Himbo Tf - Blog Posts

Destination Unknown

Jared cussed. His alarm didn't go of so now he was going to be late for work. He had just seen his tram leave right before he got to the doors.

He sat down on the bench as he grabbed his phone to call his boss to let him know he would be late. Before he could send dial he saw a tram slowly approaching him. Frowning Jared slowly gets up as he grabs his card to check in.

The tram stopped perfectly in front of him, and Jared gets on. He walks to the driver. "Ehm, excuse me, is this tram Going to the city Centre stop?"

The driver laughs mischievously and nods. "We take you to wherever you need to go."

Dumbfounded by the weird cryptic answer Jared sat down and looked around. The inside of the tram was a light pink, the seats have frilly cushions, and a faint rose scent permeates around the inside of the car. Two other guys are sitting a few rows behind Jared. Both are wearing similar clothes to him, a buttoned shirt and dress pants, but where you wore perfectly tailored clothes the other guys seemed to have washed them a bit too hot. The clothes were tight around their thick arms and their buttons were fighting for their lives.

Jared turned back around and put his headphones in. Not his fault people don't know how to buy clothes.

After a few stops Jared shifted in his seat. Grimacing he looked down to see his shirt looking a bit tighter than it was supposed to. Rubbing his stomach he felt a slightly more tense response than he was used to. He scratched chin feeling a bit of stubble, which in retrospect wasn't very surprising due to him not having time to shave in the morning.

Looking out of the window he noticed he was nearing his stop so he got up and walked to the nearest exit. Looking across the car he noticed two new guys sitting in the same spots as the two dudes that were in there before. They were very out of place in this princess pink tram. Their muscles were massive, pecs shelving, biceps bulging. They were eyeing eachother hungrily as the tram got to a stop. They looked up at you and both smiled with their perfect pearly whites.

Shuddering Jared quickly got off. He sighed as he stepped into the cold December air. While walking to his office, Jared felt his legs grind against eachother in a very uncharacteristic way. Looking down his pants seem to be hugging his legs a bit tighter than before. He brushed it off to it being do to having to leave in a hurry and shortly after got to the office.

The day went by in a blur. His colleagues congratulated him on multiple occasions on his physique, which actually got him more self-conscious than ever before, mostly due to the fact that he did not work out in the slightest. After a few hours he had enough of it and went to the bathroom to check.

As he looked into the mirror Jared was shocked to see his face more angular than he remembered. His jaw was sharp and there was a noticeable amount of scruff on his face. Looking at his body he noticed his arms tight in his shirt, similar to his legs.

"Oh... my... god..." Jared's face flushed as he noticed the obscene bulge his pants were containing.

"What is happening to me..." Jared thought out loud. His mind went into overdrive. Was it an allergic reaction? It couldn't be. He didn't have the time to eat anything he didn't before. Unless he's allergic to too much sleep that wasn't it.

The only conclusion left was...

"But that can't be..."

The tram. The weird ethereal, rose smelling, pink tram. Jared grabbed his phone and on his way back to his desk, searched online for any hits on "Pink tram transformation". The rest of his day was spend on browsing the web. At the end of the day he had finally found a hit. Apparently there was an urban legend where a pink tram will take you wherever you want in life. People would exit it changed in some way that would propel them in the right direction in life. A few warnings on the thread about people also going missing didn't seem to alarm Jared as he looked at the way to summon the pink tram. "You just have to be very adamant on going somewhere."

After going home Jared devised his plan. He had a day off tomorrow, so he had time to spare. So he would go to where no one has seemed to go before. The end of the tram.

______________________________________________________________

The next day Jared waited at the station for the next tram to arrive. He figured the best way for the tram to come would be after the regular one to have just left. After the last tram left, Jared closed his eyes and wished.

"I want to get to the end of the pink trams ride."

Like clockwork, he heard a tram approaching. He opened his eyes and saw the pink tram. Full with glee he entered the Tram. He saw the driver eyeing him up and down with a smirk.

"Welcome back"

"Thank you, there's no limit to how long I can ride this tram right?"

"No sir, we are glad to have you, please take a seat and enjoy the ride."

Jared smiled and made his way into the car. Looking around he noticed a handsome guy sitting alone and he decided to test something else. He sat down on the opposite side of the tram of the guy and looked him in the eyes.

"Hey, I'm Jared, where are you going?"

"Oh, hey, I'm Bruce, I'm just on my way to work. Funny story I missed my regular tram, but then this one showed up almost right after."

Jared grinned. "The same happened to me yesterday. Have fun!"

And with that Jared got up and walked to the back of the tram.

He kept an eye on the guy who seemed very enthralled into his phone. Slowly but surely, with each stop, Bruce's shoulders seemed to broaden out. He also seemed a bit taller and have a bit more scruff on his face, but before more could change, he got off.

Jared sighed. He wanted to have a bit more fun. Before he could linger on it though, he realized he was man spreading. He looked down. His legs, which he smartly had clad in baggy sweats, were twice the size they were before. His shirt was almost bursting at the seems with his pecs already pushing the limits of the buttons. Jared got up and ran a hand across his bulked up torso.

"This is insane! I'm massive!" Jared smiled and walked to the door, ready to get off. But the tram kept going. Not only that but it sped up. "H-hey I want to get off!" Jared yelled to the driver.

The driver got out of his cabin, slowly walking to the panicking man. "You wished to arrive at the end did you not?" The man got closer and closer. Jared's jaw dropped as he noticed the drivers physique. He was massive. Clad in leather, his muscles rippled underneath his clothes. A devilish smile appeared as he reached Jared.

"We will arrive shortly, time to speed things up a bit" The driver snapped his fingers and the Tram started to speed up more. The man smiled as the tram began shaking heavily. Each shake send a ripple through Jared's body. Every ripple pulsed his muscles bigger. His ass jiggled as it got bigger and bigger. His bulge began to strain his pants, his balls churning.

"W-wait... please." Jared moaned. He dropped to his knees, eye level with the drivers groin.

"W-who are you"

"I'm a long forgotten being, a god of pleasure and depravity. I ride this tram for my own fun, and I seem to have found my next play thing."

The man ran a hand through Jared's hair making his locks fall out, leaving a neat buzzcut. He grabbed his chin, more scruff appearing.

"By entering this tram you enter a contract with me. By exiting you fulfil it. You decided to stay on so you are now mine. Which means I get to do with you whatever I want." The god smiles, lighting a cigar and blowing the smoke into Jared's face. The smoke flows into his mouth and nose, making his head foggy. Slowly Jared feels his sense of self escape by blowing out the smoke. Looking back up at the man in front of him he sees the mans cock hanging out of his pants , an alluring scent wafting from his large rod and balls. Without a second thought he takes the whole length down his supple throat. With each bob of his head, Jared loses more and more of his identity. Before long, nothings left. a blank slate. As soon as the last drop of Jared leaves him, the man shoots his load into the young mans throat. As the cum fills his mouth, so does the new persona fill his mind. Jay looks up at his divine daddy, smiling as the salty substance fills his stomach. Warmth spreads all over his body as he begins to expand.

His chest fills with thick muscle and hot liquid, slightly sloshing around. His balls churn as more and more testosterone gets pumped through his body. His pits begin to emanate a subtle musk, while his feet are now permanently moist. His ass balloons out, lifting him more, pushing more and more of the mans dick into his mouth, which has grown longer in the time that Jared has drained out of him.

Slowly taking out the engorged rod from his Trophy boys mouth the man smiles. "I am Kama, but you can call me daddy boy, now rest."

And with those words, Jay falls unconscious, having reached the end of the trams ride.

______________________________________________________________

In the days that follows, Jay spends his time working out, and working as an assistant at his Daddy's office. He seems to be the owner of a large multi-faceted brand called Rakurai Inc. Its perfect for him. He only has to think of fun things to make men into fun boys. No hard thinking because most of the blood is spend in his massive rod. Oh right, Daddy is almost on break better send him a picture.

The Boxers and Bro Cap are 🥵🔥

Thank you, good boy. I really love to write an old-fashioned clothing transformation once in a while.

You know how, sometimes, you'll be out in the world and suddenly think of tf? Like, you see a snapback cap sitting abandoned on a bench, and you suddenly think "That cap would probably turn me into a total bro."

You imagine the kind of guy who would wear a cap like that. Sweaty. Douchey. Self-obsessed. Perpetually shirtless to show off his massive, perfectly aesthetic pecs and bulky biceps. Sexy stubble on his face. Totally brainless, massively horny. A toxic fuck machine who'll cum in any hole.

You can't help yourself. You have to pick up the hat, feel how stiff it is with hard-earned sweat. Put it on, feeling it settle on your scalp. Grab the brim and turn it around.

Fuck, bro, you fuckin' killed that chest day! Now go find some lame femme and pass the cap on, bro!

One of the Boys

A bead of sweat appeared on Brian Watson’s forehead as he stood outside his high school’s athletic center. His oversized black sweatshirt and skinny jeans insulated his slender figure beneath the hot afternoon sun while groups of other students in various high school sports teams walked past. Brian detested the athletic center and wished it wasn’t the closest building to the adjacent street. He checked his phone and huffed. His mom was supposed to pick him up a half-hour ago. What was taking so long?

Leaning against a wooden ledge, Brian stared off into the expansive and empty high school parking lot. None of his other friends were still at school. Like him, they also dyed their hair black and shared the same gothic fashion that he did, which amounted to them dressing only in all black clothing. Brian even had a black leather satchel in place of a backpack. It was their way of retaliating against their preppy high school. All the other students at Woodside High ignored them anyway. They were too busy talking about things Brian could care less about, like sports games and parties and grade point averages. They were all so fake.

Brian noticed a muscular young man carrying a gym bag walking across the empty parking lot towards him. It was Michael Palmer, a high school senior and one of the school’s linebackers whose tall height and broad stature was nothing less than intimidating. His khaki shorts and lavender polo shirt left little to the imagination. The two had the same science class, although they sat on opposite ends of the room, and Michael was surrounded by his own gaggle of bros that Brian resented. Michael looked up and the two accidentally made eye contact and Brian quickly went on his phone.

“Brian!” Michael said as he was now a few feet away, his low voice sent a chill down Brian’s spine. Maybe he was talking about another Brian. As the group of jocks walked past, he continued staring at his phone. That was until Michael suddenly placed his huge arm around Brian’s shoulder, effortlessly pulling him in closer. “What’s up dude?” he said.

Brian nervously returned eye contact to see the jock with a huge grin across his face. Michael had to be at least a foot taller than him and he was so close that Brian could smell his cheap cologne which smelled like a diluted ocean spray. His gelled black hair and faint stubble framed his face perfectly, giving him quite the masculine visage offset by the prettiness of his white teeth. Brian remained paralyzed with fear and confusion. Mostly confusion.

“Oh…um…hi,” Brian replied, unsure of what to say. His mind was racing. He had never even talked to Michael or the other sporty guys like him. “I’m...uh just waiting for my ride,” he said as more sweatdrops formed all around his body. He didn’t even know why he was getting so nervous around this guy. He loathed the football players with their macho personas and their vacuous and obnoxious laughter during class, but he had never actually talked to one of them before. And Michael Palmer did have such a genuine and friendly look in his eyes that was challenging Brian’s defenses.

“How do you think you did on the chemistry test today, big guy?” Michael asked.

“Oh...umm...I think I did well,” Brian replied as he studied the jock's broad smile and angular jawline.

“Don’t BS me,” Michael said, unconvinced. Even with more conviction, his calm, sultry voice was pleasant on the ears. “I know chem is not your favorite.”

That was true. Brian hated chemistry. It was his least favorite class by far. But why would Michael know that, let alone care? “I mean, I don’t think it was my worst test,” Brian said. “I...uh... I think I probably got like a C or something.”

“Hey, C’s get degrees man,” Michael replied while patting Brian on the back with tremendous force. As Brian readjusted his balance, he could see why Palmer was Michael’s last name. “You heading to practice?” he asked.

“Practice?”

“Yeah practice, dummy,” Michael replied playfully.

Brian stood in place, confusion rising even higher. “I don’t...I mean I’m not-”

“Come on inside dude,” Michael interrupted as he headed towards the front door. “I can tell you’re frying like an egg out here.”

That was also true. Brian was getting increasingly sweaty and parched. His black hair and clothing only absorbed more of the sun’s rays. He hesitantly picked up his leather satchel from the ground and followed Michael inside. He began rationalizing why Michael was being nice to him. It felt so unnerving. Brian decided he would just get a drink and then head back outside. That thought certainly wasn’t enticing. But he’d rather be outside frying than to spend it inside to avoid other football jocks.

As the two stepped inside, Brian intentionally walked slowly to distance himself from Michael, hoping that he would just enter the locker room and forget about him. To his luck, Michael continued walking ahead and Brian headed up to the drinking fountain. He didn’t realize how thirsty he was. The water was so quenching and he couldn’t help but take multiple large gulps. Brian rolled his eyes as he could hear footsteps heading towards him before stopping behind him.

“Ready for the game tomorrow?” Michael asked as he lightly slapped Brian’s butt, nearly causing him to choke on his water.

Brian’s face was now as red as a tomato as he turned to face Michael. His confusion turned to frustration when he saw Michael staring at him with that smug expression he always had. He would’ve socked Michael right then and there if he wasn’t a foot shorter than him or a hundred pounds lighter. But as he begrudgingly turned to face the jock, he realized that wasn’t the case. Before, his height had been at Michael’s shoulders, but now it was at Michael’s mouth. Brian was rendered speechless as he wondered if Michael had always been this short.

Then it happened again.

Brian nearly fell over as his body suddenly grew even taller. He stuck out his arms to keep his balance as his body shot upward. In a few seconds, he was a few inches taller than Michael, who he remembered was 6’2. An audible ripping sound indicated that his clothes had not grown with him.

“You think we got a good shot against the Generals on Friday?” Michael asked as if nothing had happened.

Brian glanced down at his extremely tight clothes in disbelief. More of his spindly arms and legs were now revealed. It looked like his clothes had shrunk in the wash. To Brian’s horror, he watched as his strained jeans started to rip more and more, revealing more of his skin. Was this really happening?

To answer his question, the belt holding up his skinny jeans exploded, sending a piece of metal careening through the air. Brian instinctively grabbed his pants to prevent them from falling. His embarrassment intensified and without thinking, he bolted into the nearest bathroom. Michael said something as he left, but Brian didn’t care. He couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered despairingly as he scrambled around the corner. But as he looked up, his blood went cold. “Oh, fuck.”

Right in front of him was a group of Woodside High’s football players. They were not only enormous-looking but were all in the process of getting dressed. Interestingly enough, Brian realized he was taller than all of the guys who were standing. He didn’t think about that for long though as he saw one of them glance up and look at him.

“Hey, what’s up Watson?” one of the jocks called out.

Shit, Brian thought. Not only had one of them seen him, but he also knew his last name somehow. He was about to leave when he heard Michael’s familiar voice behind him.

“What’s up bros?” Michael called out to the other guys as he entered the locker room. When Brian glanced back, he noticed Michael was so broad that he nearly filled the entire doorway, rendering escape both impossible and extremely awkward.

Brian’s forehead was coated with sweat and his heart was thumping faster than ever. He felt like a mouse in a cage of snakes, trapped in a vortex of impending doom. He could feel some of the players looking in his direction. Desperate to flee, he scanned the premises for a few agonizing seconds before he found success. There was a red exit sign hanging in the distance above the other side of the locker room. It was far away, but he just had to make it there.

In an instant, Brian bolted past the guys and further into the locker room while holding up his ripping pants with one hand. As he sped past lockers through the open clearing, he ran past windows of players getting ready and prayed none of them would notice him. The exit sign grew closer and closer and it looked like he was going to make it. That was until a huge football player adorned in his uniform stepped out from one of the lockers right in Brian’s way. The collision was inevitable. He closed his eyes as the two collided with an abrasive smack.

Brian fell to the ground and had lost the grip on his pants, causing them to loosen around his waist and fall to the floor. His black satchel flew towards an adjacent row of lockers. “Unghhhh,” he groaned as he reopened his eyes and stared at the jock who had hardly even budged. Brian’s heart was pumping faster than ever as he realized his entire lower body was now exposed. He wanted to scream. One of the largest guys in school was looking at him clad in only his underwear and a sweatshirt on the locker room floor. The jock’s hulking figure was clothed in a football uniform, the delicate combination of pads and spandex only made his figure look more imperious. Fear bubbled up inside of Brian so he promptly mustered out a “Shit, I’m sorry bro” to him as he tried to catch his breath.

​​

To Brian’s relief, the jock didn’t burst out laughing. “Whoa, watch it, Woodsen,” he said with a smug expression as he looked down at Brian on the floor. “We’re not even on the field yet,” he said sympathetically before extending his arm to pull him back up.

For a moment, Brian could only stare in bewilderment, too afraid to correct the jock for getting his last name wrong. The jock’s immense size was not only intimidating but somewhat breathtaking. As Brian grabbed his meaty hand, he pulled him upward like he was as light as a feather. When the two met eyes, Brian realized that he was exactly eye-level with this dude who had to be slightly taller than Michael. Somehow, Brian had gotten even taller without even knowing it.

“See you out there,” he said as he playfully swatted Brian on the butt before heading towards the door. As he left, Brian marveled at the width of his back, which was perfectly accentuated beneath his white jersey. The dark blue letters on the back read “WALLACE.” Then the name came to him. Trent Wallace was an amazing center who had the calmest head on his shoulders out of all of the team. He was an amazing team player whose patience was unparalleled. Brian found himself enjoying that trait a lot. It certainly was important to be a good leader.

Before Brian could wonder why he knew the jock’s name, he heard the low rumble of more guys heading towards him. He quickly snatched his satchel off the floor and ducked into the cavern of lockers where Trent had just been. Like a herd of buffalo, the group of guys passed by Brian without noticing him. The young man breathed a sigh of relief, finally happy to not have one of these meatheads in his face for a second.

A tickling feeling around his legs caught Brian’s attention. As he looked down, he wondered how on earth his black boxers had bleached themselves white. He squirmed as he could feel his underwear vibrating on its own. A strap formed underneath each of his buttcheeks while the fabric above disappeared. In the front, a swell of growth came from Brian’s thighs as they burst through the cotton, leaving behind only a pouch beneath his much stronger waistband. Feeling much more exposed, Brian’s face reddened as he looked at this new and very revealing article of clothing. As much as he detested what he was seeing, it felt oddly snug. Still, he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Shit, please don’t let anybody see me like this,” Brian prayed to himself as he studied how revealing the jockstrap was.

Desperately, he tried to rip it off with no luck. Each time Brian tugged on the athletic supporter, navy blue lycra materialized over it. The new fabric started materializing around his waist before promptly extending down over his small butt and down to his lower thighs. The uncomfortable draft from the jockstrap was quickly eliminated. He couldn’t help but smirk with conflicted relief as he realized he was now wearing a new pair of compression shorts and his embarrassing jockstrap was hidden away. Brian pulled on the new lycra, enjoying how tight yet breathable it felt against his loins. With all the movement around his dick, Brian couldn’t help but feel it rise with arousal.

‘No…no,” he whimpered as he slowly sat down on the bench. Now breathing much heavier, he swore he could feel his thighs growing beneath his hands. And sure enough, they were. They gradually swelled to an immense size beneath his compression shorts. It looked like he could squeeze a watermelon between them. Prickles of blonde hair appeared on his thighs before spreading all the way to his ankles. That was odd, his hair was black.

He could feel a tremendously ticklish feeling on his feet as if a million tiny threads were forming around them. As he shook his legs, he watched as a beautiful shade of white spread upwards from his feet, rising past his ankles until they stopped just below his knees. Brian’s new pair of white athletic socks brought a new wave of growth with them. His feet grew to a hulking size 13 before a pair of blue and white cleats formed around them. Huge calves the size of footballs swelled into fruition beneath his new socks. Brian’s disgust was turning to wonder.

“Am I…is this…really...happening?” he gasped as he placed his hands on his meaty thighs, marveling at how gigantic they had become. His breaths sounded lower, deeper even.

A strong odor filled the air and Brian immediately recognized it as sweat, and it was emanating from him! Brian’s fear had amplified a tremendous amount of his body odor. It felt like he was forced to inhale a cloud of his own manly musk. He couldn’t believe he had even been sweating this much. Uncharacteristically, he began to laugh, although came out at a much lower frequency. His tenor register sounded not only lower but also slower-sounding.

Brian closed his eyes and clenched his upper thighs, feeling the sinews of muscle pulsate beneath his fingertips. “Mmmm,” he moaned as he glanced at how disproportionately huge his lower body now was compared to his slender torso. Muscles this size took thousands of hours of strenuous exercise to appear. His pride skyrocketed as he caressed his thighs, partially concealed beneath his compression shorts. He wasn’t feeling afraid of the jocks anymore. If anyone of those cocky football jerks gave him trouble, he’d give ‘em hell!

“Mmmm, yeah,” he grunted as he cautiously guided his hand to his cock. He touched it once and felt it harden. After a brief moment of abstinence, Brian began stroking his cock beneath his black compression shorts. “That’ll show...those…fake posers,” he said, oblivious to how he was becoming one of them. Brian’s cock was lengthening in his hand as he closed his eyes and pictured all of the football players’ stupid smug faces. He could just picture himself flexing in front of the guys and them all respecting him.

RIIIP!

Brian’s stroking was interrupted when his pecs exploded through his black sweatshirt, tearing it apart into tatters, and exposing his chest. His initial confusion dissolved into satisfaction as he marveled at the size of these gigantic new muscular tits, each one had to be larger than his head. He delicately brought his hand up from his dick, tempted to feel the humongous muscle.

“Ffffuck!” he cried as he gave one a loving squeeze, feeling how thick the muscle really was. A million little tingles dispersed through his body as he lovingly cupped his pecs with both of his hands. A light dusting of blonde hair, just like the one on his legs, appeared above them. He was starting to obsess over the way he looked. This new size was so inspiring, but also a little nerve-wracking. Brian had memories of being a shorter young man who only wore black clothing and made it his personality to act apathetic to everyone. But that seemed out of character for him now. Brian enjoyed standing out in a crowd.

As if to counter those contradictory thoughts, Brian continued to inhale his manly musk and his heartbeat started to slow. With oversized muscle tits larger than the rack of any girl he’d ever seen and a thunderous set of legs, he looked like a circus freak. The barrel-chested young man squirmed on the bench as he felt follicles of blonde hair burst from beneath his armpits. A stream of hair flowed across his jugs to his abdomen before culminating in a visible treasure trail. Not only did the new path of hair indicate his increased testosterone levels, which had to be as large as half the team’s, but it also indicated virility. Brian was a man. Or at least he was growing into a huge one. And he was loving every second.

Throwing up both of his skinny arms into a flex sent more testosterone through his body. Brian watched his biceps explode with muscles, becoming larger. And larger. And larger, until eventually, they were larger than everyone else on the team. Years of training under the iron bar entered his mind and Brian remembered how long it had taken him to become this strong. An eight pack burst through his slender abdomen while also causing it to broaden in size. Brian looked at his tight muscly core. Like his arms, they felt eerily familiar, like they were created through strenuous physical activity. His arms felt like lightning bolts filled to the brim with testosterone that spread across his body like a static charge.

A football came flying through the air accompanied by a player saying “Wood, catch!”

Instinctively, Brian turned around and extended his tree trunk of an arm out to effortlessly catch the flying pigskin. He looked back up just in time to see Jake Thomas walking away. “Nice one, dude!” Jake said as he walked through the door, leaving as quickly as he had entered.

The tight end was one of many players who always tried to catch Brian off guard. They were hardly successful. Brian was a colossal athlete and zealously vigilant. Coach always told him his determination would get him very far in life, sometimes calling him the greatest on the team, which only inflated Brian’s ego.

Before Brian could question that thought, he felt a numbness in his hand where he was holding the football. His hand, once demure, was palming the football no problem. His hands grew meatier before his eyes, accentuated by new calluses and hair above the knuckles. They had to be the size of baseball mitts and were perfect for catching and throwing footballs with ease. That was an exciting thought.

“UNNNGHH, no!” he bellowed helplessly, resisting the side of him that was yearning for football practice.

As the immense young man stood up from the bench, his muscles shook like jello, before they solidified into hardened, insurmountable walls. Where there had once been a scared boy, there was now a hulking Adonis who was obsessed with his muscles. As Brian continued to flex his arms and twiddle his pecs, a rush of blood poured into his cock, causing his arousal to return stronger than ever.

“Oh…fuck,” he trembled with carnal anticipation. His much deeper voice echoed through the locker room. Its new baritone register was rendered completely unrecognizable from what it once was. That was hot. He sounded just like…just like…one of the boys. And he didn’t mind.

Brian’s husky bulge was on prime display for anyone who happened to walk by. His cautious expression shifted into a satisfied grin as he reached down to stroke it. Then all of a sudden, it disappeared beneath a layer of white. The new fabric extended from his waist to just below his knees, giving him a brand new pair of football pants. Brian chuckled to himself, unaware of how numb he was feeling to the changes.

The new player’s cock twitched as his ass inflated behind him. Two perfectly muscular globes stretched his compression shorts to the limit before they were swallowed by his new pants. Just like his pecs, his butt was a wall of muscle, on display in everything he wore. And Brian could remember every squat, leg lift, and all of the hard work he put in to become huge. His butt was the biggest in the team for a reason. His reputation of going hard on leg days warranted impeccable results.

He laughed again, although this one came out much...slower-sounding. Brian’s disdain for dorky meathead jocks was being replaced by an understanding of them. After all, these were his bros and their sense of camaraderie was unbreakable. As a senior, he was one of the strongest on the team and they all worshiped him.

But this...this wasn’t right. Brian was a scrawny goth sophomore who wanted to disappear in a crowd. But this new body and personality were the polar opposite. His sheer size and athletic prowess were impossible to ignore. He began to pace around subconsciously, transfixed on the way his body moved.

“Whuh!” Brian exclaimed as he tripped on something on the floor. He flung his arms out and caught his fall by palming the locker, which had somebody’s navy blue shirt sleeve sticking out of its closed door. When Brian stood back upright he noticed the black fabric was sticking around his wrist. When he tried to pull it off, it stuck to his arm like glue. The blue fabric then began crawling up Brian's forearm with impressive speed. A few moments later, it had reached his elbow, concealing his muscular arm in a brand new shirtsleeve. However, it didn't stop covering him up and continued to Brian's shoulders before cascading down over his bare chest. His new skin-tight workout shirt did nothing to hide Brian's beefy pecs.

“Oh shit,” Brian whispered to himself as he ran a hand over his pants. "I...I look just like a player."

Although the utterance had been subconscious, Brian found him remembering more instances where the football players turned to him for advice, like he was a mentor towards them. With each recollection, pieces of a black jersey appeared over his workout shirt. The number "5" appeared in a rich cerulean blue color in the middle of his chest. It was slightly curved over the giant breadth of Brian's pecs. The word "CHARGERS" appeared above it in the same blue color. Anyone who would've seen the impenetrable wall of uniformed muscle that was Brian would've assumed he was a football player.

“FFFFUCK!” the growing jock cussed as he placed his massive hands above his saucer-like pectorals, wasted in his masculinity. Too preoccupied with himself, he didn't notice his black satchel moving on its own. It started to contort on its own, its rectangular shape became more cylindrical and the leather material turned into nylon and polyester. Instead of schoolwork and books, the bag was now filled with Brian's change of clothes, which were nothing like his goth attire. His wardrobe was like Michael's, full of pastels and board shorts that showed off every curve of his.

The bag twitched and leaned against Brian's foot. When he looked down, he was met with a new light gray duffel bag that had the word “CHARGERS” on the side next to a cartoon lightning bolt. He smiled broadly. Even just seeing the team name excited him. He felt an odd sense of responsibility towards that name like he was a leader of it or something.

The letter "C" embroidered itself over the top left corner of his jersey, revealing the validity of that thought. When Brian looked down, his smile only broadened. He remembered that he was the team captain and the star quarterback. The Chargers were his team and he was going to lead them to glory this season. "Shiiiiit…" he muttered with disbelief as he ran his hands over his massive body, caressing every muscle of his body.

A piece of Brian hated the thought of being around football players, but another part loved it. His fear was reforming into adoration. As a captain, he was able to work with the coaches to guide his team to victory. And judging by how well the season was going so far, he was doing a great job. He inspired his teammates every day. Brian’s confidence was contagious and his devotion to the team was unyielding. He wasn't afraid of the jocks anymore. The thought of leading them was much more exhilarating.

“Looking good, Wood!” a familiar-sounding voice said. “You ready?”

“HELL YEAH!” Brian Wood replied with impressive volume. It was at that moment his black hair was saturated with gel and dyed itself blonde. Brian itched his nose, unaware that it grew slightly larger after his finger touched it. His face also resculpted itself, the boyish shape taking hold to the chiseled visage of a real meathead. At one point, Brian would’ve hated what he looked like, but that time was past. It only felt natural that his face should be much more square if he was to lead the players. His boxy face made his gaze more domineering than ever. Even Brian's forehead expanded a little wider. Everyone knew he was the team's alpha.

Unseen to him, the word “WOOD” formed in blue letters on the back of his jersey. Going to Woodside High School had been a perfect coincidence for Brian Wood. The guy was also a horny bastard who often lewdly joked about his own wood to the team. It was expected though. Men are ruled by their cocks and Brian was no different. After being around a team of equally horny guys with a similar sense of humor, they always made crude jokes about their dicks. The bulge in the team captain's pants swelled even larger, leaving no discretion that the blonde-haired dreamboat was well-endowed.

Michael Palmer walked up closer, like a prince eyeing a knight. Brian returned the wordless glance, unaware of the sensation of his chin jutting out. The star quarterback and linebacker had stellar chemistry together, they were able to be serious on the field and chummy when off of it.

"You look great," Brian blurted out. He hadn't meant to, but looking at Michael was getting him riled up. He liked the way he filled out the uniform.

"Right back at you, dude," Michael replied as he stepped right in front of Brian's face. Brian's cock twitched when he realized that he was slightly taller and now even wider than Michael. The two were so close now that they could feel each other's breath.

Instinctively, Brian touched Michael's bulge. Michael grunted a little bit and his erection twitched in Brian's hand.

Brian's cock stirred at that sound and the vulnerable look in Michael's eyes. It felt like time was frozen. Not only was he making the largest guy in school moan, but he was also getting his affection. Brian didn't even like guys, but looking at Michael's amatory expression was changing that. Michael was a macho beefcake like him who was just so sensational to look at.

Suddenly, Michael pulled him in close with impressive strength. The linebacker's lips met the star quarterback's as he tightly gripped his shoulders. Brian returned the kiss, loving the feeling of being the only guy in school larger than Michael. A fire inside the two was challenging their heterosexualities.

"Oh, Brian," Michael breathed as their kissing intensified.

Upon hearing his name, Brian felt something amiss. That name didn't sound right. It didn’t match the masculine prowess that was overtaking his brain. The newly minted football player had a rare moment of fear when he couldn’t recall what people called him.

Adrenaline coursed through the two mens' veins as they savored each other's taste and smell. Memories of a vehement relationship flooded their minds. Dating each other over the last year while playing on the team together had strengthened their bond to a level they had never imagined possible. The nameless jock's lips thickened as they pressed against Michael's. He loved Michael so much. Their love of football allowed them to properly separate their personal and professional obligations to each other. Even the team was cool with their relationship, which was so validating. The nameless jock loved his team, proud to be one of the boys when he was on the field. And at that moment, Zach Wood remembered his name. The two broke the kiss, both with a newfound and intense infatuation for one another.

“Holy shit, Michael!” Zach replied when the two pulled away. He caressed his semi-hard cock. "We need to stop doing this before practice."

"Uh-huh," Michael breathed in agreement. His heart was beating fast as he was going through his own internal turmoil. He could've sworn he had a girlfriend, but he had no idea what her name was. The harder he thought, the more memories with Zach resurfaced. They were a pair of sex-obsessed, macho jock boyfriends who couldn't get enough of each other's minds and bodies on and off the field. Their sex was tantric and their affection towards each other was unyielding.

Michael took a sip from his Gatorade bottle. The locker room was much quieter now and all of the other guys must be on the field.

"You ready, Mikey Palms?" Zach asked, nudging him with his shoulder.

"Of course babe," Michael replied as he shifted his brain to football mode. Usually, the two beefy guys were able to keep their love life away from practice time, but that was getting harder to do. They both loved seeing each other in their uniforms.

"Alright, let's head out," Zach said, excitedly heading towards the open door until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you gotta put your gym bag in your locker, ya gym bag,” Michael quipped as he spun Zach around.

"Oh right," Zach replied as he turned around to grab it off the floor. Sometimes his excitement for the sport caused him to be forgetful. He opened up his locker and placed it inside. "Alright Mikey," he said as he slapped his boyfriend’s butt. "Let's head to practice already."

Michael couldn't agree more. Although later, the two would have to pick up where they left off.

I'm not a huge coffee drinker, but what the heck I'll have something. How about an americano? Nice and strong.

You can't seem to take your eyes off the hot man on the packaging. You bought the DIY Hot Coffee Americano kit from the online storefront and was pleasantly surprised by how cheap it was and how quickly it was delivered. Literally within an hour of your order there it was, in a little cardboard box with the Hot Coffee logo on it. You took the supplies out of the box, set them on your desk, and then caught sight of the hot - who is he? the owner? - guy on the pre-made - just add hot water! - Coffee base.

It's almost like you can smell him...

Or maybe it's this water?

The water that came with the pre-made mix is so warm, like it's been boiled. But when you took the top off it, the smell of sweat and musk hit you in the face. You take big deep gulps of air as you bring the water to your nose. You sigh pleasurably as your cock begins to stir in your shorts.

That's not normal.

But you find yourself dumping the water into the Coffee anyway. Stirring it around with the coffee stirrer. God the smell is intoxicating. Your cock is fully hard now and pointing straight out of your shorts, the bulge visible and making you blush. It's like the sweaty, musky water is just blanketing your head and making your center of thought right now your twitching, pulsating cock. You start humping the desk as you take your first gulp of the Coffee.

Three things startle you: one, the Coffee doesn't burn your tongue like you expect; two, it tastes absolutely delicious and makes your cock eject a droplet of pre; and three, your roommate saying, "What is that smell?"

You swivel in your chair to see him standing in the doorway, sniffing the air. You blush even harder knowing your cock is at full attention, and you can't do much of anything except make a bunch of horny sounds into the thermos you're drinking out of. Your roommate sees your cock straining your shorts. You notice it feels...bigger. Harder and more prominent.

"Oh, sorry am I interrupting something?"

You've drank half the thermos that quickly. A hot rush of pleasurable heat fills your body, landing squarely in your balls which you can feel jostle around in your scrotum. Then both balls drop and start growing, blowing up like two tennis balls and when you sneak a glance down, you can see the imprint growing on the soft fabric of your shorts. You squeeze your legs together and let out a soft moan at the sensitivity.

"I'm just so horny bro."

Bro?

Your roommate stares at your cock again as you can feel it stretch larger, like the muscles are preparing for a hard workout. It's definitely not the 5 and a half inches you're used to. Now it's creeping past 6 and a half, the swollen head glistening with pre-cum that you can feel pump out at a steady rate from those still growing balls of yours. God they feel so weighty, pushing against your thighs and making you groan and grind against your desk chair.

No you're not grinding. You're fucking the air as you drain the last dregs of your Coffee.

"Okayyyyyy. Just don't make too much noise I guess?" Your roommate laughs and is about to turn when he sniffs the air again. You're covered in sweat, soaking through the plain gray shirt you're wearing. Huge swaths of sweat darken your pits as you feel hair growing out of them, the bump of testosterone making pubes blossom like a garden, pushing out of your waistband. "Is that you?"

It is you!

"Yeah bro, smell good?"

Your voice drops as your Adam's apple expands, throat thickening and growing larger. It's got the amount of vocal fry perfect for a frat boy, deep and...dopey. Dumb sounding. And you definitely wouldn't say something like that. Definitely wouldn't lift your arms up and expose those sweaty pits to your roommate, fatter cock bouncing and growing larger and girthier. You're 7 and a half inches now, cruising to 8 full inches of man meat. So thick, the bulge so tight. You wouldn't plow your roommate and make him scream your name as loud as he could. Wouldn't dump a big load in him right?

Or would you?

What the hell is happening?

"I'm gonna - I'm gonna go." Your roommate is hard now, cock pressing against his sweatpants as he rubs himself absently. You close your eyes and groan as you feel your shoulders pop wider, broadening and putting immense strain on your shirt. In your head you're fucking a nice, tight bubble butt resting on that fat cock of yours.

You clench onto the armrests as your nipples harden against your shirt, sensitive and begging to be tugged or sucked on, the kind of special attention your chest deserves. Your big 8 inch cock flops out of your waistband and rests against your lower stomach. The stain on your underwear is unbelievable with your huge, churning bull balls and that thick tube of man meat on top. Your horniness feels so unnatural, so hot. You're so sweaty the entire front and back of your shirt is clouded with your sweat and thick with your strengthening musk that seems to be filling your entire room. Hell the entire apartment. Your cock pumps out pre at a steady rate and you can feel just how close you're getting to cumming.

And when your stomach sucks inwards and your pecs bulge out, taking advantage of those bigger broader shoulders, you lurch forward and moan lewdly in pleasure. It's loud, made even louder by your deep, bro voice. You clench your stomach and feel your waist widen with pure strength and muscle, hard, tight abs chiseling their way through the lost fat that's slid up to your chest and bulging it out. Still holding onto your stomach, you stand up on shaky legs and stagger over to your bed, shoving a pillow under your beyond hard cock as it finally rips through your underwear, the tension that was there and holding your cock back now gone. It presses freely against your shorts, the tent shoving the waistband away and giving you a full view of the base of your musky, huge cock and the bush of pubes above it.

But you immediately look away as muscle starts flowing into your pecs, perking them up and pressing them against your shirt, the hard nubs of your nipples brushing against your tight shirt. You collapse onto a pillow and start fucking it. Wrapping your arm around it and imagining one of your bros under you, getting absolutely railed by your big fat cock. You don't notice, but you can feel the pleasurable tickle of tattoos forming across your expanding forearms, the strength and blood flowing into them bloating and stretching them and making you fuck the pillow even more forcefully. You're moaning and groaning against the pillow, face buried against it in pure pleasure.

Muscle piles into your pecs, putting such strain on your shirt it tears clean down the middle, exposing your slightly hairy cleavage and the still swelling mounds of sweaty muscle mounting on your chest. They're huge and sensitive, the nipples expanding further as a little more fat from your stomach slides behind them, stretching the skin and increasing the sensitivity even more. You take your expanding, stronger hands, the palms and digits inflating into big meaty paws and rip your sweaty shirt clean off. You strip the soaked strands of your shirt off and flex your growing bicep, the muscle bulging and swelling into a bowling ball of muscle as you get your first whiff of your pit.

God I smell so fucking good.

You've managed to fuck a hole into your pillow and you drive your cock into it further and harder, licking and worshiping your expanding bicep, while your other hand goes down and explores your abs as they go into their final stages of growth and expansion. The strength of your core is undeniable as cum gutters carve their way to your throbbing cock, the etching of them making you moan and thrust your cock forward as cum drools out of your overly sensitive cock, your body riding the wave of this mini orgasm as your huge hands grab onto a nipple and tug, more muscle piling into your pecs and stretching them out and creating a real shelf of muscle on top of your abs. You bellow out loud, a deep horny moan as you continue fucking your pillow. You dimly think about your roommate as your smarts begin leaking out of your cock as well, the thick fluid going right through your shorts and into the pillow.

You hear a distant moan somewhere in the house.

Bro's probably horny as fuck too.

And why wouldn't he be? With your smell becoming a part of the apartment? With your deep moans and groans in that sexy voice of yours? What about now, the clap of your ass cheeks as you stick your ass out, totally unable to keep thrusting and surrendering to the pleasure ripping through your body, as both of your cheeks bloat and expand?

You grab one handful of a fatty, muscular cheek through your increasingly tight shorts as your ass cheeks take up whatever free space is left. You grit your teeth and howl with pleasure as your ass grows hairs that blossom out of your puckering, tight hole, and spread like a thick, musky rug across both of your fat cheeks. They fill your palm with dense, flexing muscle, enough fat to make them jiggle and bounce. A nice twerkable, fuckable ass. Your hips widen and become stronger, denser, making your now restarted thrusts harder and stronger. You press down on the pillow - god you're so strong now, the strength of those rippling biceps make you burp out more cum - as your ass stops growing, the cheeks swelling and clapping together one final time as they rip through your shorts and let your fat ass hang free in the air.

I'm so close. I'm so close.

Your feet crack and expand, the bones shifting around in the stretching skin as they expand wider and larger, thick toes ripping through the head of your socks. They feel much more sensitive now, and maybe that could just be because they're actively growing, huge meaty stompers. You cum again as your feet rip through your strained socks, huge size 13s. You look over the big curve of your bubbly ass as you see your feet for the first time, moaning loudly.

You definitely hear your roommate bro whining in the next room in pleasure. It sounds deeper than it did earlier. But...that can't be right?

The expansion of your thighs pop the few brain cells you've got left, whatever resistance you were going to try to mutter splattering into your pillow as a stronger orgasm rips through you. Cock just oozing cum as your thighs squeeze your big balls, huge thick pillars of flesh, the muscles expanding and pressing against the taut skin. Your calves grow to support not only that fat ass of yours, but that strong upper body. Those thick legs. All of which courtesy of you never skipping leg day. Your shorts are extremely tight, small tears forming around your thighs as they break the seams, becoming thick and solid. Like your ass, good to grab onto while you're fucking a bro, or while you're riding a bro with that strong core you've got.

As your hair grows blonde and styled, the big orgasm that you've been denied catches you off guard as you collapse, fat ass wobbling with the impact, as you fall flat on your pillow as your cock fires like a broken fire hydrant. You can't do much of anything but moan, so loud that the pillow is not doing anything to mute the sound as your cock fires rope after rope of thick, musky cum. Your tongue expands, fatter and longer, perfect for eating ass or sucking dick, making your bros feel every inch of your tongue on their hard cocks and in their tight asses. Your jawline sharpens. Your nose pops and expands bigger like invisible hands are pulling on it. A stubbly beard grows on your face, itchy and scraping pleasurably against your pillow as you give one, exhausted pump into the pillow to force the rest of your old self out of your still cumming cock, the steam not as strong as earlier but still enough to drip through your ruined shorts.

Out of breath, cock spent, covered in sweat, you sit up slowly on your shaky hands. A full length mirror has materialized out of your bookshelf and now you see yourself for the first time. The new you. The new sexy, frat boy you. A short king stacked with muscle everywhere. Dull, horny, lustful eyes.

You stick out your fat tongue and take a pic of your hot body, shoving your hand in your strained shorts and creating a bigger tear around your jiggly ass. You need to invest in more tight clothes. Your soft but still huge cock makes such a visible imprint you might as well be naked. You flex. Pop your pecs. Tighten up your abs. Each movement feels so good it makes your just spent cock stir again, your balls to rumble excitedly.

Your bro is quiet now.

You step out of the room and run right into him. He's a huge tank of a man, a pair of tight shorts, just like you, adorning his bloated, sweaty form. He's out of breath. His eyes are still a little sharp but there's a fogginess creeping behind them.

He looks like he's about to say something, a little dull panic creeping into his eyes.

You kiss him, roughly, pulling him in and feeling his tight, huge muscles relax into the kiss. Hands on your hips as you both makeout like horny porn stars in the doorway to your room. Your cock is hard again, and his equally large cock rips through the fabric of his tight shorts.

"You were gonna say something bro?" you ask.

His eyes dull over, horny and glassy.

"Oh yeah." A dumb laugh sounds from him, making his solid tits jiggle. "I was gonna ask who's turn it is to bottom. I'm super horny bro."

You clench your bubbly ass cheeks. An empty feeling creeps into your hole.

It's been a while since you've been filled. You give your bro boyfriend a dopey, horny smile as you kiss him again, guiding his big, meaty hand to your ass cheeks.

Then that thick finger right towards your sensitive, greedy hole.