A Trip To The Waterpark (Patreon)

“Damn...this place is out there, isn’t it,” Owen panted, scrambling over a fallen tree.  With his short, wide legs, the stocky jock didn’t have as easy a time as his two friends.  He paused on the other side to wipe the sweat from his forehead, his bare slab of a chest glistening with the same perspiration.  

“Doesn’t help that the access roads have all been shut down,” Turner said, vaulting over the tree in one agile motion like a gymnast on a pommel horse.  Given how much time the taller, chiseled young man spent leaping and climbing at the gym, the description wasn’t far off.  “Used to be able to drive right up to the place.”  

“So you’ve been here before?”  Brett leapt over the tree, his wiry, whipcord frame making the jump with room to spare.  With their mesh shorts, sneakers, and shirtless torsos, the athletic trio looked more like they were on their way to the gym than an abandoned water park.  

“I mean, not in person,” Turner said, “but this creepy redhead I banged wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it.”  The sculpted adonis flashed a smug grin and grabbed his heavy bulge through his shorts.  “Weeeeiiiiiiiiirrrrd chick, but I haven’t had pussy like that in a long time.  She seemed like she’d know what’s up.”  

Owen shook his head and folded his massive arms behind his head as they walked, showing off his prominent pecs and thick, washboard stomach to no one in particular.  He may have been beefy and broad, but years of wrestling kept Owen’s bulky muscle lean and shredded.   “So is she waiting out there with some friends or what?  We left so early I barely had time to let Sarah blow me last night.”  

“Does it take more than a few seconds?”  Brett laughed and reached down to give the long, plump cock bouncing noticeably beneath Owen’s shorts a quick, backhanded tap.  “Whoooaaooooofff!”  the trim blonde barely had time to pull his arm back before the stocky man had him pinned face-down on the rough forest floor in one quick motion.  

“Wanna find out,” Owen asked, grinding his girthy package against the solid bubble filling out the back of Brett’s tight shorts.  

The wiry man writhed underneath his heavy friend.  Though he may have been taller, Owen was almost twice as wide.  “Ewww! Dude!  Quit it,” Brett laughed.  “I’m not one of your wrestling bros...I don’t want your junk all over me!”  

“Too late!” Owen hopped up from his prone friend, making sure to dig his package into the back of Brett’s short blonde hair on the way.  “Dude, maybe it’s just ‘cause I haven’t gotten laid in a couple days, but that tight little booty gave me a chubby,” he grinned, adjusting his baggy shorts.  

“Fuck off,” Brett sighed, wiping the forest debris from his deceptively thin torso as he stood.  The lean blonde looked small at first glance, but as he moved and his toned limbs inflated, it was clear he could hold his own with his burly friends.  “Where’d Turner go?”  

Owen looked around and shrugged his broad shoulders.  “Search me.  Maybe he kept…” 

“Are you two done?”  Brett and Owen looked over to see Turner taking a selfie in front of a particularly creepy tree.  The handsome, dark haired man had long since perfected his pose, sticking out his lantern jaw, lightly pursing his full lips, and raising his eyebrows just enough to show off his razor cheekbones.  And then there were the bowling ball shoulders, melon biceps, sculpted pecs, and tapering, tank-tread abs.  He angled the camera so that his shredded obliques were accentuated by his low-riding shorts and the barest glimpse of elastic underwear.   

“Fix your makeup first?” Brett laughed while Turner cocked his head from side to side and snapped a series of pictures.  

The muscled hunk blew his friend a kiss as he put his phone away.  “Who’s got twelve thousand followers again?”  

Brett sighed and rolled his eyes.  “And who’s not making any money off it?”  The pretty crossfitter fancied himself a model; he just didn’t get paid for it. 

“I get free shit all the time, bro.”  Turner tugged his small shorts down to show off a pair of bright green briefs that just barely covered his ample, solid globes and let nothing of his stout hose and heavy balls to the imagination.  “That’s where all this came from.”  

“And I bet the boys just love it,” Owen whistled, snapping the waistband of the briefs.  “Some gay ass underwear?  That’s it?  Seems like a rip off for givin’ a bunch of thirsty dudes stroke fuel.”  

Turner pulled his shorts back up and glared at his shorter friend.  “Says the guy who JUST got caught jerkin’ it to some cam girl…”  

“My point exactly!  You just wanna be a pretty face and some tits for guys to beat off to?”  

“Eh, as long as I don’t have to touch ‘em or watch I wouldn’t give a fuck,” Brett chimed in.  The trim blonde shrugged when his friends stopped and gave him a shocked look.  “What?  Money’s money.  I’m not about to turn it down, especially if they just wanna appreciate this,” he said, motioning to his tight, bare torso.  

“Okay, officially uncomfortable!  I thought the fuckin’ park was supposed to creep me out, not you two,” Owen laughed awkwardly, eager to change the subject.  “Does anyone know why the place shut down?”  

“Uh, what’s-her-name said the place was cursed.  No, seriously,” Turner said, raising his hands in surrender when Owen and Brett shot him matching, dubious expressions.  “She said there were a bunch of accidents.  People started to get injured on the rides...I guess there were even a few drownings.  One day the owners just up and took off without any warning and left the place as is, rides running and everything.  She said some of ‘em are still going, if you can believe it.  The locals never liked the place, said this forest wasn’t something they should mess with, so no one bothered with trying to pack it up.  They just left it and tried to pretend it wasn’t there.”  

“What.  The.  Fuck.”  Owen said with a stunned laugh.  

Brett slapped the burly man on a meaty bicep.  “Come on, dude, you don’t actually believe that, do you?  You think the city’s just going to let shit run on its own out here if no one’s paying the bill?  Or the property taxes?  There are million dollar homes up on the ridge less than ten miles from here...no one’s going to let real estate like this just go to waste.”  

“Guess again,” Turner said, stopping short as the forest thinned in front of them and he almost fell into a shallow pit.  The strapping young jock gasped at the sudden appearance of dilapidated buildings, crumbling edifices, and rusted, decaying canals like the one snaking through the ground in front of him.  The sound of running water could be heard in the distance, and there was the faintest hint of motion to the tar-like quagmire filling the channel at their feet.  

“No way...no way!” Brett was like an eager kid as he hopped over the laziest and dirtiest of lazy rivers to make his way deeper into the abandoned facility.  “Fuck me, I guess.  I was totally wrong…” he said, as if the possibility of being incorrect was as shocking as their surroundings.  

As they made their way towards the center and the forest cleared around them, half-filled pools and broken water slides replaced the towering oaks.  Ramshackle buildings with shattered windows sat amongst wide, weaving tracks that once carried floating inner tubes and rafts.  A rickety log ride loomed tall and ominous in the distance, a fallen tree shattering the lower track in a display of poetic justice, while a churning, mechanical hum hung in the air.  

“She, uh, wasn’t kidding about the creepy part,” Owen stammered, scratching absently at a lumpy pec.  “How is any of this still running?”  

“Maybe the water actually powers it?  Like a hydroelectric system or something…” Brett said as he stepped towards a group of rusted poles lined with shower heads.  He kicked at the ground, clearing away the encroaching forest floor to reveal a cracked concrete slab underneath.  Stepping to the side, his toned arm inflated as it strained with the stuck handle before it finally gave way.  There was a crack and a hiss as a stream of brown water gurgled out.  “Don’t, uh, don’t drink that,” he said, his nose wrinkling at the sulfur smell.    

“This is so crazy…” Turner said, peeking his head inside the remains of a concession stand.  Any food had long since been devoured by racoons or mold, but the old cash register and cooking equipment were surprisingly still inside.  “I thought there’d be more graffiti,” the brawny young man said, sticking his head inside what looked like an old changing room.  There were empty, rusting lockers and a row of shower heads on the far wall, but instead of showering swimmers the rickety building was now home to bird nests, piles of animal waste, and forest debris.  

“Whoa!  Check it out!”  Turner bolted from the dismal hut at his friend’s excited tone and saw Brett trotting over to one of the larger buildings by what looked to be the remains of the front gate.  Through the missing door he could see Owen lumbering around inside, waving them over.  “There’s still stuff in here,” Owen cried excitedly.  

“What do you...no fucking way,” Brett laughed when he stepped inside the remains of the gift shop and saw shelves still lined with dusty, disintegrating souvenirs.  There were even racks with swimwear, bikinis and trunks that had been the height of fashion in the eighties but which were now dated even by retro styling standards.  “Anyone wanna go for a swim,” the wiry man laughed, holding a pair of trunks in front of his waist.  They were smaller than even his tight gym shorts and split up the side like something a runner would wear, patterned with hot pink triangles against white fabric.  

“Dude...I will pay you twenty dollars to put those on,” Owen laughed.  “What?  You said money’s money,” he added when Brett hesitated.  

Turner joined in, leaning against the doorway with his arms folded over his impressive chest.  “What’s wrong?  Scared?”  

“I’m just making sure they aren’t full of ticks and spiders,” Brett said, turning the shorts inside out to inspect the built in mesh.  He laughed and looked at his friends, surprised at how intact the trunks were.  “Are you fuckers serious?”  

“Come on!” Owen cheered.  “No one else is usin’ em.”  

Brett looked over at Turner, but seeing no help coming from his handsome friend, the defined man shrugged and casually shucked his shorts.  They’d all been in enough locker rooms over the years that nudity around each other was second nature.  “I swear to god if I get a rash,” Brett laughed nervously, blushing slightly as it occurred to him that he was standing naked in a strange place.  He quickly bent and pulled the small trunks up his toned legs, squirming as the mesh settled into place.  

“Umm….wow…” Owen laughed, raising an impressed eyebrow as he looked at his friend.  “That’s, uh, that’s a look.”  

“What do you...oh!  Shit!”  Brett blushed again when he looked down and saw his cock clearly outlined, snaking off to the side.  His thin build made the already sizeable seven inch beast look even more impressive, a feature the shorts magnified.  “Fuck...guess dude’s weren’t so hung back in the day,” he laughed as he put his hands on his trim hips and thrust his crotch forward.  “Well?  This is what you fuckers wanted...drink it in!”  

“We made a terrible mistake,” Turner sighed, heading back out into the park.  

“They’re actually not so bad,” Brett said, looking over his shoulder and giving his perky bubble a flex.  “They make my ass look great.”    

“Good for you?”  Owen watched his friend check himself out, his sense of unease growing.  “Isn’t this weird, though?  I mean, not just what you’re wearing, but the fact that any of this is here at all?  There’s no way this place has been closed since the eighties and isn’t tagged the fuck up.  People should have picked all this clean,” the stocky man said, holding up a dusty bikini.  

“Relax dude, it’s just old junk.  Turner’s chick said no one came out here,” Brett shrugged, grabbing his discarded shorts and brushing past Owen on his way out.  

“Exactly my point!  I’m just sayin’....we came, we saw, let’s leave.”  The shorter man followed reluctantly after his friends, checking the sun’s position in the sky to make sure they weren’t going to get stuck after dark.  With his eyes focused upward, he didn’t see Brett signal to Turner.  

“Yo, Owen!” 

“Fuck!” the burly man started and jumped, glaring at Turner for shouting in his ear.  “What the fuck was thaaaaah!”  With a quick shove, Brett sent him tumbling into a nearby pool.  He scrambled and grasped at the empty air as time seemed to slow, catching his friend’s smirking faces before hitting the murky water.  From what he’d seen on the way down it should have only been a few feet deep at most, but Owen submerged and kept sinking.  The frantic man was afraid the bottom had rotted out of the pool and he was going to get stuck, or that some sort of sink hole had formed.  He kicked and thrashed, fighting his way back towards what he thought was the surface as what felt like clinging debris and mud struggled to hold him under.  He couldn’t open his eyes, he wouldn’t have in the filthy water even if he’d been able, leaving him to flail in the dark.  “Guh!” he gasped, sputtering when he finally broke the surface.  “Get me...get me out!  Get me the fuck out…” he stammered, reaching up towards his friends.  

“Jesus, man, what happened?!”  Turner asked as he and Brett grabbed a muddy arm and hauled the heavy man up onto solid ground.  

“What the fuck do you mean what happened?!” Owen roared, wiping the muck from his face.  “You assholes pushed me in!”  

“We didn’t know!” Brett said quickly.  “We thought it was gonna be like a few inches or something, I swear!  I didn’t think you’d…” he trailed off, his brain struggling to make sense of what he’d just seen.  Even now, Brett still would have sworn the water was only a shallow pool.  Sticks poked up in the distance giving the impression that it shouldn’t have been past their friend’s knees, but he’d watched Owen disappear.  Not just disappear, but submerge deep enough to let the surface go momentarily still before the stocky man burst back up.  He grabbed a nearby stick and started to press it down but pulled back at the last minute, not really wanting an answer.  “How...how deep was that?”  

Owen ran a hand over his muddy scalp and looked down at his filthy body.  “How deep does it look?  If my phone’s fried I’m murdering both of you.”

“Dude, seriously, we’re sorry.  We didn’t know,” Turner said, putting a hand on a broad, muddy shoulder.  The handsome man pulled it away, wrinkling his nose.  “Ugh...stuff smells awful.”  

“I know.” Owen said flatly.  The burly jock stomped off, scratching at his chest as he made his way towards the shower heads they’d found earlier.  “It’s itchy as hell, too.  Probably gonna get a rash or some flesh eating bacteria or some shit…” he grumbled.  

Brett and Turner watched their friend peel out of his sopping clothes and shiver as he stood under the meager stream, both of them impressed at Owen’s thick, heavy package despite the frigid dunking and equally icy shower.  He leaned over and whispered to Turner, deciding it best to give Owen some space to cool down.  “Did you, uh, think that was gonna be so deep?”

Turner shook his head, a stunned look still on his face.  “No.  That...that was weird, right?  Even if it WAS deep he was down there too long.”  

“So we should probably just go, right?”  

“Hey!  Does one of you fuckers wanna go find me something dry to put on instead of staring at my ass,” Owen yelled over before Turner could answer Brett, giving his round, ample rear a slap.  

“I’ll go,” the blonde laughed.  He didn’t love the idea of being alone in the increasingly creepy park, but his guilt wouldn’t let him do otherwise.  Instead of comforting, the sun in the bright, cloudless sky overhead lent an oppressive air to the surroundings, a humidity that seemed to cling to them like a film the longer they were there.  Brett tried not to think about it as he trotted back to the abandoned gift shop, telling himself he’d grab an old pair of trunks for Owen and they’d split.  As soon as he walked inside it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.  

The room was empty.  The old swim trunks and decaying souvenirs they’d seen just minutes before were gone, taking the shelves and fixtures with them.  All that remained was a rusted out spinner rack that had collapsed under its own weight and a thick layer of dirt, twigs and leaves on the ground.  

“Gu...guys...guys!  Something’s really wrong here…” Brett stammered, backing out of the now-empty building.  “We need to…”

“Owen!  Fuck, man, what’re you doing?”  

Brett whirled around at Turner’s frightened tone, his jaw dropping at what he saw.  Owen was still standing under the spurting shower head, but instead of scratching at his bulging pecs like he had been the short muscle man was rubbing and kneading them, his fat, thick cock twitching to life.  

“MMMMMhhhmmmm…” Owen moaned, arching his back as a shudder ran through him.  His eyes went wide and panicked as he looked at Turner.  “Fuck...oh fuck...dude...I can’t...something’s happening...I…”  the stocky wrestler broke off in a gasp, another shudder running through him.  

“What?  Talk to me, man.  What’s happening?”  Turner took a few tentative steps forward, shooting Brett a terrified glance over Owen’s shoulder as their friend stood frozen and gasping between them.  

“My...my chest feels...fuuuuuUUUNNNNHHHH…!”  Owen let out a hoarse moan and doubled over, a steady stream leaking from his throbbing pole.  Before either of his friends could make it the few steps to where he stood, his chest started to inflate.  The already sizeable pecs pushed outwards and drew upwards, the tiny nipples expanding with the rest of the growing mounds.  Brett and Turner froze in their tracks as they watched their friend’s slab of a chest go from thick and solid to large, round, and soft.  As he bent over in pain, the brawny man’s supple new breasts dangled heavily, swallowing Owen’s meaty paw between them.  “Oh fuck…” he groaned in a daze, shaking his head as he righted himself.  “What just haaaaaAAAAAHHHH!  WHAT THE FUCK?!”  Owen grabbed his huge new additions on instinct, his knees buckling as he squeezed the sensitive, oversized pillows.  “WHY DO I HAVE TITS?!” he shrieked.  

Neither of his friends could speak.  Both men just stood and stared at their friend, trying to wrap their brains around the sight of Owen’s stocky, sculpted build and solid seven incher with a pair of watermelon breasts hanging where his pecs should have been.  

“I...are you...what the fuck…” Brett stammered, unable to take his eyes off Owen groping himself in horror.  “Are you okay?” he finally managed to ask.  

“NO!  I’VE GOT FUCKIN’ TITS!”  Owen roared.  He went pale, then crimson with embarrassment when he looked down and saw nothing but the gravity defying bosom instead of his ripped abs and throbbing pole.  He couldn’t even see his feet over the cresting mountains of yielding flesh.  

“Okay...okay...maybe...maybe we’re all just tripping, right?  Like there’s something in the water?  ‘Cause I just went back in that store and it’s fuckin’ empty now.  But I’ve still got these on,” Brett said, tugging on the small trunks, “so, like, none of this is really happening, right?”  

It was too much for Turner.  The chiseled adonis trembled as he looked at his altered friend and listened to what Brett was telling them.  “No...no no no...that can’t…” he gave a short, desperate laugh and stormed off to the empty gift shop, popping back out seconds later.  “Fuck this...fuck this!  I’m outta here…” he said, taking off at a run.  In his panic he bolted in the opposite direction they’d come from, driving him deeper into the park.  

“Turner!  Get back here!  Don’t go that way, man!”  Brett started to follow but he couldn’t leave Owen naked and altered on his own.  “Goddamnit,” he hissed, bracing himself as he turned back to his friend.  “Alright...one thing at a time.  We need to get outta here.  Are...are you good to make the hike?”  He stepped over and looked down at his stacked, pale friend, a confusing throb in his trunks at the sight of the massive breasts.  

Owen was still shell shocked.  “I...I’ve got fuckin’ tits, man,” he said with a shocked laugh.  

“We’ll figure this out...we just gotta get Turner and go, okay?  But I can’t have both of you freak out on me.”  He tried not to stare when Owen eventually looked up from his softened chest and nodded.  “Are they...I mean...are they, like, real,” Brett asked, reaching out to give a squeeze with a shaking hand.  

“OOHHHhhhhh…” Owen gasped as Brett’s palm rubbed across an enlarged, solid nipple.  He went an even deeper shade of red as when cock oozed harder at the wave of pleasure that shot through him.  

“Shit!  Sorry,” Brett laughed awkwardly.  “They, uh, definitely seem real.”  

“Who’re you tellin’” Owen panted, wincing as he stepped away and felt the unwanted new additions bounce and sway.  “Fuck me this is weird….” he said, nearly falling forward from the new weight when he bent to pick up his damp shorts.  “Did you mean it when you said that building was empty now?”  

Brett nodded.  “Completely.”  

“But...how?  How is any of this even…” Owen trailed off, biting down the panic.  “Fuck it...let’s just get Turner and get out of here.  Maybe if we leave things will go back to normal.  Really wish I had some dry shorts right about now,” he said, glaring at Brett as he picked up his sopping boxer briefs.  “Wait...where the fuck did that come from,” he said when a floral bikini top spilled from them.  “Is that the one you handed me?  I thought I put it down…”  

“I mean, it’s convenient…” 

“No!  No way,” Owen said, shaking his head.  He started to fold his arms across his chest but pulled them away with a shiver when he only succeeded in lifting his heaping rack.  

“Dude, your other option is to walk around with those things flopping all over the place.”  

“This is humiliating,” the stocky wrestler sighed as he pulled his shorts on.  Without his boxer briefs there was nothing to keep his aching cock from tenting out the damp polyester and bouncing around as he moved.  The wet material clung to his large, muscled cheeks, giving his lower half a rounded look to match his altered torso.  “When we get outta here and everything goes back to normal we’re never, ever talking about this again,” he said, slipping the bikini top over his muscled arms and turning around so Brett could tie it into place.  

“Never thought I’d be doing this,” the lean man laughed, reaching around to give his friend’s new chest another squeeze when the skimpy top was tied.  It wasn’t nearly large enough, but it was better than nothing.  

“Hey! Knock...knock it off…” Owen whimpered.  

“Couldn’t resist.  I’m an ass man, but damn,” Brett whistled.  

“Can we just go find Turner, please?”  Owen shrugged out of Brett’s grip and lumbered off, adopting an arched-back stance to counterbalance the new weight hanging off his torso.  The posture showed off his broad shoulders and emphasized his ripped abs, but the last thing the athletic young man felt was proud of his appearance.  

Brett followed behind, trying to ignore the tingling in his hands from where he’d grabbed Owen’s chest.  He was confusingly turned on, but he knew if he got hard it would be impossible to hide in his small new trunks.  “Turner!  Yo!  Where you at, dude?” he yelled. 

“Turner!”  Owen bellowed, cupping his hands in front of his mouth.  The motion emphasized the contrast between his powerful, flexing arms and the soft mounds of flesh squishing between them.  

The pair wove a path under the rusted skeletons of old water slides and around the decaying carcasses of old rides.  Instead of calming, the constant sound of gentle, running water in the background was laced with menace.  

“Turner!  Come on, man!  We need to goooaaAHHHH!”  Brett started and tripped when a muddy creature burst forth from around a corner.  He reached out for Owen as he stumbled, missing his friend’s hand by inches and crashing into the murky remnants of an old wave pool.  

“I...I fell in…” Turner mumbled, dropping to his knees.  “I was running and it was just...just in front of me.  It was so deep...am...am I still down there?” 

“Brett!”  Owen ignored his rambling friend for the moment, lunging forward just in time to grab the thin man’s arm as it shot up out a shallow looking puddle.  Like the one he’d fallen into, the pool didn’t look like it should have been more than a few inches deep, but he pulled his friend up and out like a fisherman who’d fallen overboard.  

“Fuck!  FUCK!”  Brett sputtered.  “What the hell, Turner?!”  

“I don’t think he’s all there right now,” Owen said, helping Brett to his feet.  “Ooof...white swim trunks,” he laughed.  The shorter man couldn’t help but point out Brett’s completely visible cock outlined against the now-sheer, white fabric.  

“Who gives a fuck at this point,” he sighed, giving Owen’s tented shorts a bounce and wiping the muck from his face.  “What’s his deal?  Turner!  You okay, man?  What happened?”  

“I...I feel funny…” the handsome jock stammered, struggling to his feet.  “Do I look funny?”  

Brett and Owen gasped when Turner stood, his strapping, chiseled body looking bloated and swollen.  His washboard abs were gone entirely, replaced by a still-expanding midsection that spread outwards in every direction.  Instead of his granite pecs, a beefy chest was beginning to rest heavily on the expanding belly as his arms lost their definition, hanging thick and round off his widening torso.  A loud tear split the silence when his tight shorts and tiny briefs gave out against the onslaught of growth.  His muscled cheeks spilled out as a rotund rear and his chunky new thighs pressed together, nearly swallowing the impressive cock that looked significantly smaller against the extra mass.  As jarring as the changes to the former adonis’s body had been, the changes to Turner’s face were even more striking.  The handsome man’s brow pushed forward, his hairline receding while his beakish nose flattened and widened.  Beneath the budding snout, Turner’s razor cheekbones and strong jaw softened and filled out like the rest of him, leaving his formerly angular features full and round.  When his ears shifted and stuck out from the sides of his head, Turner’s beefy, piggish new look was complete.  

“Tu...Turner?”  Owen stammered as his inflated friend stood in a daze.  The former stud seemed distracted, almost oblivious to the changes.  “Are you...whoa!”  Owen stepped out of the way when Turner darted forward, his bulky body moving with surprising speed towards their backpack.  Owen noticed the shrunken feet that fell out of his friend’s size thirteen sneakers, now less than half that, but he was more worried about the frantic way his friend was digging through the bag.  “Dude...what’s…the...mat...ter…” 

Turner looked up at him, shoving a second, unopened protein bar in his mouth.  The inflated man ate the whole thing, wrapper and all, and shoved a third in after.  “Hungry!” he barked around the mouthful of packaged food.  

“Oh shit...oh shit...Brett, are you seeing thiiiiWHAT THE FUCK?!”  

“What?!  What is it?!”  The wiry man was so focused on his expanding friend that he was oblivious to the changes he was going through.  “FUCK!” he shrieked when he looked down where Owen was pointing and saw that his outlined cock was much smaller than it should have been.  Where the long hose used to thrust forward and snake off towards his thighs, the once proud organ looked to have lost at least two inches in length and was considerably thinner, with Brett’s heavy balls shrinking to match.  “Fuck!  Fuck!  What the hell is this!”  

“Jesus!”  Owen yelped when his friend turned in a circle and he got a look at the other man’s rear.  The formerly tiny bubble had nearly doubled in size, filling the tiny trunks to the limit.  

“What?!  No!  This...this can’t be happening…” Brett moaned, one hand clutching his package while the other pawed at his expanding backside.  All he could do was stand and whimper as he felt his pride and joy grow ever smaller against his palm while his plump cheeks puffed and grew.  The split at the side of his trunks stretched wider and wider until his expanded thighs were entirely on display and the back was wedged deep between the colossal globes.  With each frantic step and shift of his weight Brett felt his hefty new cakes bounce and jiggle like Owen’s chest, the sensation causing his withered member to throb.  “How is it still growing?!” 

Owen tried to answer his shrieking friend but couldn’t find the words.  Brett looked photoshopped, like someone had taken his trim, defined torso and pasted it on top of a thick, bottom-heavy twerk queen’s legs.  His lower half was unnatural and disproportionate, far larger and meatier than anything the wiry man would ever have been able to build on his own.  His hand looked small against the supple mounds that squished and yielded as he squeezed, the firm muscle having been buried by layer upon layer of bouncing, clapping flesh.  

“I think...I think it stopped…” Brett finally stammered, his hands still glued in place.  He was pale and trembling as he felt thighs that had widened to compensate rub together in place of their usual gap.  The small trunks were stretched so far they were little more than a pair of bikini briefs at this point, leaving more of the stunned man’s altered ass on display than even remotely covered.  

“I...don’t….what...what’s going on down there,” Owen asked, nodding towards the hand that was still clamped over his friend’s crotch.  He knew it was a bad sign that nothing showed around the edges.  

Brett’s toned pecs heaved as he psyched himself up to look, letting out a low, horrified moan when he tore his hand away and saw the petite lump poking against the straining material.  He stumbled, nearly fainting when he pulled the trunks open and saw the two inch nub and grape-sized balls his former beast had been reduced to.  

Across from him, Turner watched the transformation with equal horror, absently gnawing on the end of a stick he’d picked up.  Having exhausted whatever food, packaging and all, that was in their bag the enlarged brute had moved on to whatever was handy.  The three friends stared between themselves and each other in shock, the silence only broken by the sound of trickling water and the inflated man’s munching.  

“We have to fix this…” Brett finally said, barely above a whisper.  

“How?  We don’t even know what caused it!” 

“It wa’sh the water,” Turner grunted, blushing at his altered speech.  The former pretty boy’s jaw had continued to change, thrusting forward in a pronounced underbite and adding to his piggish appearance with canines that poked out above his lower lip.  The kneeling man struggled to his shrunken feet, stumbling at the way his added weight threw him off balance.  “Sh’omething’sh in the water.”  

Owen tried not to stare at the oozing, rigid pole poking out from beneath Turner’s new belly.  “Like a chemical?  Is that why this place shut down?”  

“No, some...thing.  Come on, dude, you had to have felt it too, right?  When we all went under.  It grabbed us.  I could feel it on me when…” Brett trailed off and grabbed a nearby stick, exposing everything but his barely covered hole to his friends when he bent to pick it up.  He followed through with his aborted experiment from earlier, jamming the stick down into the pool he’d just fallen into.  The thin piece of wood submerged only a few inches before hitting the bottom.  Brett moved it around to make sure he wasn’t missing a hole but the stick never sunk any deeper.  He let it drop with a frustrated growl and winced as he backed away, his inflated cheeks shaking and bouncing like they had minds of their own.  

“Well...shit,” Owen sighed.  After everything they’d already been through, what he’d just witnessed was almost an afterthought.  He’d pulled Brett from that water.  His friend’s nearly six-foot frame had been entirely submerged.  It was impossible, but so were the heaping breasts where his pecs should have been.  “Do...do we go back in?”  

“No!”  Turner barked, shaking his rounded head.  

The stocky man spread his muscled arms and gave his bikini-covered melons a shake.  “We can’t just stay like this!”  

Brett crossed his arms arms over his chest, the motion emphasizing the size difference between his upper and lower halves.  “What if it gets worse?  Or what if we don’t come back at all?  It felt like it was trying to keep us under.”  

Owen shrugged, blushing as the motion made his altered chest bounce.  “Maybe we leave it a peace offering or something?”  

“What?  You’re gonna go out in the woods and catch a deer to sacrifice to whatever the fuck’s in the water?”  

“I don’t fuckin’ know, dude!”  Owen spat, palming his enormous rack.  “I don’t see anyone else coming up with ideas!  Look at these!  Turner looks like his mom fucked a warthog and people are gonna hear you clappin’ from miles away,” he yelled, giving one of Brett’s exposed mounds a rough slap before tugging down the front of his friend’s trunks.  “And what exactly are you gonna do with that?” 

“Fuck you!” Brett shoved Owen’s hand away and lunged at his friend, sending them both tumbling to the ground.  The wrestling they’d done countless times over the years was now awkward and fumbling as they struggled against their altered bodies as much as each other.  “Calm down, man,” Brett grunted, gaining the upper hand on Owen for the first time.  Normally his wrestler friend had him pinned in seconds, but now he had the burly man on his back, his enlarged cheeks resting heavily on Owen’s abs while his friend’s protruding bosom sat against the front of his thighs.  The oversized breasts had escaped from the precarious bikini top in the struggle, giving Brett an up close look at them for the first time.  The young blonde blushed at the sudden urge to reach out and give them a squeeze as his friend’s struggles died down.  He finally sat back when Owen’s angry growls faded, his eyes going wide at the unexpected poke.  “Uh...dude?  Are you hard right now?” 

Owen’s cheeks went red in return as his tented shorts dug against Brett’s heaping cheeks.  “I can’t help it!  These things are...sensitive…” he said bashfully.  

“Oh, are they?”  Brett grinned and gave the supple additions a gentle squeeze, nearly falling off when Owen groaned and arched his back.  

“HHHHHoooooouuhhh….du...dude!” he moaned, writhing between Brett’s widened thighs.  “How do you like it?”  

“Whhhhaaaooooaaaa!” Brett’s eyes shot open at the confusing jolt when Owen’s rough hands latched onto his ample backside.  “Wha...what the fuck…” he whimpered, squirming on his friend’s stomach.  

“Oh shit!” Owen laughed.  “Looks like someone doesn’t need to worry about bein’ a pencil dick!”  He worked his stubby fingers deeper into his blonde friend’s valley, causing a damp spot to start growing on the front of the other man’s trunks.  

“Uh...guy’sh…” 

The two men on the ground ignored Turner as they continued to paw at each other, too caught up in the strange new sensations rocketing through them to notice that the quiet trickling constantly present in the background was growing louder.  

“Guy’sh…” Turner tried again, louder this time.  “Hey!”  

“What...what is it…” Owen grunted, his eyes closed as Brett continued to knead his chest.  He’d worked his shorts down and was gliding his stout pole between his friend’s deep valley, trying to pretend it was someone else on his lap.  They were both well aware of the strangeness of their actions, but neither of them could help it.  

“Look!”  

Owen reluctantly opened his eyes to see the growing mountain of water looming over them.  What had been a shallow pool in the remains of the ride was now a towering monolith of murky liquid.  It surged and rippled as it grew, a constant cascade falling down its sides only to feed back into itself at the expanding base.  “Shit!”  

Brett yelped as he was forcefully thrown from Owen’s lap, his jaw dropping when he looked up at the growing blob of brackish fluid.  The gentle sound of barely flowing streams had grown into the roar of rapids as all of the water in the park rushed to join with the central mass pulsing above them, casting a towering shadow over the group.  “Go!  Fuckin’ run!”  Brett yelled above the din, scrambling to his feet.  

There was a deafening crash as the tension broke, the swampy spire slamming down like a tidal wave and swallowing the three scrambling jocks before they could make it more than a few steps.  

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

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck, dude,” Owen half laughed, half groaned.  Brett was busily lapping at one of his large nipples while eagerly caressing the other as he straddled him on all fours.  “You’re gonna make me blow real quick you keep that up.”  

Brett responded by giving the nub a gentle bite.  “Just wanna make sure you’re good and ready.”  

“Ha..have I let you down yet,” Owen gasped, stroking his friend’s short blonde hair when Brett dropped his face and buried it between his flowing breasts.  He groaned when the other man let out a loud moan of his own, the vibrations sending shivers through him.  

“OOOoohhhhhhhh yeeesssssss,” Brett sighed, the sound swallowed by Owen’s chest.  Turner was busy at the end of the bed, his widened jaw buried just as deep in the partially lean man’s supple valley.  The former adonis had Brett’s massive cheeks spread, going to town on the blonde’s sensitive hole with his tongue.  

“OOOoohh….okay...enough warm up,” Owen panted, lifting Brett’s head from his chest.  

“Might have to...fight...Turner for...it…” the blonde grunted.  Behind him, their beefy friend had shifted tactics and was already inside, his broad gut resting against Brett’s jiggling cheeks as he slammed in and out, a sheen of sweat covering his thick frame.  

“Sh’orry...couldn’t...re’shi’sht,” Turner slurred.  Where he’d once been a pro in bed, the meaty man was now a piledriver, quickly thrusting in and out in a frenzy of bouncing flesh.  He tensed and groaned after a few moments of desperate humping, glistening sweat dripping down his round shoulders.  “All your’sh,” he panted, the bed shaking from the impact as he fell against it.  He grabbed a protein bar from the nightstand and tore into it, still wrapped, while he watched his friends. 

“Good and warmed up,” Brett sighed, grinding his tiny, oozing cock against Owen’s firm abs.  

The prone stud wished his friend’s nub was still as long as it used to be so he could give his tits a solid fucking the way his clients did, but he was content with what Brett still had to offer.  He took handfuls of each cheek and lined the other man up, jamming inside with a quick buck of his hips.  

When the wave had come crashing down on them they’d thought it was the end.  The three young men were knocked senseless by the impact, helpless to do anything other than float in the all encompassing darkness, the air leaving their lungs little by little.  Bitter, muddy water surged in to fill the void, followed by panic and blind, desperate thrashing.  And then there was nothing.  No heartbeats.  No breaths.  Only the cold, inky expanse. 

Time lost all meaning as they drifted.  It could have been seconds or it could have been years.  They could feel shapes swimming past and make out dim outlines of hulking, many-limbed monstrosities gliding through the water.  The pressure washed over them as the leviathans passed, pulling and bobbing them into their wake until one descended directly on them.  The trio barely had time to notice the gaping mouth approaching from below as it swallowed them whole.  

There was movement then, and air.  The three rocketed through the darkness like they were going down a covered waterslide, finally landing in a sputtering, blinded heap in the middle of an apartment.  The relief they’d felt at being able to move and breathe again was short lived as they quickly discovered their still-altered bodies.  They’d been brought back, but to a world that was slightly different than the one they were familiar with.  In this new reality Brett, Owen and Turner were still three former jocks, but at some point they’d made the decision to alter themselves.  Their pasts were largely unchanged; they’d still been star athletes and handsome ladies men, only these versions of themselves had grown bored.  

Owen had been horrified at the rush of memories, the doctors’ appointments and decisions playing out in his head as he watched himself hunt for a surgeon willing to give him what he wanted.  He’d been complaining that he was tired of all the work that went into just getting his hands one some tits when someone jokingly said he should get a set of his own.  He recalled that conversation in his old life, but in this new world it had festered.  Owen remembered hours spent in front of the mirror, jerking off as he imagined what his slab of a chest would look like round and soft.  He remembered the rush of buying his first bra, how it felt stretching across his muscled pecs and the thrill the first time he wore it out in public without anyone knowing.  There was no going back after that.  He’d started a website to raise money, posting videos and pictures of himself flexing and posing in bras and bikinis.  There was already a surplus of men willing to pay to see a muscled, all american wrestler jerk himself off, but Owen had been surprised at how many were just as eager to see him reach his goal as he was.  His wrestling days were over, but the young jock still spent hours in a singlet for his audience, his ample bosom spilling out the top while his heavy bulge tented out the front.  

Brett’s journey was different, but the destination was the same.  In his slightly updated existence, the lean blonde now remembered a drunken encounter with one of his teammates.  Getting fucked had been like nothing he’d ever felt before, leading to a growing addiction.  The handsome jock didn’t have the slightest difficulty landing interested guys, but over time their comments about his “tiny bubble” started to wear him down.  He spent hours in the gym, repping out squat after squat and climbing miles of stairs, but he plateaued.  Despite having built a sizeable, solid set of cheeks, they weren’t big enough.  And it wasn’t just his backside causing the concern.  Brett had grown to resent his thick, long rod and how it always seemed to get in the way.  It was always slapping around, distracting him from what he really wanted to focus on.  Not knowing what else to do, he followed Owen’s lead and turned to the internet.  In a matter of months the wiry jock had the funds he needed as thirsty men practically threw money at him.  The prospect of the boy-next-door blonde with massive, pillowy cheeks and a proud little nub was a sure deal, and the money had only continued to pour in post-surgery.  Men all over the planet lined up to watch Brett twerk and clap his rotund backside or prance around in jocks and thongs that showed off how much he lacked between his inflated thighs.  For the right price, they could experience it in person.  

That left Turner, and while the former hunk’s final state was jarring, the beginnings of his new existence were the most commonplace.  The sculpted hunk had simply grown tired of all the work he put in to maintaining his impressive looks.  He still worked out, but he paid less attention to his diet and his beauty regimen, quickly sending him from the chiseled pretty boy to the rough and beefy end of the spectrum.  The sweaty, unkempt mess was barely recognizable but surprisingly, as the constant attention from women waned, Turner found himself increasingly approached by guys who got off on his transition.  Watching the sculpted adonis gain weight and pack on the pounds turned them on like nothing else.  And though his body may have been changing, the eager young man’s love for attention remained the same.  He gained a large following of his own, surrounding himself with men who loved to feed and fill him to the point where it didn’t matter what it was or if it was even food.  If you put it in front of him, he’d eat it, a rule that went for body parts, too.  The expanding jock became a pro at eating guys out, growing to love it so much he’d do whatever someone wanted if they’d let him lick them clean.  He was their dirty, sweaty pig, happy to not worry about a thing and let someone else make the decisions.  As someone who always had to be in control, he got off just as hard by letting go.  No act was too embarrassing or humiliating for him.  As long as someone told him what to do, he’d do it.  Eventually, when the guys inevitably started to grow bored, Turner looked to more extreme methods of keeping their interest.  If they wanted him to be their pig, that’s what he’d be inside AND out.  Now, while their might be other gainers out there, none of them had his tiny feet or miniature tusks.  

It was a split existence for the trio.  They still clearly remembered their old lives and how things should have been, but those memories were mingled with new experiences that were just as vivid.  They’d tried in vain to find the abandoned water park, spending fruitless hours scouring the internet and libraries, coming up empty every time.  In this new world it had apparently never existed.  They’d even made a trip out to the spot where it should have been but found the expensive suburbs had expanded to overtake that part of the forest.  Instead of decaying rides and murky water they found cookie cutter McMansions lining broad streets.  

Given their appearance the three didn’t linger.  They were used to being treated like sideshow attractions in the best of circumstances, and people were already starting to take notice of the odd looking group roaming the streets.  They’d gone home feeling trapped and defeated, living out their simultaneously humiliating and thrilling new lives until soon they couldn’t tell one set of memories from the other.  Were they supposed to be swaggering jocks or surgically altered freaks?   Boy-next-door womanizers or fetish idols?  

And did it even matter?