrupted tan.  His socks vanished and he would have yelped had he been able when the ill-fitting boxers shrunk into a small, bright pink thong.  The pouch popped against his newly tanned skin as it struggled to conceal his heavy package, the string vanishing completely between the large new cheeks.  As embarrassed as he was by what he was wearing, the altered jock’s heart started racing at the growing thought that the changes went beyond this one pair of underwear.  

That fear was confirmed when Ben gave his jiggling ass a swat and motioned for him to turn around.  The dirty piles of laundry and discarded clothes from his dresser and closet were gone.  Even more confusing, his bed had entirely different sheets, and instead of being bare, the top of his dresser was lined with several bottles of lotion and skin creams.  

“Take a look,” Ben said, laughing at the way Logan’s hand darted back when he opened a drawer.  Instead of boxers, it was filled with all manner of bright thongs, jocks and bikinis.  As the newborn adonis frantically pored over the remaining drawers and dug through his closet, he discovered the rest of his wardrobe had been similarly changed to emphasize his new look.  Instead of drab and plain, everything was bright, tight, and revealing.  

“Oh, right, you can talk,” Ben said when Logan began opening and closing his mouth silently.  

“Oh. My. Gawd.  Like, what did you even do to me?!”  Logan’s pretty new face flushed beneath the deep tan at the sound of his voice.  Instead of gruff and demanding, it was a light chirp.  He rubbed his neck and cleared his throat as he looked back over his shoulder at the way his ass shook when he moved, his hands reaching up to feel his jagged new cheekbones and puffy lips.  “I’m a pretty bitch!”   

“Exactly!” Ben said proudly.  “You were always so obsessed with “fags”...now you’ve got a chance to see what that’s like clear at the other end of the spectrum.”  

Logan swayed on his feet when Ben started writing again, a wave of dizziness washing over him.  His heart was racing as he stared at the other man, slowly noticing all the details he’d overlooked.  Why did he think Ben was scrawny? He wasn’t that much smaller than himself, and he had such a perky little ass to go with that cute face.  

The thought made Logan’s barely contained cock throb and twitch against the thong as he licked his inflated lips.  He felt like he’d just been worried about something, but he couldn’t remember what.  Logan laughed it off, knowing that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence with him.  He’d long ago embraced his status as a pretty face and not a thinker.  

“Whoa,” Logan giggled, rolling his bright blue eyes.  “Totally drifted off there...like, what was I saying?”  

“I was just leaving,” Ben said, closing the book.  

“Aww, babe, do you have to?”  Logan reached down and squeezed the semi-hard lump in his thong.  Without the extra weight the plump organ looked even bigger than it had.  “What am I gonna do with this?”  

Ben grinned and gave Logan’s new ass a squeeze as he held up the other man’s phone.  Logan’s new dating profile was on the screen,with a message from a man that looked the way the burly man should, saying he was on his way over.  “Did you forget?  You’ve got company coming.”  

A fresh look of horror washed over Logan’s exaggeratedly handsome features.  “Oh!  Oh my god!  I totally, like, forgot!  I have to fix my hair!”  Ben laughed as Logan scampered into the bathroom and started pulling out baskets of product where before there had only been a tube of toothpaste and a thing of deodorant.  Now there was hair gel and face masks and cleansers and foundation.  Whatever Logan’s routine used to be, it was clearly much more involved now.  “Bye, hun!  I’ll call you in the morning!”  

**********

Ben groaned, stroking his aching cock to the sound of Logan’s slamming headboard and piercing wails.  He’d occasionally heard the other man’s deep grunts through the ceiling before, but they were nothing like his new friend’s constant stream of whimpering moans as he begged to be fucked harder.  Ben could only imagine how the old Logan would have felt knowing all his neighbors could hear him blissfully getting plowed by another man.  

“Can’t...believe...I almost...got rid of you…” Ben sighed, his other hand lingering on the cover of the book while he pumped away.  He felt like he was forgetting to do something, but the thought was drowned out by another howl of pleasure from Logan above.  

************

Chapter 7

************

Ben sat at the kitchen counter, still marveling at the changes to Logan’s apartment.  He’d only seen it in passing, but the clean, well-appointed living room was nothing like the grungy bachelor pad it had been the night before.  Stylish furniture, modern decorations, bright colors, framed pictures of naked men where sports memorabilia had been; it made Ben’s place feel straight by comparison.  

“Sounded like you had a good time last night,” Ben called as Logan went through his morning routine in the bathroom next door.  

“Girl, you have NO idea,” the former brute giggled.  “I haven’t had a dick like that in weeks!”  

Ben laughed at the way Logan said it, as if years had passed.  “You really went that long?”  

“I said a dick like THAT,” Logan corrected.  “Fuck no I didn’t go that long.”  Despite the giddy tone, the naked stud that emerged from the bathroom was an adonis.  His chiseled, granite muscles still glistened from his recent shower and the exposed cock dangling between his sculpted thighs hung long and heavy.  Logan only had a towel wrapped around his hair and a moisturizing mask on his face, seeming unbothered at being naked in front of the man he used to torment.  

Ben watched Logan prance over to the fridge and pull out a pre-workout protein shake, his perfectly round cheeks flexing as he purposely stuck them out when he bent over.  What had been packed full of processed food and cheap beer was now minimally filled with fresh vegetables and carefully selected proteins and supplements.  “Shouldn’t you be doing this after we go to the gym?”  

Logan daintily stuck a straw in the shake, sipping it carefully to avoid messing with his mask.  “Skin care waits for no one,” he chided, leaning against the counter and motioning to his tapering frame.  “Beauty like this takes work, sweety.”  

Ben grinned, his cock throbbing at the thought of the old, beefy Logan primping and preening naked in front of him.  He didn’t know what would have horrified the homophobe more; the way he was acting, or the way he was talking.  He walked over and put a hand on Logan’s tanned washboard, his fingers drifting down to the base of the other man’s hefty package.  “I appreciate your effort.”  

Logan flashed a coy smile, pursing his plump new lips.  “It’s all for my adoring public.”  

Ben had written in that last part while listening to the other man’s ecstatic howls the night before.  He didn’t know what his new friend used to do for a living, but now he made his money from a combination of stripping and online videos.  The internet was where he made most of it, having developed a lucrative fan base who loved watching the pretty boy get topped and degraded by the kinds of big, beefy homophobes he used to be.  

“Your public’s getting tired of waiting,” Ben sighed.  “Can we please get going?”  

Logan gingerly set the shake on the counter and put a fist against his trim hips, the large, flexing bicep a sharp contrast to the feminine pose.  “Okay, okay,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.  “Give a girl a minute to get ready!”  

Twenty minutes later they were finally in Ben’s car and headed for the gym.  Logan had been chirping nonstop, going on at length about the hung stud from the night before, and how he felt like he was getting fat, and how he needed to work on his butt.  His new, blonde pompadour was perfectly styled, as were the tight, lime green tank-top and tiny, powder blue shorts that showed off his impressive bulge and meaty cheeks so well.  

Ben was only half listening, his thoughts drifting to the plain brown volume in the backseat.  He’d been so determined to get rid of it the night before, but now the thought seemed ridiculous.  The guilt he felt over changing the guys at the bar was like a distant memory.  He could remember it, but he no longer felt it.  The urgent desire to undo what he’d done was gone, replaced by a satisfied contentment that the world was as it should be.  If the guys weren’t supposed to be like that, he wouldn’t have made it so.  His run in with Logan the night before had made everything clear.  There was a reason he’d found the book, and he needed to use it or someone else would.  It wasn’t a curse.  It was a gift.  The new Logan was proof of that.  

“Ugh, it’s crowded,” Logan whined as he pushed through the front doors with a flourish.  

Normally Ben would have been just as annoyed, but he viewed the situation from his new perspective.  He wasn’t looking at a crowd; he was looking at seeds of change, just waiting to be sown.  The book was heavy in his hand, a weight unto itself, as he followed Logan to the machines in back.  

“Why’d you even bring that thing in here,” Logan said, nodding to the book as if he’d been reading Ben’s thoughts.  

The lean young man shrugged.  “Thought it’d be a good idea to start tracking progress.”

Logan rolled his eyes.  “Um, hello, that’s what your phone’s for.”  He heaved a sigh and crossed his arms over his stomach as he stood and waited next to the leg press machine.  “This is going to take foooorever.”  

While Logan started taking selfie after selfie, Ben focused his attention on the man using the machine.  He looked to be about their age, with short red hair and a tight, lean build similar to his own.  He was wearing a loose, sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of baggy mesh shorts that were currently riding up and exposing his toned, pale thighs.  

He was writing before he knew it.  The book was open in his hands, no longer heavy but almost floating, weightless as he scribbled without taking his eyes off the grunting ginger.  The toned man kept pushing through rep after rep of leg presses, unaware of the changes taking place.  With each push, his toned thighs expanded outwards, the growth spreading upwards to the man’s tiny bubble.  

There was another leg press machine next to him, with a middle aged man straining through the same motions.  He had a thicker build, but his dedication to the gym was evident by the solid torso straining against his t-shirt and the sturdy, flexing legs that were on display.  Ben smiled, hit with a sudden revelation.  He looked around and saw a pair of bodybuilders on the other side of the room at the squat rack, with a third man pumping out deadlifts.  Ben started writing faster.  

The lean ginger he’d started with was already noticeably bottom heavy, his toned legs having been replaced by a pair of wide, thick thighs that pressed together.  The tiny bubble was now a massive set of plump, round globes that stuck out the bottom of his shorts that were no longer bunched but had shrunk to match Logan’s.  

The full scope of the changes hit when the man stood, his tiny waist looking almost impossibly small above his massive new lower half.  The barely concealed pumpkins were a sea of constant motion, forming a jiggling shelf for his loose shirt as he waddled awkwardly to grab some paper towels so he could wipe down the equipment.  

The older man next to him was undergoing a similar change.  His hairy thighs had grown to tree trunk proportions, his already larger ass expanding outwards in all directions.  Whatever underwear he’d previously been wearing, now the bottom straps of a jockstrap were visible as the impossible mounds spilled out from his equally altered shorts.  Both men appeared oblivious, hesitating only slightly when they first climbed off the machines and felt their shifting, inflated lower halves.  The older man and the young ginger shared a surprised look when they saw each other, nodding in solidarity at the compact cars they towed behind them.  

Across the room, the bodybuilders were just completing their sets.  When Ben turned back around he saw three comically shaped hulks.  The formerly proportional men now strained their new lycra shorts near to bursting with watermelon cheeks and thick, inflexible thighs that made their large upper bodies seem underdeveloped.  Like the other two, the men didn’t appear shocked at all by the changes as Ben watched them critique and compare each other’s new backsides.  

He kept writing, focusing on the arms next.  A pair of young jocks were hefting free weights in the corner, trying to outdo each other, while a man who looked to be in his fifties was sitting at the preacher curl.  Like the bottom heavy men before them, all three started changing.  Each rep caused their arms to inflate.  Biceps, triceps, and forearms all steadily thickened, growing at a rapid pace while the rest of their bodies remained the same.  

The changes to the athletic young men were striking.  Their t-shirts shifted and morphed into loose, flowing muscle shirts that showed off just how lean and toned the rest of their torsos were compared to the beefy pistons hanging on either side.  The formerly chiseled appendages were now thick and gorilla like, having grown larger than most people’s legs.  They were impossibly disproportionate, their range of motion severely limited by the excessive bulk.  

The same went for the rugged, silver haired man at the preacher curl.  It looked like someone had their legs draped over the edge as his meaty new arms pressed together.  His broad, hairy back and thick chest were on display through his similarly altered shirt, his torso looking just as small as the athletic young men’s with their ape-like arms.  

Looking at the plump, bouncing cheeks and massive, oversized arms on the men around him, Ben felt like he was high.  As more men took up the vacant spots they underwent similar changes, sprouting huge, jiggling globes or growing impossibly thick pistons.  What started as a handful was now approaching a dozen, and Ben was still writing.  

Chests were next.  Men using the press and fly machines or pumping out bench presses found their chests expanding ever outwards.  Ben watched one particularly fit young blonde sprout a set of muscle tits so large the young man could no longer bring his hands together in front of him.  His tank-top vanished, leaving the mammoth, jutting mounds with the solid, enlarged nipples hanging above his flat stomach on display for everyone.  A furry bodybuilder knocking out flys had his slab of a chest inflate like a hairy balloon, forever blocking his view of his stomach, cock, or feet.  

The misshapen men piled up one by one.  Shoulders expanded to comical width, otherwise lean men sprouted curving, jutting muscle guts like beach balls, calves grew like Popeye’s biceps on thin legs, until soon the entire gym was filled with unique, altered men.  Ben made sure that only one area would change on each, leaving those affected with their disproportionate new features.  He made sure the change to their wardrobe extended beyond the gym to show off their new appearance.  Large, jiggling rears would be constantly on display, huge arms would never be covered in sleeves, and protruding pecs would always hang free.  They were the only changes he made.  Gay or straight, he left the men as they were, letting them live their previous lives with their new shapes.  

“Damn, I don’t remember there being so many hot guys here,” Logan panted, wiping the sweat from his smooth brow.  He’d taken off his tank top, letting his chiseled, perfectly proportional torso glisten for all to see.  Looking around, he and Ben were the only ones without an oversized top or bottom.  “I really DO need to get this thing bigger,” he said, slapping his ample bottom while drooling over an altered man’s colossal cakes.  

Ben had considered it.  He’d thought about letting Logan change with the rest of the men, but as much as he’d love to see the former homophobe strut around with basketballs for an ass or oversized muscle tits on his chest, he liked him as he was.  “I don’t think anyone’s complaining,” he said, giving Logan’s barely covered cheeks a squeeze.  He relished the knowledge of how much the former bully would have hated it.  

“I think I’m going to need to take a shower,” Logan winked, watching the man waddle into the locker room.  Both of their jaws hit the floor when they followed and caught the altered man just as he peeled out of his tiny shorts, his pillowy rear falling free like a landslide.  The man’s otherwise average cock looked tiny between his impossibly meaty thighs, but it didn’t matter as all eyes would forever be on the bouncing mountains behind him.  

“Is this...oh god…” Logan stammered, putting a hand to his perfect pecs.  “I’ve never felt this before!  I...I think I wanna hit that,” he said, an exaggerated look of shock on his face.  All around them the disproportionate men were in various states of undress, their altered features all the more jarring against their naked bodies.  

Ben smiled and drummed his fingers against the book.  Even now, more men were changing out on the floor, and they’d continue to do so.  He’d left it so that whoever used the machines or equipment would change like the men that afternoon.  Given how popular the gym was, it wouldn’t be long before he saw his work all over town.  “Stranger things have happened,” he laughed.  

************

Chapter 8

************

The book was a parasite.  Ben may have opened the cover and held the pen, but the volume itself was the one in control.  The voice in his head whispering justifications sounded increasingly like his own, and though he hadn’t written a single sentence about himself, Ben knew he was changing.  The reluctance and horror he felt over his actions was replaced by a numb detachment through which he was starting to view the world as a whole.  The building blocks of reality seemed to crumble before his eyes, and he kept catching himself staring at random people and objects like he’d never seen them before.  These weren’t people around him; they were simply raw material to be used in remaking the world as he saw fit.  

But it wasn’t up to him.  He knew that now.  If he’d thrown the book away after the first time he might have been able to escape, but not anymore.  Ben could still think of positive uses for the tome, he just couldn’t force himself to write them out.  Cancer?  He could cure it.  Terminal illness?  Gone.  Missing limb?  Paralysis?  Old age?  War?  Greed?  He could fix it all.  He could be a savior, washing away the sins of the world and ushering in a new Eden.  

The book had other ideas.  It was like a dealer, giving you a taste for free to get you hooked.  Sure, it would let you do something nice at first if that’s what you wanted.  Go ahead and fix your friend or cure that loved one.  It could wait.  The occasional strong willed individual might be able to draw the line there and get away, but it knew most people wouldn’t be able to resist.  With each written word it sunk its claws in deeper and deeper until you couldn’t tell its voice from your own, until you couldn’t tell your desires apart, until you ached with the same hunger.  

It fed on fear.  Ben could feel it now, the brief instant where the old version of a person was hit with terror at the new version.  Whether he wrote them as oblivious or not, there was always at least a single moment of horror that hung in the air before the book snatched it up like a frog catching a fly with its tongue.  It was intoxicating.  Addicting.  This thing disguised as an innocuous leather journal crawled under your skin with its calm rationalizations about chaos and the need for change, the whole time sowing nothing but torment and making you feel wonderful for it.  The savior got high off becoming the devil.  

Ben told himself he wasn’t a savior or a devil.  He was just a bartender that needed to get to work.  He’d picked up a book in the woods and was quite possibly in the middle of a psychotic break.  It was much more likely, he thought, that all of this was just in his head.  He’d finally snapped and was walking around with a random book hallucinating everything.  No one was really getting hurt.  No real harm was being done.  He didn’t need to stop.  

“Fuck...I’m gonna be late,” he hissed, shaking his head.  He’d lost track of how long he’d been standing there staring at the book, but it had been a while.  He’d fucked Logan as soon as they got back from the gym, loving the whimpering howls instead of the homophobic insults pouring out of his chiseled new friend.  But that had been hours ago, and he didn’t remember doing anything afterwards.  He yawned and stretched as he slipped his shoes on, feeling like he’d just woken from a nap.  “Guess I’m stopping for coffee,” he said, grabbing the book on his way out.  

It came everywhere with him now, even into the coffee shop.  He’d meant to leave it in the car but found it clutched in his hand as he reached to open the door.  When he heard the shouting inside, he knew it had come with him for a reason.  

A man was standing at the end of the counter, berating the teenage barista on the other side. His thinning, salt and pepper hair gave the impression of middle age, as did the man’s average build.  He had a slight paunch pressing out around his midsection and even his clinging slacks could do nothing to help his barely visible ass, likely the result of spending too much time sitting behind a desk.  Ben guessed him to either be a lawyer or some kind of executive since his expensive looking suit and entitled behavior both reeked of money.  “Are you serious?!  This is ridiculous!  How hard is it to make a cup of coffee?  Well?  A monkey could do your job!”  

The young girl behind the counter was hiding her rage well.  “I’m sorry sir, we’ll be happy to fix your…” 

“I don’t want you to fix anything!  Do you know how much my time’s worth?  I’ve made more in the minutes you’ve wasted than you’ll make this month,” the man spat, leaning over the counter to get in the barista’s face.  “Now quit making excuses and get it right.”  

Ben already had the book open.  “There’s no need to be rude,” he said, a broad smile on his face when the man spun in his direction.  

“Mind your own goddamn business,” he snarled, his brutish behavior a sharp contrast to his well appointed outfit.  He puffed out his nonexistent chest and took a step in Ben’s direction like a frat boy starting a bar fight.  “You don’t want any of this, kid.  You can’t afford it,” he said with a smug grin, looking back over his shoulder.  “I just want this bimbo to get my coffee right so I can get on with my day.”  His grin faltered when the young girl didn’t so much as look in his direction.  “Hey!  Did you hear me?  Where’s my damn drink?”  

“She can’t hear you, actually.  Or see you.  No one can.”  

The man glared at Ben before turning and pounding on the counter.  “Hey!  Coffee.  Now.” he bellowed.  He started to reach across, his face red with anger, when none of the staff responded.  

“Don’t do that.”  As with Logan, Ben loved the look of confusion on the man’s face when his arm froze, then pulled back. 

“What the fuck…” the man whispered.  He tried again, but his arm wouldn’t respond.  “Just what the hell is going on here?!” he growled as everyone passed him by like he wasn’t there.  

Ben gestured to the bustling cafe around them.  “I didn’t see any reason to bother these nice people,” he said.  

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but…” the man trailed off when Ben walked over and made a slow circle around him.  

“I think you need a reminder of what it’s like to work a service job,” Ben said, watching the man’s body strain against the forces holding it in place.  “Lucky for you, Zack could use a hand, we just have to do something about that attitude.”  

“Whatever you think you’re doing here, you’re not going to get away wiiiiIIIIEEEE!”  The man’s threatening tone turned into a shrieking yelp when he suddenly lost a quarter of his height.  Ben guessed him to be around six feet tall originally, but now the barking loudmouth topped out at four and a half.  “Wh...what did you just do…” he stammered, lifting his arms and staring at the long, floppy sleeves that covered his hands in horror.  His shrunken body swam in the oversized suit, the pants pooling at his ankles and the collar of his shirt falling away from his neck.  The comically large jacket threatened to tumble from his shoulders at any moment as the man pawed at himself.  

Ben watched the shortened man’s face alternate between crimson fury and pale terror.  He was slowly realizing that while his height had been reduced, his body hadn’t lost any of its mass.  “Here, let’s give you a better look,” he said.  

The man gasped when his ill-fitting clothes vanished without warning, leaving his pasty, naked body entirely exposed.  What had been an average build at his former height was now plump and curvy.  He had thick, meaty thighs, a round, soft gut, sagging tits, and plump sausage rolls for arms.  A surprisingly long cock and hefty, low hanging balls dangled against his squishy thighs.  “I...you can’t...help!  Somebody help!” the man yelled up at the counter he could no longer see over, his voice taking on a slightly squeakier pitch.  

“Don’t worry, geez, we’re not even done yet,” Ben laughed.  “But if you really want them to see you like this…” 

A chorus of gasps and a clattering of ceramic cups hitting the floor rang through the cafe as everyone fell silent.  All heads in the room turned towards the naked, middle aged cherub who went red with embarrassment.  All the exposed man could do was squirm in silence as they stared, unable to even cover himself.  

“Is that what you wanted?” Ben asked.  Around them, the few people who’d started to get up quietly sat back down, the horrified expressions fading as everyone ignored them again.  “I figured by the way you were yelling that you liked being the center of attention, but I didn’t think you’d want to show this off,” he laughed.  “But I’ll remember that you like it when people watch.”  

“No!  Please...oh god...this can’t be happening…” the man muttered, looking up at Ben with pleading eyes.  “Whatever you want, it’s yours.  Just don’t do whatever...this...is…”  

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.  You might actually enjoy yourself without all that work tension and responsibility stressing you out.  I mean, you won’t have the money, but,” Ben shrugged, “you’ll still get plenty of attention.”  

Before the man could ask what that meant he felt a tingling sensation drape over him.  He looked over at his reflection in the windows in time to see his hair pull back into a short buzz cut even as scratchy stubble broke out on his otherwise smooth cheeks.  The tingling continued south, and the man watched in panicked wonder as his lumpy body started to solidify.  His sagging pecs pulled upwards, flattening between his bowling ball shoulders into a slab of muscle.  The same thing happened at his waist as his stomach defied gravity, lifting upwards while his love handles shifted down and back.  The outline of a six pack sprouted on the muscled gut that arched out between the beefy pistons that had replaced his soft, shapeless arms.  The excess flesh from the man’s love handles came to rest as a soft, supple coating over the solid globes that had grown where his meagre ass used to reside, leaving him with a set of huge, ample cheeks that offset his new tree trunk thighs perfectly.   

“Muuuuuch better,” Ben sighed as the miniature power lifter poked and prodded his solid new body.  The man would have been intimidating with such a build at his previous height, but now he just looked like a little teddy bear with the smattering of salt and pepper hair coating his burly frame.  “Let’s do something about that skin…” 

The stunned man’s mouth fell open when a deep tan crawled across his pale skin, leaving a tanline in the shape of what looked like a small speedo around his oversized rear and twitching cock.  His girthy package had been untouched, looking huge on his short, buff new body.  In a matter of minutes he’d gone from an average, doughy executive to a stout, mini meathead.  

“Oh man, the guys are gonna looooove you,” Ben laughed as he watched the man examine himself.  “Just a few more tweaks and we can hit the road.”  

The man swayed on his stubby new legs, his head swimming.  It occurred to him as he looked past his reflection that he no longer saw his BMW in the lot, but even as he had the thought he could no longer remember ever having owned one.  He couldn’t remember driving at all.  Or going to work.  Or school.  Or his ex-wife.  Or the secretary he’d been fucking.  Or his massive house.  It was all gone, replaced by hazy memories of lifting weights and sweaty, muscled bodies that made his heart race and his cock throb.  

There was no fear, only a surprised smile, when a tiny, bright pink thong formed out of nowhere, barely covering his meaty package.  The same was true when this was followed by a pair of small sneakers and plastered on jeans that showed off his bouncing ass and stuffed bulge in intimate detail.  A tight, paper-thin t-shirt appeared over his torso, showing off each and every one of his brawny muscles as his solid nipples poked out noticeably against the soft material.  Where his old clothes had been too large, these were too small, leaving nothing, including his visible whale tail, to the imagination.  It was a jarring contrast, his buff, middle aged body wedged into clothes that looked like they came from the kids section.  The man stared at the rugged little meathead in the window, his cock twitching at the sight.  

“Yo, Franky!”  

He pried his eyes away and looked up at Ben, a dull smile on his face.  The name didn’t sound like his, but who else would it belong to?  “Yeah?”  His stomach fluttered when the tall man reached down and rubbed his buzzed head.  

“Say ‘thank you’ to the nice lady and get our drinks, big guy.  We’re gonna be late.”  

“Okay!” Franky turned and stood on his tiptoes to reach the drinks at the edge of the counter, his meaty little arms just barely able to reach.  “Thanks!” he squeaked cheerfully at the condescending smiles.  He turned back to follow Ben, beaming with pride at completing the simple command, and lumbered after him.  

“Good job!” Ben reached over and rubbed Franky’s solid stomach as the short man climbed up into the car.  “Everything okay,” he asked when his small new friend looked around with wide eyes.  

“Uh-huh,” Franky nodded, squirming in his seat.  “I just feel...funny…” 

“Don’t worry,” Ben said, squeezing Franky’s thigh.  “You can take all this off when we get to the bar.”  

Franky blinked a few times, a blank expression on his face as if he didn’t know how he should feel about that last statement.  “Good!” he chirped a few moments later, tugging at the tight jeans.  Ben watched the older man absently knead his bulge as he sucked on his coffee, staring out the window from his shortened perspective and occasionally kicking the meaty legs that no longer reached the floor.  

Ben couldn’t hold back his smile when they got to the bar and he watched Franky’s plump rear nearly bounce out of the jeans as the little man bounded inside.  “Hey guys,” he called to Zack and Adam who were busily setting up for the night.  “Sorry we’re late….we brought coffee.”  

“We’re gonna need it,” the tall blonde sighed.  “Should be a busy night.”  He came around from behind the bar, his impossibly large cock bouncing in his loose joggers.  “Franky!”  

The little meathead ran over and wrapped his arms around Adam, his head barely reaching the middle of the blonde’s torso.  “Hi!” 

“I don’t get one?”  Zack was nearly bowled over when Franky let go of Adam and charged, his beefy frame hitting the slender man like a cannonball.  “OOooof!” he laughed, rubbing the shorter man’s buzzed scalp.  “You ready to work tonight?”  

“Yep!”  

Zack laughed at the determined expression on the shorter man’s face.  “Great!  You remember what we talked about last time?  Anyone gets too handsy, you let us know.  And if you wanna fool around with anyone, ASK us first, okay?”  He waited for Franky to nod before continuing.  “You’re just bussing tables.  If you can’t reach something, that’s okay.  Just…” he trailed off when the smaller man abruptly peeled out of his tight shirt.  

“What?  I forgot.  Ben said I could.”  

“He was acting fidgety in the car,” Ben called from the bar.  “I figured it was easier.  He’s just gonna take it all off anyway.”  

Zack rolled his eyes and waited patiently until all the little beefcake had on was his sneakers and the tented thong.  “You’re gonna need to take care of that before we open...up…hey!  I didn’t mean right here!” Zack laughed when Franky casually pulled the pouch aside and started tugging on his rigid pole.  “Come on...let’s go deal with that,” Zack said, guiding Franky along with a hand on the back of the shorter man’s head.  “We’ll be right back,” he yelled over to the others.  

Ben watched the two disappear, wondering just how much the old Franky would hate being bossed around by an effeminate, dark skinned young man half his age, not to mention jerking off in front of him.  Based on the squeaky, giggling moans coming from the break room, the new Franky clearly had no objections.  He turned to Adam, still enjoying the oversized member on display.  “How’d things go with you and Tim the other night?” he asked his viking friend.  

Adam grinned and took a long, deep breath.  “Ohhhhh girl,” he laughed.  “Those cheeks aren’t just for show.  The things he can do with that ass...I didn’t know who was fucking who.  Pretty boy’s a screamer, too,” he added with a wink.  “Often as he gets dick I’m surprised he’s still got a voice left at all.”  

“Been a lotta surprises lately,” Ben said, smiling back at his friend.  “Wouldn’t be surprised if we see some more.”  

************

Chapter 9

************

“Damn...there a convention in town or something,” Zack whistled, raising an eyebrow as he followed Ben’s gaze to the handful of thick, bottom heavy men across the bar.  Their outfits were jarring, seeming tailored specifically to show off their oversized rears.  

One of them, a fit young man with short blonde hair wearing a tight black polo, had his preppy look interrupted by a small pair of red lycra shorts that barely reached down his wide thighs as they struggled to contain the mammoth globes.  Next to him, his stout, dark-haired friend was similarly dressed, only his lower half was busy spilling out of a pair of khakis that had been turned into daisy duke style cut offs, leaving his muscled, hairy legs on display.  The third was an older man with cropped, chestnut hair and a tight button down that showed off his athletic torso above the waist, while below, his jeans had been altered to remove the back, letting his impossibly large mounds bounce free.  A pair of grey briefs could be seen wedging into the deep valley, leaving most of the pillowy orbs exposed.  

“If there is, sign me up,” Ben laughed, knowing full well where the men had come from.  He was confident they’d show up sooner or later, but he hadn’t expected to see so many of the guys from the gym so soon.  It wasn’t just the trio across the bar; men with burly, apish arms on their otherwise toned frames, or obscenely protruding pecs jutting from lean torsos filled the room.  

“Gonna have to keep an extra eye on Franky,” the lithe young man sighed.  He scanned the room, just barely able to make out the top of the shrunken beefcake’s head on the dancefloor.  The former white-collar worker was eagerly gyrating to the music as much as his squished little frame would allow, clad in nothing but his bright pink thong and sneakers.  The older man froze when he caught Zack glaring, an admonished look on his face as he scampered off the floor and went back to bussing the tables he could barely reach.  “Little brute is gonna be the death of me, I swear,” he laughed.  

“Like you mind having someone to do all the grunt work,” Ben said as he prepped another pair of drinks.  It was a bustling night and things were only going to get busier.  

“Yeah, when he works!  Half the time I have to chase him around to make sure he’s not getting fucked in the middle of the room.”  

Ben smiled at the thought of the rude, arrogant man scampering around giddily trying to get fucked, his warped body on display for everyone.  “He’s good for business, at least.”  

“Can’t argue with that.  Between him and Tim it’s bad enough, but we get more guys like them,” he said, nodding to the bottom heavy trio, “I’m gonna be the one having a hard time making it through a shift.”   

“Speaking of,” Ben said, wiping his hands on a nearby towel, “I’m takin’ a break.  You good with just you and Adam?”  He grabbed the book from behind the bar when Zack nodded and made his way over to a spot in the corner.  

He surveyed the crowd like an artist admiring their work.  In addition to the altered men from the gym he saw Logan chatting up a pair of young jocks while Tim, who’d moved to full time from amateur night, writhed and twerked on stage.  The former frat boys from sports night, now brief-clad ‘roid-queens, were out on the floor, their shrunken little nubs poking out against the bright, revealing underwear.  Throughout it all, Franky’s wide little body waddled around and Adam’s inflated cock was visible behind the bar even from across the room.  

Zack’s words rattled around Ben’s head as he watched the altered men.  His young friend had echoed his own growing feelings.  The reluctance and terror he’d felt about the book only hours before was gone, replaced by a contented resignation.  His run in with Franky had pushed him towards it, and seeing the happy, eager faces on the men around him had cemented the idea in his mind.  Ben didn’t need to go out and use the book on random strangers.  He could go about his life like he always did and wait for them to come to him.  He didn’t need to be a savior or a devil; he could just be a bartender and let fate decide things from there.  A trip to their bar could be a life changing experience.  

Ben could feel the book bristle at the thought.  It wanted to be used.  Everywhere.  Always.  The writer was just a vessel through which it exercised its will to remake the world, an animated husk standing in for the body it no longer possessed.  At least in theory.  In practice, it would wait, chipping away at the author’s resolve little by little.  It was only a matter of time, and time was something it had in abundance.  

“So who’ll it be tonight…” Ben said under his breath as he closed his eyes and pulled back the cover.  He quieted his mind and took several deep breaths, his eyes darting open in time to catch a handsome blonde loudly and rudely rebuffing a man’s attempt at buying him a drink.  The sneering pretty boy looked like Logan, with plucked brows, gelled hair, perfect skin, and a tight, athletic build.  The embarrassed man next to him was shorter and stockier, with a stout, beefy frame and a dark, trimmed beard covering his blushing cheeks.  “Perfect,” Ben smiled, his pen already gliding across the page.   

**********

“Ugh,” Alex exclaimed, rolling his eyes, “not even in your dreams, bigfoot.”  The pretty blonde threw his head back with a loud laugh and called over to Adam behind the bar.  “You should probably cut him off...if he thinks this,” he said, motioning back and forth between them, “is gonna happen he’s clearly had too much.”  

Adam shook his head, his turned back hiding the annoyed look on his face.  He’d heard the shorter man simply ask if the blonde wanted a drink.  He hadn’t been a creep or aggressive, and he certainly didn’t deserve the public shaming he was getting.  He opened his mouth to put the snotty punk in his place, but when he turned around the smug young man was gone.  He blinked at the stocky, dark haired man and the scantily clad leather boy he was leading around on a leash, feeling like he was forgetting something.  

Alex’s heart was beating out of his chest.  He wanted to beg the viking bartender for help, but the guide holding his mouth open prevented any speech.  All he could do was grunt in wide-eyed terror at the sudden change in circumstances, his stomach dropping when he saw his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.  

He’d been insulting the beefy man next to him when time suddenly seemed to slow.  The rush of satisfaction he always felt at lording his good looks over someone else turned to confusion, then fear as the room went silent.  Alex had hopped off the stool, but his world was already changing before his feet managed to hit the floor.  There was a rush of air against the smooth, tanned skin of his muscled torso as his tight t-shirt vanished.  The thin material split and spread, growing into thick leather straps that accentuated his firm pecs and trim, tapering waist.  The soft neck grew stiff and tight, forming a padded collar that bumped against the bottom of his lantern jaw when an invading metal object forced his mouth open.  

His fitted jeans followed suit, pooling around his knees as a pair of pads while most of the material vanished.  The waist turned into a thick leather belt that connected to the straps criss-crossing his sculpted torso and his small black briefs hardened as a cage around his heavy package that left the rest of his perky bubble entirely exposed.  While his expensive sneakers turned into a pair of shiny black boots, an invisible force pushed Alex’s arms to his sides.  Thick black mittens covered his hands, ending in a set of cuffs around his wrists that were bound to the back of his belt as if they’d been tied behind his back.  

Time lurched back into motion before the stunned young jock could process his suddenly exposed state.  He looked down at himself and back up at the mirror, blushing at the sensation of the men around him brushing up against his now-naked body.  The man he’d just been speaking to held a leash connected to the collar around his neck, and he felt a growing sense of familiarity wash over him the longer he stared at the beefy stranger.  This wasn’t someone who’d tried to buy him a drink.  This was Sir.  Alex knew Sir had a name, but even contemplating the thought made him tremble.  He would never dream of addressing the stocky bulldog as anything else.  

“I was just making sure you still wanted me to set Alex up tonight.”  The bound stud heard what Sir said to the overly hung man behind the bar, but he was too focused on the sensation of Sir’s palm rubbing his abs to think about what it meant.  Just being near the bearded man was enough to make him groan.  Being touched was overwhelming.  He whimpered, his cock throbbing impotently in its cage as Sir and the tall bartender finished speaking.  

Alex’s chest was heaving when the dark haired man turned around and tugged on his leash.  “Let’s get you set up,” he said, his deep rumble sending shivers through Alex’s naked body.  The panting blonde’s eyes were glued to the stocky man’s shifting cheeks, the humiliation he felt at being paraded around on a leash mixing with his lust until the two fed each other.  With each step he could tell that something had been inserted into his twitching hole, and while he was in no position to find out what it was, he enjoyed the little stabs of pleasure shooting through him as he stumbled along.  

A part of Alex wanted to resist.  The arrogant pretty boy was still in there, horrified at being trussed up in bondage gear and at the thought of being controlled in such a way.  He would never submit to something like this, let alone be so turned on by it.  But that knowledge was fleeting as he dropped to his padded knees in a corner of the room while Sir took the leash from around his neck and used it to bind his ankles to the belt at his waist, preventing him from standing even if he’d wanted to.  As he stared longingly at the burly bulldog manhandling him into position, it was the last thing Alex ever would have wanted.    

“I’ll be back to check on you in a little bit,” Sir said, giving Alex a pat on the head before pulling his phone out.  The kneeling stud watched his new master tap the screen a few times, his vision going white when the unknown object in his rear started vibrating.  He grunted and spasmed at the intense wave, his entire body lighting up with ecstasy.  His cock ached painfully in its cage, begging for release against the tide of bliss.  

When the vibrations slowed and Alex’s head cleared he found his face buried against a stranger’s crotch, their solid, musky rod sliding in and out of his open mouth.  Alex couldn’t muster the effort to be mortified.  The kneeling adonis was stoned, blissed out on a wave of pleasure.  The vibrating object would speed up and slow down at random intervals, causing him to black out with one man in his mouth and come to with another pumping away.  His gym-sculpted pecs and broad shoulders were already slick and glistening from countless releases, while what felt like gallons of sticky fluid dribbled out of his open jaw.  

**********

“There we go,” Ben said, forcing the book closed with a contented sigh.  He watched the blonde hunk writhing on his knees, seemingly oblivious to getting blasted in the face with a torrent of cum from his latest customer.  The book wanted to keep going, but Ben was satisfied.  With the exception of his new outlook, he’d left the rest of the man’s life untouched.  Now, while he appeared every bit the smug adonis at work and to the world at large, on the inside Alex lived for nothing more than to be humiliated and dominated.  He’d eagerly wear a pink jockstrap under his fitted dress slacks, the straps obviously on display if that’s what Sir wanted.  He’d gladly walk around with the vibrating plug all day, never knowing if Sir would spark it to life during a department meeting or while he was standing in line at the store.  Alex longed for those moments.  The sudden groan in public and the horrified stares.  He loved being bound on his knees and covered in cum.  It was his place.  

But the book wanted more.  It wanted him to keep writing until every man in the room had been changed, and then it wanted him to go outside and start in on the street.  

“More tomorrow,” Ben said, patting the cover.  “We’ve got all the time we need.”  

*************

Chapter 10

*************

“Reigning champs, comin’ through!”  Dylan shoved his way through the crowd, drinks in hand.  The tall jock loved the dirty looks from the people he shouldered out of the way as much as his two friends who trailed behind.  

“Would you assholes keep it on the field,” Brad sighed as the trio made their way back to the table.  

“Dude, relax,” Josh said, squaring his broad shoulders and looking around the crowded bar.  “We’re just letting the other teams know who’s boss.”  

Brad took a long pull from his beer and tried not to stare at Josh’s thick biceps.  The beefy man had already made it clear that he wasn’t interested in the slender ginger, but Brad had a hard time ignoring the view.  “The season hasn’t even started yet.”  

“Which means we’re still the champs,” Troy roared, slapping Brad hard on the back.  The lean man sidestepped the beer splashing out of his glass and glared over at the smug blonde.  

“It’s rec league softball, douchebag.  GAY rec league softball.  Keep the macho bullshit in your pants or the rest of the team is gonna boot you guys, no matter how good you are.”  

“That’s not where you wanted me to keep it,” Josh said, his trim beard highlighting his arrogant grin.  

“I’m just sayin’, might not be so easy this year.  Those guys over there have way bigger arms than even you.”  Brad nodded over at a table surrounded by men in tank-tops with huge, oversized pistons hanging off their otherwise toned frames.  

Josh flexed a hairy bicep proudly.  “I can still manage...too much size just gets in the way.”  

“Can’t wait to see how THAT gets in the way,” Dylan laughed, shifting his eyes over to an athletic looking brunette whose mammoth cheeks were spilling out the bottom of tiny lycra shorts.  He licked his lips and ran a hand through his cropped, chocolate hair, his eyes glued to the supple globes.  “An ass that fat...might have to break our rule about not fucking guys from other teams.”  

“I mean, Troy did last season…” 

The chiseled blonde glared over at Josh, fidgeting with his plastered-on t-shirt.  “I didn’t fuck him,” he said defensively, “I blew him.  There’s a difference.”  

Dylan only half-listened to his friends arguing, his attention focused on the way the man at the other table’s colossal cheeks shifted and flexed as he moved.  He couldn’t look away.  The sound of his friends and the bustling bar around him faded until all that remained were the plump mounds and his fantasies of what they’d feel like.  Dylan imagined himself slowly pulling the shorts down, squeezing and kneading the pillowy cheeks as he buried himself in the deep valley between them.  He’d fucked a lot of guys in his brief twenty four years, but none that had been that thick and bouncy.  His cock ached at the thought of it.  

“Dylan...yo, Dylan!”  

“Huh?”  The dazed jock blinked and shook his head, his attention snapping back to find Brad giving him a stern look.  “What?”  

“You’re practically drooling, big guy.  And you’ve almost got your shirt all the way off.”  

“What do you…” Dylan blushed when he looked down and discovered the fitted shirt that showed off his muscled torso had been unbuttoned down to his navel.  “I...I don’t…” he stammered, having no recollection of undoing the buttons.  “Did I do that?”  

“Who else would?”  Brad’s stern expression melted into a grin.  “I wondered how long it would take tonight.”  

“How long what would take?”  Dylan kept blinking and scratching at his head, increasingly feeling like he was one step behind in the conversation.  He had no idea what Brad was talking about, but more importantly he was having a hard time even focusing on his friend at all as his eyes kept wandering back to the stranger with the appealing rear. 

“At least you beat Troy this time.  Usually he’s the first to go,” the lean redhead shrugged.  

“Am not!”  

Dylan was as caught off guard by his blonde friend’s outburst as he was by the dull smile on the other man’s face.  Troy’s granite features were usually smug, but now the handsome stud’s grin was more goofy than arrogant as he stared at Dylan’s exposed pecs.  

“Aaaand there he goes,” Brad laughed, giving Troy’s perky bubble a gentle pat.  

“Nuh-uh,” the blonde jock protested.  “I’m not stupid…I’m just lookin’!”  

Dylan’s rigid club strained against his tight jeans as he watched Troy stare at him the way he’d been staring at the stranger.  He and the blonde adonis fooled around regularly, but something about the other man’s slack-jawed gaze turned him on more than ever.  He didn’t even notice he’d opened his shirt the rest of the way until he was shrugging it over his striated shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.  “Now you,” he barked, pulling on Troy’s thin shirt so hard he nearly tore it off.  

“Okay!” Heads were starting to turn as the strapping blonde stripped his shirt off and tossed it aside.  It was hard to ignore the two bare-chested studs laughing and pawing at each other, especially when they were as built as Troy and Dylan.  People were already familiar with their broad shoulders and tapering waists on the softball field, but this was a new look for the smug pair.  

A part of Dylan was vaguely aware that something was wrong.  As he giggled and groped at Troy’s slab of a chest, a quiet alarm bell was ringing in the back of his foggy brain.  He knew their behavior wasn’t right, but even that simple observation was exhausting.  When he reached down and started undoing his friend’s pants he had a fleeting moment of pause, a stab of fear that told him he was losing control.  It fled as quickly as it came, gone entirely by the time Troy’s jeans landed at his ankles.  He would have asked his friend if he felt the same way, but even speech was becoming difficult.  Looking at the blonde’s small, tented briefs, all Dylan could do was grunt hungrily and paw at his own confining pants.  He was becoming a creature of impulse, his actions driven by nothing but the aching member between his solid thighs.  

He managed a pleading look in Brad’s direction, but his wiry friend was too busy tugging on Josh’s fat, wide cock to notice.  Like them, the short, stocky man had stripped down, his hairy muscle entirely on display with the same dull, contented expression on his face.  The guys from the other teams had formed an audience, watching the trio’s antics with a mix of hunger and condescension.  

Dylan couldn’t fully understand.  He knew he recognized the guys watching him peel out of his briefs, but the concepts of “teams” and “softball” were beyond him at the moment.  They were smiling and laughing as they pointed at him, which Dylan took to mean they were happy like he and Troy were.  He didn’t know some of the things they were telling him to do, but that didn’t matter.  They seemed to like it when he tugged on his long, dripping cock, and some of the guys would even help him out.  The man with the tiny shorts and the huge bottom wouldn’t let him fuck him, but he did let him squeeze his watermelon cheeks.  Dylan grinned and laughed along with everyone else as he clutched the giant globes with one hand and frantically tugged on his cock with the other.  

The crowd seemed extra happy when the man finally pulled away and Dylan’s hand reached around to toy with his own solid rear.  Everyone cheered when he started shifting his weight and playing with his hole, but he didn’t understand why.  He wasn’t happy; he was frustrated and desperate, and the more he pouted the more the crowd seemed to enjoy it.  

Before Dylan could get too upset, the confused jock felt Troy’s steely arms wrap around his tiny waist an instant before the blonde’s lengthy pole rammed inside.  Dylan howled, his rocky calves flexing as he went up on his toes at the sudden entry.  He writhed against Troy’s chest, thrashing from the sheer, overwhelming intensity of what he felt.  He grunted and barked out guttural moans, his long cock slapping up against his washboard abs and wagging wildly as Troy went at him in an animalistic frenzy.  Next to them, he watched Josh’s hairy bulk bounce and shake as Brad slammed into his plump, furry rear, the stocky man’s thick hose spraying like a shaken can of soda.  

“GGGNNNNOOHHHHHHH….!”  Dylan howled, his vision blurring at his own release.  The room seemed to spin and vanish entirely, his existence reduced to nothing but the experience of pure, momentary bliss.  “Ohhhh….oh fuck…” he moaned when his surroundings came back into view.  His sculpted, heaving chest glistened with sweat while he tried to piece together what just happened.  “What’d we just...do…” he stammered, blushing when he realized he was naked, his dripping cock hanging on display.  His stomach sank when he looked around at the smug, amused faces watching as Troy pulled his softening organ from his battered bubble.  

“What do you mean?”  Brad asked, stuffing himself back in his pants.  Josh was going through a similar awakening, shaking his head and rubbing his bearded face as if he’d just woken up from a nap.  “It’s what you three always do.  Why do you think we drink for free here?”  

“We...do?”  Dylan knew something about that didn’t sound right, but he didn’t know why.  He looked over at his blushing friends for some sort of explanation, but as soon as he looked at Josh’s softening beast and hairy thighs he could feel his tenuous grip start to loosen again.  Something in his head told him he should be getting dressed, but he couldn’t get his limbs to cooperate.  

“Do I have to explain this every time?”  Brad sighed and rubbed Dylan’s glistening abs.  “It’s okay, stud.  Everyone knows you three can’t help it.  Once these,” he said, hefting the taller man’s heavy package, “get goin’ everything up here goes south.”  He laughed as he pointed at his head and made a whistling sound.  “But everyone loves it!  You three put on a hell of a show...it’s why you’re the champs.”  

**********

“And to think I used to hate sports,” Zack laughed.  The slender, dark skinned young man took a deep breath and turned back to the bar as the crowd dispersed from around the naked trio.  “That’s a league I can get behind.”  

Adam made a sour face and shook his head.  “Ugh, no thanks.  I don’t need a doctor but I’m not tryin’ to fuck a caveman.”  

Zack reached over and poked the solid, massive organ snaking down Adam’s leg.  “Uh-huh...sure you aren’t.” 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t hot,” the hung viking laughed, adjusting his oversized equipment.  “Those three are fun to look at, but come on.  Is Brad a boyfriend or a babysitter?  Every time they get hard they get dumb.  And they’re ALWAYS hard.”  

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Zack sighed, looking around.  He spotted Franky lingering at the edge of the crowd, the older man’s short, burly body as on display as the trio of athletes in his small crimson thong.  

“Maybe you’re just used to it,” Adam said, shrugging his bowling ball shoulders.  

The younger man smiled as he watched the little meathead get back to work, waddling from table to table.  “A beast in bed and too dumb to argue when you tell ‘em to do something? Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”  

Ben walked back just in time to share in Zack’s triumphant grin.  He was particularly proud of his latest work.  Troy, Josh and Dylan had been a thorn in their side for years, and he couldn’t have been more pleased with their new role in life.  The young jocks had always acted every bit the big fish in the little pond, lording their looks and athletic prowess over everyone they met.  They were handsome and built enough to get away with it most of the time, and they knew it.  The three chewed through guys at a rapid pace, and even Ben had a mediocre encounter with Dylan back when he first started, before he knew better.  

Since the smug trio was so focused on their bodies Ben thought it only fitting that they go all the way.  From now on, whenever they were even slightly aroused, the trio would quickly lose brain power as their impulses took control.  Ben made sure that it would be seen as normal, so no matter where they were no one would bat an eye if one of them turned into a grunting jock dropping his pants and jerking himself off in the middle of the grocery store.  And considering how eager the virile young athletes were, Ben doubted they’d have time to think about much of anything but getting off for the foreseeable future, with just enough awareness between releases to be humiliated by their actions.  They wouldn’t be playing as many sports, but it was clear they were still a hit with the other teams.  He’d always felt slightly bad for the way they teased Brad, but if the lean ginger was willing to stick around and enable their behavior Ben thought it fair that he be the one to take care of them.  At least it looked like he’d have some fun in the process.  

Looking at the still naked jocks surrounded by the growing numbers of disproportionate men from the gym, Ben couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at what the bar was becoming.  Each night was another opportunity for change, and it was only a matter of time until everyone in there was a unique creation.  

“So many possibilities,” he sighed to himself, reaching under the bar to drum his fingers against the warm, pulsing cover of the book.  “So, so many…” 

*************

Chapter 11

*************

Ben was floating, weightless and untethered through the cosmic sea.  Distant stars, no more than small points of light, surrounded him on all sides, peppering the inky void while far off nebulas swirled like luminescent clouds.  He could see it all, even a glimpse of the outer reaches and the monolithic shapes hovering at the edges of creation.  The true nature of existence was unfolding before his bodiless eyes and he was one with it all.  

“...en.”  

The sound hit him like a physical force.  His drifting consciousness blurred as the words wrapped around him and pulled.  

“Ben.”  

The sound was an irresistible gravitational force.  He rocketed through a blinding tunnel of melting, streaming lights as the tranquil vastness of space was stolen from him.  Far off stars and distant nebulas faded, replaced by a noisy, crowded bar.  

“Ben!”  

“What?!”  He spun, glaring down at the small, pitiful creature who had dared disturb his transcendence.  It was nothing.  They were all nothing.  Everything around him was meaningless raw material to be shaped as he willed.  He had seen the scale of the cosmos and these pathetic, pointless beings were as specks of dust.  

“Are you alright?  You’ve just been standing there staring off for like five minutes.  Three people tried to order drinks from you.”  

Ben blinked rapidly and shook his head, the memories of his cosmic voyage fading with his sudden anger.  “Sorry,” he said, sheepish at the look of concern on Zack’s face.  “Didn’t mean to snap at you.  Been a busy week...guess I’m worn out.”  He nodded over at the trio of jocks wearing nothing but their underwear and dull grins on the other side of the bar.  “And a little distracted.”    

“Girl, we all are,” Zack sighed, shaking his head as he watched one of the jocks tug his briefs open and pull his thick cock out.  “Distracted AND worn out.  I don’t remember the last time we’ve been this slammed every night.”  He reached out and put a hand on Ben’s trim waist.  “But you good?  Adam and I can handle things if you need to take a ten.”  

Ben slapped the sides of his face and rolled his shoulders like he’d just woken up from a nap.  “No, I’m cool.  Promise,” he said, giving Zack a quick side hug before turning to face the bar.  He felt guilty about something having to do with the younger man that he couldn’t quite remember.  It wasn’t just snapping at him.  He had a sinking feeling that he’d almost done something serious, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.  

Regardless, Zack hadn’t been exaggerating.  Since Ben started using the book the bar was increasingly packed.  It seemed as if word was spreading about the interesting clientele.  The growing number of men who’d been altered at the gym found themselves in the spotlight as guys came from all over town to gawk at the massive cheeks or giant pecs on display.  And that wasn’t even factoring in Franky, or the guys that came to check out Adam’s impossible cock or to watch Tim twerk and get fucked on stage.  Ben knew once word got out about the ripped, bound blonde in the corner and the dumb, horny jocks, things would only get busier.  

The extra crowd had the added benefit of providing him with a constantly growing pool of subjects.  He didn’t know when he’d made the switch in his head and stopped thinking of them as victims, but “subjects” carried less guilt.  His changes would only benefit people in the long run, not punish them.  Even if there was an initial shock, Ben knew deep down that what he was doing was best for everyone.  And anyway, he told himself, it was all left to fate.  He didn’t go out seeking people, so if their paths crossed it was meant to be.  

“...just wish he was bigger.  I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so hot without their clothes on, he just can’t quite reach the way I need him to.”  

It was the sign he’d been looking for.  Ben zeroed in on the pair of young men talking at the end of the bar.  A fit brunette was lamenting to a slender blonde about the size of the third man’s equipment, their conversation quickly changing topics when the strapping, dark-skinned hunk returned with their drinks.  Looking at the way the handsome man’s ample, ebony muscle strained against his tight t-shirt, Ben could understand the brunette’s dilemma.  He looked around the bar at other pairs of men, wondering how many others were having the same issue.  His path was clear.  

**********

“That place was packed tonight,” Trevor said, kicking his shoes off as he followed Dave into the shorter brunette’s apartment.  He wrapped his thick arms around the other man’s tight waist and leaned in, pulling him close.  “Not gonna complain about calling it an early night,” he grinned, kissing Dave’s neck while his hands slid up under the lean man’s shirt.  

“But how ever will we fill the time,” Dave laughed, leaning into Trevor’s embrace.  He pressed his firm bubble back against the front of the larger man’s jeans while the pair of strong hands roamed up his solid abs.  

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Trevor said, giving Dave’s tiny nipples a squeeze. 

The smaller man gasped and lifted his arms as Trevor worked his shirt free, feeling small pressed against the solid shelf of a chest at his back.  He wanted to turn and face the dark-skinned adonis, but already Trevor’s hands had slid down through the wiry hairs on his modest pecs and were opening his jeans.  He let out a long breath when those big hands undid his fly and slid inside to begin kneading his stuffed briefs while the muscled stud continued to kiss his neck and shoulders.  

Dave loved every second of it.  He loved how big and strong Trevor felt towering behind him.  He loved how the other man took charge, stripping him down before he had a chance to do the same, and he loved how Trevor would take his time, working over every inch before they even made it to the bedroom.  

It was what happened in the bedroom that lost him.  No matter how much he loved the sight of Trevor’s chiseled, obsidian body, the brawny stud’s smallish cock wasn’t built for the job.  At just barely five inches, no matter how expert his technique, Trevor couldn’t dive deep enough into Dave’s perky bubble.  The fact that his own cock was a thick seven inches was an irony the wiry man didn’t enjoy.  He hated to let something like this get in the way of an otherwise solid deal, but he was a bottom through and through.  Despite Trevor’s oral talents he needed to get stuffed, and he needed someone bigger to do it.  

“MMMMmmmm….” Dave moaned, telling himself he’d worry about it later.  His pants and briefs were at his ankles and Trevor was gently tugging on his throbbing rod while grinding his tented jeans against Dave’s bare cheeks.  “Alright...my turn,” he finally said, turning in Trevor’s embrace.  He leaned in and pressed their mouths together as he slammed the larger man back against the wall and started undoing the straining jeans.  He pushed them down Trevor’s wide, solid quads, breaking off the kiss as he dropped to his knees to guide them fully to the floor.  

“Sneaky,” Trevor sighed, his deep voice rumbling against the wall.  “I was gonna get you first.”   He leaned his head back and ran his hands through Dave’s short brown hair as the kneeling man gnawed on the front of his bright red briefs.  

“I know how you work,” Dave laughed, loving the way the bright fabric popped against Trevor’s skin.  He kneaded the tented bulge as he licked his way up and down the inside of the other man’s sturdy thighs before finally pulling the briefs free.  He swallowed the small, eager rod to its base, his hands reaching up to stroke Trevor’s ripped washboard.  

“Reeeaaaal glad….we left...the...bar…” Trevor panted, peeling out of his tight shirt.  He ran his hands across his protruding pecs, his granite biceps flexing as he folded his arms behind his bald head and watched Dave work his aching member.  

“Real casual, Mr. Universe,” Dave laughed when he looked up to see Trevor’s flexed pose.  Though he was giving the other man a hard time the sight of the rippling, wall of muscle nearly made him cum on its own.  

“That why you’re drooling,” Trevor asked, breaking out into a double bicep pose.  “Don’t make me carry you into that bedroom.”  He gave Dave’s ass a swat when the other man stood and leaned in for a kiss, their rigid cocks batting against each other.  “Come on,” Trevor barked, grabbing Dave’s thicker pole and pulling him behind.  

Dave yelped and scampered, loving how Trevor’s muscled globes shifted against each other as the brawny man stomped along.  With the exception of his smallish package, the broad stud radiated a strength and masculinity that drove Dave wild.  When they collapsed on the bed in a pile, writhing against each other, he was content to let Trevor manhandle him however the bigger man saw fit.  “Fuuuuuuuuccckkkkkkk….” Dave moaned when Trevor slid down and swallowed as much of his bigger rod as he could.  He bit his lip, trying to control himself as he watched the other man’s bowling ball shoulders flex while his shiny head bobbed up and down.  

He was letting himself get as close to the edge as possible, hoping it would make up for the disappointment he knew was coming.  When Trevor righted himself and lifted Dave’s legs onto his shoulders, the lean man hoped for the best.  He loved the way Trevor yanked him roughly against his lap, and how the other man’s ripped torso felt against the underside of his toned legs, but when the short, stout rod worked its way inside he figured he was in for disappointment.  

“You’re...so...fuckin’ cute…” Trevor grunted, biting the inside of Dave’s thigh while his hands massaged the prone man’s small pecs.  

Dave grinned, staring lustfully up at Trevor through half-closed eyes.  His cock was tingling pleasantly as the big man rolled his hips, something he wasn’t used to.  “I bet you say that to all the boooooOOHHHHH!”  Dave bellowed, arching his back up off the bed as a jolt unexpectedly shot through him.  His eyes went wide when it was quickly followed by a second, and then a third.  “Wha...what’ssssssooohhh….”  he clutched the sheets, whimpering and spasming helplessly.  

“Somone’s...feelin’ it….tonight…” 

“Ho...holy shit...whatever you’re doing is...incred...ible…” Dave trailed off when he lifted his head and saw the oozing cock resting against his stomach.  It looked smaller and thinner than it should have, not reaching as far up his torso as it normally did when he was in this position.  

Just as he was telling himself that was impossible, another jolt shot through him.  This time Dave watched as his cock twitched and shrank before his stunned eyes.  The same thing happened with each jolt, jolts that were coming almost continuously now, rapidly causing the once-proud organ to dwindle.  It was already noticeably smaller than it had been, and as he whimpered and groaned, Dave watched it shrink further.  

“Ohhhh….fuh...fuck...Trev...something’s...wroooaaaAAAOOHHHH….!”  Dave screamed ecstatically and fell back against the bed, feeling like a live wire had been stuck inside him.  He could barely manage to lift his head at all as his body was wracked by blissful spasms.  It was everything he’d been longing for, but as he stared at an oozing cock that couldn’t be more than a thin three inches, he didn’t know why he felt so terrified.  

Trevor didn’t seem to have the same concerns.  He rolled and bucked his hips in wave-like fashion, speeding up and slowing down in time with Dave’s echoing moans.  The sound of the smaller man’s ecstatic cries and desperate thrashing was pushing him to the edge.  “Oh shit...gon...gonna...cuuuuhhhnnn…!”  He gave one final thrust that nearly lifted Dave off the bed before tensing and spraying inside his whimpering lover.  

Dave let out a long, open mouthed howl as an intense, horror-tinged orgasm rocketed through him.  He’d never felt anything like it, but watching his now-miniscule rod twitch and sputter a few meager drops, he wasn’t sure he was supposed to.  All he could do was stare up at Trevor while the other man slowly pumped in and out as he softened, wondering exactly what just happened.  

“Daaaaammn,” the big man panted, stroking Dave’s hairy thighs.  “You were on fire tonight,” he laughed, giving the prone man’s tiny package a squeeze as he pulled out.  His wide hand covered the small equipment with plenty of room to spare.  

There was a moment of silence as they both stared at the girthy beast now hanging from the base of Trevor’s washboard abs.  It was at least nine inches long and nearly as thick as a forearm, with a pair of matching, heavy balls dangling beneath.  As he watched his tiny new member soften, receding until it was a small nub poking out of his trim bush, his own balls barely visible, Dave knew that somehow, his size had gone to the other man.  He looked up at Trevor with wide, terrified eyes, but the feeling passed before he could speak.  His expression softened, the fear vanishing as he realized such a thing was impossible.  He felt too good for anything to be wrong.  Of course his dick was tiny, but what did it matter when he had a stud like Trevor around?  “Give me a minute to catch my breath...we’re just gettin’ started.”  

**********

Across town, Ben stretched contentedly on his bed, toying with his inflated package while Owen, the man he’d taken the size from, slumbered next to him.  Including himself had been a last minute decision, but as he hefted the fat, heavy organ, he was glad he’d thought of it.  The ten inch monster looked as huge against his whipcord frame as his friend’s tiny new nub did against his bodybuilder bulk, a stark contrast from their formerly average endowments.  After changing so many men, Ben wanted to know what it was like.  He wanted to feel what they did when they changed so he could better understand the process.  

He also knew he could always change himself back if he wanted, and Owen didn’t seem to mind their new arrangement.  He’d seen the other man at the bar a few times and had always admired him from a distance, and Ben had caught the older man doing the same, so when they ran into each other on league night he took it as a sign.  From the few conversations they’d had he knew Owen was freshly forty, but with his short dark hair, youthful, wolfish face and burly, muscled frame he could have passed for ten years younger.  When the night started the middle aged jock had a stout, six inch rod and set of low hanging orbs between his meaty thighs, but now there was a tiny acorn and pair of marbles in its place, topping out at just over two inches hard.  

There’d been a moment of realization.  Ben had seen the flash of terror in the bulky man’s eyes and had watched it pass just as quickly.  He wondered how many other men were having the same experience all over town, one shrinking and one growing.  He hadn’t been too specific about the number when he’d written the passage, just that everyone would accept it as normal.  It felt like the right decision.  He’d worn the muscled man out with his new size, and by the end of the night he had the brawny hulk whimpering like a baby as he worked the entirety of his shrunken package in his mouth at once.  Owen’s experience in the locker room might be different, but he wasn’t complaining in the bedroom.  

Ben’s hefty new package flopped over his thigh as he rolled onto his side to look at the book on the nightstand.  He still couldn’t remember why he’d spaced out earlier at work, or why he’d yelled at Zack, but as he drifted off to sleep a gentle voice in his head told him not to worry.  

*************

Chapter 12

*************

“We’ll have to do this again,” Owen grinned, leaning over to give Ben a peck on the forehead before rolling off the bed.  Ben watched the brawny hulk stand and stretch, loving the barely visible nub that was almost entirely obscured by the older man’s meaty thighs. 

“Anytime,” Ben yawned, feeling a thrill when he sat up and his stolen girth flopped against his thigh.  He gave one of Owen’s muscled cheeks a squeeze, his enlarged organ throbbing at the memory of being buried between them.  “You can bring the little guy over to play whenever you want.”  

Owen blushed as he pulled up his briefs.  His shrunken equipment had plenty of room in the formerly stuffed pouch and the bigger man’s expression darkened momentarily at the sight before going back to a bashful smile.  “We can’t all be hung like that,” he said, nodding to Ben’s swaying log.  

“I’m glad,” Ben laughed as he stood.  He reached down to knead the empty pouch while leaning in for a long, deep kiss.  “I’m not making fun, I think it’s just right,” he purred after pulling his tongue out of the flustered hulk’s mouth.  He could tell Owen wasn’t used to being in this position.  With his size and build, Ben guessed the older stud was used to feeling like the one in charge, not like putty in a smaller, younger man’s hands.  Given how quickly he’d adapted the night before, Ben had no doubts that Owen would find his footing.  

He wondered how the others would fare.  There were quite a few formerly hung tops waking up as micro dicked bottoms, while formerly average guys like himself were suddenly overly endowed.  It was jarring all around, but he told himself people would adjust.  It was all for the best in the end.  

Owen was proof of that.  The big man was all smiles as Ben saw him out, saying they’d see each other later at the bar.  He inspected his new equipment in detail after the other man was gone, hefting the dense hose and plump balls in front of the mirror.  They looked obscenely large as they hung off his lean frame like an anchor, and for a moment Ben was tempted to change himself back.  He’d leave Owen as he was, but the wiry man wasn’t as sure as he’d been the night before about having a ten inch soda can between his legs.  He picked up the book and flipped it open, the pages fanning to a blank spot of their own accord as they’d begun to do whenever he opened the cover.  As soon as Ben set his pen against the page, though, his mind went blank.  He lost his train of thought entirely.  He knew he’d opened the book to change something, but the memories wouldn’t gel.  

“Guess I’m not awake yet,” he laughed to himself, closing the book.  He stood with it in hand for a few more moments, trying to remember, but eventually shrugged and set it aside.  “It’ll come back to me if it was important enough,” he said to himself.  “Maybe a run’ll help…” 

Ben always liked to go for a jog after a night of good sex to keep the endorphins flowing, and that was doubly true after a night like the one he’d just had.  He rummaged through his dresser for his shorts and pulled them on, giving a shocked laugh when he saw their new fit.  The built-in mesh struggled to contain his oversized package, his heavy balls threatening to spill out the bottom at any moment.  He looked like he’d shoved a grapefruit in the tiny shorts.  The thin blue material bulged near to bursting, leaving nothing of his new equipment to the imagination, but Ben just shrugged.  He didn’t even bother to put a shirt on.  He laced up his shoes and headed for the door, stopping just long enough to grab his small backpack and shove the book inside.  He didn’t go anywhere without it anymore.  He couldn’t even contemplate it.  Leaving the book behind would be like leaving his lungs behind.  He needed it with him.  

He cinched the backpack tight and loped off down the street.  His steps were awkward at first as he adjusted his stride to the bouncing weight shifting at the base of his abs, but by the end of the first mile he’d found his rhythm.  He actually came to enjoy the sensation, as well as the looks he got from passersby when his lean frame went bounding past, his prominent bulge leading the way.  He’d always gotten a thrill from the way people checked out his defined body when he ran.  He knew he looked good, and now he was even more memorable.  

That’s what he was doing with the book: making people memorable.  He was taking average, generic faces in the crowd and turning them into unique individuals.  He wasn’t just changing bodies, he was expanding minds.  When he stopped to pull the book out after getting a dirty look from another pair of passing runners, he wasn’t punishing the wiry young men, he was helping them.  The fit runners staggered as their bodies swelled in size, expanding outwards in all directions.  Thin, bony shoulders grew broad and round, the gangly arms leading off them thickening into burly logs that hung at an angle against their expanding midsections.  Waists that had been trim and shredded ballooned into wide muscle guts above meaty, chunky thighs and the massive, bouncing globes that had swallowed their solid little bubbles.  As he watched their stride change from a rapid sprint to a slow lumber, their inflated new mass shaking with each plodding step, Ben knew he’d done them a favor.  There was a whole new world of experiences waiting for them.  

The same would be true for the men he could hear whistling and laughing behind him.  There was a construction site across the street, and while he’d stopped to write, Ben had already heard several of the guys catcall and harass passing women.  From what he could see they were a group of burly young men busily standing around while other members of their team did the work, but Ben already had some new tasks in mind for them.    

“It’s not a punishment,” he muttered under his breath as he started writing.  

**********

“Oohhhhh….hate to see you go but love to watch you leave!”  Chris whistled after the young woman doing her best to ignore the laughing brutes as she passed.  The bearded man ran a hand through his shaggy, chestnut hair and shook his head, his eyes glued to the woman’s rear until she turned a corner at the end of the street.  It was his favorite part of the job.  There wasn’t much for him, Matt and Jesse to work on until the building’s foundation was finished, leaving the three young men with ample time on their hands to enjoy the scenery.  “Did you SEE the ass on that one,” he laughed, grabbing the front of his jeans when he turned back to his friends.  

“How could you miss it?  Fuck, man, that’s just not fair,” Matt sighed, licking his lips.  The dark skinned man folded his bare, beefy arms over his chest, flexing them in the process.  “You should’a let me take that one...a real man might’ve won her over.”  

“Fuck you,” Chris laughed, flexing his own impressive bicep.  “You got the last one.”  

Their blonde friend stepped forward and put a hand on each of their shoulders.  “Neither’a you fucks stand a chance,” Jesse said, a smug grin on his face.  Though they were each powerfully built, he was the most cut of the group.  They’d all been star athletes in high school, but while Chris and Matt had let themselves go in the few years since graduation he’d kept himself in shape, adding regular workouts to his already physical day job. They were each impressive in their sleeveless t-shirts and straining denim, but Jesse was cut and chiseled where his friends were bulky and thick.  He nodded up the sidewalk at an approaching woman and cleared his throat, stepping in front of his two friends.  

Before he could open his mouth the woman looked at them and grinned, tilting her head to the side.  “Whoooo...flash those tits, boys,” she laughed, continuing on her way.  

Jesse was too stunned to respond.  He stood, open mouthed and silent, blinking after the laughing woman.  “What the fuck was that,” he cried, trying to save face as he turned back to his friends.  “That was fuckin’ weeeooooohhhh!”  The muscled blonde let out a short laugh when he saw what the other two had on.  Their t-shirts had been cut off, not even reaching to cover the bottom of their protruding pecs.  Chris and Matt looked just as stunned as they stood with their firm, flat stomachs and solid nipples suddenly on display.  Already lacking sleeves, their shirts were little more than useless patches of bright fabric across the top of their chests.  “What did you do to your shirts?!” 

“What’d you do to yours,” Matt shot back, giving Jesse’s exposed washboard a backhanded slap.  

“Fuck!”  Jesse gasped and blushed upon discovering his shirt had been similarly altered, leaving all of his tanned, ripped torso south of his nipples on display.  “But...but how is this posibuuuuhhh!”  He yelped, going up on his toes, his eyes wide.  

“What?  What just happened,” Chris asked, his eyes darting between his bare, hairy stomach and his stiff, frozen friend.  

The blonde man stammered, his face going bright red.  “I...I think...my underwear just…” 

“OH SHIT!” Matt laughed, a hand going to his mouth to hide his smile.  “It sure did.”  He reached out with his other hand to give Jesse’s bright purple whale tail a snap.  

“Hey!”  The blonde man danced out of the way, turning pale as he looked at the strings of his altered underwear.  There should have been the elastic band of a pair of boxer briefs, not the embarrassing, tell-tale signs of a thong.  It didn’t make sense.  The young jock didn’t own anything like it, and even if he did, he’d never wear it to work.  “This isn’t funny!” he barked.  “Something’s happening!”  

“I...I think he’s right…” Chris stuttered.  The bearded brunette was grabbing the back of his jeans, and where the elastic band of Jesse’s boxer briefs had vanished, the one poking up out of Chris’s pants had grown thicker.  “I think I’m wearing…” 

He was cut off as another wave of alterations hit.  Like their shirts, all at once the men’s pants pulled up their legs until they’d nearly vanished altogether.  Thick, hairy thighs, meaty, chocolate trunks, and tanned, granite quads were all on display as the trio stared at their new daisy dukes.  The patches of denim were almost as pointless as the remains of their shirts, leaving more on display than they could ever hope to cover.  With the exception of a thin patch running across the top of his muscled cheeks, Jesse’s firm, dimpled bubble was entirely on display.  The same went for Chris, who was proven right about his underwear when he discovered the exposed bands of a jockstrap lifting his plump, hairy bottom as it hung in the open air.  Matt’s briefs had remained the same shape, but the new hot pink color popped against his dark skin as the bright fabric spilled out from beneath the useless shorts for everyone to see.  

The trio couldn’t decide if they wanted to laugh or cry as they looked at each other in their work boots, cut-offs, and barely present tank-tops.  Chris and Matt were like caricatures with their stocky muscle bulging out of the skimpy outfits, and Jesse’s ripped build looked more like it should be heading for a street corner than a construction site.  If anything, the remains of their clothes only made them feel more exposed, accentuating curving muscle and teasing what little bits of their bodies weren’t already on display.  As the three young men stared at each other it was clear they all wanted to say something, but none of them could find the words.  

“Daaaaamn, look at those!”  

The trio went from looking horrified to annoyed at the sound of the shouting man.  

“Aw, come on sweet cheeks, shake ‘em for me!”  

There was a tense moment of silence before Matt shrugged and looked over at Jesse.  “You said it was your turn.”  

“Ugh,” the ripped blonde groaned, rolling his eyes.  He reluctantly turned from his friends to see a middle aged man hanging out his car window.  

The man’s grin was lecherous. “Pretty little thing, ain’t ya?  Come on...you’re showin’ it off, put that ass to work!”  

Jesse sighed and turned his back, flexing his sculpted arms behind his head as he shook his hips.  The young jock felt a rush of humiliation at the sensation of his bare cheeks bouncing out of his shorts, but he couldn’t stop himself.  What he was doing felt wrong on every level.  He knew he shouldn't be dressed this way or acting this way.  None of them should.  Something terrifyingly impossible was happening to them, but he had no way of knowing what.  

“Thanks, gorgeous,” the man laughed as he sped off.  

Jesse took a deep breath to slow his racing heart and stopped twerking, suddenly feeling ridiculous for overreacting just then.  True, the guys could be annoying, but at the end of the day he loved the attention.  So did Matt and Chris.  It was the reason they dressed the way they did.  They didn’t walk around three-quarters naked just for the hell of it.  They wanted to show off, to be called out.  And not just to strangers passing on the street.  They were the site’s eye candy, and they needed to act accordingly.  It was their job to keep the guys happy, whatever that took.  Sometimes that meant helping with the actual work, but most of the time it meant bouncing on someone’s cock or swallowing buckets of cum.  

“Another satisfied customer,” Matt laughed when Jesse returned.  The beefy man had undone his fly, letting a tantalizing shock of hot pink bulge show through.  

“Eh, could’a been better,” Chris said, unimpressed.  The bearded man turned and shook his hips, setting his plump globes into rippling, rhythmic motion.  “Can’t twerk abs...gotta have an ass in the first place if you’re gonna shake it.”  

“Says the white boy,” Matt laughed.  

The stocky, bearded young jock turned his twerking backside in Matt’s direction, backing up until the hairy cakes were clapping against his friend’s pink briefs.  “Hey, I learned it by watching you.”   

“Then your fat ass can take the next one,” Jesse said, flexing his abs.  

“He might be a little busy.” The other two looked over where Matt was nodding and saw one of the older guys on site motioning for Chris to come over.  He’d caught the furry hunk’s impromptu demonstration, and the gruff, sweaty man had a hand on his crotch and a hungry grin on his face.  

Chris stopped shaking, pulling away from Matt’s semi-hard bulge.  “Looks like Gary needs some help.”  

“Or a hole,” Matt added, a jealous ring to his voice.  

The hairy ball of muscle snapped the straps of his jock and winked at his friends.  “If I’m lucky.”  

**********

Ben loved the ecstatic moans echoing above the noisy construction as the bearded, beefy stud was plowed by the older man.  They’d stepped out of sight, but moments later the young jock’s lustful cries started bellowing across the work site.  Other than a few grinning, shaking heads, everyone acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary.  Ben couldn’t resist trying it for himself.  

He walked over and made a show of checking out Matt as the bigger man leaned against a shovel, his ass stuck out prominently behind him.  “Cute undies.  Got anything in ‘em,” he asked, looking down at his own massive bulge.  

“You tell me,” Matt grinned, pushing down the front of his open shorts as he grabbed and lifted his neon bulge.  The heavy lump was well above average, but nowhere near Ben’s impossible size.  

“Eh,” Ben shrugged.  

Matt took the challenge, reaching up to tweak an exposed nipple while he kneaded the front of his briefs.  His thick hose twitched and hardened until the dark, shiny head just barely poked up above the elastic waist in an impressive display of size.  

“Not bad,” Ben nodded, fighting the urge to keep his own beast from hardening in response.  “You and your friends ever need some extra cash, come see me at Trunks.  Ask for Ben.”  

He turned and left the rigid young stud poking out of his briefs.  He could have stood and watched his new creations all day, but he had to get home and get cleaned up.  With the bar’s growing popularity they needed extra staff, and people weren’t going to hire themselves.  

*************

Chapter 13

*************

It was situations like these that told Ben he was on the right path.  Whenever he started to feel guilt or question his continued usage of the book, fate would present him with a sign that everything was exactly as it should be.  He hadn’t gone out looking for Mark.  It never even would have occurred to him that the brawny young stud would be a suitable candidate if the loudmouthed brute hadn’t put himself in the book’s path.  Ben was simply walking to work when Mark decided to make himself known.  

The towering brunette was helping unload a beer delivery at Sullivans, the sports bar a few buildings down from Trunks.  He worked the door at night, and Ben had long ago learned to avoid him.  Mark loved to harass the guys coming and going from Trunks, and Ben had heard plenty of complaints from the unfortunate men who’d dared check the muscled young bouncer out.  

It was a trap Mark loved to set.  He was a wall of muscle, standing a hulking 6’4” with impressively broad, bowling ball shoulders above a waist that tapered dramatically inward.  When he wasn’t working the door Mark was working out, constantly bulking and sculpting, growing and cutting, keeping his chiseled frame in perfect proportion.  The buff young man always wore clothes that showed off his efforts, squeezing into skin tight t-shirts that accentuated his prominent pecs and washboard abs while making his beefy biceps pop against the tight sleeves.  The same went for the fitted khakis that showed off just enough of his bulge and round, solid bubble without giving everything away.  Topping everything off was a sharp, lantern-jawed face, with high cheekbones, plump lips, a distinguished nose, and a short, trimmed fade.  Ben understood all too well how the guys heading to Trunks would get suckered in by the handsome stud, until he opened his mouth and the string of slurs and insults came pouring out.  They’d complained to the bar’s owner, but the older Hank wasn’t much better than his young protege.  

“What the fuck you fags doin’ over there?” Mark sneered as Ben approached.  “I’ve never seen your place so busy.”  

Ben smiled, making an obvious show of looking the strapping young bodybuilder up and down.  “Why don’t you come over some time and find out?”  

“Yeah, right,” Mark snorted.  “Fairies’d love to have a real man in there for a change.”  

“I mean it.  You’d be surprised.”  

“Hey, this isn’t a free show,” Mark barked, his face going red from anger and embarrassment as Ben continued to eye him.  “Just tell your freaks to keep their gay shit in the bar.  If I have to watch anymore dudes making out on the sidewalk someone’s gonna get hurt.  No one cares if you keep it inside but we don’t need you fags queerin’ up the neighborhood.  Some of ‘em are even trying to come in here.”  

“Oh my, we wouldn’t want that,” Ben said, putting an alarmed hand on his chest.  “But with such a handsome, charming young man outside can you blame them?”  

“Fuck off,” Mark growled.  He puffed his sculpted chest out and tried to look intimidating as he loomed over the shorter, smaller man.  On anyone else it would have worked, but Mark surprised himself by backing down a few seconds later.  There was something in Ben’s unfazed smile that gave him the creeps.  “I’m just sayin’...this was a one time warning.  I’m not gonna be so nice next time.”  

“I’ll remember that,” Ben chuckled, giving a friendly wave as he continued down the sidewalk.  

“Who the fuck does he think he is,” Mark fumed, unloading the rest of the boxes onto the dolly with renewed vigor.  He was furious at the way the smaller man had stood up to him.  “Should’a broke the little homo in half.  Send his ass over there with a black eye and a busted jaw and that’ll show ‘em what happens…” he grumbled as he pushed the dolly inside.  He was still muttering under his breath when Hank came up from the basement.    

The older man took one look at Mark’s sour expression and laughed.  “Fuck’s your problem?”  

“One of those queers from Trunks just mouthed off to me.”  

Hank crossed his own set of beefy arms over his meaty chest.  He was still solidly built for a man in his fifties, trading in a sculpted build like Mark’s for a thick, rugged frame as he aged.  He ran a hand over his salt and pepper stubble with a mischievous grin.  “Kick his ass?”  

Mark shrugged.  “Nah...not worth it.  Not in broad daylight.”  

“Whatever makes you feel better, kid,” Hank scoffed, spreading his hands.  

“What was I supposed to do?  Pop him in the mouth in front of everyone?” 

The older man shook his head and sighed.  “If my bouncer can’t handle one fruity bartender maybe I need to start looking for a new one.”  

“Okay, okay,” Mark laughed defensively, finally realizing he was being messed with.  “Trust me, this isn’t over,” he said as he finished unloading and went back out for the remaining boxes.  He looked up and down the sidewalk for any sign of Ben, not sure if he was relieved or frustrated to find him gone.  “Next time that punk gets it,” he muttered to himself.  “I’ll show him who...who…” 

Mark trailed off and swayed on his feet, a wave of dizziness washing over him out of nowhere.  He reached out to steady himself on a nearby street sign, his arm flexing against his weight.  The young man blinked and shook his head, confused why he still felt off balance even though the vertigo had passed.  There was another strange sensation that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but as soon as he let go of the sign and looked down he had more immediate concerns.  

“Gah!” the young stud gasped when he saw the source of his imbalance.  His already prominent pecs had somehow grown even larger.  The inflated mounds were almost comically huge, jutting out from his torso like a shelf and blocking his view of anything below.  The strange sensation he’d felt had been the warm afternoon air on his bare skin as the tight shirt he should have been wearing vanished, replaced instead by a bright yellow, cut-off muscle shirt.  The flowing, open sided top ended just above his navel, showing off the tight washboard that seemed even smaller compared to the heaping piles of muscle above.  “What...what just happened…” Mark stammered as he prodded at the solid balloons.  The thin straps of the top left more of his altered chest exposed than covered, his enlarged, solid nipples poking around the sides.  

“This can’t be reaaaahhh!”  Mark yelped, a spasm running through him.  The world spun again, but this time Mark could feel something happening to him.  The panicking young man looked down in vain, unable to see anything but his heaping pecs as he felt a strange tingling settle over his lower half.  His eyes darted over to his reflection in a nearby window just in time to see his fitted khakis pull up his sturdy legs.  He marveled as he watched the dark brown material shrink and thin to a pair of small blue running shorts, leaving his meaty quads and chiseled calves on display.  

Mark blushed at the thick bulge in front and ample bubble in back, but the deep red quickly turned pale when he watched that bubble twitch and shudder.  Despite his horror, he was helpless to do anything other than watch his rear inflate like his chest, his muscled cheeks expanding outwards in every direction.  His stomach dropped when the back of the shorts started to slip up and over the expanding cheeks, leaving the bottoms of his gravity defying globes hanging free as his already thick thighs widened to compensate.  

He was stunned.  In a matter of seconds his precision build had been warped and inflated, leaving him with a top heavy torso sitting on a pair of bottom heavy legs.  He looked like someone had taken one basketball and cut it in half to glue to his chest, while they did the same with another and slapped the halves on top of his already ample bottom.  He stumbled back into the bar in a daze, his head spinning as he looked to Hank for help.  

The older man took one look at him and scoffed.  “You get lost, sweetheart?  Trunks is up the street.”  

“I...but…” Mark started, confused.  At first he didn’t know why Hank was acting like he didn’t know him, but then he started to wonder why he was talking to the gruff man in the first place.  

“But what?” Hank laughed, emphasizing the “but” as he looked at Mark’s barely covered rear.  “Why don’t you go put some pants on?  This is a respectable bar.  I swear, ever since that place hired you all I see is that ass of yours.”

“So...sorry…” the altered young man stuttered.  He staggered back outside, heading towards Trunks without fully knowing why.  He winced as he felt his inflated rear bounce with each step and saw the arched-back stance he had to adopt to compensate for his oversized pecs.  The posture only accentuated both of his inflated areas, immediately drawing attention to both.  

“There he is!  Hey Handsome.”  

Mark didn’t know why he smiled back at the hung viking behind the bar.  He’d seen Adam and his oversized package plenty of times, but they weren’t friends.  Were they?  The same went for the lithe, dark skinned young man busily flitting around setting up tables.  Mark felt like they shouldn’t be happy to see each other, like he shouldn’t be there in the first place, but they were all smiles.  

“Hi guys,” he said, feeling more at home with each passing second.  “How’s it goin’ Franky?” He reached out to tousle the short, brief-clad ball of muscle’s scalp on instinct when the stocky man passed.  

“Hi Mark!” Franky chirped, reaching over to give the tall man’s rotund cheeks a slap.  The rippling waves that coursed through them made Mark pause, but no one else seemed to think anything was out of the ordinary.  

“You okay?  You seem out of it,” Zack asked, eyeing him from across the room.  

Mark thought about it.  There was still a lingering sense of confusion, but the longer he was inside the bar the more relaxed he was feeling.  What had seemed wrong only moments ago now seemed entirely natural.  “Yeah, just a weird day.  I walked into Sullivans by accident on my way here…” 

“Oh, gross,” Zack laughed, making a disgusted face.  “I’m sorry.  That place is such a shithole.”  

Mark nodded, folding his arms below his oversized pecs.  “I know, right?  Still...I’d let that old guy hit it.  He’s such a dick, but he’s got ‘daddy’ written all over him.”  The bottom heavy hunk paused again at the words leaving his mouth, but everyone just laughed.  

“I bet he’s a bottom,” Adam said.  “Rough and rugged guy like that?  He’s a screamer just waiting to happen.”  

“Everyone is with that thing,” Zack said, nodding at the outlined beast snaking down the tall blonde’s leg.  

“And when are you gonna find out,” Adam purred.  

Zack shook his head.  “Girl, please.  I’m not Tim...I don’t want my ass wrecked before I’m twenty five.”  

“He’s got a point,” Mark added, slipping into the conversation like they were all old friends.  

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Adam said with mock offense, turning to twerk in Mark’s direction.  “Why don’t you go find Ben and get those cakes all glittered up.  He’s in the back room.”  

Mark laughed as Zack and Adam went back to arguing, unsure why his heart started racing as soon as he saw Ben waiting for him in the other room.  The lean man had a friendly grin, but Mark felt a stab of fear pierce his fluttering stomach when he approached.  “Uh, he...hey,” he stammered.  

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” Ben said cheerfully.  He walked over and put a hand on Mark’s tight waist, standing up on his toes to give the taller man a peck on the cheek.  “Something wrong?  You’ve got a weird look on your face.”  

The strange fear faded, leaving only the excited fluttering as Mark stood looking down at his friend.  “You’re the second person to ask me that,” he laughed, sliding Ben’s hand around to clutch a pillowy globe.  “It’s been a weird day.  Can you believe I walked into Sullivan’s by accident?”  

Ben gave the cheek a squeeze and feigned a look of surprise.  “Dressed like this?  I bet Hank was thrilled to see you.”  

“Not exactly,” Mark grinned.  He stepped away and kicked off his shoes, stripping out of his cut off shirt and dropping his shorts on instinct.  There was a small voice in his head that told him he shouldn’t be stripping down in front of Ben, but he knew that was ridiculous.  He needed the other man’s help to reach all the places he couldn’t.  With his giant tits and fat ass, Mark wasn’t as flexible as the other guys.  

“I still don’t know what you see in that jerk,” Ben said as he turned away to grab a bottle of glittery lotion.  He didn’t want Mark to see the look of triumph on his face as he turned back around to stare at the altered, naked stud.  The thick, twitching cock and heavy balls between Mark’s meaty thighs were bigger than he’d imagined, but that only made things even better.  

“I don’t ‘see’ anything,” Mark sighed as Ben began spreading the lotion across his chest and shoulders.  “It’s not like I want to date him...I just think he’d be good in bed.”  

“Adam seems to think otherwise,” Ben laughed, loving the sensation of Mark’s smooth skin against his hands.  He hadn’t written the other man’s body hair away, assuming correctly that the vain stallion would keep himself smooth already.  Now, instead of hair, a growing layer of shimmery glitter was spreading down his ripped torso.  “You could always go work there,” he added.  

Mark laughed, closing his eyes and sighing as Ben’s hands drifted down his abs.  His cock was already twitching to life in anticipation of what was to come.  “Something tells me he wouldn’t do this.”  

“His loss,” Ben said, giving Mark’s rigid cock a quick tug.  His own inflated equipment was ready to burst at the way the former homophobe was putty in his hands.  He quickly lathered up the brawny man’s legs and spun him around to begin working on his broad back.  

“Mmmm…” Mark sighed, ignoring the voice in his head yelling at him that this was all wrong.  Instead he pushed his plump cheeks back and ground them against Ben, loving the large, solid lump he felt pressing back.  “It’s a moot point anyway.”  

“We could always pretend if you want,” Ben said, gripping the sides of Mark’s dimpled globes.  He pressed his tented pants against the supple mounds and rocked his hips.  “I’m technically older than you and,” Ben said as he fished his large, thick hose free, “I’m probably bigger than Hank.”    

“Yeah?”  Mark looked back over his shoulder with a bashful grin as Ben’s pulsing head pushed around between his cheeks.  With a deft pop of his hips the muscled man bent forward and impaled himself on Ben’s aching rod.  He loved how big his friend’s cock was compared to the rest of his lean, wiry build.  It would have been large on anyone, but on Ben it was massive.  

“Eager little thing, aren’t ya,” Ben laughed, deepening his voice to do his best Hank impression.  “Well hold on, sweetheart.  It’s a real man, not one of those queers up the street.”  

“OOHHhhhh….yessss….yes daddy…give it...to me...” Mark cooed, his ass and chest bouncing in equal measure as Ben hammered into him.  The voice in his head had turned into a scream, but he couldn’t hear it over his own desperate moans.  

Ben loved every second of it.  Picturing the old Mark calling another man daddy while begging to be fucked was almost as hot as the impossible ass slamming against his stomach, or the bouncing pecs he cupped from behind.  He could hear the other man’s impressive cock slapping around uselessly and wondered if the formerly straight bouncer ever imagined a time when he wouldn’t even want to use it.  “You like having that queer ass fucked by a real man?  Huh?  Let me hear you say it,” he snarled.  

Mark threw his head back and whimpered, nearing the edge.  “Yeeuuahhhuhh...yes...daddy...I...looOOOHHHoooovvee a...real...man...in..insiiiIIIEEEE!”  

Ben jammed in deep, exploding at the sound of the other man’s desperate shriek as Mark’s untouched cock launched ropey strands across the room.  He slowed his pumping while the big man kept his hands clutched at his chest.  

“Def...definitely wouldn’t get that at Sullivans…” Mark finally panted as he caught his breath.  

“You never know.  People could surprise you,” Ben laughed as he pulled out and gave Mark’s ass a swat.  The idea was already forming as he watched his new friend clean up the mess they’d made and slip into a pair of hot pink briefs with “Trunks” written across the ass in bright blue letters.  Given the size of his expansive rear, the stuffed underwear was like a billboard.  Mark would spend the rest of the night standing out front working the door in nothing else but a pair of matching high tops, his shimmering, warped muscle reflecting under the lights like a beacon.  

He turned to the book when Mark was gone, realizing he’d been going about the crowd problem all wrong.  They didn’t just need more employees, they needed another space altogether.  

He knew just the spot.

*************

Chapter 14

*************

“Two of you in one day...lucky me,” Hank spat when Ben walked in.  The older man leaned against the bar, not bothering to hide his annoyance.   “Get lost like your fruity bouncer?”  

Ben smiled and took up a stool, ignoring the glares from the older men on either side.  They were of an average, middle-aged type, with jeans and baggy t-shirts covering their unremarkable, dumpy builds.  That was the Sullivan’s crowd; older straight guys griping about their wives and the world that was rapidly leaving them behind.  There were a few younger men peppered throughout but they were simply the next generation in training, learning the appropriate ways to act and carry themselves from the dinosaurs about to go extinct around them.  

“Nah, just thought I’d come in for a drink,” Ben said, his smile never wavering.  

Hanks expression darkened as he fixed the younger, smaller man with a menacing stare.  He leaned in close, his voice dropping.  “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m gonna make this real easy for both of us.  We don’t serve your kind here.  Our bars are next to each other.  That’s it.  That doesn’t mean we’re neighbors.  We’re not friends.  You keep your fags over in your place and there won’t be trouble.  Stick your noses where they don’t belong and they’re liable to get hurt.”  

It was the reaction Ben hoped for.  He was deviating from his plan of not seeking people out this time, so he felt like he needed a reason.  If he’d walked in and Hank had been friendly, things might have gone differently.  It was a slim chance, he knew, but one that he felt obligated to provide.  Instead, the gruff older man had behaved exactly the way Ben figured he would, making him responsible for what was about to happen.  

“Not too crowded in here,” Ben said, ignoring Hank’s threat as he looked around the bar.  There was a man on either side, another at the far end, and about ten more scattered around the rest of the building.  Like a pack of dogs picking up on the alpha’s body language, all eyes had turned in his direction when they sensed Hank’s anger.  “Surprising since we’re so busy next door...you’re kinda bringing down the vibe in the neighborhood.”  

Hank’s wide, rough hand balled into a meaty fist on the bar.  “You really don’t wanna push this…” 

“I do, though,” Ben sighed.  “You guys have been dicks to us for years.  Years.  We’ve never done anything but be good neighbors, yet you go out of your way to have your bouncer harass us, you encourage these assholes to give us a hard time,” he motioned to the increasingly agitated men around him, “and you act like you own the block.  Meanwhile we’re bursting at the seams and you’re...not.”  He gave Hank a smug grin and casually spread the book open in front of him.  “Since you don’t need the space it only seems fair to let us have it as payment for putting up with your bullshit for so long.”  

There was a tense, silent moment before the crimson anger melted from Hank’s face.  The older man shook his head and laughed, the men on either side of Ben following suit.  “I know you freaks like to party but you gotta lay off the drugs, kid.  Comin’ in here high as a kite...that’s the kinda thing I’m sure the city’d like to hear about.” 

Ben kept writing even as he looked up, his hand gliding across the page as if being guided by an outside force.  “I’m just saying, Mark didn’t seem to mind.”  

Ben’s smile grew as Hank’s faded, the red-faced fury creeping back up the older man’s thick neck.  His stunned eyes went wide and his jaw fell open at the sudden realization that the scantily clad, bottom heavy young man he’d chased out earlier had been his former protege.  “That was...Mark?  But he’s not...I was just talking to him before and he didn’t look like…” He shook his head, trying to reconcile the strange new memories of the glittery, disproportionate doorman hanging out in tiny underwear with the straight jock he’d always known.  

Ben shrugged.  “Crazy, right?  Don’t worry, he’s much happier where he’s at.”  

“You did that?”  Hank whispered as he pulled back from the bar.  He had enough life experience to bite down on his rage in the face of something truly threatening until he had a better understanding of what was going on.  “How?  You...you can’t leave him like that.  He could be a punk, but he doesn’t deserve that.”  

“Deserve?  It’s not a punishment.  I told you...he’s happy.  Just ask these guys.”  

Hank gasped and paled, his voice drying up in his throat while reality warped in front of him.  He watched Al, the man on Ben’s left, lose twenty five years in the blink of an eye.  The balding, slightly pudgy man seemed to ripple, his thinning hair filling out into a stylish, golden yellow fade above a face that lost all of its weathered wrinkles.  Al’s furrowed brow settled into a smooth, flawless forehead above bright, sparkling eyes, his beakish nose withdrawing to a cute button above full, pouting lips.  His double chin vanished with the rest of his excess weight, leaving a sharp, dimpled jawline that accentuated his youthful new features.  The now-younger man’s baggy t-shirt disappeared altogether, showing off a tanned, hairless torso that bulged with muscular definition.  Shoulders became broad and round above a tapering, shredded waist, with impressively muscled arms hanging off either side.  And while it was hard to see from his seated position, When Al stood the age regressed pretty boy would show off a perky bubble filling out the back of his tiny pink khaki shorts.  

The altered blonde blinked a few times before turning to look past Ben at his friend who had been similarly changed.  The other man had started as a heavyset redhead with a thick beard and rapidly spreading male pattern baldness setting in.  Now he was a ripped, shirtless ginger with a trimmed beard and a smattering of wiry hair that coated his sculpted pecs before trailing down a ripped set of abs and disappearing into equally tiny, yellow shorts.  “Oh my god, Mikey, are you drinking beer?” The new Al chirped, an exaggerated look of horror on his young face.  “Girl, we’re 23 now.  That’s practically dead.  You better watch it.”  

The bearded ginger shook his head, looking confused at the bottle in his hand.  “Uh, you’re one to talk Mr. Brown Liquor,” he sassed, nodding at the glass of whiskey in front of Al before putting a hand on Ben’s thigh.  “Sorry handsome, we’re being so rude right now oh my god,” he said, rolling his eyes as he slipped around to go sit next to his altered friend.  The two sculpted young men giggled and leaned into each other, their bare, chiseled torsos flexing with the slightest movement.  “Excuse me,” Mike waved at Hank, “can we get two vodka sodas please?”  

The older man opened and closed his mouth repeatedly without speaking, unable to take his eyes off the warped caricatures his friends had become.  

“You can look all you want Daddy but drinks will let you touch,” Al purred, reaching across the bar to put a smooth hand on top of Hank’s rough mitt.  

“I think they ordered some drinks,” Ben said flatly.  

“Ri...right…” Hank stammered.  The burly man’s hands shook as he fumbled with a pair of glasses, coating the bar in a puddle of vodka as he struggled to pour the drinks.  

“Thaaaaaaank you,” Mike sang as he took the drinks.  He and Al scampered off to the other side of the room, each with a hand glued to the other’s perky bubble as they went.  

“See?  Look how happy they are,” Ben said as the two young hunks began writhing together, holding their drinks off to the side as they swayed their hips to the nonexistent music and pressed the front of their small, stuffed shorts into each other.  

Hank’s pale skin had taken on a sickly green tint as he watched the two muscled young men paw and kiss at each other.  “I...I’ve known both of them for going on three decades,” he said in a soft, shaking voice.  “Al’s forty eight...Mike’s fifty two.  Al has a wife and kids….Mike’s divorced, never remarried.  He was in the army...works as a foreman...Al’s a supervisor down at the plant...they’re not...they can’t…” The older man was mumbling to himself, as if repeating the facts of how things should be would undo what he’d just witnessed.  

“What about the sad sack at the end of the bar?” Ben asked, nodding to the man sitting by himself at the far end.  He looked slightly younger than Al had been, with a beefy build and short, salt and pepper hair.  Unlike Hank, he seemed oblivious to what just happened as he calmly nursed his beer.  

Hank shook his head.  “Jerry?  No, come on, he doesn’t hurt anyone!  You can’t ju…” The older man sagged against the bar as another wave of changes washed over one of his customers.  Jerry’s hair turned a dark, obsidian black before receding to a short buzz cut that accentuated his brooding features.  The newly young man’s sharp cheeks and strong jaw were covered in a matching layer of stubble beneath his prominent nose that drew attention to his plump, soft lips.  Unlike the other two men Jerry’s shirt didn’t disappear, but it did take on a radically different appearance.  The baggy t-shirt stayed loose, falling off to the side as the neck was cut wide and the sleeves disappeared, taking most of the sides with them.  The bottom drew up, stopping halfway between Jerry’s pecs and navel as a revealing, cut-off muscle shirt.  The neon green fabric popped against his shredded, olive skin and matched the bright sneakers on his feet.  In between was a pair of small, white mesh shorts that showed off each of his ample globes as well as the thick, heavy bulge pressing out between his wide, solid thighs.  The stocky hunk hopped off his stool and sauntered over to Al and Mike, his muscled, barely covered bubble swaying with each step.  

“See?  How could you not want everyone to have fun like that,” Ben asked as he and Hank watched Jerry start dancing with the other two similarly aged men.  “Why don’t we spread the joy?”  

“No!”  Hank’s cry was already too late.  Like a crashing wave, he watched the changes sweep over the rest of the crowd.  In a matter of moments, guys he’d known for decades were turned into complete strangers.  Average, middle aged men went from gruff and quiet to ripped and cheerful in the blink of an eye.  Baggy jeans and generic shirts were replaced by tight, revealing shorts or vanished altogether to show off the chiseled bodies attached to the grinning young faces.  What had been a quiet, dour bar was now a room filled with loud laughter and dramatic cries as the young, muscled crowd danced and pawed at each other.  

Hank was holding on to consciousness by a thread.  “Please...you can’t do that to them…” he begged.  “They had lives!  You can’t just take that away!”  

“I didn’t take anything...I just changed it,” Ben said, as if it should have been obvious.  “Don’t worry, they all have rich, full lives.  Hell, they’re probably better off than they were.  You don’t hang out in a place like this if things are going well, you know?  I bet most of those guys would have jumped at the chance to be young, built and beautiful.”  

“But not a fag,” Hank barked before he could stop himself.  

“You’d be surprised,” Ben laughed.  “Youth and beauty and all the sex they want?  I don’t think they’d really care who it’s with.  But why are we arguing?  You’re about to find out.”  

“Oh god...” Hank moaned.  He backed away, yelping as his bare skin made contact with the wall behind him.  The older man blushed when he looked down to find his jeans and button down gone, replaced by a pair of lycra shorts smaller than his underwear.  His beefy, hairy body was on display in its unaltered glory, a final glimpse of what was to come.  “You can’t!  You caaaaAAHHHH…!”  

Like the others, it happened fast.  A waterfall of changes cascaded over Hank’s burly, rugged frame, filling out the short, thin hair into a shaggy, chocolate mop while the years melted away.  His weathered, wrinkled face was replaced by a square-jawed, all American boy-next-door with bright green eyes and a charming smile.  The dense forest of hair on his burly torso faded to a trimmed dusting as tight, precision crafted muscle replaced sagging flesh.  Hank’s shelf of a chest remained just as prominent, looming even larger above his tight, tapering new waist.  The bulge in the front of his tiny shorts seemed to grow as the body around it shrank and reshaped into a set of sturdy, ripped quads with plump, muscled globes filling out the formerly empty rear.  The once-older man’s powerful arms were still huge, but instead of looking like beefy logs they showed off the hulking muscle lurking under the tight skin.  

“...AAaaahhhhhhh oh honey, how long have you been sitting here without a drink?!” the new Hank cried.  A confused look passed across his handsome young face when he first heard his voice, but it didn’t last.  “Sorry...I’m a little distracted by the crowd tonight,” he winked, nodding over at the sea of dancing muscle.  What little clothing the men had been wearing seemed to be making its way off already.  

“View behind the bar isn’t so bad either,” Ben said as Hank turned to pour him a drink.  The altered man flexed his lycra covered cheeks and gave them a giggling shake.  

“I know I’m new, but are you supposed to hit on the employees,” he asked, flashing a coy smile when he turned back around.  From a distance Hank looked every bit the all american jock, until he opened his mouth or made a dramatic wave with his hands.  “I’m hoping the answer’s yes.”  

Ben couldn’t help but smile at the way Hank traced his hands down along his shredded obliques to his low riding shorts, cupping his heavy bulge.  He doubted that the older version of Hank would appreciate the surge of hormones coursing through his new, twenty one year old body.  “Consider it a bonus,” Ben winked.  “I’ll send Mark and Zack over to help out...I’m guessing it’s going to be a busy night in here.”  

It was more than a guess.  He’d left it so that anytime one of Hank’s former regulars walked in they’d automatically be changed to match the rest of the crowd.  By the end of the night it would be hard to tell where Trunks ended and the old Sullivan’s began.  

The now-younger Hank licked his lips and sighed as he watched the group of fit, partying young men across the room.  His thick rod was twitching and hardening in his shorts, but he didn’t seem to notice.  “If they all look like that, I can’t wait.”  

“Same here,” Ben said, raising his glass in a toast.  

*************

Chapter 15

*************

Ben didn’t hear the music.  He didn’t see Adam or Zack behind the bar.  His eyes were open, but he wasn’t looking out on the crowded dance floor of Trunks Too, filled with fit, smiling young men who’d been significantly older and differently built prior to walking through the door.  If the men were alarmed by their sudden transformation into chipper young hunks it certainly didn’t show as they stripped down and fawned over each other’s recently acquired beauty.  Even the women who entered with them didn’t seem to mind, either taking on the role of friend or turning around and walking out the door, confused as to why they’d entered in the first place.  

Ben was oblivious to all of it, his vision filled with the sweeping, cosmic vistas that had crept from his dreams to intrude on his waking life.  It was always the same; a sensation of floating amongst the swirling nebulas, a passenger in his own body.  He could see the colossal figures looming at the edge of the galaxy and could hear the strange language leaving his mouth that was calling them closer.  He could feel the chill of the void and the way the words scraped his throat as they left, but he wasn’t in control of any of it.  

And with each episode he was starting to question who he really was in the first place.  Was he a bartender in his mid-twenties, or was he something far, far older?  Was he just the same raw material that the rest of the world had become, or was he above that?  He was shaping and molding it to his will, but what did that make him?  Was it really only a few weeks ago that he’d been just like everyone else, or several lifetimes?  

He’d been able to shake himself out of it after the first few visions but lately the fog, and the questions, lingered.  He wasn’t questioning his use of the book at all anymore, despite knowing that he should.  He searched for that inner voice telling him he was out of control but it was nowhere to be found.  All he heard was the insistent whisper telling him to pick up a pen and start writing again.  

What he’d done at Sullivan’s was a turning point.  He’d changed men on a mass scale before with his tweaks to the gym, but this was different.  Those guys just had their bodies changed.  Their arms or chests or assess would balloon, but the rest of their lives were more or less untouched.  With Sullivan’s he’d warped reality on a grander scale.  The men who walked in as middle aged but left as ditzy twenty year olds had lives and families.  They had bosses and friends, children and spouses, all of whom had their worlds affected.  The ripples spread beyond than anything he’d ever done before.  He should have been horrified, but all he felt was a numb hunger for more.  

“Impressive work.”  

The voice reached Ben’s distant ears as if the speaker was floating next to him in the void.  Whenever he’d been disturbed before it was a struggle, a premature plummeting back to the physical plane.  Zack and the others quickly learned not to bother him when he “spaced out” after the first few times of Ben biting their heads off.  This was different.  The voice reached the edges of space without losing any of its booming resonance, and instead of a lightspeed fall from the heavens Ben watched the star peppered sea slowly fade, the bustling bar coming back into view.  

The blinking young man found himself staring at a grinning stranger.  Or at least he thought the other man was grinning.  As Ben’s vision cleared he discovered that he couldn’t quite wrap his brain around the person before him.  One moment he seemed middle aged, then half that the next, then old again.  Ben first thought he was well dressed, or was he just wearing shorts and a t-shirt?  Or was it a bright green suit?  Or was he wearing anything at all?  It was as if his eyes suddenly couldn’t connect properly with his brain.  

“Can I help you,” Ben asked, rubbing his face and feeling nauseous from the man’s dizzying appearance.  

“All this,” the man said, motioning to the crowd.  “This is good work.  Usually it doesn’t stick around this long with one person, but it chose well with you.”

“I’m sorry...what are we talking about, exactly?”  Ben was trying to look past the stranger and not at them.  

“There’s no need to be coy,” the man laughed as he leaned against the bar.  “I know all about what you’ve done and how you’ve done it.  You’ve attracted quite a bit of attention.”  

Ben’s stomach dropped.  He’d been so caught up in the rush that it never occurred to him other people might be aware.  His eyes darted instinctively to where the book was tucked away under the bar as he did the math in his head to figure out how quickly he could grab it.  

“Now now, no need for that,” the man said, his tone friendly.  “It wouldn’t work on me anyway.  I’m not made of the same stuff as the rest of the common rabble.”  Ben gasped and looked away as the ambiguous man’s shape seemed to change.  He was suddenly grateful for his eyes’ inability to communicate with his brain as the impressions he got of towering size and too many limbs were horrifying enough.  “See?  I don’t blame you...everyone always thinks of that first.”  

“What...what do you want,” Ben asked, his voice shaking.  “Are you here to take the book?”  

“The book?  You still think of it as…” the man trailed off with a chuckle.  “Usually when someone gets to this point they’ve seen it for what it is.  You think that’s paper you’ve been writing on?  Take a look.”  

Ben could see the hulking shape out of the corner of his eye before he even turned his head.  Instead of a book tucked away under a bar he was looking at a quivering horror.  The thing was amorphous, like a fleshy mound as it reached almost to the ceiling.  It’s wide base was at least eight feet in diameter as it raised like a pulpy, shifting obelisk towards the sky.  The thing’s outer skin was covered in strings of writing that shifted and writhed around it in perpetual motion.  Ben saw flashes of alphabets he recognized mixed with all manner of shapes and languages he’d never seen before.  There were strings of color, sound, and even scent swirling in with the mass of letters and it occurred to the startled young man that not only had this horror existed on earth for millenia, but on other worlds and in other dimensions as well.  

The sight made Ben want to retch as he thought about what he’d been carrying around with him.  “Wh..what it is that…” he managed, his voice a hoarse whisper.  

“A little seed of chaos,” the other man shrugged, sounding like he was talking about an unruly pet and not a reality warping terror.  “It usually bounces from author to author, but every now and then it forms an attachment...and we can’t have that.  You’ve done excellent work with it, don’t get me wrong, we just can’t have it absorbing you fully.  Those dreams you’ve been having, even when you’re awake?  That voice you hear calling out?  We’re not quite ready for the arrival of the ones it’s calling to.  Right now it’s limited, there are rules, but if it manages to take an author over things could get...messy.”  

“Take me over?  I don’t understand...it’s not taking...oh god…” Ben gasped when he looked down at himself and saw faint tendrils of writing swirling around his own wiry frame, extending back to the monstrosity towering over them.  He recognized it as his own handwriting, making them shackles of his own creation.  

“Aaaaand there’s the problem,” the other man sighed.  “Don’t worry, I’m here to sever the connection and put the “book” back into circulation, as it were.  Everything you’ve done will stay as is but I have to warn you, this won’t be a pleasant process.”  

The man started making passes over the bar with his hands and muttering a chant before Ben could ask what he meant.  The language of the chant sounded similar to what Ben heard in his visions, but that was the last detail he had time to register before the pain hit him.  Ben jerked his head back and opened his mouth in a wordless scream as his body went tense, unable to give voice to the agony coursing through him.  The tendrils of writing vanished into his body, and it felt like someone was trying to pull his bones out through his skin as they withdrew.  

He could feel parts of himself going with them.  As each string of writing pulled away, a different Ben was left in their wake.  His pants and briefs vanished, letting his stolen size dangle on display between his toned thighs as the already sizeable equipment grew.  The swaying hose lengthened and thickened, surpassing even Adam in its size as it hung down to his knees, thicker than his forearms.  His balls had inflated to match and were thrust forward with the impossible trunk when those toned thighs took on extra weight as his perky little bubble exploded into a set of mountainous, pillowy globes.  The solid cheeks expanded outward in every direction, forming a bouncing, oversized shelf that clapped and shaked with each lumbering step.  

Even through the pain, Ben knew what was happening.  He’d just watched himself step into a new reality where his running days, and most likely pants-wearing days, were over.  And things weren’t done.  As more strands pulled away he watched his shirt vanish, his toned arms growing thick and wide with muscle.  The rest of his lean, defined torso stayed wiry and trim, making the beefy pistons seem even larger when compared to the rest of his increasingly disproportionate body.  Ben finally managed a quiet moan when the tingling hit his face, but before he could get a glimpse in the mirror his vision went white.  It was excruciating, like someone had stuck a live wire against the back of his skull.  

Fortunately the sensation was as brief as it was intense, leaving a panting, blissfully pain-free Ben leaning against the bar.  The altered man shook his head and blinked down at himself, a quick stab of fear hitting him at the sight.  His clothes were still gone and his body still looked different than he felt like it should.  Ben was sure that he shouldn’t have what looked like a sparkly purple pillowcase with “Trunks” written on it encasing his mammoth package, nor should he be wearing a tiny, cut off tank top that left his abs and oversized guns on display.  As he staggered and turned on his feet and felt his bare mountains shake and jiggle, Ben felt like they should be covered.  The face staring back at him in the mirror seemed just as wrong.  The overly plump lips seemed like they were made for one thing and one thing only, so thick they were forced into perpetual duck face beneath his new button nose and sparkling eyes.  

The altered young man looked around, feeling both relieved and terrified when he saw nothing but the usual bar crowd.  Ben didn’t know what he was looking for, just that it felt important.  

“What’s goin’ on, buddy?  Need to drop your tips off?”  

Ben smiled and felt himself calming down at Zack’s friendly, condescending tone.  He didn’t know what the smaller man was talking about until he looked down at the wads of green paper in his hand.  He knew it was money, but Ben’s heart started racing again as he realized he didn’t know what any of the pictures on it meant.  As he looked around, the same went for the symbols he saw covering the bottles and on the board above the bar.  It hit him that he only knew what was written on his pouch because people had told him.  He nodded at Zack, more because he felt like he should than because he understood what was happening.  

“Here...I’ll take those,” Zack said, pulling the bills from Ben’s meaty fists and handing him a pair of drinks.  He nodded towards a pair of shirtless young jocks dancing across the room.  “And you can take these over to those guys.  Go around when you’re done and gather up the empties, okay?  Think you can handle that?”  

Ben nodded in a daze, lumbering over to the pair as instructed.  “Here you go!” he chirped proudly as he handed the drinks over.  He turned to leave, but one of the men stopped him with a hand on a bowling ball shoulder.  

“Hold on big guy, I need some luck,” one of them said, tucking a bill into the top of Ben’s pouch before giving the stuffed sack a vigorous rub.  

“Hell, why not,” his friend laughed, following suit.  

Ben grinned and shivered at the pleasant sensations.  His plump, impossible hose didn’t harden in the slightest, at its current size it never could, but that didn’t mean getting stroked was any less pleasurable.  “Good luck!” he said, giving his huge globes a shake as he turned to walk away.  

He only made it a few more tables before someone else stopped him to give his swaying trunk a rub for good luck.  That was part of his job now, and he loved it.  For a tip, guys could give his plentiful bulge a stroke for good luck.  It started as a joke but it quickly turned into an urban legend, with guys coming from far and wide to give Ben a rub, hoping it would improve their own chances of getting laid.  They usually also grabbed a handful of his jiggling globes in the process, but he didn’t mind.  Ben didn’t wear pants, and he’d long ago grown accustomed to the sensation of people touching his clapping cheeks.  Intentional or not, it was nearly impossible to maneuver the heavy cakes through a crowd without bumping them into people.

He dropped off a stack of empty glasses and thrust his money-filled hands at Zack.  He didn’t know how much he held, but he thought it must be a lot based on the other man’s expression.  “I have more!”  

“I can see that,” Zack laughed, taking the balled up bills.  “You’re making a killing toni...oh, girl, we gotta get you cleaned up.”  Ben followed Zack’s eyes down to the growing damp spot at the base of his pouch.  His limp beast had been oozing steadily from the constant rubbing and it showed, the sopping material clinging to his inflated, fist-sized head.  The lithe, dark skinned young man looked around behind the bar and called over to a shirtless, muscled brunette in tiny shorts at the other end.  “Hank!  I’ll cover back here...Ben needs milked and a new pouch.”  

“Ooohhh, my favorite,” the sculpted young man purred, quickly finishing the drinks he was making.  He wiped his hands on the front of his shorts, emphasizing his own tented bulge, and walked Ben through the room.  The altered man waddled behind, his stomach fluttering and his cock oozing even harder at the thought of what was to come.  

“Damn, honey, you ARE worked up tonight,” Hank whistled when they reached the breakroom.  Ben folded his steely arms behind his head, flexing the massive biceps while the flamboyant muscle man stripped him down.  He could have pulled the wet pouch free himself, but he liked it better when his friends did it.    

Though he giggled when Hank hefted the massive organ, the unease Ben had been feeling crept back in at the sight.  Something still felt off, but as he turned and let Hank spread the continental shelves of his ass he couldn’t figure out what.  “OOHHHHHhhhhaaaooooHHHHH!”  He howled when the young, solid stud plunged in, loving how Hank’s firm body felt as his bouncing cheeks slammed against it, nearly swallowing the other man’s midsection in the process.  The sensation of his churning bull balls and dangling, lifeless monster were less pleasant, but that didn’t stop Ben’s ecstatic moans.  

“Ohhh...fuck...never...thought I’d...look forward...to being...a top…” the young man grunted, rolling his rhythmic hips.  There was a marked contrast between Hank’s giddy, flaming behavior and the way he could expertly use his masculine body.  “Makes me...feel...all...buuuUUUuutch…” he moaned, his fingers biting into the other man’s yielding rear.  

Ben heard his friend speaking, but from a distance.  As soon as Hank’s thick, eight inch rod slid inside his mind had been jettisoned.  The addled, bottom heavy man wasn’t in a breakroom anymore, he was looking out at a sea of stars filled with images of another life.  He saw himself as he should have been, and for a brief instant remembered everything.  He was horrified at what he’d done with the book and felt like he was waking up from a long weekend of drugs and drinking.  He was responsible for his actions, he hadn’t been entirely out of control, and all the guilt he’d been rationalizing him him in full force.  Ben’s groans turned from ecstasy to dread as he thought about all the lives he’d forcibly changed, and about his own exposed, empty-headed future, walking around with his freakishly warped body on display and being too dumb to do anything about it.  He thought about the true nature of the forces he’d meddled with, his fear growing at the thought of what else could still be out there.  Someone new would get their hands on the thing that looked like a book and the cycle would continue.  Ben knew his fate was an appropriate one, no worse than anything he’d done to the others, but he selfishly prayed that like the others his awareness would fade.  If he had to be stuck like this, he didn’t want to remember ever being anything else.  

“GGGNNNUUUUuuuoohhhhh….” Ben’s attention was pulled back to the break room when he suddenly spasmed and came, his dangling member running like someone had turned on a hose.  

“I still...say we...should...bottle and sell...that...stuuuunnhhh…” Hank gave one last thrust and joined in, his plentiful eruption seeming meager compared to the torrent still spilling out of the other man.  

Ben nearly fell to his knees from the wracking spasms, most of his recent awareness flooding out with the sticky fluid.  He nearly got his wish but scraps of memory remained, just enough to let him know how things should have been while leaving him helpless to do anything about it.  “Th..thanks…” he panted, smiling externally while recoiling inside.  

“Let’s get you cleaned up, stud,” Hank said, waiting for Ben’s obscene organ to stop leaking before wiping it clean and pulling out another pouch.  Ben just stood there with his massive arms behind his head again as the other man slipped it on him and fastened it in place, blushing while the chiseled hunk talked down to him and acted like he was changing a diaper.  As much as Ben wanted to be embarrassed, it was hard for his limited faculties to focus on anything other than the now-younger man’s ample, shifting muscle and the softening club between Hank’s thick quads.  He wanted to drop to his knees and seal his puffy lips around it, but there wasn’t time.  “I should be, like, suuuuper lucky after that, right?”  Hank gave the fresh pouch a quick rub and slipped his shorts back on, flexing the firm, barely covered globes in Ben’s direction.  “Not that a bitch needs the help,” he winked, taking the addled man by the hand.  “Come on...you got work to do.”