***

Main Themes: Hypnosis, humiliation, butt-growth, cock shrinking, cock growth, hypercock, muscle growth, pussification, feminization, hairless, hairy

Quick Links

• Part 1 – Scroll down
• Part 2
• Part 3
• Part 4

***

Part 1

Dai Tsun strode into the weight room and rolled his eyes. “Haha, that’s real cute, Bixby. Now put on some fuckin’ clothes!”

His football teammate, Bixby, looked over at him questioningly. “Huh?”

Tsun sighed, gesturing to the incredibly tiny pair of baby blue briefs that Bixby had on. “Those…er, panties, dude. I mean, WTF?!”

Bixby glanced down at himself, eyes widening with surprise as if seeing the sheer, nearly transparent briefs for the first time. “Holy fuck!” he exclaimed, clapping one hand over his crotch and the other over his ass. “How did these get on me?”

“That’s what I’m askin’, bro,” Tsun drawled. “Now take ‘em off.” Obviously befuddled, Bixby nodded and then started to pull them down over the significant rise of his buttocks. Tsun sighed heavily. “Not here, you dildo head!” he shouted. “Go in the locker room!”

“Oh, yeah.” Bixby straightened, still staring down at himself in a daze. “What happened to all my body hair?”

“Huh?” Tsun found himself unwillingly studying his big friend’s mostly nude body. 

Bixby was a big, beefy, black dude who was notorious for two things on the football team: The plethora of kinky, black hair covering his body and his humongous schlong. Even for a black guy, he was hung and loved showing off in the locker room. Right now, though, Tsun–who hated looking at other guys’ bodies–had to admit that the tiny panties showed that those two things about Bixby were no longer true, at least in this moment: The dude’s bulging muscles were completely devoid any trace of hair…and the bulge in his baby blue briefs was decidedly average. Tsun knew this because the briefs were so sheer, they were all but transparent.

“For you, sir,” someone said at his elbow, distracting Tsun. “Compliments of the management.”

Tsun turned to find a pimply-faced kid wearing thick-rimmed glasses and holding out a bottle of milky white protein drink. “Nah,” he said, pushing it away. “I don’t drink that shit. Got any beer?”

The boy shook his head. “Club policy forbids the consumption of alcohol on the premises.” He offered the bottle one more time to Tsun. “Drink this instead.”

“I tole ya I don’t drink that shit!” Tsun barked, annoyed by the zit-faced shit. “Now get the fuck outta my face!”

The boy stiffened, hurt. He nodded curtly and was stalking away when Bixby stopped him. “Hey!” he shouted. “I’ll drink it! Give it to me!” The boy turned and smiled graciously. Instead of giving him the drink he’d offered Tsun, though, he gave Bixby a light blue soda which he downed in one gulp, smacking his lips. “Best. Shit. Ever,” he pronounced, grinning back at Tsun.

“Yeah? Well, you can have it,” Tsun grumbled. “I think that that stuff’s the reason yer actin’ so weird.” He eyed Bixby’s tiny briefs, shuddering.

Forgetting his earlier embarrassment, Bixby laughed heartily, turning around and waggling his ass at Tsun. Tsun turned away, disgusted, but not before he noticed that the dude’s butt cheeks seemed unnaturally swollen. They were fucking spilling out of the top of the skintight briefs! On a normal day, Bixby had a pretty hefty butt but right now it looked distinctly rounder and plumper than usual.

Tsun shook his head at his friend’s odd behavior and less-than-manly attire. He was tempted to walk out but his friends, the linebackers Cueter and Justice, showed up right then. “Thank God!” he exclaimed. “Would you guys talk some sense into him?” He jerked his chin over at Bixby. “He insists on wearing those panties while he’s working out!”

Cueter and Justice looked over at Bixby and burst out laughing. “WTF, bro?” Justice barked, slapping his knee. “Cover yerself up! Ya look ridiculous!”

Bixby merely took another sip from the bendy straw in his fruit drink and winked.

Tsun growled in disgust. He was glad to have Justice and Cueter on his side, though. At least he wasn’t alone in thinking Bixby had gone off the deep end! He was turning to say as much when the pimply dude showed up again, holding a bottle of blue soda in each hand. “For you, sirs,” he said, bowing and offering the drinks to the pair.

Tsun was certain they would reject the fruity drinks but both Justice and Cueter accepted them, thanking the kid before swallowing them down with gusto, letting out rude belches afterwards. And then they called out for two more. “Fuck, man!” Cueter praised, holding out his empty bottle. “This fuckin’ shit’s da bomb!” He belched again and scratched his balls, grinning from ear to ear.

Tsun couldn’t believe it. How could they drink shit like that? He narrowed his eyes as he watched the young guy approach with another couple of bottles. Before the kid–whose name tag read, ‘Skylar’–could hand out the bottles, he demanded, “Hey! Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

Skylar froze. “I don’t think so,” he replied evasively. “I’m, uh, not from around here.”

“Neither am I, dipshit,” Tsun sneered, taking a step closer. “But I could swear I’ve seen ya somewheres.”

“Aw, leave him alone,” Cueter cajoled, moving between Skylar and Tsun. He took the bottles from the nerdy kid and handed one to Justice before downing one himself. “He’s juss doin’ his job, Tsun! Plus, he’s giving us free shit!”

Tsun was unconvinced. Something didn’t quite add up but he glanced up at the clock and realized he was rapidly running out of time to get his workout in before the reporters showed up. The big game–the fucking Super Bowl!–was only a week away. As the first string quarterback, the coach expected him to be on hand to answer questions. He sighed and turned to the free weights, intent on slamming out a workout. He might be on his way to the Super Bowl but he still had to keep in shape!

Needing to be fleet of foot and agile, Tsun didn’t let his muscles get too swollen. He ate a very pure diet, eschewing anything that might add to his waistline. His only vice was the occasional beer he allowed himself to enjoy after a workout. He flexed, looking down at his lean, ripped physique. His big arms were tatted up with heavy, black designs that not only looked really badass but also accentuated his broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Behind him, his tiny butt attracted lots of compliments from the ladies. And, tucked away in his jockstrap, his thick cock kept them coming back for more. The truth was he got laid a lot.

He was so focused on lifting weights that he didn’t notice that Cueter and Tsun had changed into baby blue briefs like Bixby’s. One moment, he was doing bicep curls, admiring his reflection in the mirror, and the next his friends were parading around in panties.

“FUCKIN’ HELL, GUYS!” he yelled. “What the FUCK is wrong with you? What if Coach sees you like this?”

The two men looked down at themselves and Tsun shivered when they reacted the same way that Bixby had only minutes before. Their mouths fell open and their eyebrows lifted in surprise as they beheld the flimsy panties. It was a déjà vu experience of the creepiest kind, especially when Tsun noticed that, just like Bixby, they now lacked any trace of body hair. His gaze traveled from them over to Bixby and he jumped when he saw that Bixby’s ass had now swelled to a truly enormous size, rippling and jiggling like Jello. Worse, the linebacker could no longer be described as possessing a bulge at all; the crotch of his panties was completely flat.

Cueter reached up and rubbed his forehead, looking down at himself and then over to Justice. “Yo, dude,” he asked, nudging his friend, “why we got these on?”

Justice shrugged, unconcerned. “Dunno. Does it matter?” He took a swig out of a bottle of the blue soda, smacking his lips. “We look sooper cute!”

The laugh that came out of Cueter’s mouth was distinctly vapid. “Haha! Yer right, gurl! Look at us!” He wiggled his swollen butt cheeks provocatively while Justice giggled with glee. 

Tsun was alarmed. What in the fuckin’ hell is goin’ on? He moved away from the sissified trio.

Right then, John Thatcher, the team’s rookie tight end and Tsun’s chief rival, stepped into the weight room. The young guy took one look at Bixby, Justice and Cueter and turned to leave. Tsun panicked. Desperate for an ally even though he didn’t care for Thatcher, he called out, “No, don’t go! C’mon, man! I need yer help.”

Thatcher looked at him questioningly. “Huh? My help? For what?” He lifted his ball cap off his head and nervously smoothed his blond hair away from his blue eyes. He looked pretty freaked out.

“Juss work with me, bro!” Tsun pleaded. “Come over here and help me talk some sense into these…uh, guys. Tell ‘em those panties ain’t normal!”

Still looking like he wanted to bolt, Thatcher took a tentative step inside the room. His jaw fell open as surveyed the cackling trio of girlish linebackers. “What the fuck happened to them?” he breathed, rubbing his forehead.

Tsun almost fainted with relief. It felt so good to finally be validated even if Thatcher was the one person on the team he disliked the most. This wasn’t normal! Something weird really was going on!

“For you, sir.”

Skylar was at Thatcher’s elbow, offering him a soda. This time, though, the bubbly liquid was pink rather than blue.

“Don’t–!” Tsun started to say but he needn’t have worried; Thatcher was already pushing the fruity beverage away.

“No, thank you,” he replied politely, squinting at the name tag on the boy’s chest, “Skylar. I’m not thirsty. Maybe later?”

Skylar bowed slightly and retreated, looking disappointed, and Tsun exhaled with relief. “Good move, bro. Don’t drink that shit! I’m pretty sure it’s what turned those guys into flaming pussies!” Both he and Thatcher stared at the femmed-out trio, exchanging haunted glances.

“Maybe we should leave?” Thatcher suggested. He pulled his smartphone out of his sweats and looked at it. “The interview’s in an hour.”

“Good plan. Let’s get outta here! This place is a fuckin’ nightmare!” Tsun turned to go but then halted in surprise when something bounced off his arm and landed at his feet. He looked down at the floor and saw a tiny wad of shiny yellow fabric. “What the–?”

“For you, Tsuny-Boy!” Cueter called out in a singsong voice, pronouncing it ‘sonny boy.’ “Yer new panties! Put ‘em on!” He clapped eagerly as Justice and Bixby giggled behind him. “Join us! It’s sooooo much fun!”

“Yeah, guuuurl!” Bixby shrilled. “Put ‘em on an’ shake yer booty!”

Tsun reacted with disgust when he realized the yellow thing was a posing strap. He was about to throw it back at them when a voice at his elbow urged, “Yeah, Tsuny-Boy, why don’t you put ‘em on?”

Tsun froze, turning to find Skylar standing next to him once again, holding yet another bottle of milky protein drink. The kid offered him the drink, a shit-eating grin on his pock-marked face.

“No. Fucking. Way.” Tsun spat, knocking the bottle out of Skylar’s hand. It flew through the air, spewing goopy liquid everywhere. “I already tole ya I don’t drink that shit. NOW STOP ASKING!”

Skylar merely shrugged his narrow shoulders, smiling slyly. “No need to be such an asshole, bro,” he muttered, heading into the backroom to grab a mop. When he returned, he held it out to Tsun. Tsun started to refuse–he was ready to kick the shit out of the insolent brat–but he stopped cold when Skylar lifted his wrist. Unwillingly, he was captivated by the kid’s smartwatch. The device was flashing with all sorts of psychedelic rainbow colors. His mouth fell open as he lost himself momentarily in the mesmerizing display.

When he came to, he was holding the mop, cleaning up the mess he’d created. He stopped in confusion, unable to remember taking the mop in the first place. He wiped his brow and reached out to accept a new bottle of protein drink from Skylar. Beside him, Thatcher flailed his hands, warning, “Don’t do it, Tsun! Don’t drink it!”

Tsun’s hand halted in midair when he realized what he was about to do. “No!” he protested weakly. “I don’t–”

“Drink. It.” Skylar’s voice was like steel and his brown eyes flashed behind the lenses of his glasses. Gone was his previous obsequious demeanor and now he radiated malice and power. It was strange for one so small and nerdy to suddenly possess such dominance.

“N-N-N-No.” Tsun had no idea how the fucker was controlling him but fought with all his might against the compunction to obey. It was really difficult, though, and required every ounce of his will power. “I-I-I won’t.”

It was no use. Inch by inch, he watched in terror as his hand acted against his will and the bottle moved ever closer to his lips. He opened his mouth, preparing to swallow…

At the last moment, Thatcher came to his rescue. “Leave him alone!” he cried, pulling down on Tsun’s arm. “I dunno what the fuck yer doin’ to him but he don’t want it!”

Skylar’s lip curled as he regarded Thatcher. “You know what?” he sneered. “You’re a pain in the ass. But I’m ready for you.” Very slowly, he lifted his wrist. Thatcher’s gaze fell to the smartwatch on the boy’s wrist; instantly, his eyes lost focus and his mouth fell open. Just like that, the big, beefy rookie became a drooling, hypnotized zombie.

“Stop it!” Tsun demanded, alarmed. What the fuck was it about that smartwatch?  “Let him go!”

“Nope, not gonna happen,” Skylar said, sticking a bottle of pink soda in Thatcher’s hand. Robotically, the young jock’s fist closed around it. “You’ll want to see what happens to him when he drinks it. I made the concoction just for him.”

“P-P-Pah-leeze!” Tsun begged, realizing his hunch was correct and the drinks really were spiked with some kind of drug. “Don’t do anything to him! He don’t deserve it!”

Skylar looked from the frozen Thatcher to Tsun, eyebrows slowly raising. “Oh? Wow, now this is unexpected. Are you saying you care what happens to him? I thought you hated him? He’s the one guy on your team who outshines you.” He shook his head even as Tsun wondered how he knew about his rivalry with Thatcher. “And here I thought you were nothing but a self-centered asshole.” He paused, lips curving into a nasty smile. “You know what, Tsun? You’ve done the impossible and impressed me.” He laughed, “And they say chivalry is dead! Ok, I promise I’ll go easy on him but there’s one condition.” He pointed at the bottle in Tsun’s hand. “Drink that and I’ll let him go.”

Tsun’s eyes went round and he tried to back away but found that he couldn’t make his legs move. He wove back and forth, frozen in place, trying to break free of Skylar’s strange compulsion. Incredibly, this time he partially succeeded and, while he still couldn’t move his legs, he managed to keep his hand from lifting the protein drink towards his mouth. With great effort, he stammered, “N-N-No! I-I-I won’t d-d-drink it!”

Skylar was surprised. “Wow, I gotta hand it to ya, Tsun: You live up to your reputation as a hardass. Nobody else has been able to resist my smartwatch.”

Something about the way he said those words and the tone of his voice triggered a memory. Tsun searched the boy’s face, convinced he must be wrong but, no, the face was younger and pimplier but it was still the same guy. The hair on the back of his neck stood up when realized who this ‘Skylar’ really was. “Espinosa?” he mouthed, voice barely more than a whisper. “Is that you?”

Skylar laughed; it was a harsh sound. “Very good. I can’t believe you recognized me like this.” He gestured to his scrawny frame and zit-covered face. “As you can see, I’ve changed a lot. I’m ten years younger, for one thing. And at least a hundred pounds lighter.”

Tsun was aghast. “What happened to you?”

Another laugh. “I drew the short straw, that’s what. This mission is too important and we needed someone trustworthy to execute it. Someone like me,” he gestured proudly to himself. “Someone who would take one for the team.” ‘Skylar’–or, Kirk Espinosa, as Tsun knew him–shook his head. “But it was worth it, ‘specially ‘cuz I get to be the one who takes you down.”

***

Part 2

Kirk Espinosa was Tsun’s nemesis, the quarterback for the opposing team that he was set to face off against in the Super Bowl. Tsun couldn’t believe that the dude could change himself so radically–the Espinosa he knew was a big, built, beefy dude in peak physical condition, not a scrawny, zit-faced teenager–but the evidence was right there staring him in the face. He’d recognize Espinosa anywhere, even in this condition. How the fuck was this possible?

“What are you talking about?” Tsun’s mind was racing, trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together. In the back of his head, however, he had a sick feeling that he knew what was going on. It seemed like science fiction but, honestly, everything that had happened in the past hour was like science fiction.

“It’s simple, bro,” Espinosa replied, confirming his worst fears. “My team is going to ruin your team so we can win the Super Bowl. We got millions riding on our victory and we ain’t gonna leave nuthin’ up to chance.” He gestured toward Bixby, Cueter and Justice who were prancing around in their panties, shrieking with delight and shaking their big, voluptuous bottoms. “We isolated yer five best players and are making sure they’re completely unsuited for football. I mean, look at ‘em! They’re fuckin’ worthless now!”

Tsun’ blood ran cold with these words. Even so, he could hardly argue with Espinosa’s assessment. From the sheer size of the trio’s asses and their complete lack of muscle tone, it was obvious they would never play football again. Well, maybe after years of hard work they might succeed in resculpting their bodies back into the big, muscular brutes they’d been just an hour ago…but there was no way they could do so in time to win the Super Bowl.

They were screwed.

Especially if Espinosa got him to drink the nasty stuff.

He couldn’t let that happen! 

“No,” he stated with as much defiance as he could muster. “You can’t do this! I won’t let you!”

Espinosa laughed. “We’ll see ‘bout that, dude. Your little display of loyalty to Thatcher has given me an idea. Even if I can’t force you to drink it, I still got leverage.” He rubbed his hands together, looking over at the drooling Thatcher. “This is a win-win for me, bro! Not only do I get to take you down but I also get to break you while doing it. What could be better?”

Tsun felt faint. His brain simply could not fathom how this was possible. It was surreal! If the other team wanted to ensure their victory, why go to such elaborate and mind-bending lengths? Why not just hire thugs to break their kneecaps? But no. Instead they decided to turn manly, muscular linebackers into squealing, fat-bottomed sissies? WTF?! It was perverse!

And yet it was working. He stared at his team’s best defensive linemen, aghast. Right then, Cueter threw his hands in the air and started clapping as Bixby and Justice twerked against the far wall. The sight of those jelly-filled, massively swollen bootycheeks bouncing heavily up and down was enough to make him want to vomit. These were his good friends and a big part of the key to his team’s success! 

Not anymore.

Espinosa watched him with a cruel smile on his pimply face. “Even though I had to sacrifice my own football career to bring you down, it was worth it. Ha! I got paid a nice settlement by the team and,” he paused dramatically, “I got the best consolation prize: You.”

“Me?” Tsun’s voice was barely more than a croak.

“Yeah, you.” Espinosa’s smile deepened. “Now let’s get started. I need to up the ante.” He turned to Thatcher and, taking away the pink bottle for a moment, ordered, “Take off yer clothes.”

Thatcher immediately obeyed, pulling off his baggy t-shirt and tossing it aside. Then he bent over and pulled down his sweatpants. Built like a corn-fed Midwestern farmboy (who actually hailed from the Prairie Provinces in Canada), he was tall–well over six feet four inches–and incredibly beefy. Tsun vaguely remembered from his stat sheet that the kid weighed over two hundred fifty pounds. His hair and beard were light blond but the hair on his body was distinctly darker. Muscles bulged all over his body. Like most football players, he had a layer of fat as well but he wasn’t nearly as thick around the middle as the linebackers. He couldn’t afford to be! He had to be nimble and run fast.

When Thatcher straightened again, Tsun saw he was wearing only a stained jockstrap. The bulge jutting out from the pouch, he reluctantly had to admit, was quite substantial. Not as big as his, of course–he’d compared cock size in the shower and was sure he was bigger–but Thatcher was definitely hung. This was confirmed the next moment when the kid yanked down the jockstrap and his big dick and pendulous balls flopped out. Thatcher was no manscaper and his dishwater blond pubes were full and scruffy, bushing out from his groin and enveloping his genitals.

“Nice. What a good boy!” Espinosa praised, watching with an avid expression. 

Is Kirk Espinosa a fag? Tsun wondered with a shudder. That would explain… He turned, looking beyond the naked Thatcher to the three former linebackers who were carrying on like, well, like a bunch of fags. Then his chest clenched. That nasty soda couldn’t turn a guy gay, could it? 

As if reading his mind, Espinosa explained, “One sip of that,” he gestured to the pink bottle, “and he will become a homosexual. For the rest of his life, he’ll crave dick.” 

Tsun swallowed again, feeling weak. “No!” he protested. “That’s not possible!”

“Oh?” Espinosa snapped his fingers.

Instantly, Thatcher’s vapid expression disappeared and he jumped, looking down at his naked body in shock. He clapped his hands over his crotch, demanding, “What the fuck? Why am I naked?!” He looked from Espinosa to Tsun, confusion written across his boyish face.

“Why, indeed?” Espinosa laughed. “You’re helping to prove my point, that’s why.”

Thatcher flinched, face turning bright red. “What point?”

“Here,” Espinosa said, handing him the bottle of soda. “Take a sip and you’ll see.”

“No!” Tsun shouted. “John, don’t! It’ll turn ya into a fag!”

Thatcher had already started to lift the bottle to his lips but he froze at Tsun’s plea. Exerting all of his will, he fought against the overpowering urge to drink. “P-P-P-Please!” he begged, the bottle tipping inexorably closer to his mouth. “Don’t do this! I’m straight! I don’t wanna be gay!”

He was out of luck, though. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from taking a sip from the bottle. Attempting to help him, Tsun tried desperately to make his legs move and close the distance between him and Thatcher. He didn’t succeed. Espinosa might not be able to force him to drink the potion but he nonetheless had enough control over Tsun to keep him stuck in place. Tsun watched in horror as John swallowed, his big Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as the liquid poured down his throat.

After he was done, Thatcher lowered the bottle. His blue eyes were round and he was shaking. “Is it happening?” he asked. “Am I gay now?”

“Fight it, Thatcher!” Tsun urged. “Don’t let him win! You’re stronger than this! You’re no fag!”

Even as he said it, though, he could see something changing in Thatcher’s expression. It was subtle but the guy’s jaw loosened slightly and his eyes lost focus. A moment later, a shudder ran through his body. “Tsun!” he whispered, his voice coming out as a strangled plea. “Help me! I don’t wanna–”

“JOHN! Listen to me!” Tsun yelled. “Ya gotta fight it! Fight it with everything you got! Yer not gay! Yer a proud straight man!”

“Proud…straight…man…?” Thatcher repeated like the words were a foreign language. Then something changed behind his eyes and his expression became hungry. He looked over at Tsun and licked his lips. “Suck yer cock, bro?” he offered. “I’ll blow ya and then fuck that tight hole of yers for free!” As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes went round with horror. “I’m sorry, Tsun!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know why I said that! I couldn’t help it!” 

That wasn’t the end of it, though. No, there was soon very graphic evidence of John’s shift in sexual orientation. His hands fell to his sides and his long schlong swayed back and forth, growing ever harder. The reason for his arousal was obvious: Despite all of his efforts to the contrary, John couldn’t help staring lasciviously at Tsun’s toned, firm body. Across the room, Bixby, Justice and Cueter eyed the young guy’s growing erection lustfully. 

Finally, his cock was standing up at full mast, a pulsing, throbbing, dripping organ worthy of a pornstar. He looked down at his erection, wailing, “I’M GAAAAAAAAY!”

Tsun’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He had to look away from the guy’s ugly erection because it was so profoundly distasteful. “Don’t worry, man,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. “It’s Ok. You did yer best. ‘Sides, there’re worse things than being a fag, I ‘spose.”

“Thanks,” Thatcher murmured, penis bobbing jauntily before him. His tongue was on his lips and he was still eying Tsun’s crotch hungrily.

“See?” Espinosa gloated, taking Tsun’s chin in his hand and forcing him to look at Thatcher’s dripping cock. “He’s my leverage. If you keep resisting, I’ll do even worse to him.”

“No,” Tsun moaned, wresting his chin out of Espinosa’s grip. “Please stop! He don’t deserve that.”

“You can make me stop at any time, Dai. It’s your choice,” Espinosa tempted, dangling the protein drink before his eyes. “All you have to do is drink this bottle. And all those.” He gestured behind him and Tsun’s eyes widened when he saw there were two, full cases of the protein drink sitting on the floor.

“WHAT?!” he protested. “But you said I only had to drink one!”

“Sorry,” Espinosa shrugged. “I lied. You gotta drink all those. That’s the only way I’ll be assured that you change into a steroidal muscle bull who’s good for only one thing. And that one thing–Spoiler alert!–ain’t football!” He reached down to the floor and picked up the tiny yellow posing strap that Tsun had discarded, adding, “A bloated muscle bull who will fit into this.” The obscene garment dangled from his fingers. 

Tsun swallowed hard when he saw that the pouch of the strap was microscopic. There was no way his hulking manhood would fit inside it…right now, at least. He looked over at Bixby, cringing when he saw the flat mound in the dude’s panties where his big, thick cock and hefty balls used to be. A sick dread seeped into him as he looked down at his own marvelous bulge. What would that protein drink do to him?

Espinosa played off his fears. “That’s right, bro. Once you drink those cases of ‘protein drink,’ yer muscles’ll swell up like a gorilla’s and yer pee-pee will shrink down to a nub.” He waved his hand. “Oh, and you’ll be dumber than fuck, too. Ha! No more football for you! As a consolation prize, though, you’ll get to enjoy lots and lots of butt sex. Hahaha! You’ll be lucky if you can still walk when I’m done with you.”

Tsun clenched his fists. “You’re a monster! A fuckin’ MONSTER!”

“No,” Espinosa corrected. “I’m your master, not a monster. Now do as I say and put this on…or I’ll make Thatcher take another sip. You wanna know what’ll happen to him when he does?” He didn’t wait for Tsun to guess. “He’ll become a cock-hungry bottom slut, that’s what.” He turned to Thatcher, taunting, “You ready to take a big, hard cock up the ass, boy?”

“What?! No!” Thatcher whined, face draining of color. Espinosa started to laugh but then Thatcher surprised them both by toughening up. He squared his broad shoulders and set his jaw resolutely. Looking over to Tsun, he assured, “Don’t worry ‘bout me, bro. I ain’t afraid of him! I’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe. You gotta break free and win, bro! You can’t let this fucker control you!”

Tsun blinked, unexpectedly touched. John was willing to sacrifice his own ass–literally!–for Tsun’s career and for his team. He felt a twinge of guilt for hating the kid so much and wondered, Maybe I misjudged him? 

It was no secret he’d never cared that much for John even though the two of them played well together–Thatcher was adept at catching’s Tsun’s passes. Their plays were like well choreographed ballet. But Espinosa was right; Tsun was jealous of all the attention John got and didn’t like being eclipsed by a young upstart. Now, though…well, now he found himself changing his opinion of the tight end. He nodded back at John, saying, “Thanks, man. I mean it. Yer the best!”

Espinosa started clapping loudly. “Look at this! Look at this!” he mocked. “Such brotherhood! Such noble sacrifice! I think I’m gonna puke. I think–”

“I’ll put it on,” Tsun interrupted, pointing at the yellow posing strap. “Juss don’t make him drink no more of that shit.” He reached out and grabbed the tiny strap out of Espinosa’s hands and then commenced undressing. Interestingly, his legs unfroze long enough for him to undress but he still couldn’t make himself flee.

All eyes were glued to his body as he took everything off. He flushed both with self-conscious embarrassment and pride. He knew he cut a stunning figure with his rich, chestnut-colored skin–courtesy of his mixed Chinese and Brazilian heritage–and elegant muscles. (Vanity was a hallmark of Tsun’s personality.) There was no trace of fat on his long, ripped frame and his muscles bulged noticeably beneath the thick, black fur covering his body. 

It was his long, thick cock, though, that really drew their attention. When he looked up, John was sucking on his lower lip and the trio of femmed-out butt boys were drooling. Sighing, he bent over to step into the ridiculous posing strap, realizing he’d been correct in his original assessment: His dark, uncircumcised cock and giant bull balls spilled out of the tiny pouch. It was beyond obscene and his cheeks flamed beneath his beard.

“There,” he said, holding out his hands and trying to ignore the feeling of the string riding up his ass cheeks. “I did it.”

“Bravo,” Espinosa praised, raking Tsun’s body up and down with his lascivious gaze. “I didn’t think you had the balls to do it but I see now that you do have the balls. For now at least.”

Tsun gritted his teeth. “I ain’t doing it for you, asshole.”

“Ha! You still think you can win here, don’t you?” Espinosa crowed. “That’s so cute. Cute but also pathetic.” He spun around to face Thatcher, ordering, “Take another sip!”

“WHAT!?” Tsun yelled. “But–”

“Tsun,” Walked tsked, “you still haven’t touched your protein shake. That means I keep going until you break down and give in. What will it take, I wonder?” He looked over at Thatcher. The young jock’s arm was shaking with the effort of resisting the urge to drink more pink soda. It was no use, though; the bottle was drawing ever closer to his open lips.

Thatcher cast an imploring look at Tsun. “D-D-Don’t give in, Tsun! Don’t worry ‘bout me! I can take it! Yer more important than I am!”

Tsun’s heart fell as he watched Thatcher unwillingly gulp down another mouthful of the awful poison. When he straightened, Espinosa took the bottle away and waited patiently for the drug to take effect. Thatcher’s big, blue eyes were round and he was trembling with fear. Tsun shivered, wanting to look away but not wanting to be a coward.

Suddenly Thatcher yelped. Then the impossible happened as every follicle of hair on his body below his eyebrows fell off. Thatcher rubbed his hand across his chest and his curly, dirty blond hair disappeared. His pubes blew away like a puff of blond smoke. And then his beard toppled from his cheeks, landing in a pitiful muff at his feet. He stared down at his denuded body in horror. Devoid of pubes, his giant cock jutted out before him, throbbing and dripping with precum.

Even though he was straight and in shock, a far off corner of Tsun’ mind noticed that the guy’s cock looked even more impressive without that nest of unruly pubic hair. In fact, he realized with reddening cheeks, John looked a lot better without any hair on his body. It really showed off his stocky build and big muscles. Tsun even found himself gazing down at his own body and wondering for the first time in his life what he’d look like without any body hair. He shook himself even as the thought crossed his mind, wondering what the fuck he was thinking. He loved his body hair!

Meanwhile, as stunning as his rapid hair loss might be, something else had grabbed poor Thatcher’s attention. “My ass!” he yelped. “What’s happenin’ to my ass?!”

Clapping his hands over his blocky buttocks, he let loose a howl of despair. At first Tsun didn’t understand but then Thatcher dropped his hands and it became a-bun-dantly clear.

His buttocks were ballooning in size!

Tsun’s mouth fell open as the kid’s already significant butt swelled even larger. His bulky ass cheeks became rounder and perkier and fuller by the second. His hairless skin turned a nubile shade of pink, so tender and delicate it verged on feminine. Tsun thought he was imagining it but he could’ve sworn those bootycheeks made a sound like inflating balloons as they swelled. In less than a minute, Thatcher was sporting a truly giant bubble butt, so big and round and hefty that Tsun knew there were no pants in this world big enough to fit it.

“Fat has so much more volume than muscle,” Espinosa observed, smiling. “Wouldn’t you agree?” When Tsun remained stone-faced, he shrugged. “At least we know he’ll put it to good use. Won’t you, Johnny?”

Tears ran down Thatcher’s soft, hairless cheeks as he stared back at the giant ass hanging off of him “I look ridiculous!” he whined. “What am I going to do?”

“Don’t worry,” Espinosa soothed. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

As if on cue, John straightened, a questioning look on his face. “My hole!” he moaned. “Fuck, what’s wrong with my hole?!”

“You’re a bottom slut now, John,” Espinosa explained as if he were talking to a child. “You need that hole filled, like now.”

“Ungh! Unnnngh!” John moaned, reaching back and digging into his deep ass cleft. “Oh, fuck! FUCK! I need it! I FUCKIN’ NEED A BIG COCK IN MY ASS! I FEEL EMPTY! SO EMPTY!” 

Thatcher writhed on his feet, sticking first one finger and then another up his ass. Soon, it looked like he was close to inserting his entire fist up there. The poor kid moaned pitifully the entire time, gritting his teeth, trying to find reprieve from the driving need to be filled with cock.

Tsun glared at Espinosa, hating him. Espinosa blinked back innocently at him. “What? You could make it stop,” he said coyly. “All you gotta do is drink up, dude!”

Tsun swallowed, wavering. Was the Lombardi Trophy really worth it? What was more important: Saving John from Espinosa’s clutches or his team’s win? He no longer knew. This, of course, was Espinosa’s calculus. He knew that Tsun, while competitive and narcissistic, also possessed a strong moral character. If he couldn’t trick or hypnotize him, he could use that integrity against him…and get off while doing so. It turned out, Tsun realized, Espinosa knew him better than he knew himself.

“Alright,” he started to say, “I’ll–”

“DON’T DO IT, DAI!” John implored. The poor kid’s hand was buried inside his asshole but he was still fighting with everything he had. “DON’T GIVE IN!” he panted. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

Tsun swallowed. There was an alien sensation in his eyes and he rubbed at them, realizing there were tears. He sniffed. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried! It made him hate Espinosa even more. He met John’s anguished gaze and smiled as a tear slid down his cheek. He’d never liked the kid more than at that moment.

“You two!” Espinosa sighed. “What’s it gonna take, huh?” He put his hand on his hips, shaking his head. “I guess I have no choice…” his voice trailed off and Tsun was momentarily hopeful that he was going to let them go. The next moment, however, that hope was dashed. “I have no choice but to make John take another sip.” He handed Thatcher the bottle once again and, once again, the poor guy was forced to swallow. When he was done, Espinosa grabbed the bottle away from him. “Let’s see how much you like your life as a fat-bottomed, cock slut without a penis.”

***

Part 3

“WHAT???!!!” Thatcher and Tsun shouted in tandem.

It was already too late. 

John looked down at his hefty, swaying erection and let out a plaintive yowl as it twitched. Another twitch. Was it Tsun’s imagination or was the guy’s hardon less impressive than a moment ago? Twitch. Twitch. Twitch. No, it wasn’t his imagination. John’s cock was definitely contracting in on itself. In an ever accelerating manner, it shrank from ten inches to nine to eight. Then came a particularly violent twitch and John howled as he lost another four inches. Soon his penis was only three inches long and barely thicker than a pencil. Two inches. One inch. At last, it stopped shrinking, leaving him with a tiny nub that barely poked out from his baby-smooth pubes. Not that it made much difference. What’s one inch when you’ve lost ten?

It wasn’t over yet, though.

Tsun goggled when he saw the dude’s balls inching upward in their sac. Soon his entire scrotum was shrinking, pulling John’s balls in with it. Thatcher cried in anguish as his nutsac and balls disappeared entirely into an ever widening, vertical slit just under his tiny nub.

A vagina, Tsun realized, feeling ill. The dude had a vagina!

John had a fucking cunt between his legs!

By the time the curse had run its course, John Thatcher was left with only a tender, moist, pink labia and a clitoris where his hulking man-cock used to be. His massive eleven-incher was utterly and completely destroyed.

John Thatcher had become a trans man.

“Happy now?” Espinosa goaded.

John hung his head in shame. The poor kid couldn’t stop staring at his dripping vagina. His mouth fell open and tears streamed down his cheeks. Still digging in his butthole with one hand, he reached down with the other and hollered in despair when he touched his new, moist cunt lips. 

“What? Don’t you like yer new vulva?” Espinosa snorted. “Don’t worry. There’s still one more swallow left in the bottle. When you drink it, you’ll be fully female. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya, John? Becoming a big-boned gal from Southern Alberta?”

John didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He was too busy sobbing.

“Go on, John,” Espinosa urged with mock tenderness. “Put this on.” He held something out; Tsun scowled when he saw what it was: A pink, lacey thong. A woman’s thong. “This is all you need now.”

Still firmly under Espinosa’s control, John had no choice but to accept the humiliating garment. With shaking hands, he bent over and stepped into it, pulling it up his big, hairless thighs. When the tiny triangle settled over his crotch, Tsun noticed it was so sheer that John’s freshly-minted cunt was still clearly visible through the pink fabric. John hung his head, sobbing like a baby.

“You’re not done yet,” Espinosa prompted, swinging the bottle in his face. “There’s still one, last sip, John.” He held out the soda in one hand and a pink bra in the other. Tsun clenched his jaw when he saw the bra was huge. Double D at least! Espinosa asked, “Are you ready to go all the way?”

John looked up at the bra and wailed with fear. “P-P-Please!” he begged. “No!”

Espinosa laughed. “It’s up to your friend, Tsun, here. He alone has the power to make it stop.” He turned to Tsun. “Well? Are you gonna make him turn into a woman or are you finally gonna drink that fuckin’ protein milk?”

Tsun was in agony. On the one hand, he clung to the hope that he could somehow trick Espinosa and escape. It might still be possible to win next Sunday if he got away! On the other hand, he couldn’t stand being to blame for John’s downfall. Thatcher had already sacrificed so much. Was he really ready to let the kid become a woman just so he could escape?

No, he couldn’t let that happen.

He sighed, straightening. Somehow, the bitterness of losing to Espinosa wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. He lifted his head, preparing to agree to drink the shit, but John interrupted him.

“I’ll drink it. I’ll drink the last sip.”

Tsun turned in surprise as Thatcher lifted the bottle. “It’s alright, Dai,” he reassured, blue eyes sparkling. “It’ll be worth it to be a woman.”

“Wh-Wh-What?” Tsun croaked. “What do ya mean?”

John gave him a sad smile, explaining, “If I’m a woman, then at least then I stand a chance with you. You’re a good man, Dai, and you’re sexy, too.” He lifted his shoulders in apology. “Sorry, I know that’s the drugs speaking but it’s the truth.” He lifted the bottle like he was making a toast. “Here’s hoping you like big, busty girls from the Canadian prairie!”

“NO!” Tsun shouted. Incredibly, John’s hand halted in midair, the bottle remaining upright. He looked over questioningly as Tsun explained, “I’ve made my decision. Now put that fucking bottle down, Thatcher. It’s my turn now.” 

What he didn’t say was he was shaken to core by John’s sacrifice and was fighting to choke back tears. He couldn’t believe that the young guy would surrender the most precious parts of his masculinity for him. For him, Dai Tsun! The guy who, until a few minutes ago, had despised him. It was so unexpected and so remarkable that it made Tsun want to make it up to him. If John could sacrifice everything, then he would, too.

“Give it to me,” he ordered, holding out his hand for the protein drink. “I’m ready for the first bottle.”

Espinosa grinned, savoring this hard-won victory. He plucked out a bottle of protein drink from one of the cases. Tsun took it and, unscrewing the cap, nodded reassuringly to John. “My mind’s made up,” he said. “I wanna do this.”

“Dai, please–!”

Tsun held up his hand, silencing him, and tilted the bottle back. 

The cloying liquid poured into his mouth. Something strange happened, though, as soon as he tasted it. He gagged, eyes bugging out. He clutched at his throat, sputtering, before falling to writhe on the floor. Protein milk frothed from his lips. 

“DAI!” John shouted, trying to come to his aid. His legs wouldn’t move, though, and he remained stuck in place.

At first, Espinosa froze in shock but then he shook himself and knelt down by his side. “Tsun!” he shouted, shaking him. “Tsun! What’s wrong?”

Tsun could only grab at his throat. His face turned red and then blue. Espinosa panicked, yelling, “Call 9-1-1! Somebody call 9-1-1!” When he realized that John was frozen in place and Bixby, Cueter and Justice were too preoccupied with twerking, he cursed loudly and reached for his phone. “This wasn’t ‘sposed to happen!” he complained. “He’s not ‘sposed to be allergic to the drugs! We tested for that!”

As soon as Espinosa reached for his phone, Tsun struck. With one deft motion, he snatched the smartwatch off of Espinosa’s wrist and then pinned him down beneath him. The teenaged Espinosa was no match and Tsun easily bested him. 

Tsun stared down at him with blazing eyes, slowly lowering his face until his mouth was only inches away. Espinosa writhed beneath him, trying to break free but it was no use. 

Eyes cold with murderous rage, Tsun grabbed the kid’s balls and squeezed, making him cry out. Tsun took advantage of his open mouth and spat a bunch of the protein drink inside. Espinosa gagged, swallowing the nasty liquid. His eyes went round with terror. He tried to cough it up but it was too late. 

“What…have…you…done?” he gasped. His face was white and his glasses were askew on his face.

Tsun smirked. “Did ya forget why they call me the ‘Fake Out King’?” He laughed, referring to his notoriety on the football field where he was infamous for his tricks. “You shoulda known I was gonna fake ya out. Ha! You’ll never learn.” He got right down in the fucker’s face, pronouncing, “That’s why I always win!”

Espinosa gurgled pathetically in response. Tsun sneered, picking up the smartwatch and holding it before his panicked eyes. Instantly, his gaze went vacant and his mouth slackened. Espinosa was hypnotized.

“Good,” Tsun growled. “Now I’m gonna make ya drink every single one of these bottles.” 

He got up off of the zombified kid and proceeded to force him to drink and drink and drink. When the first case was empty, he grabbed the other, not stopping until Espinosa had consumed every bottle and his belly was distended as a pregnant woman’s. Only then did he step back and savor his hard-won victory.

Bixby, Cueter and Justice were watching him with wide eyes. Just by looking at them, Tsun could tell that Espinosa’s control was beginning to wane. Bixby was the first to recover and shrieked in dismay, looking down at his ridiculously big butt and wide hips. “What the fuck?!” he yelled, turning to Cueter and Justice. “Seriously, guys! What the fuck?!”

Tsun shook his head. What could he say? He knew that the trio was in for a big adjustment when they left the room. They’d swaggered in as a bunch of macho, muscular, beefy jocks only to swish out as a gaggle of hairless, sissified, bottom bitches. He shrugged sadly. There was nothing he could do about it. Their football careers–and presumably their lives as straight men–were over.

“I’m sorry, guys,” he said, going over and patting them on the shoulders. “I’ll explain in a minute. Right now, though, I got sumthin’ to do.”

He turned toward John Thatcher. The big tight end was standing there, eyes downcast. One hand was still digging in his ass and the other was positioned over his pussy, covering his shame. He hunched his shoulders as Tsun approached, apologizing, “Dai, I-I-I failed you. I’m sorry! Our team’s gonna lose because of me!”

“Stop it!” Tsun ordered, standing before the towering jock. “What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?! You saved me! And ya prolly saved our team’s asses, too. It’ll be tough but I think we can still win on Sunday. And it’s all ‘cuz of you! Yer a hero!”

John lowered his head, sniffling. “But I hate myself! I fuckin’ hate myself! I wish you’d let him turn me into a woman!”

Tsun took him by the chin and forced him to look into his eyes. “Would you stop? Don’t be ridiculous! I’m glad you’re not a woman. And I’m proud of you. Proud yer my friend and, even more than that,” he stood on his tiptoes and lifted his lips to kiss him. “I think yer sexy as fuck.”

John stared at him in shock. His eyes were round as he searched Tsun’s face for any hint of insincerity. Tsun smiled, stepping back and gesturing down at his crotch where his big, fat cock was jutting out, hard as a rock, from the tiny pouch of the posing strap. “I ain’t lyin’, bro. See? You got me all riled up here.”

“Y-Y-You like me like this?” John stammered, hanging his head again. “I can’t believe it.”

Tsun laughed. “I know, right? I’m as surprised as you, bro! Maybe I swallowed some of that shit and it turned me into a fag? I don’t think so, though. I started gettin’ turned on as soon as yer body hair fell out and yer ass started growin’. And I really got turned on when ya grew a pussy. Didn’t ya notice?”

John shook his head. His eyes were still downcast but Tsun noticed his cheeks were reddening. “No, I-I-I didn’t.”

“You can be forgiven,” Tsun soothed, placing his hand on John’s mountainous shoulder. “There was a lot goin’ on. But the important thing is that I noticed and I like you. A lot.” He cleared his throat and, getting down on one knee, held out his hand. “John Thatcher,” he asked formally. “Will you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?”

***

Part 4

John watched him warily. “Dai, I don’t think this is a good idea,” he warned. “You don’t know what’ll happen if ya drink that.”

“Don’t worry!” Tsun said, waving him off. “What’s the worst that can happen?” He looked around at the sullen group of transformed men who were sitting on weight benches around him. “‘Sides, it’s only fair that I take some of the poison, too.”

Bixby, Justice and Cueter nodded grimly. They weren’t about to stop him, not when he was the only one of the five who had escaped humiliation. They sat there with their giant asses hanging over the cushions, looking at his toned, perfect, hung body enviously. John, on the other hand, was worried. At a stern look from Tsun, though, he kept silent.

Tsun held the cup to his lips, hesitating. He’d gone around the room and collected a little of the blue soda, the last swig of Thatcher’s pink soda, and a small amount of the protein milk. Mixing all three together, the concoction glowed an unhealthy purplish white. Did he really want to do this?

He shrugged and downed the elixir, licking his lips. It actually tasted pretty good!

“Well?” he asked, looking down at himself. “How long do you think it’ll take?” 

Even as he said the words, though, he could feel his stomach begin to gurgle. He placed his hand over his belly and winced as a warmth began to radiate outward. It was probably his imagination but he could’ve sworn he could feel the drugs being carried through his bloodstream down to his–

“FUCK! OH, FUCK! MY DICK!”

He bent over and clutched at his cock as it began to spasm. The sensation was like an orgasm but he wasn’t cumming. He fell down to his knees and arched his back, holding his cock in his hands.

“FUCK! IT’S GROWING!” he shouted, throwing back his head.

He wasn’t lying. The others watched in stunned silence as his already large penis began to swell even larger. Soon, it was too big to conceal with his hands and pushed upward, lengthening and thickening. He moaned, clenching buttocks as another spasm wracked his groin. Gnashing his teeth, he struggled to comprehend what his hands were feeling.

His cock was giant.

Bigger than giant.

It was colossally HUGE.

The crazy growth didn’t stop until his cock was more than two feet long and thicker than a log. His balls, swollen to the size of ripe pomegranates, dangled in his smooth sac, reaching nearly to his knees. He was too preoccupied to notice but he’d lost all of his body hair and his ass had swollen to a truly prodigious size as well. It was nothing compared to the size of his magnificent penis, though.

He gaped down at it, breathless. As he stared, his foreskin peeled back, exposing the round, glistening helmet of his glans. He looked up, red-cheeked, and then promptly shrank away when he saw Thatcher and the rest of the guys licking their chops like hungry wolves.

Holding up his hands and backing away, he soothed, “Uh, guys! Hey, guys! Don’t do anything–”

They pounced.

It was an instant orgy with Tsun as the focal point. The four men fought each other to be the first to get fucked by that massive cock. Someone found a tube of lube and Tsun moaned, arching his back as he lay on the floor, feeling a mass of hands slathering his monster. And then he was fucking after hole after hole. He lost count of the number of times he came. His cock spewed and spewed until the tile beneath his big butt was slick with cum. He was nothing but a cum fountain, ejaculating wildly.

He’d never been so happy.

By the time they were tired out, he’d succeeded in irrevocably stretching out their holes, leaving them with permanent gapes. They didn’t seem to mind, though. No, getting fucked by his giant cock helped make up somewhat for the humiliation they’d endured. And his ordeal was far from over; they would keep him busy in the days to come, reminding him of the debt he owed and exacting their payment in fucks up the ass.

“Oh, God,” Tsun moaned, his swollen bootycheeks squeaking on the floor beneath him. “John, you there?”

They were lying in a heap; a sweaty, cum-soaked mass of ass, pussy and one big cock. John stirred beside him. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good.” Tsun pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at the clock. “Shit. We missed the interview.”

John laughed. “That’s the first thing you think about?” His lip stuck out in a mock pout. “I’m hurt.”

“Not as much as my hole,” Bixby complained, rubbing his backside. “What the fuck, Tsun? Did ya have to be so rough?”

“I didn’t hear ya whinin’ when you were riding my stallion,” Tsun bragged, laughing. He winced a moment later, though, when he realized something felt off. Indeed, all too soon he would come to understand an important consequence of his impulsive decision to drink the potent cocktail. “My dick,” he wailed. “Sumthin’s wrong with it. It ain’t gettin’ soft!”

“And that’s a problem how?” Justice purred, reaching out to stroke the behemoth.

“Ungh!” Tsun moaned, arching his back. “Stop it! I’m bein’ serious! It won’t go flaccid!”

John came to his aid. Sitting up beside him, the tight end pushed Justice’s hand away and stared at Tsun’s dick. “Can I touch it? I’ll be gentle.” When Tsun nodded, he extended a finger and poked tentatively against the swollen shaft. Tsun let out an ecstatic moan. John frowned, pinching softly, trying not to aggravate his condition. Finally, he pronounced, “It feels different.”

“No shit!” Tsun hissed. “But can you tell what’s wrong with it? I mean, aside from being bigger than a fuckin’ baseball bat.”

Brows knitted, John began, “It’s like it’s made of…cartilage or something. Almost as hard as a bone. But that’s impossible, isn’t it?”

Tsun sagged back on his elbows, cursing, “Fuck! FUCK! Of course, it’s possible!” He gestured at the four, transformed jocks. “If it’s possible to turn y’all into a bunch of fat-butted sissies,” they scowled at this but he was too worked up to care, “I’m sure it ain’t nuthin’ to turn my poor boner into bone!” He sat up on his bulging ass cheeks and cradled his head in his hands. His giant cock protruded upward, smacking him in the face and leaving a trail of semen running down his newly smooth cheeks. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he whined. “I’m ruined! What did I do?! Why the fuck did I drink that shit?!”

Unfortunately, it was far too late. For the rest of his life, Tsun was stuck with a very large, very long permanent erection jutting out before him. There was no way to force it down a pant leg or run it up his shirt to hide it. (Even if he could have forced it upward, it would have stuck out  of his shirt collar.) Too soon, he came to realize that being well endowed could be a curse as well as a blessing. And it effectively ended his career as a football player.

A low moan from across the room distracted him from his misery and he looked over to see Espinosa on his hands and knees, arching his back and sticking his butt outward. His face was frozen in a rictus of pain.

“Help me!” he pleaded, staring at them balefully. “Please help me!”

As they watched, his body began to change. His stomach was incredibly swollen from all of the protein shakes he’d consumed and sagged down nearly to the floor. Soon, though, this began to change as the potent liquid was absorbed by this body. He lifted his head and cried out as his ass expanded. And that wasn’t all! Soon, every muscle in his body was growing at an ever-accelerating rate. His shorts and t-shirt tightened as his body filled out. Soon, the fabric was stretched so tightly that it strangled him and he clawed at his clothing until it came away in shreds.

He was naked.

Tsun forgot about his rock-hard boner and his jaw fell open. 

In the space of a couple of minutes, Espinosa’s wiry frame exploded with muscles. His traps, delts, pecs, abs, biceps and triceps, quads and calves all grew to more than ten times their former size and didn’t stop there. The poor guy yowled as his bones followed suit, growing thicker and heavier. The wail coming out of his mouth deepened to a guttural roar. Soon, he’d swelled to the size of a mature gorilla…a gorilla who was loaded down with so many muscles that he could barely move.

He resembled a gorilla in more ways than one, too. A carpet of black hair sprouted on his back and chest, growing to a fragrant mat in minutes. Hair curled out from his skin on his arms and legs and he grew a dense beard that hung down over the bloated shelf of his pecs. In contrast, his hairline began receding, pulling back until he was left with just a thin horseshoe of scraggly fur on his shiny, bald pate.

Espinosa no longer resembled the pimply-faced kid and he didn’t look like his former svelte self, either. Instead, his frame was contorted and misshapen with oversized muscles. A thick pelt of curly black hair covered his body and his face. Adding to his transformation, he aged more than thirty years; his skin (what they could see of it) becoming papery and wrinkled and his hair coated with gray.

The capstone of his ignominious transformation was yet to come, though. The hapless brute flipped over onto his back, scratching himself crazily. As he did so, he gave the onlookers a clear view of his crotch. Tsun gaped in amazement as the dude’s cock and balls–not huge but certainly respectable–shriveled up to almost nothing. Before they were swallowed up by the plethora of fur covering his crotch, he was left with barely a nub and two, tiny cherries.

When it was over, Espinosa groaned, arms flopping heavily out from his sides. He struggled to sit up but was too weighed down by muscles. All he could do was lay there, helplessly flailing his bloated appendages, mewling for help.

Tsun looked down at his massive erection, realizing he’d come out ahead. Given a choice between a ‘forever hardon’ or becoming a muscle ape with a tiny peanut, he’d take the perma-erection.

He exchanged a haunted look with John and was opening his mouth to comment when the doors to the gym flew open and the coach barged in, followed by a coterie of eager reporters. The big man stopped in his tracks, though, when he saw what had become of his best players.

And he then proceeded to lose it.

***

Their team ended up winning the Super Bowl and Tsun retired the next day; he took it in stride, soon learning he could make more money with an OnlyFans page. It was comical what they had to do to make him presentable on the day of the game. Because he couldn’t stuff his monster hardon down his tights, they ended up wrapping it with gauze and bandages. It stuck out before him, longer than his arm and thicker than a tree trunk. The TV network concealed his lower body with a computer-generated modesty box to protect the at-home audience from the sight of his prurient organ. The fans in the stadium, however, weren’t so lucky and were subjected to him in all his aroused glory.

He took it in stride, grinning and swinging his club proudly before him. His teammates did an impressive job defending his big penis and he somehow emerged from the game without serious injury. The protuberance was ungainly and heavy, though, and definitely impacted his performance. It had really helped that Espinosa was in no shape to play now that he was a giant muscle goon. Even so, by the time the game was over and he was holding the trophy aloft over his head, his cock was aching fiercely. Running and jumping and, well, any movement was difficult and painful. And then there was the constant drain of gravity. His penis weighed almost twenty pounds! 

Ha, big dick problems, he thought, clutching the trophy–and John Thatcher–against his chest. He stood up on his tiptoes and kissed his boyfriend on the cheek as the cameras snapped away. He was glowing with victory and pride and wanted the whole world to know how much he loved his man. Looking from the trophy to John, he realized that John was far more precious. He was falling in love with him, he knew at that moment. It was the first time in his life he’d been in love with anyone besides himself.

“We won, babe,” he murmured in John’s ear. “You know what that means?” It was priceless watching the tight end’s cheeks flush bright red. Tsun laughed, kissing him again. “Just wait til tonight. I’m gonna finally take yer maidenhead.” (The week had been chaotic and they’d been so busy that they hadn’t yet had a chance for Tsun to try out John’s new pussy. Oh, he fucked his gaping butthole many times already but was saving the pussy for a special occasion: Their Super Bowl win.)

***

Later that night, he carried John across the threshold of their hotel room and gently deposited him on the bed. John sat back on his elbows, staring at him with wide eyes. He swallowed nervously.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Tsun soothed, reaching out to caress his soft cheek. “I’ll be gentle. We don’t gotta do nuthin’ yer not ready for.” He unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall down off the prominent shelf of his backside. His cock had already been sticking out through his zipper so, once the pants were free of his ass, they fell to his ankles.

He removed John’s clothes slowly, taking his time. When his lover was wearing just a tiny, pink thong, he urged him to lift his huge ass upwards and slid it over his bulging, hairless thighs. He stopped and stared, admiring the still unexpected sight of John’s succulent pussy. He would never get used to such a gorgeous pussy between the legs of such a big, powerful man. He licked his lips while John bit his own lip, regarding Tsun’s monster cock with trepidation. His pussy, though, was moist and dripping.

“C’here, babe.”

Tsun took John in his arms and kissed him while tracing a finger over his cunt lips. John shivered, lifting his head and nibbling on Tsun’s ear. “Take care of me,” he begged. “I’m scared!”

“We got nuthin’ but time,” Tsun replied, kissing his neck. “Let’s do this.”

He pushed John onto his back and stood over him on his hands and knees, massive erection bumping into his lover’s chin. Carefully lubing himself up, he sat up and leaned slightly forward. It was just the right position to place his slavering cockhead over John’s delicate pussy lips. John looked up at him, flushed, and spread his legs, inviting him in. Tsun grinned, looking down and seeing that John possessed a very large vagina. Good, he thought, pleased. He’s gonna need it!

And then he fucked him.

***