What Are You Giving Up For...(vignette) (Patreon)

“I don’t know how you’re doing this, but I swear to god when I get my hands on you I’m…”

“I thought you people weren’t supposed to take your lord’s name in vain,” the man interrupted, cutting off Mark’s impotent bluster.  “And I’m not sure why you’re even upset in the first place?  You put the ash on your forehead, you agreed to make forty days of sacrifice, so where is this hostility coming from?”

Mark clutched his phone so hard he thought it would break.  He looked down at himself, his face going crimson when his eyes traveled past the fitted button down to the stuffed briefs and exposed, meaty thighs below.  “I was going to give up beer, not my pants you sick fuck,” he cried.  He still felt dizzy whenever he thought about it.  His pants hadn’t simply vanished; it was as if he’d never worn them.  He no longer owned a single pair of bottoms other than underwear, nor could he ever remember wearing any.  Mark still felt as if he should, which is where his flustered humiliation came from, but at the same time his bare, athletic legs struck him as naturally as they did everyone else.  He’d actually been several hours into his morning at the office before it even occurred to him to question the fact that he was walking around with an exposed lower half.  He kept feeling like he was forgetting something important, but it wasn’t until he caught a coworker stealing glances of his unobscured bulge that the altered reality of his situation became evident.

And even then, all he’d been able to do was panic internally.  While a voice in his head screamed at him to cover himself and flee, Mark continued about his day as if nothing was at all out of place.  To his surprise everyone else did as well, but his initial relief quickly gave way to dread at what that implied.  He could still feel his customary surge of smug anger whenever he caught one of his male coworkers checking him out, only now there was an added layer as he realized they were getting a view of his thick, clearly-outlined cock and the shifting, muscled globes that spilled partially out of the straining red fabric.  Unlike the bulk of his friends, Mark was never content to perceive a man’s interest in his handsome face and fit build as flattering.  At the back end of his twenties, he was still every bit the sculpted varsity jock he’d always been, with a thick head of jet black hair and a classically rugged jawline.  The expertly maintained stubble coating his sharp cheeks and the dusting of hair that coated his tapering torso only added to his air of masculinity, and he took it as a slight against himself that anyone could ever assume him to be anything other than entirely straight, and therefore superior.  Women could look all they want, and even in his current circumstance he felt a bit of a thrill at the thought of them getting a sneak peek without him having to take the initiative to send a dick pic, but other men’s lingering eyes crossed the line.  The fat, eager cock weighing down the front of his briefs wasn’t for them, a fact that he’d driven home to countless unfortunate peers in locker rooms over the years, and he didn’t see why the simple fact that he was walking around literally shoving it in their faces should change that.

Nor did he recognize that it was that very same smug homophobia which had gotten him into trouble in the first place.  Mark wasn’t actually religious.  He’d grown up going to church and going through the yearly rituals but he’d never stopped to think about whether or not he truly believed any of it.  He certainly didn’t act in a pious manner, and the only time he ever brought up his faith was when he wielded it as a weapon, as he’d done a few nights prior while out with his friends for Fat Tuesday.  They’d been drinking for a while before coming across the two men holding hands, and while the guys he was with didn’t give it a second thought, Mark launched into a tirade about how their existence was “against God” and some other nonsense that the others quickly tried to apologize for as they’d dragged him away.  It was such a regular occurrence for Mark that he’d forgotten all about it as he’d gone through his yearly Ash Wednesday tradition the following day, not thinking about the encounter until getting the phone call at the end of his pantsless Thursday.

“Beer, pants, it’s all the same,” the man on the other end said.  “That’s the thing about ritual sacrifice; it doesn’t matter what you give up, just that you give something up.  And this specific one is just so, so juicy.  From a metaphysical standpoint it’s entirely unregulated.  You people are just agreeing to give something up, and nowhere is it actually specified what that is.  You all have your own personal ideas about what and for how long, but technically it’s just an open door.  And while that’s not usually an issue for folks who aren’t total assholes, for people like you, Mark, it’s not a hard process to hijack.  Please understand that you put yourself in this situation.  You were the one ranting about how godly and holy and better you were than those men minding their own business, and that sort of behavior attracts our attention.  Imagine my disappointment upon learning that you aren’t a holy morsel at all, just a bitter, sour piece of low-hanging fruit.  Still, it’s not a total waste…any opportunity to pluck these strings and inject a little chaos into the world is something to be savored.  And since you volunteered to put that ash on your forehead, well, here we are.”

“So I walk around for the next forty days with dudes staring at my piece.  Got it,” Mark spat, his frustration causing him to gloss over the cosmic implications of exactly who, or what, was on the other end of the call.

“You keep coming back to this…the notion that being found attractive by other men, and them being attracted to each other without you even entering the picture, is a bad thing.  I wonder what happens if we decide to give that up?”

Mark gasped, an odd vibration running through him.  He swayed on his feet as his head began to spin, a fast-forward reel of memories flashing before his increasingly wide eyes.  A steady throbbing began to build, his cock surging to life in response to his new perspective.  As if someone flipped a switch, the memories of his male coworkers checking him out earlier became a turn-on, but more alarming was the new way in which he viewed others himself.  His knees actually threatened to give out against the onslaught of arousal that slammed into him as a lifetime of desire turned inside out.  Now, hours spent in locker rooms and writhing against sweaty, male flesh on football fields and wrestling mats made him quiver, the phantom tingling of countless calloused hands running all over his body pushed him to the edge, his fat, oozing cock springing free through the fly of his briefs.  “What…what did you just do to meeeEEEUUHHH…!”  The dark-haired hunk spasmed, his untouched cock giving out against the unrelenting avalanche of lust.  Thinking back on it, Mark didn’t just like the fact that his male coworkers had been checking him out; he relished it.  He wanted it.  He needed it.  Almost as much as he needed them.  “Oh…oh god…” he stammered, his free hand literally tearing his button-down open before plucking the briefs from his waist in an impressive display of strength.

“See?  Isn’t that better,” the voice on the other end cooed.  “They say that sacrifice is its own reward, and it sounds like you agree.”

“But…but wait…I can’t…I can’t just…why don’t I remember…” Mark sputtered, his bare, plump pecs heaving as he stumbled over to his closet and threw it open.  Complementing his now-absent memories, the handsome stud found no trace of his former business-casual gear, including the shredded top he’d just been wearing.  There still weren’t any pants, but now his button-downs and polos had been replaced by cropped tank-tops and muscle shirts, with the occasional sleeveless tee thrown in the mix.  His stomach dropped when he realized why, despite the new memories causing his cock to stir once more.  Instead of cubicles and conference rooms, Mark now saw himself in clubs and on camera, putting his naked muscle to work for a crowd.  Whether on stage, at home, or entertaining a private event, he was constantly on display, giving himself over to his new urges with eager abandon.  “N…no!  I can’t…I can’t be like this!”

“Of course you can,” the voice said as if it was obvious.  “It’s not like you could fulfill those new impulses at your old job, there’s a limit to what we can do with such a simple ritual, but a tweak like this is well within the boundaries.”

“But I’m…I’m not…like them…” the panting stud moaned as the memories continued to evolve and his mouth filled with the phantom taste of musky organs, his hands and ass tingling at the growing recollections of what he’d done with both.

“You still say that, even though you very clearly are.  So we need to go deeper, yes?  Is it tied to this ridiculous notion of masculinity you hold?  We gave up your inhibitions and hesitations related to the male gaze…why don’t we give up these idols of masculinity that you hold so sacred?”

The changes started before Mark could protest.  All the flustered jock could do was watch as his thick, seven-and-a-half inch cock suddenly receded, taking his churning balls with it until all that remained was a pudgy three inches poking out above a pair of tiny orbs.  At the same time, his already-meaty rear seemed to push outward by an amount equal to the inches he’d just lost, growing all the more thick and prominent and giving him a slightly bottom-heavy appearance.  Above the waist, his tiny nipples swelled and hardened, now poking off his slab of a chest like a set of knobs while his facial features seemed to soften.  He still had his wide jaw and sharp cheeks, but his lips plumped as if he’d just had them done, his skin smoothed from a rigorous moisturizing routine, and his short cropped hair took on a styled flair to match the stubble that had been expertly shaved to contour his impressive cheekbones.  Instead of ruggedly handsome Mark now looked like a primped pretty-boy, with tweakable nipples, a fattened ass, and a petite stump of a cock.

“Fuck!  Fuuuuuck,” he shrieked, his eyes going wide when he heard the sound of his voice.  It wasn’t freakishly high but had gone up at least a few octaves, and there was a lingering undertone that blunted the impact of his formerly booming bass.  “Why do I sound like this?  What did you do toooOOHHHOOooohhh…” Mark was cut off by a cracking whimper when he gave an altered nipple a tentative squeeze.  A bolt of pure pleasure shot through him, pulling out the desperate wail before he could even try and stop it.  “FuuUUUHHNnnNNN…fuck…oh fuck yes…oh yes daddy…” he cried as he squeezed and toyed with the sensitive new appendage.  He felt like he should be embarrassed at the lustful howling, but as with everything else it felt entirely normal.  Even though he knew he’d always limited himself to deep, quiet grunts during sex, now he couldn’t stop himself.

Nor did he want to.  “HHOOooUUUUHhhh…goddamn these titties are sensitive…fuckin’ look at this assssssssuuuhh…ass too…” he whimpered, giving one of the inflated cheeks a slap and a squeeze.  His fingers bit into the excessive flesh more than they should, but that made sense as Mark began to realize all the of the careful effort he’d put into building the supple bubble.  Just like the unending hours of nipple pumps and clamps, he’d tailored his workouts and diets specifically to enhance his bouncing cakes.  With his pretty features and sculpted muscle he knew he didn’t actually need to make up for anything, but since he’d never been able to do much with his button of a cock he figured the clapping pillows couldn’t hurt.

That last thought hit the old Mark like a punch in the gut.  Even with his new memories he’d recalled his log of a cock either jamming into another man or wagging wildly while they did the same to him, but now that first set of memories vanished as all he could recall was his cute little mushroom oozing while he rode cock after cock.  “GGGnnnHHNNN…got this…little dicklet for  you…daddy…” he moaned to the mirror while watching himself tweak the tiny nub between a pair of fingers.  It wasn’t big enough to grab with a fist and stroke anymore, but the reduced size didn’t equate to a reduction in sensitivity.  If anything, the shrunken organ felt hyper sensitive, eliciting another series of cracking squeals as he toyed with it between a thumb and forefinger.  Behind him, Mark could see that his wardrobe had altered again, and while it was still the same shape the colors and materials had drastically altered.  The masculine blues, blacks and grays were now neon and pastel, with a significant amount of lace and sheer fabric now making up a bulk of the items.  Looking at his dresser, the same could be said for the briefs and trunks that were now thongs and bikinis, all made to show off just how much he lacked between his legs and just how much he carried at his back.  It occurred to Mark that he’d now be walking around with a pair of nipples poking out against a lace tank-top almost as much as his tiny cock did against a matching thong, but instead of being horrified by the thought he just giggled and pursed his plumped lips at himself in the mirror.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time, but if all you did was call to talk you know that’s not my thing.”

Mark blinked and shook his head, confused by the sound of Todd’s voice on the phone and the other man’s face on the screen.  He didn’t know why he thought he’d been talking to someone else and not face-timing with his friend, but the thought quickly vanished at the sound of the smug stud’s deep rumble.

“But I liiiiiiiike the sound of your voice,” Mark pouted, once again unsure why he felt like he should have been embarrassed.

“And you can hear it all you want.  In person.  With my dick in your mouth,” the other man said, his laugh oozing condescension.  “But I’ve already got one girlfriend who loves to call and chat…I don’t need another.”

Mark was too busy remembering how much he loved the sensation of having his face buried between Todd’s thighs to catch that last remark.  The athletic brunette was built much like the way he’d been originally, with a boy-next-door face and thick cock that were both just as impressive.  “Only in my mouth,” Mark purred, batting a finger against his lower lip.

“Oh my god you are ridiculous, bro,” Todd sighed, shaking his head and looking around what appeared to be a sparsely populated parking deck from the front seat of his large SUV.  “I’m running out of time on my break, so if we’re gonna do this we need to do it,” he said, tilting the camera down to show the long, rigid club poking out of his slacks.  He gripped it with a meaty fist and gave it a pump before righting the screen.  “At least let me see the little lady.”

Mark giggled again and followed suit, giving Todd a glimpse of the shrunken nub as he tweaked it between a pair of fingers before shuffling over to his bed.  There was a camera stand on the bedside table that Mark hooked his phone into, producing a long, silicone vibrator and bottle of lube from the top drawer.  He scooted back on the bed so that he knelt fully in frame, pursing his lips and flexing his pecs while he groped his inflated nipples.  “Is this better,” he asked, falling forward on all fours and shaking his round melons towards the camera.

“Getting there,” Todd grunted, his shirt sleeve straining around a flexing arm as he started pumping away on himself in earnest.

With the kind of ease that only came from practiced repetition, Mark lubed up the vibrator, positioned it behind him with his calves, and then lowered himself without the slightest difficulty or hesitation.  The old Mark surfaced just long enough to acknowledge that he was fucking himself over facetime while his friend jerked off and watched, but there wasn’t enough of the formerly arrogant homophobe to feel anything other than excited by the thought.  “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck yeeessssss,” he howled, his heightened voice cracking like he was going through puberty.  He started bouncing up and down, his hands clamping onto his bouncing pecs to play with his sensitive nipples while his shrunken cock remained an oozing afterthought.  “Suuhh…so good…feels sooOOOooohh gooooodddd…gimme thhaaaahh…that dick…daddy…gonna ride it hard…make this pussy pop…fuuuuuuuuck I need you inside me,” Mark begged, realizing he meant every single word.  “I want you to cum all over these tits…tell me how small my clit-dick is…make these cheeks clap…I want it all over my face…in my hair…gonna suck it dry…” Mark felt himself nearing the edge as he moaned the lustful litany, not so much from the vibrating seed of ecstasy lighting up his insides, but from Todd’s increasingly slack expression as his handsome friend approached the point of no return.  When Todd finally came a few moments later, the sight of his spasming shoulders and the sound of his low grunt lit Mark up in a way his former self never imagined possible.  The knowledge that he’d been responsible for his friend’s brief moment of bliss was infinitely more satisfying than the meager load his tiny cock shot in response.

“Holy fuck, bro,” Todd panted, a dazed grin on his face.  “That got a big load outta me,” he laughed, holding up the sopping napkin he’d used to contain his release.

“Me too,” Mark giggled, holding up a pair of fingers with a modest dollop of cum on them.  He slowly slurped them clean for the camera before stretching out like a cat on the bed.  “So are we still going to the gym when you get off?  From work, I mean?”

Todd nodded, stuffing himself away off-camera.  “Yeah, but I can’t stay as late as last time.  I promised Lisa I’d take her out for dinner tonight.  But you can help me blow off some more steam to get ready.  She loves how long I can last after you prime the pump.”

Instead of feeling embarrassed at the thought of Todd fucking him just so he could have more stamina with his girlfriend later, Mark only grinned and nodded.  “Bet she doesn’t let you do what I do, either.”

“Dude.  No one else COULD,” Todd laughed.  “You give that shit away like it’s your job.”

Mark shrugged, pursing his lips one more time for the camera.  “You know what they say about sacrifice…”