#butt growth
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Kings of the World: Europe's Protector
Dominic, for the most part, was what the gay community would consider average. He had some mass to him, though not much, and his junk was fairly average. He had light body hair and a short beard, though not enough to be considered an otter. Almost no one swiped him on any dating app, which did leave him feeling dejected. He was a top, though all of his few matches pegged him as a submissive bottom. Though, someday, he hoped that he would gain the strength he desired.
Alone in his apartment, Dominic was doomscrolling through Instagram, crying over pictures of happy men in love. It had been so long since his last hookup, let alone his last boyfriend, that he had become incredibly touch-starved. London's pool of gay men had been incredibly unkind to him.
KLUNK.
A single notification rang from Dominic's phone. A match! Dominic dove to his phone, and couldn't believe his eyes. An absolute stud of a man had decided to give Dominic his approval. His pecs and ass were perky and voluptuous, his dark skin accented his enormous muscles perfectly, and judging by his bulge, he was more hung than every other man Dominic had seen, combined. The crystal crown on his head, while a little tacky, only added to his allure. According to his profile, he was "King Leon."
That sure is a King of a man, all right. Dominic thought.
Soon, they began to chat.
King_Leon: Hey. I think you might have exactly what I'm looking for. Meet me at my place?
DomDom74: Absolutely! I'm on my way!
Dominic dashed to his car, and drove as fast as he could over to where King Leon said his address was. It was a tall apartment building, with an impressive view over Buckingham Palace.
King_Leon: Head to the Penthouse. I'll be waiting ;)
Not only is he immeasureably hot, but he's also rich? Dominic thought. This could not be going better.
Dominic sauntered up to the elevator, and hit the button for the Penthouse suite.
"Dom?" King Leon's Nigerian accent entered Dominic's ears like butter from the intercom. It was smoky and rhythmic, with a deep, rich melody that caused Dominic's cock to instantly harden.
"Y-yes?" Dominic stammered. He was already flustered, and he hadn't even met the man yet.
"I'm glad to see you could make it. I'll let you on up now." King Leon said.
Soon, the elevator opened into a lavish Penthouse suite, each room the size of Dominic's entire apartment. Relics and statues from every corner of the globe accented the space, though most were from Africa, where King Leon's throne resided.
King Leon himself was standing in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but a small towel. He was even hotter in person. His muscles, divine, his skin, glistening, his ass, superb, his incredible height and his enormous cock visible even through the towel.
"Dominic, it is so good to have you here." King Leon rumbled, his voice flowing over Dominic like a river, wearing down his inhibitions.
"S-same." Dominic stuttered. "You have to be the most beautiful man I have ever seen."
King Leon laughed. "Soon, you will be just as beautiful as I."
"What do you mean?" Dominic said.
King Leon smiled, and let the towel drop as he turned around, revealing his luscious, bouncy muscle ass.
"Why don't you come find out?" King Leon teased.
Salivating, Dominic ripped off his pants, and stuck his throbbing member into King Leon's hole. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt: King Leon's perfect ass seemed to be vibrating and massaging every square millimeter of his dick, creating pleasure unlike anything he had ever felt. Dominic's eyes rolled back into his skull as he lost himself in the pleasure, firing orgasm after orgasm into King Leon's ass, each one longer than the last. A gold fluid began to leak from King Leon's hole as the most orgasmic experience of Dominic's life finally came to a close.
As he removed his pulsing member from the King's hole, Dominic almost screamed. His cock was... different.
It had swollen up like a balloon, until it matched King Leon's size, inch for inch, a full foot in length and as thick as a beer bottle. His balls had turned into massive grapefruits swinging between his legs, churning with his own kingly fluids. Most surprising of all, his cock was pale, with a red tip, surrounded by a fiery orange bush. No longer was it a brown twig, but a mighty birchwood weapon, capable of slaying any ass.
"Wha... what?" Dominic asked.
"A king needs a weapon, does he not?" King Leon said.
"How? Why? Why did you change me?"
"I saw greatness in you, Dominic. You could be the protector of this whole continent, if you wished. A king, a warrior, a protector... the most powerful Dom in this land."
Dominic considered this. Power, prestige, strength... The choice was obvious.
"I'll do it. Where do I start?" Dominic answered.
"Only a moment of submission, for a lifetime of lordship. Impale yourself upon my sword, and drink of my fluids." King Leon said, his voice having a playful air to it.
King Leon sat down upon a wide loveseat, his enormous Black horsecock reaching far past his abs. His pecs throbbed, and his nipples called to Dominic, just begging to be sucked.
Trancelike, Dominic walked over to King Leon, and lowered himself onto his cock.
It was like paradise: There was no blockage, no pain, just pure pleasure His cock filled up Dominic perfectly, despite its egregious size. Dominic's mouth latched onto King Leon's perfect dark nipple as the King began to slowly thrust.
Soon, the King's fluids took effect. As King Leon pumped load after load of kingly fluid into Dominic, his muscles expanded. His biceps, wrapped around one of King Leon's enormous arms, suddenly blew up to match the guns they worshipped. His hands, once small and insignificant, became enormous mitts, digging and massaging King Leon's equally huge arms. His back and lats wrenched themselves apart, creating a sea of perfect ridges. His abs repeatedly clenched and unclenched, growing stronger each time, until the eight blocks that made up his core were as solid as stone. His legs, once skinny, became almighty pillars of strength as they expanded to well over the size of tree trunks. His feet did the same, becoming bigger and wider, to support the royal mass they carried.
The more fluid Leon pumped, the lighter Dominic's skin became, until it settled on a lightly-tanned cream color. His hair became a fiery red, his beard changing to match. His brow narrowed, and his jaw became square. His voice deepened, and took on an Irish accent as he started gyrating his ass to properly milk King Leon's dick.
"Yeh, you like that, don't you?" Dom said, in between chugs from King Leon's chest.
"Oh, I do... Daddy." King Leon said with a smirk. While he normally preferred to be the dominant one, for his fellow King, he would make a rare exception.
"My arse is going to milk your cock like you wouldn't believe." Dom said. With each slam of his ass on King Leon's mammoth dick, it bounced and expanded just a little more, until it became an enormous Irish booty, leaking an emerald fluid, which mixed with King Leon's golden fluid perfectly.
"Now, I want you to suck my pecs like your life depends on it." Dom ordered.
"Anything for you, Daddy." King Leon placed his soft, supple lips on Dom's left nipple, as Dom moaned with pleasure. His chest began to puff up, going from muscular, to voluptouous, to absolutely obscene. His massive muscle tits were just as large as King Leon's!
Soon, Dom wrapped his arms around King Leon, and tried to wrestle him to the floor. King Leon obliged, and pulled Dom close, pressing their sensitive muscle tits together, releasing a moan from both behemoths. Dom continued to grow in height until he matched King Leon while they rolled on top of each other, each man fighting for dominance. Dom pressed his face firmly against King Leon's, locking him in a passionate kiss. They wrestled and fought and loved for hours, until the pleasure finally became too much for the both of them, and they came from all orifices at once. King Dom's transformation had completed.
Both Kings laid there, exhausted. Soon, there would be more of them, and they could lead the world into a brighter age
#male tf#male transformation#race change#jock tf#irish tf#ass growth#butt growth#pec growth#Kings of the World
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#fatty#fatass#fatty piggy#cute fatty#fat#stuffed fatty#fatboy#before and fatter#fatty getting fatter#gay fat boy#the fatter the better#moobies#butt growth#get me fatter#fat belly#fatty belly#fat piggy#feedee piggy#stuffed piggy#obese piggy#help me get fatter#gay fatty#i want to be fatter#gay feedee#gay boi#im a fatty#big fatty#fatso#belly gainer#feedee belly
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"Oh silly you're so small now! You couldn't help but give me some more height, huh? 😜"
I towered over you, nearly 7 feet tall as you shrunk down to 3ft. Suddenly I felt my butt begin filling upward and outward as you continued shrinking...
"I was gonna put you in my purse if you got small enough, but now I think I know where you're going! You gotta appreciate how much of your own size you just put into this fat ass 😘🤤"
Model: Dominique Jane, slight edit by me lol
#expansion#growth kink#butt expansion#height growth#mini giantess#massive ass#thicc#butt growth#thick legs#shrinking#sizeplay
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Your work is absolutely amazing!! I was wondering, is there anyway you could tf a nerdy skinny twink into a bubble-butted, airhead himbo, but like literally airheaded? Where like the twink gets filled with air, pumping up his pecs and butt and making him get stupider each time? And then the smarts get farted out of his amazing new bubble butt?
Jakob is a grade-A nerd: skinny, introverted, glasses. You know what I mean. He’s rather unpopular at school, only having a few close friends. His best friend, Ronnie and him have been friends for as long as they can remember.
One day after work, Ronnie comes over to Jakob’s house with a bag of snacks for their movie night. They plop down on his couch and put on The Princess Bride. Jakob pulls out a brown paper bag from the grocery pile.
“Uh… What’s this, Ronnie?” Jakob asks.
“Hm. I don’t know. What’s inside?”
Jakob opens the bag to find a large clump of pink cotton candy.
“Oh, it’s just cotton candy,” he says with a laugh. He picks up a chunk and eats it, the cotton candy immediately dissolving in his mouth. “Oh wow. That’s really good. You want some?”
“You know I don’t like sweet stuff,” Ronnie says as he fills his mouth with pretzels.
“Suit yourself.” Jakob continues eating the cotton candy. A strange tickling sensation overcoming his brain, an itch he can’t scratch. His body similarly itches internally, his pecs and glutes developing without his knowledge. Colorful tattoos appear on his skin underneath his baggy hoodie.
He excuses himself and goes to the bathroom, desperately needing to relieve the itching all over his body.
He steps foot in the bathroom and immediately removes his hoodie. He stares in disbelief at his newly developed, plush muscles. His gawking session is quickly becoming an aggressive scratching at his hair. The tingling in his brain gets so bad it becomes his sole thought. He closes his eyes and massages his skull, the aggravating itching becoming a pleasurable tingle. He lets out quiet moans as he rubs his head, feeling so empty, so thoughtless.
His muscles swell to be more full, more plush. He feels a bloating in his stomach until a large fart comes out. It smells rich and sweet just like the cotton candy. The cloudy feeling in his mind only intensifies. He opens his eyes to see pink. Just pink. Everywhere he looks is pink, as if there’s a pink filter over his eyes. I fart more and more, each one filling my mind more and filling up my muscles with the cotton candy that triggered my transformation.
#tf#transformation#dumber tf#dumber#gay#gay tf#himbo#himbo tf#musclegrowth#butt growth#pec growth#fart kink
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The Best Part of Waking Up (Ass expansion)
Casey was just your average, coffee-loving girl. She would often drink nearly a whole pot of coffee before noon. One day, she figured she would try a new coffee-delivery service, "Bigger Beans" which promised to deliver organic, ethically sourced coffee to brew at home. Casey figured she couldn't pass on an offer that good.
When her first bag arrived, she eagerly poured the bag into the coffee pot and within minutes, the delicious black sludge was ready to drink. She lifted the cup up to her mouth as the first few sips of coffee tasted almost...orgasmic! She gasped at the delicious taste of her home-brewed coffee. She drank a little more, feverishly as if she couldn't get enough. What she didn't realize was that her ass and breasts were expanding bigger and bigger with every sip, her lust slowly changing from drinking more coffee to growing even bigger because of it.
You walked down not long after her binge began to really gain speed. As you walked into the kitchen, you were astonished and aroused by the sight before you. Casey was positively busting out all over with an ass the easily could eclipse your body and breasts that continued to protrude outward like swelling pillows.
"OH! Good morning....mmmmm...babe! I was just having my morning coOOHHHffee!" She said in between moans of pleasure and satisfaction.
You could only stare as your erection began to swell in your pants. Seeing this, Casey smirked as she bit her lip.
"Why don't you have some, hun? I think you'll really like it!" She said, lust dripping off each word she spoke
As you took a sip of the coffee, you immediately felt your erection tingle with excitement and...growth! You were starting to understand why your girlfriend loved her coffee in the mornings. This was looking like it would be the start to your new morning routine together.
For more quality content like this and extensive stories accompanying these images, NSFW content, and so much more please check out and support my Patreon where new uploads are posted almost EVERY DAY! I guarantee you will like what you find at www.patreon.com/SF447Expansions! 😊
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Geez~ 😳 this is still so embarrassing~ 🫣 do you really like this?
#me#video#update#progression#plus size#growing#growth#butt growth#expansion#butt expansion#thick hips#thick thighs#thick legs#jiggle#squishy#soft#request#dm
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Cake Maniac
i wasnt going to share any more of the YCC's....but this one was too good to not share
really, really liked this one
#female muscle#my art#female bodybuilding#muscular woman#female muscle growth#d3-damage#thick thighs#myart#muscles#buff girl#butt expansion#butt growth#great butt
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For @brandedx2 on his birthday
*DING DONG*
Kevin set down the glass bowl he’d been stirring and made the perilous walk from his kitchen to the front door. He stubbed his toe on an unpacked box labeled “BOOKS,” cursing loudly. I’ve been here almost two months, he thought to himself as he hobbled over to the door. I really need to finish unpacking. When he answered the door, he saw his new neighbor Hank on the front porch. Hank was a tall guy in his mid-40s, He was the gym teacher and football coach at the local high school. He was also very handsome, broadly built with a handsome stoic face. There was something different though. Every time Kevin had seen the man, he’d been wearing a snug pair of Wranglers. Now, however, the handsome older man was wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants. Kevin’s heart began to race as he suspected the reason for the change in wardrobe.
“Hey buddy,” said Hank in his deep rumbling baritone, shifting from foot to foot. He seemed a lot less confident than Kevin had ever seen him. “I, uh, I was in the neighborhood and I was just wonderin’ if you’d be willin’ to give me some advice on a...purchase...I made recently.”
Kevin smiled warmly and stepped out of the way, inviting the bigger man inside. “Absolutely! What kind of purchase do you mean?” He loved playing dumb in these situations, forcing the straight dudes to squirm a little.
Hank cleared his throat and then sniffed. “Well, uh, it’s a long story. For a month or two, I’ve been...packin’ on a few pounds...” He adjusted his camo baseball cap, looking anywhere but Kevin. “And it is all...accumulatin’ in one spot... I guess you could say.”
“Oh? I’m not sure what you mean.” Kevin cocked his head in mock confusion. Hank’s ears were starting to turn pink.
“Uh, well, my, uh....myasskeepsgettinbigger.” he muttered, so quietly Kevin could barely hear it.
“What? I think I must have misheard you.” the shorter man grinned, watching the blush spread down to Hank’s neck with great enjoyment.
“I said, my...ass...keeps gettin’ bigger” He said, face burning with embarrassment. He was shifting from foot to foot again. “I can’t fit into any of my old pants anymore, or my old drawers. And I bought some replacements on the internets, and I guess I was maybe a little drunk when I did it because...” The poor man looked like he was going to have a stroke. “Well I was just wonderin’ if you could take a look and see if they’re...okay. I know that guys who are...like you...are better with that kinda stuff.”
“Okay, well let me see the package and I’ll take a look.”
Shock flashed across Hank’s face. “The-uh, package?”
“Yeah, the package the underwear came in?”
Kevin had never seen a person turn as red as Hank did in that moment. “Uh, I didn’t think to bring the package. I kinda, um, well I kinda wore ‘em here.”
It took everything in Kevin not to burst out laughing, but he kept up the act. “Oh wow. Well, let’s see what we’re working with.”
Hank cleared his throat, and then turned around. He took a deep, shaky breath as he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his sweatpants, and then lowered them. Kevin’s eyebrows went up in surprise.
When Kevin had met Hank, his ass had been small, tight, and perky. In the short time since, it had become a giant pair of soft, fat globes that jiggled and bounced without the support of his pants. Buried between them was a black thong. Kevin grinned.
“Well, you want my professional opinion, as a gay guy?” He asked.
Hank gulped. “uh, yes please.”
“Well, I think they’re a little boring...”
Hank turned back, looking surprised. “...Boring?”
“Yeah! I mean where are the patterns? Where’s the lace?”
“Would you...like it more if they were...lacy?” Hank looked like he couldn’t believe the words he was saying.
Kevin smiled. “Absolutely! In fact, you should probably wait for my approval next time.” Hank blushed more and nodded.
It was clear that the “homemade punch” Kevin had served to all the men in the neighborhood at his housewarming barbecue was finally beginning to show results. The powder he’d bought online had promised that the effects would include a steady increase in gluteal growth and sensitivity, heightened sexual feelings for the same sex, submissive tendencies, lowered intellect...
Hank cleared his throat. “I was uh, I was wonderin’ if maybe you wanted to...touch ‘em?” He didn’t need to ask twice. Kevin’s hands were practically on his pale jiggling cheeks before the bashful redneck could finish the sentence. Hank’s deep rumbling voice climbed a few octaves as he yelped and whimpered in pleasure like he’d never felt before. He backed into Kevin, desperate for more.
as Kevin teased the poor man with the floss of his own thong, he reached around, his hand slipping into the front pouch. His hand wrapped easily around Hank’s diminished tool. Kevin was happy to see the powder had delivered in that regard too.
“I-it’s....normally biiiigger!” Hank whined in his new bitched-out tone. That was certainly an understatement. The 7 inch club that had filled out the front of his Wranglers two months ago was now a two inch button boner.
“Well, it’s much more manageable now.” Kevin taunted, working a finger between his new toy’s massive mounds.
Hank’s eyes went crossed and he let out a whine so high that his voice cracked. His tiny dick erupted immediately, and he slumped back against the shorter man behind him. Kevin had to practically carry him to the sofa. Hank sat panting, red faced, trying to collect himself.
“I-I think *HUFF* somethin’s *HUFF* happening to me!” he whined between pants, unable to articulate the transformation that had brought him here.
“Well, you just lay there and have a deep breath and we’ll talk things through okay? I’ll make sure you have nothing to worry about.” Kevin cooed down at him like he was talking to a frightened stray dog.
Hank looked up at him hopefully, his breath evening out. “You mean you’ll help me?”
“Of course! You just lie back and let me take care of everything.” Kevin patted him on the cheek condescendingly. ”Oh but where are my manners? You’re a guest! I just made some punch, would you care for a glass?”
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Just ignore it - 4
Lee and Armand try to get a handle on David's powers of suggestion before being interrupted by the delivery of yet another weird artifact. David goes for a bike ride to clear his head, only to end up complicating things further by causing some unexpected changes with some unexpected results.
1 | 2 | 3 (Previous) | 5 (Next)
MaleTF // Ass growth // Dick growth // Suggestion // nsfw
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“You transformed Jamal? The new barista upstairs?” asked Lee.
“Isn’t that a bit much?” added Armand, arms crossed over his chest. “He’s already like nine feet tall or something.”
“Well yeah, he is now,” I said, exasperated by the disappointed parents routine I was getting back in the cleanroom. “But he wasn’t an hour ago. Or he was, in a different…timeline or whatever. Which is now this timeline. Or I was in a different timeline. Or the universe just sort of shifted or something, I don’t know.”
Jamal, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, was a possibly genetic, possibly magical anomaly who really did top out at just over nine feet. Why he insisted on keeping his barista job was even more of a mystery, but he was obviously a local attraction wherever he went, leading the coffee chain that managed multiple shops in town to rotate him around location to location, a boon to underperforming and under-trafficked franchises like the one in our building. The line was out the door whenever he was working, with people wanting a selfie, wanting to see him bumble behind the counter with surprising grace in spite of hands that made the espresso machine look like a toy, or just wanting a glimpse at the pipe running down his khakis that was conveniently around eye level and impossible to miss. If you were lucky, he liked you, and the timing was right, you could get an up close and personal experience. I was proud to say I was one of the lucky few ‘regulars,’ and in my recent metaphysically horny state, he had hit just the spot in one of the backrooms. Though it still, somehow, didn’t quite measure up to what Lee could throw down.
But now I was back in the evil snowglobe, feeling like I was facing punishment from sharing what I thought would be exciting new data.
“So, you just talked, and Synt followed suit?” asked Armand, jotting hurriedly into a notepad.
“Sort of? There was kind of a crescendo, maybe. Like Synt found a conduit through my vocal chords and we had to get into the groove. But I don’t think it’s automatic, like I couldn’t just say Armand grew–”
“Whoa whoa whoa, let’s slow down,” Armand cut in, hands splayed in caution. “Before you put a whammy on me, too.”
“I mean,” I gestured to his overstuffed crotch, “I kind of already did.”
“Oh! Oh wow,” Lee cut in, rubbing his chin as Armand stood speechless and gaped at his prodigious bulge. “But from your perspective, Armand, from both of our perspectives, it’s…”
“Always been that way,” Armand finished, cheeks reddening. “Or at least my entire adult life. It would make sense. I’ve never had a medical professional successfully explain my…condition. I just sort of got used to it, I guess. Or I was always used to it.”
“Exactly!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands. “So we’re getting it now. It’s all about multiplicities of temporal perspectives. We’re all just cosmic threads weavin’ around each other.” I tried to visualize this with a rushed jumble of hand motions, which unfortunately didn’t land with the other two. “But I could probably fix it. I think. Maybe. I don’t think Synt would be on board for a reduction of any sort, so we may have to strategize.”
“No, there’s nothing to fix. I mean, it’s a lot to deal with, but I really am cool with it. My dating life is a mess anyways, and once you get known as that guy with the sixteen inch dick, the luster kind of wears off. I don’t really know what it's like being…normal.”
“The methods are messy to say the least,” said Lee, “but we may be starting to get somewhere. As much as we would love to keep investigating, further tests might have to wait. The park ranger guys are sending over some artifact they found and I think they’re due any minute.”
As if on cue, a nervous tap on the door reminded the three of us that as much as we would like to play around with my shiny new body morphing, reality shifting chaos magic we all had other work to do. I was getting up to take the back exit and head upstairs when I felt a tug in the direction of our visitor. My attention was pulled by some strong magnetic force toward the door as whoever was trying to enter awkwardly began pushing it open. Unconsciously, my foot steps shifted direction as the attraction felt stronger and deeper. And oddly familiar. Eventually, I recognized this feeling as Synt having their interest piqued enough to guide me to physically move in that direction. I was not a fan of this new development in our dynamic, but decided to see where it led.
“You need some help?” I offered, trying to play it off as me moving to give them a hand with the door rather than me being compelled for yet another mysterious reason.
“Nah, I’m good,” came a familiar voice, and as the door fully opened, I recognized Blake’s ass as it entered the room before the rest of him. “It’s just hard to maneuver this thing.”
It took me a second to realize he didn’t mean the globes of his ridiculous bubble butt, becoming the undeniable center of attention as he backed through the doorway, but actually the cart he was pulling with him. As the door swung back and he casually bounced it away with one hip, I couldn’t stop staring. I thought at this point I would be used to comically ballooning backsides, his most of all, but it looked even bigger than it had last night. In fact, as he entered the room the rest of him looked bigger too. If the seams of his pants and shirt sleeves had been strained beyond all reason last night, then now he was one strong sneeze away from public nudity. I thought maybe it was just the change of scenery, like how fitness influencers will take advantage of good lighting to show off a juicy pump, but I was pretty sure he was…bigger. Lee and I exchanged glances as if to wordlessly reassure each other that we weren’t just imagining that Blake was noticeably taller than he had been last night. The subtle accusatory squint of his eyelids was returned by a sharp look of denial from me. This wasn’t me, I thought. Unless, possibly it was. Maybe the growth last night had a slow release function, or some sort of chain reaction.
I mentally relayed Lee’s suspicious squint to Synt, who responded with a deep rumble of appreciation. They had a fixation on Blake, I now realized, and those two teaming up could be a disastrous combination.
“You want this in the uh, special circle?” Blake gestured to the circumference of sigils which were now glowing with an even higher brightness and frequency. That can’t be good, I thought.
“Yeah, that’s fine until we figure out what to do with it,” said Armand. “What is it, by the way? The report they sent in was kind of muddled. But then again, so is everything from the Marshlands.”
That place again. I was transported back to some spot on the map that I couldn’t identify, felt pushed out of space and time. Threads weaving, fraying, overlapping, forming fractal patterns down to quantum scales, building higher dimensional frameworks of cross-temporal superpositions, all coming together right there–
“...so we couldn’t really even tell how old it is, which is where we hoped you guys would come in,” Blake was saying. “Palmer, you got any tips?”
I snapped back to reality at the mention of my name. I had spaced out again, unclear for how long.
“I, uh, need to get back to my office,” I said. “I can look into it once I have the preliminary analysis from Lee and Armand.”
“You sure?” Blake asked, in that way that wasn’t so much a question but an unspoken invitation. I found my shoulders relaxing and my mind wandering. His easy smile was so intoxicating, but there was also a glint in his eyes. A hunger, as he seemed to casually look me up and down, almost as if he was seeing through me. Synt was laser focused on Blake, a low pressure system of gathering power causing the sigils to change color, which I didn’t even know they could do. He clapped a strong hand against my bicep (when had he gotten that close) and said, “Anyways, always good running into you. Let me know what you find.”
Again, I felt that electric thrill run from his body into mine, except it was more like neurons firing. I had more clarity than last night and I could feel a complex undercurrent beneath that hunger, a need for something more, a vision of something bigger. The dam was once again threatening to burst, but I now had solid control over my own legs and began briskly heading to the door with a terse “Yep, I’ll keep you posted.”
I practically sprinted back up to my office, terrified of accidentally touching anyone for fear of producing another ten foot freakshow in the building for the second time that morning. My mind was a whirlwind of my own ever present horniness, mixed with Synt’s unrelenting power, and their clear frustration at being taken away from their favorite willing subject. Blake was becoming their muse, in some weird way, and we both needed a pressure valve. But underneath Synt’s frustration was something else. My own itch of power and possibility and the knowledge that I could so easily scratch it.
I tried to be productive at my desk that morning. My muscles would clench periodically as I held in waves of Synt’s magic, my body and mind fatiguing in the face of an unstoppable force. Taunting me, Synt would dangle images of possibilities so close within reach. How easy it would be for Blake to expand into a wall of juicy muscle, having to turn his body to get his shoulders through the doorway but having his bubble butt get stuck anyways. Armand was already cool with having a monster cock, maybe he’d appreciate an even twenty inches. That’d look amazing. And would it hurt to give Jamal a few more inches in height? Maybe even a foot? I imagined him walking into my office growing steadily taller, head bumping against the ceiling then punching through as plaster rained down–
I slammed my palms firmly on the table and stared for as long as possible at a wall of unread emails, comprehending not a single one.
“I need to get some air.”
—
I took the stairs and headed to the bike rack around the back of the building. Walking around aimlessly felt too risky in the state I was in. Too much proximity, too many opportunities for accidental direct contact. I had felt like I could see into Blake’s soul when he grabbed my arm, like I could’ve granted his wildest, horniest fantasies with a thought. I shivered at the knowledge that Synt would co-sign exactly this brand of recklessness. I felt like I was burning with static. I could practically see it dancing along my skin. I was in no condition to be milling about in a crowd until I got around to relieving even a fraction of this pressure.
“David!” hailed a voice nearby as I was squeezing on my helmet. I looked over to see Noah, my former student who had been blessed (or cursed) by Synt in more ways than one. Not only did he end up with a set of hips and ass cheeks that comically ballooned from his otherwise thin frame, but had also fallen into a pattern of stumbling into bigger and bigger dicks around town. I reasoned that the man with him was likely his latest beau, due not just to the hand wrapped around Noah’s tight waist, but the snake smuggled into his right pant leg. The spell, apparently, had not yet been broken.
“Noah!” I responded, “looks like you’re doing as well as possible after this last semester.”
“That’s one way to put it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “This reminds me, I need to chat with you again about that…positive feedback loop I’ve been dealing with.”
“I can imagine,” I winked, pretending not to notice the twitch of his acquaintance’s massive bulge as he shifted his hand down to rest on Noah’s round booty. Was Noah just magically happening on these already huge dicks or was he unknowingly bending reality every time he set his eyes on a new crush? Was there an upper limit? To any of this? Much to investigate, I thought, but resolved to cut the conversation short before my imagination once again got the best of me. “Shoot me an email, I’ve got plenty of time this week,” I said, speeding off away from campus.
I hadn’t had time to change into my cycling gear, not that those lycra shorts did anything to mitigate the size of my ass. I had made peace with the fact that my bodacious buns were simply always on display, in this instance encased in a skirt and tights, the bike seat completely disappearing beneath them. There wasn’t much I could do about it, and honestly, I liked the attention.
I felt free weaving through the city streets, regardless of the fact that I was fighting for my life against late morning traffic. It was a welcome respite from the stifling air of my office, the wind cooling me down and alleviating at least some of the magical irritation covering my entire body. I didn’t know where I was going, and didn’t really care. Plus, I was moving too fast to focus on any one person for long enough to give them an impromptu BBL. Instead, the cityscape just felt like waves of passing static, tiny glimpses of people’s fantasies and desires that were gone as soon as they were detected, with the occasional ping of attention from a pair of eyes that had locked on to my bubble butt as it cruised through their field of vision.
For the length of a few city blocks, one of these pings of focus didn’t seem to leave me, and as I came up at a stoplight I turned around to see another cyclist flashing me an awkward and quickly thrown together smile of greeting, as if to insist that he hadn’t just been ogling me up and down.
“Can’t blame ya,” I said with a smile and nod, plus a wink for good measure. He was cute. He looked like he was a bike messenger by the rectangular pack balanced behind his shoulders, the well developed forearms and quads, and a look of practiced exertion that said he wasn’t just out here for the endorphins. I was sure he was perpetually in a hurry, so I figured I should literally get out of his lane while on my metaphysically horny break from work.
I meandered right as he continued straight, letting my eyes linger on his meaty calves just long enough to almost crash headlong into a sporty coupe in a mediocre attempt at parallel parking. I swerved out of the way as he honked and yelled “Dick!” just loud enough for me to hear through the half rolled down driver's side window.
What I said in response was not my wittiest comeback or even the most well thought out public interaction, but I had to offer a counter while still within earshot. But as I yelled “Super dick!” back at the finance bro emerging from his car, I immediately regretted the decision, feeling Synt’s power slip through the ether.
“You know I didn’t mean that!” I said aloud to the otherworldly being in my head. “You don’t understand epithets? Metaphors and what not?”
They sent the impression of a lazy shrug.
“What does super dick even mean? Like what did that do?”
Another shrug.
I was worried. What did I just accidently curse this guy with? Should I go investigate? What would that even mean? I thought maybe I could fix whatever it was. Use some string of words to undo whatever it is I just did.
I circled the block, parking my bike in front of the fancy building my unsuspecting victim had presumably been about to enter. It looked like it probably had moderate security and I had no plan of entry, and was definitely not dressed like I had any important business downtown. Entering through the big glass revolving doors, I locked eyes with the security desk, trying to look as casual as possible on my approach while they gave me a bored once over. In my performance of nonchalance, I glanced to the left and breathed a sigh of relief as I spotted my mark at the register of a lunch place on the bottom floor. With a curt smile to security, I changed direction, slipping into the line of the sandwich shop.
In the bustle of the lunch rush, I spotted him sitting on a stool at the bar along the window, drinking a green smoothie, scrolling on his phone, and pulling out a small laptop. I kept my eyes on him as the line progressed, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but he was the image of business class normalcy, perched on his stool in a designer suit and tapping away at some spreadsheet.
I picked up my sparkling green tea and bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich (I actually was hungry) and found that one of the few available seats left was, luckily, right next to him.
Incredibly, he seemed to be unaware that I was the person who had almost taken off his side mirror with my right hip, studiously ignoring me as I ate my sandwich and glanced at my phone to see multiple texts from Lee. I opened the latest one but was interrupted by a grunt of discomfort from my new friend. He shifted in his seat and glanced briefly at me, his cheeks reddening slightly as he continued working. A few minutes later, another shift in position, chugging the rest of his smoothie before folding his hands into each other and resting his head against them. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he glanced around quickly and held himself in a tense position, trying to focus on his laptop screen.
When I was just about to return to whatever it was Lee felt the need to triple text about, he let out a heavy sigh as his breathing deepened, then glancing around again, carefully got up and turned towards me.
“Watch my stuff?” he asked tersely, the sheen of sweat on his face turning to visible beads.
That’s when I felt it. The now familiar resonant strum of reality warping magic that told me Synt’s power was at work.
“Uh, yeah,” I mumbled through bites of my sandwich, my eyes flitting down as I noticed a jump of movement along his pant leg.
“Thanks,” he grunted, turning to power walk to the bathroom, his bubble butt–which I didn’t remember being there before–swishing back and forth in his slacks.
I waited a solid twenty minutes–okay, more like fifteen–before following him to investigate further.
As I entered the bathroom, it was empty except for one occupied stall, the lemony scent of cleaning products overlaid with something musky and slightly metallic. There had been a soft moan coming from the occupied stall, which seemed to self-consciously quiet down in response to the sound of the door closing and my footsteps heading to one of the urinals. I did my business like normal as the moans slowly increased in intensity, interspersed with grunts and low utterances.
“Oof, fuck,” I heard a whisper, recognizing what little I had heard of the finance bro’s voice.
“Is everything okay in there?” I asked innocently with a light knock on the stall, knowing good and well some supernatural fuckery that I had personally caused was well underway.
“All good, I just–augghhhh!”
You’ll have to believe me when I say the stall door opened on its own.
My new friend was sitting on the toilet with his pants up and his fly open. He was breathing heavy and drenched in sweat, eyes widened in surprise as he saw me standing there, which shifted to a look of lust and urgent need as he drank me in. He seemed in visible distress, which probably had something to do with the rock hard dick that was reaching into the air just past his left shoulder.
“Sorry, I–” he was cut off as it seemed to jump up another inch, spurting a glob of precum that fell to the floor. His hands slid desperately up and down the length of his shaft, each one barely able to reach halfway around. With another spurt of pre, I noticed his fingers slightly pushed farther apart.
“It…it won’t stop until I…”
“Not my first rodeo,” I cut him off, entering the stall fully and closing the door behind me. “Do you mind if I help?” I asked, gesturing to his angry purple cockhead.
He nodded enthusiastically in relief and anticipation, his face contorting as another spasm hit.
Even with my repertoire of accidental and deliberate magical augmentations, I could only extend my jaw so far, struggling to make it several inches down his massive member, starting slow and building with intensity.
A little help here? I asked Synt, who responded with gusto, my mouth and throat suddenly seeming to defy the laws of physics as I eased farther and farther down the shaft. Finance bro was blissfully unaware of the pocket dimension that his dick had now fully disappeared into as his head lolled back in ecstasy.
“No one’s…been able to do this…in so long,” he muttered as his breath became erratic and he began involuntarily thrusting into me.
I worked my way diligently up and down, now moaning along with him in pleasure as I swallowed his impossible schlong. His whole body began to spasm with burgeoning orgasm, blasting several shots of jizz directly into my throat that I hungrily gulped, hoping whatever this pocket dimension situation was could also handle his huge load.
I pulled myself off his dick, his mushroom head emerging from my lips with a pop. But as his eyes rolled back and his breathing continued to crescendo, I realized he wasn’t done. Those had actually been the initial volleys to what turned into a geyser of cum, gushing uncontrollably against the wall for at least another thirty seconds, rope after rope splattering behind him as he tried desperately to bite back a primal scream that would have definitely alerted the rest of the establishment (and maybe even the offices above).
Finally, he spent his load, visibly exhausted. He leaned his head back as his dick began to mercifully deflate, landing softly on his face and leaving a trail of slime as it shrank to a much smaller, but massive by any other standards, flaccid state.
I heard a loud gurgle emanate from my belly full of jizz, along with a wave of disorientation that left me leaning against the wall for support. Noticing this, he came back to his senses, his blissed out grin fading into self-conscious clarity.
“This uh, happens sometimes,” he said, with an air of comically misplaced masculine professional decorum that was so out of place I may have actually laughed out loud.
“Sometimes?” I repeated, as he carefully maneuvered his donkey dick back into what looked like a specially made pouch running along his pant leg. My stomach gurgled again, louder this time, and the wave of disorientation came along with a full body spasm. I felt my muscles tensing and becoming denser with muscle as my body stretched against the fabric of my carefully fitted clothes, my ass expanding to press up against the door behind me. When I came back to my senses, I recognized the wave of disorientation as a sudden growth spurt, leaving me a couple inches taller. This might as well happen, I thought, taking note of how the top edge of the stall was now right at eye level. During my brief ordeal, finance bro had jumped up to support me with arms that were much stronger than they looked, a bold move seeing as I had already towered over him.
“...Yeah, no idea,” he said, as if referring to a WiFi outage and not a magnitude jumping jizz volcano baseball bat dick that also apparently had its own growth powers. “Hey, uh, text me sometime,” he added, then materialized a business card in his hand, and slipped it into my pocket. “You were amazing.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a jocular pat on my butt, then turned to stroll out of the bathroom like he hadn’t just painted the wall with cum.
Men. I managed to be exasperated in spite of being wildly horny, not to mention mildly worried about the magic mega wang that I had accidentally set loose on the city. Maybe I should follow up with him, just to fill him in on this whole situation, I thought. But it seems like he’s actually doing fine.
Mmhm, came a self-satisfied smirk from my companion.
I cleaned myself up as best I could, debating whether I should leave a tip with a note attached apologizing for the large puddle of jizz in the middle stall. As I looked myself over in the mirror, I noticed that while I had grown, it hadn’t been by that much in terms of basic physical metrics, but I seemed…more powerful. Like inherently I knew my musculature was much more capable than it looked–and it looked like I was verging on pro bodybuilder. “Super dick,” I mused, with a wry smile.
I came out to see my bathroom dalliance strolling coolly down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the window, heading back to the pretentious coupe that started all this. I tossed what was left of my lunch, walked out, grabbed my bike, and resolved to make it back to the office without incident.
—
Incident came ten minutes later as I pulled up to a stoplight and found myself parked behind my cyclist friend. Now it was my turn to fall into a trance at the sight of his toned, heart shaped bubble butt.
“Can’t blame ya,” he said with a wink.
And now it was my turn to blush as I was caught staring. My encounter with the finance bro had left me even more riled up with still no release, and I was losing any cool I thought I had.
“We’ve, uh, gotta stop meeting like this,” I said with a nervous chuckle as I caught his gaze.
“No, we can definitely keep meeting like this,” he retorted.
“Cute and confident,” I said. So it was a meet-cute. “Aren’t you at work right now?” I teased. “Or is the messenger bag just for show?”
“For you, I’m on break,” he said with a defiant smile.
“Oh so this is just your workout,” I replied, deciding to test the waters for a little fun. “You’re not skipping leg day apparently.”
“Look who’s talking!” he exclaimed with mock surprise. “You sure you’re not an Olympic cyclist with those yams?”
“Yams? It’s all aesthetic, you’ve definitely got me beat.”
And there it was. I felt Synt’s power slip out, my eyes widening in realization. How did I not catch that? I thought.
Time–the relative timespace of this conversation between me and my bike messenger crush–seemed to slow down and shift textures. Through Synt’s extrasensory abilities, I could again see timelines breaking, shifting, and reforming in the space around the cyclist’s lower half. His quads, hams, and glutes–especially glutes, I noticed–seemed to pixelate and come back together as they found the path of least resistance to match Synt’s interpretation of my command. I stared, awestruck, as his musculature seemed to inflate in real time as it moved through temporal lenses, his cargo pants adjusting along with the growing shelf of ass overtaking his bike seat, until suddenly they were replaced with lycra, stretched tight across a colossal booty. Still the same heart shaped ass, just scaled up and disproportionately juicy on top of some serious hamstrings.
“Haha, guess so,” he said, with the air of someone used to people staring blankly at his huge cakes. “Honestly, I thought this bike gig would slim me down some, but it just seemed to make things worse.” He patted one round cheek, sending a jiggle through his lycra shorts that could stop traffic.
The light changed, signaling that the meet-cute was drawing to a close.
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said. “Name’s Devon.”
“Uh, David,” I responded, as he kicked off and cruised through the green light. I stood entranced by the ass I had just magically inflated, before I got myself together and headed off in a different direction back towards my office.
You know I didn’t mean that, I said to Synt, who didn’t seem to care.
---
I did feel somewhat relieved as I jogged up the stairs of my building, yet still in persistent need of some sort of relief. Finding the door slightly open, I was pleasantly surprised to find just the person who could tide me over.
“Lee!” I exclaimed. “Thank god you’re here. You down for a quickie?”
“That’s not why I’m here,” he responded. “But, I mean, yeah,” he followed up, long dick jumping down his pant leg in anticipation. Lee lounged against my desk, his lithe body posted up casually as he flipped through some book that he had happened to grab off the shelf, probably bored waiting for my return. Instead of the usual easy smile with an undercurrent of indulgent lust, he looked all business, like he had an important message. “Did you get my emails? My texts?” he asked. “We had some…interesting preliminary findings from the artifact that Blake brought in. Wait, are you taller?”
“Interesting how?” I asked, stripping off my leggings before remembering to kick the door closed behind me. “And yes, I’ll fill you in on the latest.”
He shut the book, leveling a look of tentative excitement in my direction, briefly obscured as he whipped his shirt off. “We need to go do some fieldwork.”
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Your pandemic tummy was bothering you lately, and your new roommate took notice. You still didn’t know them very well, but they were studying bio-chemistry and suggested a custom supplement they were working on. They even promised the pill would flatten your waist in no time without a change in diet.
It sounded too good to be true, but they struck you as genuine and that paunch was getting on your nerves. What was the worst that could happen?
True to their word, a week after taking the pill, your waist was trim and your stomach was flat! You were even seeing the makings of abs.
What they didn’t mention initially was that the supplement was not designed to stop weight gain. After a week, it was obvious the weight you put on was shifting. Instead of a chubby stomach and a flat ass, you were developing a sleek waist and a bubble butt.
The supplements did have some side effects; heightened libido and sensitivity were definitely confirmed, and you couldn’t tell if you were getting addicted to the pills or your growing bottom.
All you knew was the more you ate, the more your butt filled out. You were having a blast shoveling dining hall food into your mouth to fuel your new obsession.
You’ve never felt more confident. And obviously, you offer your new dumptruck of an ass to your brilliant, considerate roomie as a thank you.
And to deal with that raging libido, of course. An ass like yours was meant to be used.
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Kings of the World: Caribbean Waves
Kai knew he was far above the rest. Born into money and power, he got everything he wanted, exactly when he wanted it. Women, cars, planes, food... all at the drop of a dime. He dressed in designer suits, which he constantly bragged about the price of. He wanted the whole world to bow to him, and worship the very ground he walked on.
This leads to Kai's 22nd birthday party, taking place in the Bahamas. He had invited five of his wealthiest friends, the only people he deemed worthy of associating with. They had spent the entire month on Kai's father's dime with women, watersports, booze, and dice, all leading up to one final drinking night on Kai's actual day of birth aboard his luxury yacht, moored to a private island. The party was too much: strippers dotted the decks, fireworks went off every half hour, loud music floated about, and poker chips poured like honey. Kai himself sat at the head table with his five rich friends.
"Here's to one more year of life!" Kai cheered, his voice slurring.
"Hear, hear!" His friends replied, and they all chugged down their liquor like it was water.
"Alright, guys, I've got the next round coming!" Kai shouted, as he dashed back to the bar... only something was amiss.
The scantily-dressed barwoman was nowhere to be seen. Instead, an absolute giant of an irishman stood behind the bar, dancing to the beat of the music. He wore no shirt, just a bowtie with a nametag reading "Dom," and short shorts, accentuating his enormous muscles. An easy smile sat on his face, accented by the enormous emerald earring in his right ear. Just by being in the room with the man, Kai felt a need to compete with him.
"Where's Chrissy?" Kai asked, a simmer of anger in his voice.
"Ach, she was feeling a tad ill, so she came to fetch me." The bartender replied in a soothing Irish accent. "Watcha looking for tonight?"
"Something powerful and special." Kai said. "You'd know a thing or two about that."
The bartender's smile twitched. "I think I got just the thing for a birthday boy like you. Little something from back home, you aught to enjoy it."
The bartender turned around, and started pouring a variety of liquors into a shaker, then dancing to mix it all up. Kai couldn't stop looking at his ass: while Kai was incredibly straight, he could easily tell that this man had a great, bouncy bubble butt. His pecs too were incredible, the girls should be all over him-- why weren't they?
The bartender brought the shaker right up to his enormous left pec, opened it up, and dumped something in it that Kai couldn't see. He then presented the drink into a tall tankard. It was a sparkling emerald green, unlike any drink Kai had seen before.
"What is this shit?" Kai groaned.
"Special recipe of mine. You'll learn to make it yourself, someday."
"As if. People make my drinks, not the other way around."
Kai took a big swing of the emerald drink, chugging it all in one go. Instantly, he could feel his insides bubbling.
"Did you poison me?!" Kai screamed, but was inaudible over the clamor of the party.
"Nope." The bartender said. "Enjoy." And with that, he vanished.
Kai ran to the restroom as his muscles began burning and pulsing with new strength. He could barely make it to the bathroom before he began to shake, shiver, moan, and grow.
As Kai grew, a single thought entered his head.
My behavior is not suited for a King.
----------
Kai's friends were starting to wonder where their leader had gone, when suddenly, a single text appeared on their phones.
Kai: Everyone, come down to the island. There's someone you need to meet.
The group stumbled to the beach, where a single man awaited them, carrying four drinks with him. He was enormous, seven feet tall, and was a stunning example of peak masculinity. He was clearly from the islands around here: his beautiful, dark skin reflected the setting sun perfectly, while saltwater trickled through his tight curls, mustache, and goatee. His gigantic, bouncy, fuckable pecs sat atop a tight muscle gut, indented with the turtle-shell pattern of abs. His biceps outsized his head, and were crisscrossed with a pattern of veins showing his strength. His legs would have been incredibly oversized on any other man, but on him, they were glorious, perfect cylinders striated with pure strength, able to cut through water with ease. His ass was a perfect breeding site for any cock able to work its way past his thick muscle cheeks. An inviting aroma of saltwater and musk wafted from him, beckoning the boys over. It assaulted their nostrils, the scent unimpeded by clothes, for this beach hunk wore only a speedo and a necklace of purest silver. It smelled divine, and although these boys were straight before, this musk was worth far more than any feeble heterosexuality. They almost climbed over each other to get closer to the man.
"Now, now," The beach hunk said. "We can take me in some other time; I'm not the important one here. What is important, is you."
"What do you mean?" One of the rich boys asked. "You're perfect!"
"And you can be too." The beach hunk replied. "You boys want a drink?"
"Yes?" Another rich boy said.
"I made them myself," The beach hunk said, gesturing to the drinks in his hands. They gleamed a pure silver, like liquid mercury.
"From this big boy down here." He continued, patting the massive cock straining to break free of his speedo.
By this point, every single boy had a raging-hard on. They needed to know what this man tasted like. They dashed over to the beach hunk, and each grabbed a glass from the man's enormous hands, and drank the whole thing in one gulp each.
Instantly, their bodies expanded. Their thighs grew from twigs to tree trunks, laced with power. Their arms mirrored their King's, bursting with strength the size of coconuts. Their abs, one by one, popped into existence, forming tight eight-packs on all of their cores.
Soon, one boy started noticing how hot his neighbor was getting. While the beach hunk was a true being of masculinity, his friend was definitely becoming capable of rivaling him. He reached over to his friend's chest, and touched his nipple--
And suddenly, his friend's chest ballooned past almost every letter of the alphabet with mass, growing larger and darker and more sensitive, until his pecs were just as bouncy and voluptuous as his King's.
"B-bro..." He moaned. "I... I need you to touch them..."
His fellow transformee showed no slowness as he latched his rapidly-expanding hands onto his friend's enormous muscle tits, pawing and kneading the muscle and nipple. His friend moaned with pleasure. How could his chest feel so good?
The other two had noticed what their friends were doing, and immediately joined in. One began worshipping another's ass, while the final one began giving his friend a blowjob. Soon, their asses and dicks had all expanded into pillars and beautiful mounds of dark flesh, sensitive and plush, perfect for kneading. The friends grew closer and closer together, their hair darkening and tightening as they went, until they had all become a massive literal clusterfuck. Each man was sucking a nipple, taking a dick, fucking an ass, all in the most intense pleasure any of them had ever felt in their life.
Though, eventually, it was all too much. They felt their load coming right from their new enormous bull balls... and they just couldn't hold it any longer. In a burst of cum, they all released each other, panting on the sand in their beautiful new forms.
King Kai knew his new boys would make great citizens of his kingdom, but there was still much work to be done. He would go about this subtly, with his own line of drinks laced with kingly fluid. Soon, the islands would be peaceful, and everyone would live freely and without strife.
#male tf#male transformation#jock tf#race change#latino tf#black tf#bear tf#butt growth#pec growth#straight to gay#kings of the world
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Eating well
#fat belly#fatboy#fatass#fat#im a fatty#fatty#cute fatty#the fatter the better#before and fatter#i want to be fatter#big fatty#gay fat boy#fatty belly#butt growth#boy moobs#fatty piggy#gay fatty#stuffed fatty#fatty getting fatter#belly expansion#feedee belly#obese belly#belly gainer#fat piggy#get me fatter#gay gainer#gaining fat#gainer boy#gaining weight on purpose#need to be fatter
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A Tight Fit (Butt expansion)
Mia had finally sorted through her Christmas presents when she found a strange box she didn’t remember opening on Christmas morning. As she lifted the lid off, she found a pair of jeans that looked to be in her size.
Mia shrugged as she retreated to the bathroom to try them on. She slipped her bare feet into the leg holes and hiked the stretchy jean material up before buttoning it to complete the fit.
“Ooh it’s a tight fit!” Mia exclaimed before she felt a warm spread through her lower half and spread to her womanhood.
That’s when things began to change for Mia. Her butt began to stretch and balloon outward, growing bigger as the jeans stretched to accommodate. As her ass grew, so did her level of arousal as she tried to unbutton the jeans with increasing desperation to take them off and masturbate but to no avail.
As her trembling hands grabbed the sides of her jeans, her crotch wet with her own lusty lubrication, Mia wondered what would finish first, her or her ass’ growth spurt.
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The urge to have someone lay on my lap
#me#gif#honestly please#right now#growing#growth#butt growth#expansion#butt expansion#thick hips#thick legs#thick thighs#squishy#soft#pillow#dm
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Hmm... Male Model fattens up walking down the runway?
Size: Husky
Logan looked down at the getup he was wearing with bemusement.
These “artistic” designers always manage to find a way to have me looking like a clown, He thought with a derisive snort. The lithe, hairless blonde was wearing nothing but a pair of suspenders on his shirtless torso, They were holding up a pair of grey plaid slacks made of a sinfully expensive wool.
They were about 3 sizes too large.
Though they were clearly very well made, they pooled on either side of his slim hips unflatteringly, making his athletic body look scrawny.
Maybe he’s making a statement about plus sized models or something, Logan laughed inwardly. But he didn’t have too much time to consider it, as a bearded, portly dude with stage blacks and clipboard directed him toward the runway.
Logan strutted out with his best model face on, hoping his poise and looks would distract from the clown pants he had on. Cameras flashed and he smirked invitingly as he reached the end of the catwalk. He posed, posed, then strutted back toward the backstage. When he reached the dude with the clipboard, the guy smiled, but his eyes looked cold.
“Let’s try that again…” He said darkly and pressed a finger between Logan’s eyes and-
Logan strutted out with his best model face on, hoping that his training and bone structure would distract from the ridiculous outfit he had on, not to mention the fact he was sucking in a little bit of puppy weight. Cameras flashed, and he tried his best not to think about the slight jiggle he could feel around his hips as he reached the end of the catwalk. He posed, posed, then strutted toward the backstage, praying the folds of the oversized pants hid that his muscular butt was starting to take a turn for the doughy. When he reached the dude with the clipboard, the guy smiled, but his eyes looked cold.
“Hmm, it’s a start, but why don’t you take another turn?” He reached toward Logan’s face, and for some reason the model wanted to pull away but-
Logan strutted out with his best model face on, hoping that his stage presence and thin-looking face would distract from the ridiculous outfit he’d had on, along with the fact that he had put on fifty pounds since his last show. Cameras flashed and he tried his best not to kick himself over forgetting to manscape as he reached the end of the catwalk. His torso was covered in hair, and his face had a patchy beard, both a dark blonde. He posed, posed, then strutted toward the backstage, cringing inwardly as his soft ass bounced in rhythm with the pulsing music. When he reached the dude with the clipboard, the guy smiled, but his eyes looked cold.
“You’re sooo close! Once more?” He reached toward Logan’s face, and his confusion was overtaken by a deep primal instinct that told him to run before-
Logan strutted out with his best model face on, fully confident that he was the hottest dude at this show. Cameras flashed and he smirked invitingly, secure in the knowledge that his hirsute wideness and thick blonde beard made him look like the Viking warrior he knew he was. As he reached the end of the catwalk. He rubbed his giant hairy gut with one meaty paw, snapping a suspender against one of his soft, conical pecs with the other. He flexed his big arms, and strutted toward the backstage, knowing the photographers were getting an eyeful of how great his giant ass looked in these pants. When he reached the dude with the clipboard, the guy smiled, and his eyes crinkled.
“You did great big guy! Ready to head home?”
Logan smiled back, framed beautifully by his plump cheeks and sculpted beard.
“Sure babe, but can we swing by the designer and ask if I can purchase these? They fit me so well!”
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Just ignore it - 3
David realizes he may have overestimated his ability to handle the newly adopted deity in his head. In trying to figure out how to direct an unlimited supply of body transforming chaos magic, he discovers the power of words, leading to some interesting developments at the bar and in Lee's lab.
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MaleTF // Ass growth // Dick growth // Growth // Suggestion // nsfw
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A Tuesday night during Winter Break was not the liveliest time at our usual haunt, the Cockatrice, but Lee and I weren’t complaining. We could gossip and scheme in peace in our back corner booth, a spot we so consistently occupied that the bartender, Jaime, jokes that our butt prints are permanently in the seats–which, in light of recent events, is probably true. As Lee had pointed out to my chagrin, the hemispheres of my ass had successfully carved out a noticeable dip in the cushion that would set a normal man off balance. Yet another reason the back corner booth was consistently ours to occupy. With the semester having ended and most of our colleagues having fled town as soon as grades were submitted, it was especially sparse, except of course, for the new regular to our little booth chats, Blake.
I had given just the essential details to the class about the extra dimensional reality warper that was seemingly auditing for most of the term, winning their silence with automatic As, no term paper, and any reference or letter of rec for any reason. I made myself available as a resident expert if they wanted to learn more about this exciting new research opportunity tied to my being through the astral realm. And of course, if they needed guidance on any unintended side effects, from wardrobe malfunctions to unwanted attention. Noah, for one, had developed a similar level of insatiability as my own and was tearing through every available hung top in the city, but had also developed a knack for coming across progressively bigger and bigger dicks; a pattern that was verging on unrealistic. I made a note to investigate further, but encouraged him to just slow down before we had an epidemic of dicks just as unwieldy as my superhung fuckbuddy sitting across from me.
The rest of the semester was relatively uneventful after I explained the situation. I decided I might as well use it as a teaching tool, one of the more extreme examples of what one might encounter in this line of work. I didn’t name Logan, though, for the risk of him drawing the ire of his colleagues. However, after some initial discomfort and surprising ambivalence, they were mostly okay with the changes, even appreciative, though they may not admit it directly. But golden boy park ranger Blake was especially enthusiastic, not to mention deeply interested in all these magical happenings. To the point where his own disproportionately meaty butt was leaving its own comical imprint in the booth next to my own.
Blake became a fixture of our weeknight scene, eager for the latest updates from Lee’s lab, which had begun to research the power of my new mental roommate. Trying to understand the unfathomable deity living in my head was slow going, but I had figured out that while they don’t have a name for themself, or really a concept of naming that makes sense to us, they deigned to experiment with some sort of grammar of identification, a small part of which is interpretable in our dimension as Synt. Blake was usually in the field during the day, so would join us after hours to get caught up, even going so far as to jot down notes and ask questions we hadn’t even thought of. He was a de facto research assistant, and at the very least this whole ordeal had gotten someone actually interested in our little corner of the world. Apparently, he’d also been chatting with Logan about some mystical archival work (I really should pay more attention to what Logan actually does). But this evening he was getting excited about his own neck of woods (pun intended) with something brewing in a local forest reserve.
“It’s one of the old ones that got absorbed into the current system when they modernized it,” said Blake, leaning forward slightly with an air of playful conspiracy, his dense biceps straining against the cuffs of his sleeves. “Not entirely public property, but not really owned by anyone anymore either. We basically have de facto jurisdiction,” a phrase he pronounced with uncertainty, “over the Marshlands.”
I wasn’t familiar with this place–admittedly I didn’t get out enough–but I dissociated as a vague image popped up on my mental map of the region, carrying a resonance that felt like a string being plucked. As I sat with this, I was aware that Blake and Lee were carrying on a conversation without me but sound and light went slightly opaque as I tried to focus on this image of…a forest clearing? And some figures that looked suspiciously like–
“Palmer!” I was brought fully back to reality by a forceful slap on the shoulder from our park ranger friend sitting next to me. Blake quickly had an apologetic look on his face that said he hadn’t quite figured out his own strength.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “Zoned out. What’d I miss? The forest?”
“Nah, we moved on to the BBL allegations,” said Lee, with a smirk.
“I’m just sayin’ my leg days are legendary these days,” said Blake, hands splayed in mock humility. “I don’t blame ‘em for thinking something’s up. You know it’s real because I keep maxing out machines at the gym and having to scrounge up more and more plates. It’s starting to draw attention,” he chuckled.
“There’s still a lot we don’t know about the changes that Synt caused,” I offered, mentally putting on my researcher hat.
“Is still causing,” interjected Lee.
“Yes, still,” I said, suddenly feeling very self conscious. When I invited Synt to give Logan a break and join forces with me, I may have overestimated my ability to keep them reined in, and it was becoming a full time project just to keep their power from leaking out into this world at a reasonable trickle. Most of the time, I could relieve little bits of pressure here and there, resulting in acquaintances and strangers getting a little boost in passing; something to fill their pants a little more that they wouldn’t complain about. This got tricky when it comes to people I was not only intimate with, but vulnerable with. Hence why Lee’s lithe, muscular form not only filled the other side of the booth but looked downright ethereal. And yet another reason Blake enjoyed spending happy hours parked right next to me. He was, after all, enthusiastic about the situation.
“Not that I’m complaining,” said Blake. He leaned towards me slightly with a smile that was verging from friendly to flirtatious. “I look better than I ever have. Better than I thought was even possible, all thanks to our mutual friend.” He gave me (and Synt) a wink, allowing his ripped forearm to brush lightly against mine before pulling back at the static shock that visibly–and possibly audibly–jumped the centimeter between us.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no problem’,” he said, getting up and turning to the bar. “Y’all want anything?”
“I’m already at my limit,” I said, “but thanks.”
“Two-drink Tuesday,” added Lee, holding up his index and middle finger, as if that wasn’t something he had just made up. Nevertheless, I appreciated the support. Getting shlammered is no longer an option when you have immediate access to an unbelievable reservoir of chaos magic. Something Lee was constantly reminded of by the trouser snake bulging down the length of his left pant leg.
What didn’t help the situation was that Blake was really taking his time in getting to the bar, swishing his hips back and forth as he moseyed over to Jaime. The park ranger uniforms are a flattering, relaxed fit, but Blake was bursting out of his. The khakis were stretched tight across his bubble butt and quads and the button up couldn’t be buttoned all the way against the mass of his pecs and shoulders. He was a wall of dense muscle, body so sculpted from the realm of fantasy that it was almost a crime for him to even try to wear clothes in the first pl–
I knew what he was doing. He, obviously, knew what he was doing. And most importantly, the reality-altering minor god that had tied themself to me knew full well what he was doing.
We can’t keep doing this, I said to my mental roommate. He’s getting hooked.
Hooked? came a voice like tectonic plates sliding against each other.
Like, he’s enjoying these changes too much. He keeps trying to grow more and more, I worry he might go too far.
Too far? It had become clear that they had no conceptualization of what this meant, but they were starting to figure out what one might call moderation. I felt a small nudge of encouragement as if right behind my shoulder blades, but a small nudge from Synt was like a cruise ship lightly tapping against a wooden pier.
Okay, but just a little, I thought. It’s about finesse, just like we practiced.
Synt was a powerhouse to say the least, and I wasn’t so much tapping into their reservoir of chaos magic as I was slightly loosening a small pressure valve. My fingertips sparked lightly as I felt the peculiar taste of raw possibility in my mouth, like a battery on the back of my tongue that crackled down around my vocal chords. I was focusing on Blakes’s broad shoulders and muscular backside at the bar. His overdeveloped glutes defied gravity, perched like two globes above his hamstrings.
“Those could really do some damage,” I muttered under my breath. I imagined him at the gym, maxing out the machines as a warmup, having to stack weight after weight just to get a good pump. The blood rushing to his strained muscles as they repaired themselves supernaturally fast, swelling against the overstressed fabric until it couldn’t take anymore. At the bar, Blake was adjusting his waistband surreptitiously, his massive butt seeming to grow in real time to match my slapped together tipsy fantasy until finally his work pants began to give way, splitting open in a few spots to hint at a pair of bright green bikini briefs fighting for its life over his round cheeks. Much to his chagrin–but eventually to his delight–whoever he was chatting it up with failed to take notice of his sudden growth. His hand had left Blake’s hip to adjust his own crotch, which was displaying a surprising, and apparently uncomfortable, bulge.
I maybe shouldn't have done this two drinks in. I was going for more juicy pump and less wardrobe malfunction. And I didn’t even predict the spillover effect in this new beau who just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Maybe I wasn’t being focused enough, maybe it was some sort of daisy chain from their erotic connection, maybe Blake was figuring out how to re-route the chaos magic with which I had touched him. But as he apparently took notice, he played it off, turning his fat ass to squish against the bar as he faced out, glancing my way with an appreciative wink.
“He can’t keep getting away with this,” said Lee, an amused tone entering his voice. Lee had caught on to Blake’s little trick early on and found it more funny than concerning. “He pulled a fast one on you again!” he laughed.
“He’s kind of doing me a favor,” I reasoned. At least I had a willing participant to let some of the pressure off while honing this new ability. “But he could just ask me directly.”
“Well where’s the fun in that?” asked Lee, his eyes dreamily following Blake’s ass as his new friend let him into the cool winter evening, presumably to explore their respective new assets at one of their places. His eyes flicked back to me as he danced across the word fun, and I tried to evade losing myself in the chocolate brown depths of his irises, captivated by a gaze that had become hypnotic. I didn’t get very far as I began to trace the curvature of his plump lips, the rightmost third of the bottom one lost behind a row of playfully biting teeth.
This was a game we had begun to play and one I would inevitably lose. He knew what he was doing. He knew I knew that he knew what he was doing. It hadn’t taken me long to realize that a side effect of the changes in Lee was that he was beginning to have a draw on people that was hard to resist. It hadn’t taken Lee long to realize that whenever I released Synt’s erotic power into the world, I needed to in turn release my own. Hot and bothered would be an understatement, the recent double whammy in tandem with the pheromones coming from my friend across the booth were sending me into overdrive. And judging by the way Lee kept shifting in his seat, he was in a similar state of excitement.
Apparently Two-drink Tuesday also gets its name from the fact that we can’t make it to a third round without fucking each other’s brains out. Soon enough, I’m plopping my fat ass onto a table in a half forgotten supply closet that makes for a decent hookup space if you’re cool enough with Jaime. It was one of the plastic folding ones that are always already old and whose supports were groaning under my weight. The ambient light from the bar that made it down the hallway framed Lee’s expansive form as he lumbered in behind me, round shoulders rising just past the level of the door frame as he ducked in. God he was massive. As he pushed the door closed behind him, sliding us into complete darkness, I could still feel his outline moving toward me, as if he produced his own luminescence just outside of the visible spectrum.
The bass of his voice filled the room as he chuckled, coming in for a deep kiss and sliding his fingers under the waistband of my leggings as our tongues danced. He was hungry. He pushed me back onto the table as he pulled my thighs toward him. The radiant heat coming off of his crotch became all the more enticing in the chill of the back room, tingles of pleasure echoing from my hole in anticipation. I arched my back as his fingers from one hand traced along my spine, the other tenderly beginning to peel the waistband of my leggings down the curves of my hips. His hands, at this point, were the size of dinner plates but moved with surprising grace. I could feel him resisting the urge to tear the fabric clean off as he struggled to get it over my colossal cakes and tree trunk thighs. A performance of agonizing slowness that had become part of our usual foreplay.
With my hole finally exposed, he slid in one finger, then two, opting for nimbleness and dexterity in light of the brute force that I knew was coming. He worked with a light touch, loosening me up as he undid his pants and slowly slid them off, bending slightly to finagle his prodigious cock free. I regretted not having hit the lights. The slow reveal of his member was a sight to behold, even in the weak fluorescence of the store room. With a grunt, I heard his pants fall to the floor, followed by a thwack against the underside of the cheap plastic table. I briefly fantasized about Lee’s gargantuan cock lifting the entire table with me on it, entertaining the notion that I really could make that happen if I wanted to.
Don’t you? Came a deep rumble from my psyche, the familiar crescendo of energy as Synt’s attention was piqued.
Don’t you start, I warned, still thinking of Blake and his now very well endowed friend. Finesse, subtlety, I added, knowing full well Synt cared nothing for the concept.
But didn’t I? In the haze of lust, I couldn’t shake the hypothetical of Lee with a truly impossible monster cock, and a corresponding body that shattered doorways rather than ducking through them. Was it Synt’s idea or my own? Was there a difference?
I was brought back to the present by a sudden absence. My hole ached with need as Lee’s meaty fingers were withdrawn, moving to caress my torso as he maneuvered his unwieldy dick into place, stroking up and down he pumped out a steady stream of slick precum. He was already starting to moan softly as he slowly worked inch after inch after inch of his schlong inside of me. Ever the scientist, he had last measured his growth at 15.25 inches, but personal experience told me it had definitely grown a little more since then. He settled into a steady pace, holding my body gingerly with his strong arms, leaning in periodically to nuzzle against my lips.
“Is that good?” he asked.
“Harder,” I muttered, the pleasure from his cock stretching my walls only leading to a deeper and deeper need.
“Like this?” he said, picking up the pace, letting more of his strength come through as he thrust into me.
“Harder,” I breathed, feeling the familiar taste of power, the crackle across my throat.
“Mmhm,” said Lee, audibly putting in some effort as he pounded into me, his gigantic hands digging into the globes of my ass cheeks, giving them a hard slap periodically.
“Harder,” I grunted, feeling some sort of release as I had the acute image of Lee’s pelvis corded with muscle, his hips and glutes flexing with vascularity as he pumped with inhuman power.
He made a sound that was some cross between confusion and pleasure, losing control as he jackhammered into me with animalistic lust. He dug his hands in under my thighs and lifted me up bodily, impaling me on his dick as his hips went into overdrive. He roared as both of us reached climax, shooting ropes of cum as his hips continued to buck involuntarily. After the last shudders of orgasmic release, he slowly came back to his senses, pulling his softening dick out of my hole.
“Was that…you?” he asked, his hands exploring a slightly more developed muscularity than what had been the reality earlier that night.
“...I think so.”
—
I found myself in Lee’s lab early the next morning reflecting on what exactly had developed last night. Of course I was used to dipping into Synt’s power to change people, but this was different. More direct in a way I couldn’t put my finger on.
Lee was bouncing around with some extra pep in his step, his usual lumbering movements now imbued with much more grace and poise. One would find it hard to believe that just 12 hours previous he was rearranging my guts with wild abandon. His bubble butt filled out his form fitting khakis, glute and hip muscles becoming all the more apparent every time he squatted down to look at something more closely with his co-PI, Armand. At 5’6”, Armand was almost two feet shorter than the literal giant with whom he ran the paranormal research lab in the basement of the Center. I sat patiently, coffee in hand, watching them navigate the space and prep things for that morning’s procedures.
Lee and Armand had taken it upon themselves to help me study how Synt’s power worked and what kinds of research implications it might have. Lee was wildly enthusiastic about the possibilities presented by the deity in my head whose capabilities were seemingly only limited by the imagination of the host. Armand, if a little annoyed by being there earlier than the start of their usual workday, was more interested in how this development, if presented the right way, could secure some more reliable long-term research funding for the entire institute.
After all, the lab could use a makeover. It was kind of a drab, slapdash mix of alchemical and traditional scientific instruments, slowly cluttering into a maze of in-progress and semi-forgotten projects and experiments. One wall was an entire blackboard covered in a collage of equations, mathematical proofs, ancient grammars, bits of poetry, and a running list of takeout places that after many late night deliveries knew Lee and Armand by name. It at least drew the eye away from the rest of the color scheme, which consisted of specific shades of blue and sherbet-beige that one might see at a hospital or some sort of mystical DMV. But it was Lee’s high voltage magic lab. A cleanroom as he calls it.
I was crammed into an office chair at the center of a circle whose circumference featured sigils across multiple human and inhuman languages, each one glowing and fading lightly in slow sequence. I know a protective ward when I see one, and this formed an invisible, magically impermeable sphere. I sat in the middle of the snow globe, wondering what might get knocked loose were someone to come along and shake it, as Lee and Armand set about their final preparatory tasks. Lee was adjusting the angles of what looked like modified environmental sensors, following the wires back to his desktop to check that they were working. A cluster of wires ran not along the floor, but up to the ceiling and above the circle, dropping down and hooking into a brain scan helmet that sat lightly on my head. Armand was fiddling with what was certainly a decades-old fax machine, outputting a slow but continuous stream of paper while chittering softly to itself and occasionally jotting down little dots and symbols. According to Armand, it’s a device that “picks up magical grammars in ambient space and translates them into textual data for further analysis,” but I still think it just looks like a fax machine. He was not amused by this.
Our routine many mornings was me in the evil snow globe, relaying messages between Lee, Armand, and Synt as they tried to experiment with ways to activate, measure, or at least gather data on the texture of Synt’s magic. Bursts of erotic, body morphing energy were beyond impressive, but wildly unpredictable, and the research team wanted to start small and controlled. We had made little to no progress. It’s not exactly a thing that I can just turn on and off and Synt doesn’t particularly care or even see the point of all this. These little science experiments are a blip on their radar and we probably seem like anxious primates hitting things with sticks. Which to a certain extent is true.
This morning was no different than the others. After enough failed attempts and false positives, Lee sighed, shaking his head at the monitor perched on his modified standing desk.
“I need some caffeine,” he yawned, loping off toward the exit and, I assumed, the coffee shop on the ground floor upstairs.
I was left with Armand, standing hands on hips, staring intently at his fax machine as if, with enough silent pleading, it may just start speaking English. It continued its indecipherable chittering, spitting out snippets of static on the page.
“Did you get a fax?” I asked. “From the cosmos?” widening my eyes for emphasis.
“It’s not–we’re getting basically background radiation and ambient noise. Nothing that really tells us anything,” he said, turning to glance at Lee’s computer. Armand awkwardly adjusted his lab partner’s standing desk, waiting impatiently for it to lower to his height. Eventually, he relented and grabbed a step stool just so he could read the data, shooting me an annoyed glance at having to have an audience for what seemed like a daily ordeal between them.
“So you didn’t feel anything this whole session? No surges of otherworldly power?” he asked.
“I felt hungry,” I responded. “Haven’t heard much from Synt.”
“But Lee said yesterday evening you did it without even trying,” said Armand, scratching the scruff on his chin in thought.
My heart skipped a beat as I imagined Lee informing Armand about how he got his new power thrust pelvis as if it were anecdotal data, before I realized, “Oh, you mean Blake!”
“Yeah, that was his name. The park ranger guy. He’s been emailing me about some abandoned site out in the forest, I need to look into it. But you changed him just by what? Thinking about it?”
“Thinking isn’t really an apt descriptor of what Synt does,” I thought out loud. Armand had settled into a flat footed squat in front of the cosmic fax machine, on the edge of the ring of sigils. He was staring not quite at me, but at the space around me, as if Synt might materialize from my aura. “Sometimes it feels like the way their mind works is itself a sort of manipulation of space and time. Maybe the way all of our minds work, when you think about it.” The fax sputtered something out, but I couldn’t tell if it was in agreement or dissension. Armand’s eyes glanced at the printout then back at me.
“But you channeled that manipulation deliberately, right? Not just specifically to Blake, but specifically to his glutes.”
“Not just that, but yeah. I sort of focused the energy and…released.”
“And what did that feel like?”
“Like…singing?” The familiar feeling danced around my vocal chords. Synt perked up in anticipation.
“Singing. Ok.” Armand began to bounce slightly in his deep squat, which I’d come to realize meant he was on to something. As he mulled over this new bit of information, his eyes traced one of the sigils on the floor. Mine, however, were locked on to the bulge made more prominent by his stance. I could always tell Armand was packing something, and under ‘normal’ circumstances his bulge would be the focus of anyone’s attention, but it was an afterthought with Lee carrying around an unmistakable pipe in his pants.
“Have you done any work on metaphysical harmonics?” he asked.
“I’ve taught the basics, but it’s not something I deal with a lot in my research,” I said. “Bouncing different planes and dimensions off of each other by fiddling with the right frequencies and resonances, that sort of thing.”
“I’ll have to dust it off, but I think we do have the equipment for it,” said Armand. “Maybe instead of brute force reality shifting, Synt is actually doing something much more subtle and graceful, like moving through the pages of a higher dimensional flipbook. Which would explain why Lee, for one, is so good at carrying such big…changes.”
I don’t know why I said what I said next. I had that taste of possibility on my tongue and you know who was pushing at the back of my consciousness, dangling a small invitation to play with the warp of the universe, compelling me to blurt out “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got him beat.” With a wink no less.
A few things happened. One, I did manage to catch the feeling of that spark of power in my throat being released in a very specific direction, straight to the crotch which I had been trying to not look at in my early morning haze. Two, the fax machine printed out what looked like a poem of some mix of text, symbols, and glyphs before proceeding to rewind the spool of paper on its own and carry on printing blanks like nothing happened.
And three, while Armand was watching his precious sensor apparatus misbehave yet again, the bulge in his slacks began to bulge even more. Like, really bulge, unspooling down his leg. To the naked eye, it looked like he was somehow oblivious to the fact that his dick was expanding in real time to over twice the amount of space it had just been taking up in his chinos, the mushroom head becoming distinct against the fabric and his balls alone putting catastrophic pressure on the stitching along the seam. Except, if one would look closer–though that would be rude–they might notice the seam continuously adjusting on its own.
I watched his package inflate as he seemingly didn’t register the changes at all. But through the other sight of Synt’s perspective, it was as if the area around his crotch, and to a lesser extent the area around his body was pixelating, shifting, and falling back into place piece by piece over and over again, resulting in a visibly larger and larger bulge until…what?
You’ve got him beat, said Synt, quoting my earlier comment with what felt like a sly smile. I had been through enough by now to know that the next move was not to investigate the prodigious member in front of me but instead reflect on the timeline–New? Altered? Unclear–that I now found myself in.
“I guess you’re right,” said Armand, “but Lee still wears it better.”
I guess I had gotten relatively used to it because we were co-workers, but Armand has by far one of the biggest dicks I’ve ever seen. Not that I had ever actually seen it, but the bulge snaking down his leg was obscene on his small frame. Even with what I assume were tailored pants, it was unavoidable and unwieldy, drawing stares and even comments in public, much to introverted Armand’s annoyance. I kind of felt bad for the guy. Rumor has it that when fully erect it’s a whopping 16 inches, somehow just slightly bigger than Lee’s schlong, which though impossible to miss, still blended in better on a frame that was two feet taller.
If what Armand had surmised was true, and Synt had let their hands play across a multidimensional keyboard, then we had been moving through proximal dimensions in which Armand wasn’t actually growing, but simply had a bigger and bigger dick for whatever reason, following the path of least resistance until he arrived at a size that beat Lee’s, and my offhand comment proved true. I loosely wondered when Noah would get his hands on him, if he hadn’t already.
Armand rose out of his squat to head to the board and add the metaphysical harmonics angle to the parking lot of working hypotheses. His gait was wider and a little awkward, but he wasn’t adjusting to his new size so much as he had already been used to it for years. Had I progressed to what Synt had been doing in my class this past semester? Moving beyond brute force changes and reworking the time stream itself? What else had I inadvertently changed about Armand’s life? What other elements of his social, romantic, or work lives had been altered in unpredictable ways by his inexplicably massive cock?
I needed more caffeine. As Lee came strolling back into the lab, I rushed past him, bounding up the side stairwell to the ground floor and the conveniently placed coffee shop. This wasn’t the most high traffic part of campus, so even during the morning rush, the baristas were bleary eyed and underwhelmed, snapping awake as I lumbered up to the counter.
“Oh, hi, what can I, uh, get started for you?” asked a barista across the counter who was not one of the usuals, made obvious by the fact that he clearly did not expect to be staring up at a man in leggings and a plaid skirt who loomed a full head taller than him.
“Just a dirty chai, and can you throw in an extra espresso shot…Jamal?” I asked, leaning awkwardly to read his nametag.
“Gotcha!”
I still felt disoriented, standing in a sleepy coffee shop having just manipulated space and time through the power of horniness. We may have finally cracked the code for at least a piece of the mechanism of what Logan had been doing originally on accident. The implications were staggering for our understandings of physics, metaphysics, reality itself. I had no idea how far the possibilities went and it sent a chill down to spine to think of what could happen on accident, let alone on purpose, but to be honest I felt powerful. And incredibly horny.
The familiar aftershock of arousal finally hit me, a deep, tingly, insatiable hunger that I quickly realized I would need to find some way to take care of this morning. Lee was right downstairs and this wouldn’t be the first time we fucked in some back corner of the basement. I wondered if Armand might want to prove the rumors true and hit a spot even his lab partner couldn’t reach. I shivered at the thought of almost a foot and a half of rock hard cock jutting off his slim, twinkish body, a completely absurd image of it bobbed in the air as he walked towards me.
“Um, excuse me?” Jamal, with an intonation that implied that hadn’t been the first time he’d tried to get my attention in the past 30 seconds, and he didn’t much care but a line was starting to form. “Can I get a name for that?”
“Oh! Um, sorry. David,” I said. “The only giant in the coffee shop. Can’t miss me,” I added with an awkward laugh.
He chuckled. “You’d be surprised. There was just a guy in here who had to be like seven and a half feet, I don’t even know. Like freak show tall,” eyes widened and hands splayed out.
“Not nearly as tall as you, right?” I responded without missing a beat. “You’ve got what, a foot and a half on him?”
In my defense I was horny. And in an experimental mood. And a little annoyed at the quip about my friend. And in retrospect, starting to get drunk on power.
But Synt got the message loud and clear, and I watched the fabric of spacetime pixelating and refocusing around Jamal as I craned my neck up and up and up to his wire rimmed glasses catching the reflection of mid morning light.
A blush across his cheeks. “Yeah, I guess so,” he muttered, with a slight smile and a roll of his eyes. “That chai will be right up.”
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