Note: I started writing this story almost ten years ago. It languished in my Google Drive and in my imagination, existing in a sort of half life, until now. It took me a while to develop the right personality for the main character, Tyler. Once I finally understood him, though, the story flowed out.

By the way, I plan to write a companion story featuring Mario’s friend, Jake. Keep your eyes open for it. I hope to post it here soon!

***

Themes: Butt growth, big butt, cock shrinking, steroids, age progression, weight gain, male pattern baldness, body hair, humiliation, feminization, dumbing down, hair growth, nonconsensual, forced changes, transformation

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Quick Links:

• Chapter 1 – Scroll down!
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6

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Chapter 1

On the first day of his internship at the food bank, Tyler Moretti wore a tailored suit coat with a split back to accentuate his slim build. A pair of cuffed trousers and oxblood leather shoes rounded out the ensemble, announcing to everyone that Tyler was not just attractive but fashionable as well. He wanted everyone at the food bank to know that this position was beneath him and they had better treat him with respect. He was, after all, a man on the up and up. This was just a stepping stone in his soon-to-be lucrative career in development and fundraising.

He couldn’t believe it when the university’s business school office told him that he was going to be working at a food bank. He’d assumed that he would be assigned to one of the wealthy nonprofits like his girlfriend, Kailin. She was away in Minneapolis for the summer, working at a children’s hospital where the interns got their own offices and earned a hefty stipend to boot.

And where was he?

At a fucking food bank just five miles from his apartment! And, instead of his own office, he was sitting in the open cubicle area next to the noisy warehouse floor where the air held a perpetual odor of fermented fruit. Worse, his cubicle was across from the receptionist’s desk and he had to listen to her answer phone calls all day in her nasal Midwestern twang.

Kaitlin told him to look at the bright side: It would be easy for him to shine in such an environment. The food bank probably attracted struggling students who had limited career prospects. This was his opportunity to show them what a truly skilled development professional could do.

She had been wrong.

The director of the food bank was a surprisingly astute woman who effortlessly kept her eye on the big picture while noticing a host of details that others overlooked. She had incredibly high standards for her team and drove them relentlessly. On his first day, she had already knocked Tyler down several notches and he was still smarting from the experience. He had sent Kaitlin a plaintive text only to be rewarded with a photo of her with her heels up on a mahogany desk in the children’s hospital, the window behind her showing a breathtaking vista of the city below. He scowled and tucked his phone back in his pocket, stalking off to the bathroom.

The men’s restroom was a vile place smelling of cloying urinal cakes that barely masked other less salubrious odors. Worse, it was completely open. The stalls on the toilets lacked doors and there were no privacy screens beside the urinals. Tyler felt his shoulders tense as he took in the scene.

What the fuck? he thought. Not even any doors on the stalls? It was like a high school bathroom in a rough neighborhood! This was ridiculous! He set his jaw, remembering another detail Kaitlin had shared with him about her workplace: She had the use of the executive washroom. It wasn’t fair! 

He cast about and was glad to discover at least the place was empty. Taking up position at the far end of the bank of urinals, he loosened his belt, unzipped, and fished around in his trousers for his cock. He had just succeeded in pulling it out when the door swung open and a big man strode in. Tyler’s shoulders hunched as the guy took up position at the urinal beside him. (There are five fucking urinals and you had to choose the one right next to me!) 

He felt heat creep up his neck and tried to ignore the dude, keeping his gaze straight ahead. Even so, he could see the guy out of his peripheral vision and recognized him as one of the truck drivers, dressed in the food bank’s green uniform. Tyler had met most of the drivers already; big, burly men who acted like half feral dogs and eyed him with dismissive gazes. He knew instinctively they thought he was pampered, sitting all day in air-conditioned comfort while they did the real work. Yeah, he’d already figured out there was an unspoken divide between the offices and the warehouse–the ‘carpet vs. concrete’ jobs–and Tyler was on the wrong side of it. He could feel the man’s contempt for him wafting off of him like his body odor.

Tyler snorted audibly, turning away. He refused to be intimidated by this lowlife and squared his broad shoulders, drawing himself up to his full height. Tyler was a muscular guy who worked out regularly and played Lacrosse during the school year. He might not be quite as imposing as the big brute next to him but he was just about as tall and definitely more athletic. Judging from the size of the dude’s stomach, he never did cardio much less played a sport. Tyler smiled to himself, feeling superior.

Much to his annoyance, the driver didn’t seem to notice Tyler’s attitude or his stature and merely leaned back on his heels and unzipped. Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler saw something long and thick flop out. He almost turned and stared. It was fucking huge!

Jesus, he’s hung! he thought feverishly. And I thought I had a big dick!

Time seemed to slow as he tried desperately to pee. The seconds ticked by and the big man next to him unleashed his beast, letting loose a heavy stream of piss that echoed through the room, amplified by the curvature of the urinal. Tyler, on the other hand, felt like someone had stuffed a cork in his piss slit because he stood there with growing panic, willing himself to pee to no avail. After straining and straining for the longest time, only a tiny dribble came out, splattering on the floor at his feet. He hunched his shoulders, ashamed and embarrassed.

This never happened!

He always let out a gusher! He could piss better than any guy he knew! He was always on top, even when it came to urinating.

Except for right now.

Just ignore him and pee, Tyler! Just pee and get out of here!

His inner pep talk helped somewhat and the dribble increased slightly.

The guy was already finishing up before Tyler had barely begun. Rather than zip up and get back to work, though, he stood there with his fat cock in his hand, idly tapping it dry as he surveyed Tyler. Tyler’s face colored from the scrutiny and he was debating whether to pinch off and flee when the man cleared his throat.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed. “Yer really are him, aren’t ya?”

Tyler tensed, his stream jumping up and down as he piddled on his oxblood loafers. He kept his gaze studiously forward, though, as he stated coldly, “I’ve never met you before. I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

The big man finished tapping the urine off his dick and tucked it back inside his pants, zipping up. “True,” he agreed, “We’ve never met in person but I’ve seen ya on PornHub a thousand times. Yer ‘Amerigo the Booty-full’, ain’t ya?”

‘Amerigo the Booty-full’? What the fuck kind of corny-ass porn name is that?

Tyler sighed, “No, I am not. I don’t even know who that is.”

The big guy didn’t buy his answer. Folding his brawny arms and nodding appreciatively, he murmured, “I fuckin’ love yer stuff, man! There’s no one out there like you! Not with an ass that big and a waist that skinny! Fuck, I still jack off to the webcam vids of you in that pink thong every night!”

Tyler couldn’t believe this was happening. What the fuck was the guy talking about? He’d never been on a webcam and certainly had never worn a thong! This was harassment, pure and simple. Setting his jaw, he corrected, “You have me confused with someone else.” He stuffed his dick inside his pants and zipped up. “I would never do porn!” When he worried this didn’t sound convincing, he added lamely, “Especially not gay porn. I have a girlfriend, you know!”

It was like the big guy wasn’t even listening to him. “And yer tramp stamp,” he continued, shivering with appreciation. “That fuckin’ gorgeous tattoo of the roses and a Colt 45! It’s so effin’ hot! I tried to talk my girlfriend into gettin’ one juss like it but she refused so I dumped her.”

“I’m sorry but you’re wrong. I don’t have any tattoos and I have never done porn,” Tyler protested, unable to believe this conversation was happening. “I have no idea who you think I am but it’s not me.”

With that, he marched out of the bathroom, not even bothering to wash his hands. From then on, he decided he would never set foot in this bathroom again. Instead, he’d use the handicapped-accessible bathroom because it had a lock.

For the rest of the day, that interaction in the restroom bothered him. He felt creeped out that some random dude would say things like that to him. It was not only obscene, it was insulting! He debated reporting the guy to HR but, in the end, he decided to let it slide. Fortunately, he didn’t see the man again for the rest of the day.

***

The next morning, there was a package inside his employee mail slot. Curious, he removed it and examined the little bag. Made of opaque plastic, it was zipped shut. He felt it, realizing that whatever it contained was slim and light, barely more than an ounce in weight.

He opened and dumped the contents into his palm, stuffing it back in abruptly when he saw what it was: A pink thong. His cheeks blazed hot as he turned and looked around to be sure no one had seen him. When he saw no one, he dumped the envelope in the trash…or at least he intended to. For some reason, before it could leave his hand, he’d stuffed it into his pocket. 

After finding the thong in his mailbox, he sat at his desk in the common area, seething. He didn’t need to be told who had left it in his mailbox; he knew it was the big, burly dude from yesterday. What was his name? He couldn’t remember and so he turned back to his computer and browsed to the organization’s website, scanning the photos of staff members until he located the man: Cash Donahue. Yeah, that was him. The big fucker had his arms crossed and was grinning back at the camera like a total cocky motherfucker. Tyler clenched his jaw, hating him.

Should he report the incident to HR? If so, what would he say? That Cash thought he was a gay porn star and he suspected he’d left a thong in his mailbox? The very thought of sitting down in front of the pretty, young HR admin and telling her this made his pulse spike. No way! He couldn’t tell her!

He settled back down in his chair, forcing himself to relax his shoulders. He’d already been chastised twice that morning by the executive director for being distracted and knew he was on thin ice. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t make himself stop fidgeting. It got so bad that he finally got up and took a walk outside.

This proved to be the wrong decision because no sooner had he set foot outdoors when he spotted Cash leaning against the side of the building, toking on a vape pen.

“Hey, Amerigo!” he called out, grinning from ear to ear. “You like my little package? It’s for your little package…and yer big booty. Haha!”

Tyler clenched his fists, feeling both stung and humiliated at the same time. While he struggled to formulate a retort, he inadvertently found himself captivated by the sight of Cash. It wasn’t that he was particularly handsome–his features were too crude and blunt for that–it was that he was so different from the guys that Tyler hung out with. His male friends were all so…well, pretty in comparison. Cash hearkened back to another era, a time when men were big and strong. Nowadays, most guys weren’t, even the ones who worked out at the gym.

Or maybe it was that the United States was so stratified by class that he just didn’t see blue collar men like Cash very often? Tyler was from a wealthy family and had attended a private school before being accepted at an elite university. He’d never worked outside and never done manual labor. His hands were uncalloused and his complexion flawless. While he loved weightlifting and Lacrosse, the very thought of having to do manual labor made his skin crawl. He wanted to work in air-conditioned comfort, getting up at a civilized hour of the morning. The men in the food bank’s warehouse had to be at work by 7am, a whole hour before Tyler’s alarm went off!

Cash Donaghue was tall and muscular, tilting slightly to the heavy side. Probably still in his mid-twenties (only a couple years older than Tyler), he nonetheless seemed older. Maybe it was his stocky build, broad shoulders, and thick beard? Or was it because his face was weathered from working outside so much? Whatever the reason, he looked a decade older than his chronological age.

His curly auburn hair was somewhat shaggy but he didn’t look unkempt. Far from it! If anything, his shaggy hair, scruffy beard, and woolly eyebrows made him look even more commanding and masculine. Cash was, Tyler reluctantly admitted, a real man and an impressive one at that.

When he remained silent, Cash continued, “So, when’re ya gonna put it on for me? I’ll pay ya for a lap dance.” He yanked a stained wallet out of his pocket and thumbed through it, extracting a twenty dollar bill. “This enough? You can come back to my apartment after work.”

It was like a needle scratching abruptly across a record on a turntable. Just like that, Tyler’s appreciation of Cash turned into disgust. Revolted, Tyler stared at Thomas Jefferson’s stoic face on the grimy bill, unable to believe this was happening. Who did Cash think he was? A cheap whore? His mouth fell open but no sound came out. Instead, he stood there mute, clenching and unclenching his fists for the longest time before finally giving up and stalking back into the building. Cash watched him leave, chuckling to himself.

***

Later that afternoon when he returned to his apartment, he was fishing his keys out of his pocket when he felt something silky and strange inside. Confused, he pulled out the mysterious thing, discovering that it was a piece of pink satin. He almost dropped it when he remembered the thong Cash had left in his mailbox. 

He thought he’d thrown it out! WTF?!

Rather than dropping it, though, he stood there at his door, running the miniscule undergarment through his fingers. It was so sheer! And shiny! He held it up, imagining what it would feel like to slip it on. 

The pouch was really brief, a mere triangle of fabric, and the elastic waistband was incredibly small. Even so, he could tell it was his size. Sure, he’d look ridiculous as all fuck wearing it–his big dick and generously-sized balls would spill out of the little pouch–-but it would fit him. How had Cash known? He flushed when he realized the dude must have really checked him out when they were standing at the urinals. How fucking rude and embarrassing!

Tossing the thong in his dresser drawer, he tried to forget about it.

***

The next morning, there was another small envelope waiting for him in his mailbox. Tyler gritted his teeth, trying to resist the urge to open it. He already knew who it was from and that he wouldn’t like whatever was inside. Instead, though, he found himself reaching out with shaking fingers to take the envelope. He tore the seal and peered inside, gasping when he saw a syringe with a little vial. When he read the label on the bottle, he almost dropped it: Testosterone cypionate.

What the fuck? Why had Cash given him a bottle of steroids?

There was a note tucked inside. Scrawled in an uneven hand, it read, “Saw ya checkin me out yesterday. This’ll help out. Lift after work?”

Tyler’s hand was shaking so bad he almost dropped the package and its contents on the floor. Rather than throwing it out and reporting Cash for giving him controlled substances, though, he stuffed it all in his pocket and went back to his desk.

He successfully avoided Cash for the entire day, eating his lunch out of the office and scheduling a fake Zoom meeting so he had an excuse to reserve the small conference room. Knowing that the warehouse guys got off of work at 3pm, he waited until 4pm before exiting the room, groaning inwardly when he saw Cash waiting at his desk.

“Ready, dude?” he asked, sitting up when he spotted Tyler. He jerked his chin toward the door, “We can take my truck.”

Tyler shook his head, “No. Just go. I’m tired of you harassing me. What’s it going to take for you to leave me alone?”

Not waiting for a reply, he grabbed his bag and left. He didn’t care if the executive director got mad at him for leaving work an hour early, he couldn’t stand being in Cash’s smirking presence for one moment longer.

***

He came to work the next day, feeling his left buttock throb in the place he’d injected himself with the testosterone. He felt incredibly guilty for doing ‘roids but hadn’t been able to resist the temptation. What would it be like to be really big and muscular? Probably pretty fucking amazing! He’d shivered with excitement as he Googled the brand name of the drug and instructions on how to inject it. Apparently, Cash had gotten his hands on some really potent stuff because the drug was labeled as being experimental due to the rapid increase in muscle size it caused. He felt his bicep, convinced it was already more robust. Did the drugs work that fast?

Tyler had been lifting weights regularly for a while but had seen only modest progress, largely because his Lacrosse coach discouraged him from lifting too much. ‘Ya gotta be fast and lean, Moretti! I don’t want ya slowin’ down out there!’ he’d scold. Now that he was out of school and lacrosse season still a few months away, he was free to do as he pleased. Besides, some extra muscle would be good for him. 

He’d always wanted to be a big wall of muscle and was tired of being so lean. He envied Cash for his casual dominance and knew it was because he was so physically imposing. Because he had nothing better to do and wanted to get the most out of the ‘roids, he’d lifted for three hours straight the night before. His body was sore all over but he felt pretty good.

His pulse spiked when he saw a new envelope in his mailbox and he stifled a little jolt of pleasure when he realized it contained another dose of ‘roids. Cash’s note read simply, “To help with yer squats, Booty Boy.”

Tyler’s fists clenched when he read it, crumpling the note and tossing it in the trash. He didn’t throw out the steroids, though. No, he kept those for later use at the gym.

***

Two weeks went by. Each morning it became routine: He’d stop by his mailbox and collect his daily dose of ‘roids, looking over his shoulder to be sure no one was watching. He barely saw Cash except in the distance through the swinging doors into the warehouse. He’d spot the big man loading a pallet of food into the back of his truck or unloading rescued food from a grocery store upon his return. They didn’t mingle, especially not since Tyler had started using the accessible bathroom and eating his lunch out of the office. It was fine with him; he had no desire to talk with Cash.

After another week, his clothes were fitting differently. Tighter all over, especially across the shoulders. His sleeves were tighter, too. When he flexed, his biceps really popped. He’d pose in front of the mirror at home, pleased with the pronounced ridges of his abs. He had an eight pack for the first time in his life!

He doubled down on weightlifting, spending four or five hours in the gym after work and reducing his diet down to pure protein. He barely chatted with Kaitlin anymore and only deigned to send her a text now and then. She was busy with her own internship, too, and didn’t complain. Even though she got her own office with a mahogany desk, apparently the children’s hospital still demanded a lot out of her. This was fine with Tyler since he didn’t really have much bandwidth for anything else besides work and weights.

The ‘roids made him horny, too. He beat off at least a half dozen times each day, sometimes locking himself in the bathroom at work to rub one out. He’d watch porn on his phone, turning the volume down, and jerking frantically. Relief was short-lived, though, and soon he’d be squirming around in his chair again, cock aching for release.

He didn’t know why but one day he Googled, ‘Amerigo The Booty-full,’ on his phone when he was in the bathroom, desperately yanking on his cock. He just about dropped his iPhone in the toilet when he saw the guy. Cash hadn’t been wrong; he and ‘Amerigo’ could have been brothers.

Amerigo was brown-skinned and built much like his own. He was clean-shaven, his black hair was even coifed in a style similar to Tyler’s. In the videos taken during his webcam performances, he possessed a swagger and an infectious self-confidence that was very appealing. 

Grinning into the camera, he started the video by flexing his big biceps. Tyler watched as they popped, big and round and beautiful. Winking, Amerigo panned the camera down his body. He was wearing a pair of black tights and a close-fitting black tank top that showed off his very muscular body. When he moved the camera behind his back and zoomed in on his ass, though, Tyler nearly came right then and there. Amerigo had the biggest, plumpest, juiciest ass imaginable! It was so big it was obscene!

He stifled a moan as Amerigo playfully thrust his butt backwards. The hem of his shirt rode up his back as he did so and the material pulled back to reveal the top of those giant, swollen orbs. They were so sizable that they pushed out of the top his tights. And then there it was, the infamous pink thong whaletail and tramp stamp tattoo that Cash had so eloquently described: A couple of long-stemmed red roses and a very phallic-looking Colt revolver pointed suggestively downward. It was gross and demeaning but it served its intended purpose, focusing the viewer’s attention on one thing and one thing only.

“UNGH!”

Tyler shot his load.

It was the pink thong that did it.

He didn’t know why but seeing that glowing, satiny, delicate waistband stretched to the limit over Amerigo’s mounded ass cheeks and the tiny string disappearing into the shadowy depths of his cleft…Fuck! It was hot! 

He told himself it was because Amerigo’s shaved booty was so much like a woman’s. Yeah, that was it. It was so big and round and voluptuous, it looked like a woman’s ass. That made it Ok. He wasn’t gay; Amerigo’s big, fat, feminine ass just fucked with his mind, making him think he was ogling a woman.

He cleaned off and zipped up, going back to work. He couldn’t get Amerigo’s butt out of his mind, though. It haunted him throughout the day, made him daydream and wonder about all sorts of stuff that was normally taboo. Before seeing that video, he had never thought about a man’s butt before. He especially had never considered that a guy could have an ass that big! It was obscene! And yet…fuck. What would it be like to–?

He shook his head, trying to clear it of such inappropriate and unmanly thoughts. He was straight and he was a guy. He didn’t need a big, girly butt like Amerigo’s.

Even so, when he got home, he went into the bathroom and pulled down his pants, craning his neck to check out his bare ass in the mirror. He bounced up and down on his heels, watching his cheeks jiggle.

He had a big butt alright.

Cash had been right about that.

But it wasn’t anywhere near as big as Amerigo’s.

Thank God!

He sighed with relief.

Jesus, can you imagine? It would be horrible to be saddled with a gluteus so maximus that everyone noticed it! He was lucky he had a butt that was proportional to his size, big but in line with his body. Thank God! He didn’t want to be a freak!

At the gym, he did squats for three hours, only resting for a minute or two between sets. He told himself it was because he’d been so focused on his upper body that he couldn’t afford to skip leg day again. After all, the gym was full of guys with overblown torsos and scrawny legs. He didn’t want to be like them! No, he needed to develop his lower body and that meant working out his glutes.

After doing squats, he spent an hour lying on his stomach, doing leg curls to isolate his glutes. He topped off the workout with an hour on the Stairmaster. By the time he was done, his ass muscles were really pumped, standing up high and proud in his shorts. He looked behind him and grinned when he saw his shirt was riding up, exposing a good inch or two of his ass cheeks much like Amerigo’s in the video. Well, not nearly as big as Amerigo’s, of course. Nah, that would be weird. He wasn’t oversized back there like that freak. He was normal. Yeah, he had a normal-sized rear end. It was nice.

He couldn’t help feeling a spring in his step as he sashayed into the locker room to get cleaned up.

***

Chapter 2

A week went by and Tyler was pretty much doing glutes exclusively. He’d throw in some upper body stuff just to keep his big guns pumped and his chest nice and rounded but he spent most of his time squatting. The daily packages of ‘roids in his mailbox kept coming but he didn’t see much of Cash. The big man would sometimes saunter past his cubicle on the way to the lunchroom but he’d only nod and smile and keep going.

Tyler bought new pants, the stretchy kind that really hugged his growing booty. He found them in a store downtown that catered to the athletic male. He spotted the pants on a mannequin as he walked past and, intrigued, went in to see if there were any his size. The sales clerk was very helpful and macho, praising Tyler for his stacked, muscular body and helping him find pants that were just the right fit.

“These’ll stretch quite a bit,” the young jock-bro said, winking. “So you can grow into ‘em.”

Tyler nodded and pulled out his credit card, appalled at how expensive the clothes were. But he decided they were worth it once he got home and tried them on again. Yeah, they really accentuated his manly legs and ass.

It was already almost July and his internship would end in another eight weeks. He couldn’t believe the time had flown past so quickly! Then again, he’d spent nearly all of his waking hours in the gym when he wasn’t at work. He grinned as he looked down at his pumped physique. He loved how muscular he’d become, thanks in large part to Cash’s steroids. Even though the dude was creepy, he’d done Tyler a huge favor, literally, and he was grateful. 

Kaitlin was a distant memory. They’d all but stopped communicating. The last time he’d texted her had been a week ago and she hadn’t replied. It should have bothered him more than it did but he felt like he’d moved on now that he had a new group of friends at the gym…

Just then, his phone dinged; it was a text from Mario. 

The text read,  >>You liftin bro?<<  

Tyler texted him a thumbs up emoji. A moment later, Mario responded with a barbell emoji. Tyler grinned, already feeling excited to hit the gym and hang out with Mario and the gang.

A week ago, he’d been doing squats in front of the mirror when he noticed a bunch of college guys around his same age watching him. Like him, they had super pumped muscles that could only be the result of taking steroids. One of them, Mario Bianchi, swaggered over and grunted, “Need a spot, bro? It’ll help ya go deeper.”

Tyler did a double take, sputtering, “A-A-Are you him?”

Mario gave him a funny look before replying in a dead pan manner, “Yeah, I’m him.” The corners of his lips curved.

Tyler shook himself, feeling like he was seeing a ghost. The dude looked so much like Amerigo the Booty-full! He couldn’t stop staring. Finally, Mario started laughing, slapping him on the shoulder, “Dude! WTF? Why’re ya looking at me like that?”

Tyler had to resist the urge to crane his neck to check out Mario’s backside. Realizing he was already acting weird enough, he kept his eyes carefully trained on the dude’s handsome face. Clean-shaven like him and wearing an identical ball cap slapped on backwards over his wavy, black hair, Mario Bianchi stood just as tall as he did and possessed almost identical musculature. He was pumped from ‘roids like Tyler with a big, bumpy chest that thrust out from his tight tank top and his stomach was a plate of pure muscle. He was grinning back at him with his big arms folded, an assessing look on his face.

Just then, one of Mario’s friends called out, “Hey, Bianchi! Is that yer brother?”

And then it was Mario’s turn to do a double take. He looked over Tyler’s shoulder to the mirror behind him where he could see his own reflection and then his eyes moved back to Tyler’s face, growing round.

“Fuuuuuck,” he breathed. “We do look alike! WTF? Who are you, bro?”

Tyler stuck out his big hand, “Tyler Moretti at yer service!”

Mario grabbed his hand and yanked on it, giving it a very manly shake. And then he surprised him by giving him a loud slap on the ass. “Nice to meet ya, Ty! Let’s be workout buddies!”

And that’s how it began.

From that day forward, Tyler met up with Mario and his friends to lift weights. He and Mario were soon inseparable, doing the same workouts together for hours on end. Tyler was in heaven! He’d never had a friend like Mario before, one who shared the same interests and loved talking about the same things. 

Mario had taken a couple years off between high school and college to ‘clear his head’ and was just getting back into the swing of the academic lifestyle. He was the same age as Tyler, just a couple years behind him in school. Their families, it turned out, lived only a couple miles apart in the suburbs and they’d gone to the same Catholic church. It was surprising their paths hadn’t crossed before now!

Tyler looked up to Mario almost like an older brother. Mario might be behind him in school but he had a lot more life experience. For one thing, he’d developed a huge online following with tens of thousands of TikTok fans and more than a hundred thousand followers on Instagram. His videos fell into two groups: Those in which Mario doled out weight training and nutrition advice (while conveniently omitting any mention of steroid use) and ones of him working out shirtless and wearing just a tiny pair of shorts. Tyler watched all of them with rapt attention, relentlessly comparing his own physique to Mario’s and taking mental notes.

Mario was tall and beefy without being a meathead. He had an infectious smile and exuded charisma, both in person and on social media. He’d smile boyishly at the camera as he chugged his smoothies, licking the milk mustache off his upper lip in a very flirtatious manner. Everything about him was seductive but in a bro sort of way, nothing at all gay about it. He’d grunt and flex and bark orders at his friends, slapping them on the butts and sometimes pinching their rear ends. Tyler loved it when Mario treated him this way. He felt like he was part of an exclusive group, one that boasted Mario Bianchi as its leader. He loved Mario and wanted to be just like him!

Of all the things he found captivating about Mario, not the least of them was the size of his ass. Mario’s butt was a manly thing of beauty. Tyler noticed it right away after meeting him. In fact, it was why he’d initially thought when he met him that he was Amerigo the Booty-full. Once he got to know him, though, he knew there was no way that Mario could possibly be Amerigo. No, there wasn’t anything queer about him. He was tough, dominant, cocky, not at all faggy. 

Plus, the way he dressed was not Amerigo’s style. Mario wore baggy, nylon pants all the time, not the tights that Amerigo preferred. And he certainly didn’t parade around shaking his big, thonged booty like Amerigo, either. In fact, Mario didn’t show off his butt at all and skipped the locker room entirely. Rather than prancing around like a total bottom-heavy faggot, Mario displayed his big, muscular arms and massively muscled upper body. He’d swagger around the gym, displaying his pumped physique proudly. His chest was always forward and his shoulders were always thrust back. Yeah, Mario was macho through and through. He was nothing like Amerigo!

The only commonality that Mario did share with Amerigo was his love of working out his glutes which, of course, was a passion of Tyler’s as well. They just sort of fell into it without even thinking about it. Usually, they’d start out doing upper body with the rest of the bros but then the two of them would inevitably drift over to the squat rack. Mario would pile on the weights before taking up position behind Tyler and Tyler would proceed to knock out set after set with Mario barking at him to go lower and lower and to lift more and more. Then they’d trade and Tyler would spot Mario. It was fun!

Tyler was constantly comparing himself to Mario. He didn’t know why but he wanted to be just like him in every way. He wanted people to mistake them for twins when they walked down the street. The more he looked like Mario, he reasoned, the closer they were destined to become.

Their banter never included any talk about their big butts. This wasn’t because it was taboo, it was because two dudes didn’t talk about stuff like that. Instead, they’d shoot the shit about everything else, focusing especially on their stringent nutrition regimens and their cutting and gaining cycles. It was a rich area of shared interest and they never grew tired of it.

Every night, they’d meet up after work in the gym. Mario would be hanging out with his buddies but he’d separate from them as soon as Tyler arrived. After standing around and chatting for a few minutes, they’d start working out, lifting for hours until they were hungry. Often, they’d head back to one of their apartments and play video games, drinking low-carb beer and laughing well into the night. It was the best time of Tyler’s life and he couldn’t wait to get done with work every day to see Mario.

And so they settled into a comfortable routine. Mario’s friends all liked Tyler and treated him like one of their own. They’d laugh and tease him just like they teased Mario. It was affectionate teasing, though, and Tyler got the sense they were actually a bit in awe of him. Well, most of them anyways.

One of Mario’s friends, Jake Puglia, initially welcomed Tyler into the group but, as Mario and Tyler became closer, he grew colder and more distant. His dislike for Tyler showed up in his critical attitude and, while the other bros teased him in a good natured way, Jake actively disparaged him. Tyler knew that Mario and Jake had been besties before he came along and made a point of including Jake in their workouts. Jake wasn’t a ‘roid user, though, and had no interest in working out his lower body. Instead, he preferred to focus on his chest and arms. Every once in a while, they’d manage to convince him to join them doing squats but he’d bow out after a couple of sets. After he stalked away, it was like a heavy cloud had lifted and they’d slip back into their easy banter.

One day, Tyler arrived at the gym before Mario and Jake pulled him aside. Looking down at the floor, he muttered, “Listen, bro, I know I’ve been an asshole an’ all but ya gotta understand, it’s nuthin’ personal, right? I don’t hate ya.”

Tyler nodded, pleased by this admission, “Yeah, I get it. You an’ Mario are like brothers, right? I don’t wanna get between you.”

Jake lifted his head and fixed him with his cinnamon-colored eyes. He was tall and lean with a wide, honest face and a serious mien. “It’s not that, bro,” he murmured, looking around at their other friends to be sure no one was eavesdropping. When he realized they might be overheard, he urged Tyler into a darkened hallway so they could speak privately. 

Tyler followed him, waiting patiently. Jake stood there, opening and closing his mouth a few times before saying haltingly, “Mario…had a rough time a couple years ago. He wasn’t…I mean, he wasn’t well. He prolly tole ya he took a couple years off before college, right?” Tyler nodded and Jake continued, “Well, it was for good reasons. He…” His voice trailed off and Tyler leaned forward to hear but before he could finish, Mario interrupted them.

“Hey, dudes!” he called out, stealing up behind them and clapping a hand on their shoulders, “what are my two best bros talkin’ ‘bout in here all by themselves?” He laughed but Tyler could tell he was suspicious.

Jake did a good job of covering his surprise and smiled disarmingly as he lied, “It’s yer birthday next week, bro. Did ya forget? Me an’ Ty here was just plannin’ sumthin’ special to celebrate.”

Mario immediately brightened, dazzling them with his beautiful smile, “Aw, wow! That’s so sweet! Gosh, guys! I can’t wait to spend it with you!” Tyler grinned back at him, heart fluttering. He wondered, Is this what it’s like to have a mancrush? Next to him, Jake looked from Mario to Tyler, his lips turning downward in a scowl.

***

Mario’s friends took him out to an Italian restaurant for his birthday. Because all of them were of Italian descent, they knew good food and picked the best place in the city. It was a cheat day which meant they could eat whatever they wanted and all of them gorged on the finest food and desserts, drinking copious amounts of wine. Afterwards, Tyler and Mario staggered back to Tyler’s apartment and collapsed on the sofa together.

“Ty, bro?” Mario was more than a little tipsy and had to work hard to enunciate clearly.

“Yeah?” Tyler couldn’t stop grinning at him. He felt like he had stars in his eyes.

Mario favored him with one of his resplendent smiles, “Ya know what ya can give me for my birthday present?”

Tyler’s pulse sped up as he asked, “No, what?” Back at the restaurant, he’d chipped in with the rest of Mario’s friends for dinner but hadn’t been able to think of an appropriate gift. He felt bad for not having something for his friend. All Mario had to do was ask and he’d give him anything.

Mario batted his long eyelashes up at him, “Bro, can I move in with you?” He smiled again, dazzling Tyler. “My lease’s up at the end of July and I don’t have nowhere lined up. I’d really love it if we lived together.”

Tyler blinked, heart jumping in his chest. Kaitlin was supposed to move in with him in September but he had essentially lost touch with her. It had been weeks since they’d communicated and Tyler knew this meant they were no longer together. The only reason Kailtin hadn’t officially ended it, he suspected, was because she was waiting to tell him in person next week when she got back to town from her internship.

When he hesitated, Mario grew worried, “Well? Will ya have me, bro?” He held out his arms, getting ready to hug him.

Tyler grinned, “Of course, you can move in with me but on one condition–”

This time it was Mario’s turn to blink, “What, bro? What’s the condition? I’ll do anything!”

Tyler grew very serious, “You gotta share yer secret with me.”

Confusion clouded Mario’s eyes and his open arms wavered, “What secret?”

“Your glutes, bro,” Tyler stated, unable to believe he’d actually said it. “Tell me how you do it. How’d you get ‘em so big?”

Mario’s confusion turned to wariness, “My…glutes? Why?”

Tyler sucked in a breath, working up the courage to say what he was dying to say. When that didn’t work, he balled his hands into fists and bounced up and down on the couch, acting very much like an eager young boy at Christmas. “I want an ass like yers, bro!” he blurted out. “I gotta have one as big as yers!”

Mario stared at him for a moment before shaking his head, “Fuck, bro. Really? You can’t be serious.” 

Tyler sucked in a breath, “I am! I’m real serious, bro! Tell me! Tell me how to do it!”

“Nope,” Mario stated. “Not gonna happen. Trust me, bro, you don’t want an ass like mine. It’s a curse. A fuckin’ curse!.”

Frightened by the prospect of not finding out, Tyler frantically tried to reassure him, “But I do, bro! I do! You got the best ass in the whole world! Pah-leeze, bro! Pah-leeze! Tell me! I’m dyin’ to know yer secret!”

“No, you really don’t.” Mario shuddered, “I’m not gonna tell ya. Ya don’t wanna go down that road, bro. It’ll fuckin’ ruin yer life like it almost ruined mine.”

“What do you mean?” Tyler couldn’t comprehend what his friend was saying. How in the world could Mario’s butt–his best asset!–ever be linked to anything nefarious. It just didn’t compute.

Mario’s eyes softened, “I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it, Ok? Please, man, juss don’t ask me again. I know it sounds weird but I really can’t go there with you.”

Tyler was crestfallen but he understood. Nodding sadly, he agreed, “Ok, bro. I won’t.” He paused for a moment, swallowing his disappointment, “And don’t worry. I still really want you to live with me!”

Mario’s wariness evaporated with these words and he whooped loudly, throwing himself into Tyler’s arms. The two hugged for a long time, pressing their overly pumped chests together and laughing. 

Mario moved in with him two weeks later.

***

Chapter 3

They had only just finished setting up Mario’s bed frame in his new bedroom when there was a knock at the door to the apartment. Thinking it was the pizza delivery person, Tyler got up and answered it. He was surprised to see Jake and a big guy he didn’t recognize waiting in the hallway. Jake’s shoulders were hunched and he looked guilty. The big man, however, radiated anger. His hands were clenched into his fists and his eyes were blazing. He towered over Tyler by at least six inches and was incredibly beefy.

Before Tyler could speak, the guy moved between him and Jake, growling over his shoulder, “It’s Ok, Jakey. You did yer part. Now go home. I’ll take it from here.” He started to push past Tyler, looking around the apartment.

“Wait,” Tyler said, holding up a hand. “Who are you? Are you a friend of Mario’s?”

The man looked him up and down, eyes flashing. And then he did the weirdest thing: He craned his neck to stare at Tyler’s butt. Taking in the sight, he shook his head, spitting, “Great! Just great. Just what Mario needs!” He pushed Tyler aside, calling out, “MARIO! GET YER FAT ASS IN HERE! WE NEED TO TALK!”

Tyler tried to get in the man’s face but the guy was too big and angry and merely shoved him aside as he marched through the apartment, looking in every room for Mario. Finally, Mario emerged timidly from the bedroom. His cheeks were rosy and he wouldn’t meet the man’s gaze.

The big guy folded his arms and glared down at him as Mario cowered beneath him. Despite his outrage at having his home invaded, Tyler was still observant enough to notice how similar the pair were. The man was a little older and bigger than Mario and had a thick, black beard but their facial features were nearly identical.

“Mario,” the guy stated coldly, “get yer stuff. We’re leaving.”

Mario stomped his foot like a petulant child, “No, Luigi! I’m stayin’! Ty an’ me’re roommates now. He’s my best friend!” Turning to Tyler, he offered meekly, “Ty, this here’s my older brother, Luigi. He thinks he controls my life but he don’t!”

Wait, Tyler thought, Mario and Luigi? Really??? Who the fuck would name their kids that?

Luigi ignored Tyler and continued to lambaste Mario, “No, yer wrong. I do control your life, lil’ bro. At least until you can prove yer makin’ the right choices.” He turned and gestured to Tyler, pointing in particular at his butt, “And this ain’t the right choice. I mean, look at him! Where the fuck did you find him anyways? In the booty bin reject pile?” While Tyler bridled at the insult, Luigi grabbed Mario by the arm, demanding, “Show me, bro! Show me yer ass! I gotta see it right now. Prove yer innocence.”

Mario stomped his foot again, “I’m not gonna show you my ass, bro! You can’t make me!”

But Luigi had already reached out to yank down on his sweatpants. Mario resisted but he was no match for Luigi who was both bigger and stronger. In the end, Luigi managed to wrestle his pants down his thighs. Tyler blinked. Underneath his sweats, Mario  was wearing a really strange pair of boxers. He’d never seen anything like them. What were they?

Mario grabbed the waistband of those weird boxers, clinging for dear life, but Luigi merely batted his hands away with a frustrated growl and violently tore them off. Mario yelped, struggling to cover himself, but he was too late. Tyler’s jaw dropped as he watched the biggest, fattest ass in the world spill out of those boxers.

Mario’s butt was fucking enormous! Up until now, his ass had always been big but not super-sized like this. But how? It didn’t take Tyler long to surmise that the boxers must be super compression shorts because they effectively contained Mario’s giant bottom, eliminating its feminine softness and molding it into something manlier. Exploding out of the boxers, it swelled to its full, obscene glory, hanging out behind him at more than double its normal size.

Luigi drew back as he and Tyler gaped at Mario’s ridiculous ass. The thing was bouncing up and down like a bowl of jello as the hapless jock tried ineffectually to cover it. There was no way to cover an ass that size, though, and his pathetic attempts only seemed to magnify just how large and juicy it was. Amidst all that bouncy lard, one thing was almost obscured: The bright pink whaletail of a woman’s thong. It framed Mario’s fulsome cheeks, drawing even more attention to his luscious curves.

Luigi was stunned, his mouth hanging open. Finally, he gestured wildly at his little brother’s obscenity, choking out, “Jesus. Fuck. Fuckin’ FUCK!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, MARIO??? IT’S EVEN BIGGER!!! YOU SAID YOU STOPPED!!!”

Mario hung his head, whimpering, “I did! I mean, I have, Luigi! I’m through with it.” He spread his hands, “Don’t worry! I ain’t never gonna go back to the way I was!”

“That’s right,” Luigi growled. “You ain’t never gonna go back ‘cuz yer comin’ with me.” He grabbed Mario’s arm, yanking on it. He didn’t wait for him to pull up his underwear before hauling him bodily through the apartment. “You’re gonna move back home where I can keep an eye on you. From now on, you’re living life on my terms!”

“THE FUCK YOU ARE!”

Both Luigi and Mario froze at the words and Tyler was shocked to discover they had come out of his mouth. But something bold and powerful took hold of him in that moment, propelling him forward. Moving between the two brothers, he shook Luigi’s hands off of Mario and stood up on his tiptoes, getting in his face.

“LEAVE NOW,” he commanded, “AND DON’T EVER FUCKIN’ COME BACK!!!”

Luigi stared at him in disbelief. Clearly, no one ever dared to talk to him like this and it knocked him back on his heels, almost as if Tyler had clocked him one in the jaw. Seeing his big brother cowed, Mario’s confidence returned and he stood next to Tyler, folding his arms defiantly with his pants around his ankles and his big buttocks bouncing up and down like a couple of fleshy beach balls. “That’s right, bro,” he yelled. “I’m stayin’! You don’t run my life no more. I’m free to do as I please!”

In unison, Tyler and Mario pointed at the door. Luigi was dumbstruck. When he tried and failed to regain his authority, he was left with only one option: Beat a hasty retreat. As he fled, he called over his shoulder, “Go ahead, bro! Ruin yer life and yer butt! I don’t care! But I’m not gonna bail ya out again when you hit rock bottom!” 

This seemed like an odd thing to say, Tyler thought, when Mario’s bottom was anything but rock-like.

***

Chapter 4

Mario tried to disappear into his bedroom after Luigi stomped out but Tyler stopped him and helped him pull his compression shorts back over his gigantic ass, soothing, “Don’t worry, bro. You don’t need to hide it from me.” He smiled warmly, “It ain’t nuthin’ to be ashamed of.” 

He wondered if it was true even as he said it. Now that he’d seen the full size of Mario’s buttocks, he felt a little shaken by the sight. How the fuck had the dude even managed to grow a booty that big and soft and round? It was obscene! If Mario were a woman, it would be considered a total slut butt.

Encouraged, Mario lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, “Thanks, bro. Even if I know yer lyin’, I appreciate it. The truth is I am ashamed of it. Luigi’s right. I really fucked up when I decided to make my ass bigger.” He finished stuffing his oversized cheeks into the compression boxers and looked back at himself, seemingly satisfied.

Tyler was impressed by the difference. When Mario wore the compression shorts, his butt looked manly and square. It was big, sure, but nothing compared to its uncompressed size. This was the way he wanted his own ass to look, not the freakishly feminine balloon that Mario had given himself.

“Care to tell me ‘bout it?” Tyler offered, padding over to the sofa and sitting down. “It might help if you talked with someone who’s not gonna get all judgey on ya.”

Mario settled down next to him. His attitude shifted now that his big butt was compressed and, as if a switch had been flipped, he was his cocky self again. He had a swagger in his step and exuded his usual macho confidence. It was both appealing and infectious. When Luigi had stripped him bare, Mario had turned into a different person: A whiney, ineffectual sissy. Tyler was glad the old Mario was back!

Mario sat quietly for a long time before speaking. Finally, he said, “I dunno what’s wrong with me, bro. I think I got a size fetish or sumthin’. This all started back when I was sixteen and I discovered TikTok. I loved all the attention I got when I posted vids and got a bunch of followers pretty quickly. At first, my parents monitored my posts but eventually they stopped. That’s when my addiction kicked in.”

“How so?” Tyler asked the question even though he suspected he already knew the answer.

Mario smiled sadly. “I learned real quick that I got more likes when I showed off my bod. So I started workin’ out. As my muscles grew, so did my followers. But I still wasn’t satisfied. I wanted even more followers! Finally, I gave in and started showin’ some skin. Nuthin’ that would get me in trouble with the moderators, just a flash of ass here and there.” He sighed helplessly, “And that’s when it happened.”

“What?” Tyler was sitting on the edge of his seat. “What happened, bro?”

“My profile exploded,” Mario replied. “People–guys, mostly–loved my ass. And I loved their attention. I posted more and more butt pics and got more and more followers.” He smiled sadly, “The problem was that, the more followers I got, the harder it was to get more. And the ones I had were never happy. They kept tellin’ me to do more squats, make it even bigger. I tried–bahlieve me, I tried–but they was never happy.”

“How many followers did you have?” Tyler asked, breathless.

“Almost a million. Can ya bah-lieve it, bro? A million followers!” Mario closed his eyes, smiling at the memory, “But I wasn’t happy. I wanted more attention and knew I couldn’t get it on TikTok. That’s when I made the next mistake, starting an OnlyFans account.”

“You started an OnlyFans?” Tyler shook his head. “How old were you?”

Mario looked chagrined, “Seventeen. I was underage, bro, but I got around the rules, obviously!” He waved dismissively. “It was easy. Too easy. And I was young, dumb and full of cum.” He smiled ruefully. “My site took off and I was makin’ mint but…”

“Lemme guess.” Tyler folded his arms, “Your fans kept pushing you to do more freaky stuff?”

“How’d ya know, bro?” Mario laughed, “But, yeah, yer right. The problem was they would pay me to do more and more radical things to my booty. They was never happy for long. And I couldn’t take it when they was disappointed. There were haters, too. Guys who trolled my page and made fun of me, calling me a pussy when I refused to try…uh, new stuff. And that’s when I gave in.”

“Gave in?” Tyler was so eager to hear more that his fists were clenched. He forced himself to relax.

“I polled my fans and held a contest,” Mario revealed. “I tole ‘em the one who donated the most money would get to do whatever they wanted to my ass as long as they paid for it.” He looked away, unable to meet Tyler’s probing gaze. “And that was my biggest mistake.”

Tyler’s heart was pounding, he was so engrossed in Mario’s confession. “What? What happened?”

A pained expression crossed Mario’s face, “The highest bidder paid more than ten thousand dollars! Can you believe it? I was in shock. I’d never made that much money before and was in heaven. Who knew my ass could make that kind of dough?” He laughed ruefully, “But when I found out what the winner had in mind, I freaked out.”

Tyler reached out and took Mario’s hands in his own, squeezing. “What was it?”

Mario hung his head. “He signed me up for a new, experimental treatment meant for women.”

“WHAT?!”

“Ikr? Ha! I don’t need to tell ya what happened next.” Mario sighed, looking off into space. “Up til then, I could hide my growing booty from my family and friends. I mean, it wasn’t easy but I was creative. I bought new, looser pants and wore baggy shirts that reached almost to my knees. I never got undressed in the locker room. Juss like right now. When was the last time ya saw me go into the locker room, bro? I avoid public nudity like the plague.”

Tyler nodded. He hadn’t thought much about it until now because he also avoided locker rooms.

“Once I saw what the dude had in mind for me,” Mario continued, “I tried to get out of it. I knew that if I went through with the procedure, I’d be a total freak and everybody’d know I had a huge ass. I didn’t want that”

“You could’ve refused,” Tyler pointed out. “You were underage after all. There’s no way he could force you to go through with it.”

Mario arched an eyebrow. “I know that now, dude. But I was young and stupid and he was real convincing. Somehow, he got hold of my real identity and threatened to expose me if I didn’t go through with it. I was terrified that my parents and friends would find out so I gave in. I agreed to go through with the procedure. And this is the result.”

He got up off the couch and pulled down his compression shorts slightly, enough to allow his pillowy ass cheeks to inflate and hang over the waistband. Even though Tyler had seen it before, he still gaped at it. Knowing the backstory only served to make the sight that much more repulsive.

“After it was done,” Mario continued, “I knew I’d fucked up big time. My ass was so big, I couldn’t hide it. Fuck, I couldn’t even put my pants on! I passed out and woke up with my parents and Luigi staring down at me from a hospital bed. They flipped out and pulled me out of school. I was holed up in my bedroom for months, unable to go anywhere with this awful caboose hanging off of me. I thought my life was over!”

“But you recovered!” Tyler said hopefully. “I mean, look at you now! Nobody’d ever know. You got friends. Yer in school. Yer doin’ great!”

Mario gave him a hangdog grin, “You can thank Luigi for that. He’s the one who found these compression shorts for me and he’s the one who tracked down the asshole who did this to me and made him pay.” He held up his hands, forestalling Tyler’s outburst, “I know Luigi’s a huge dick, bro, but ya gotta understand, he’s also my rock. I never woulda survived without him. He made it his mission to get me back on track. He gave me my life back.” He shook his head sadly, “After everything that happened to me, you gotta forgive him for bein’ overprotective. He juss don’t wanna see me to get hurt again. He cares ‘bout me. He’s a good brother.”

“If you say so,” Tyler muttered. “Seems like a total asshole to me, though. He treated you like a child!”

“I deserve it.”

Tyler was aghast, “No, you don’t! You can’t let him–!”

Mario interrupted him, saying, “I ain’t tole ya the worst part yet, bro. Hold back on yer judgments until I do, Ok?”

“Ok.” Tyler lowered his head, chagrined.

There was a long pause as Mario struggled to speak. It was obvious that it was painful for him. Finally, after a few false starts, he managed to stammer, “Th-Th-The w-w-w-worst part ain’t the size of my ass or even how girly it looks.” He took a shuddering breath, stifling tears. “No, the worst part is what that fuckin’ procedure did to my mind.” He lifted his head and stared at Tyler with tears in his eyes, “It made me trans.”

“Trans?” Tyler repeated. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I wanna be a girl. I want it so bad I can taste it, bro!”

This did not compute. Tyler gaped, protesting, “But you’re so macho! I mean look at you!” He gestured to his big muscles and broad shoulders. “Even with an ass that big, yer still one of the manliest guys I know!”

“It’s all a show,” Mario confessed, agony etched onto his handsome face. “It’s all fake. Deep down, I wanna be a chick. I want huge tits and big hair and a giant girl booty. But more than that, I wanna real pussy between my legs…with a huge dick fuckin’ it. Fuck, bro, I’d give anything to be a woman! Anything!”

Tyler swallowed, coming to terms with this unexpected declaration. As much as he wanted to dispute it, he could tell Mario was being completely honest. Finally, he said. “So, you’re trans. So what? Bro, if that’s what you want, why don’t you make it happen?” He pointed at Mario’s butt, “I mean, yer halfway there already.”

Mario was blinking back tears and it took him a moment to regain his composure. Finally, he croaked, “It ain’t that easy, bro. Trust me. Even though that’s how I feel now, it’s the treatment talkin’, not me. I never wanted to be a woman before that damned procedure. I fight like hell against the urge to change my sex but every day it gets harder to be a man. I don’t know how much longer I can do this, bro! It’s killin’ me!”

Tyler’s mind was spinning as he struggled to process this information. He had no idea there was a treatment out there that could make a guy trans! Putting his hand on Mario’s shoulder, he asked, “What was the treatment? Maybe there’s a way to reverse it?”

Mario shook his head. “Nah, there ain’t no way to reverse it. I’ve asked, pleaded, begged, insisted, demanded, threatened and extorted but the doctors all tell me the same thing: It’s permanent. I’m stuck like this for the rest of my life.”

“Forever?” The word was like a brick in his mouth. 

“Yep, ‘fraid so.” Mario fixed him with his soft, brown eyes. “Still wanna know my secret, bro? You was awful eager to grow a butt like mine.”

Tyler suppressed a shudder. Now that he knew the full truth, he had no desire to look like Mario, especially if it meant he had to sacrifice his gender identity. “Uh, no,” he replied, tongue thick in his throat. “I’m good. I’ll pass.”

Mario smiled but his eyes were sad, “Yeah, that’s the right answer. I wish I had said no, too”

Tyler felt the need to explain himself further, “I mean, I only asked you before I knew yer whole story and before I realized you wear compression shorts. They really make yer butt look good, bro!”

“Thanks.” Mario didn’t sound very happy, though. “I’m glad I can still pass for normal but I don’t know for how much longer.”

Tyler placed his hand on top of Mario’s and squeezed, “You are normal, bro. No matter what ya look like. More than that, yer my friend. If ya ever become a full woman, I’ll be right by yer side.”

Mario stared at him, his lower lip trembling, and then he threw his arms around Tyler’s neck and they were hugging fiercely. 

***

Chapter 5

It just sort of happened.

One moment, they were hugging and the next they were kissing.

Tyler’s eyes widened when Mario lifted his lips and met his own but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he pushed Mario down on the couch beneath him. Their taut bodies came together, their muscles pressing firmly together just like their lips. And then Tyler was shimmying Mario’s compression shorts downward. It didn’t take him long before Mario was naked, save for his tiny, pink thong.

Tyler pinned Mario’s arms over his head and stared down at him, loving everything about his body. He knew it was weird, that he wasn’t gay, but Mario’s smooth skin, prominent bitch tits and wide, curving hips short-circuited his brain, confusing the signals and turning him on. His cock was stiff in his shorts as he reached down and caressed the tiny pouch of Mario’s thong. Mario moaned, writhing beneath his touch, and Tyler realized he had nothing down there at all. Well, almost nothing. When he slipped his fingers inside the thong, he felt only a very small, hairless penis. There were no balls. Just a little dick. It was super cute.

Mario grinned, “That’s how I can wear those compression shorts all day, bro. I don’t got nuthin’ but a clit no more! I can’t even get hard!” When Tyler stroked his little nub, he arched his back, moaning loudly. “But I’m still sensitive, bro,” he gasped. “Real sensitive!”

Tyler knew what to do.

He urged Mario’s legs up onto his shoulders and, unzipping his shorts, liberating his throbbing erection. As Mario stared up at him, eyes filled with surprise and delight, Tyler spit into his palm and slicked up his pole. And then he moved the string of Mario’s thong aside and aimed his dick at the dude’s tight pucker. He thrust down and both he and Mario cried out as he entered him.

He was fucking Mario’s hole!

He’d never even though about fucking a guy before today and now he was going at it like a seasoned faggot. He couldn’t believe it! What had happened to him? Mario had happened, that’s what. He felt stupid. It was so obvious! He’d fallen for the dude. It hadn’t just been a bromance; he really, truly loved Mario.

And he especially loved fucking Mario.

As fun as it was fucking him missionary style, though, he really wanted more than anything to fuck that big, girly butt. After he got Mario thoroughly wound up and he himself was close to cumming, he pulled out and moved down onto the floor. “I wanna fuck ya from behind,” he panted, pulling Mario down with him.

Mario obliged, getting down on all fours and looking back at him over his shoulder. Tyler stared in wonder at that butt in all its glory. It was the biggest, fattest ass he’d ever seen. Not even the most corpulent woman he’d fucked–and he loved corpulent women!–could compare.

But wait.

What was that?

Taking Mario by the hips, he blinked at the lurid tattoo of two, thorny roses and Colt 45 revolver. He shook his head. So, Mario was Amerigo the Booty-full after all! It all made sense now. He grinned, feeling his cock pulse as he shot out a drop of precum. He was fucking Amerigo the Booty-full! Ha! Cash Donahue would be so envious.

And, speaking of Cash Donahue…

“What’re ya waitin’ for, bro?” Mario called out. “I’m fuckin’ hot for yer cock up my pussy!”

Tyler smiled, “Hang on a sec.” He extracted his phone from his discarded shorts and aimed it at Mario’s giant, squishy, pillowy booty, making sure to get the tattoo in the frame. Clicking the record button, he held the camera over their bodies as he took his dick in his other hand and stuck it into Mario’s little rosebud. “Smile for the camera, bro,” he teased, fucking him in earnest. Far from being embarrassed, Mario looked over his shoulder and grinned mischievously. He was such an attention whore!

“I’m fuckin’ Amerigo the Booty-full’s booty!” Tyler bragged, panning the camera back to his own face. “Eat yer heart out, Cash!” Then he ended the video and, tossing his phone aside, grabbed Mario by the hips and fucked him hard and deep.

That ass! That fucking ass! It was heaven to fuck. Pure heaven. Tyler had never experienced anything to compare to it. It was like Mario had twin airbags that exploded every time his thighs slapped into him. Those mutant buttocks both absorbed the shock of his impact and augmented it, setting off a series of seismic tremors that rippled through those giant cheeks. Mario loved it. He loved it. It was the most fun he’d ever had. Who knew fucking a guy’s ass could be like this?

It wasn’t long before he was crying out as he climaxed. He kept banging that ass, though, slapping Mario loudly and making him moan. When he was finally spent, he flipped him over and pulled his thong down his thick thighs and tongued his little clit until he tasted Mario’s sweet juices. The dude might not be able to get hard any but he could still shoot!

They cuddled for a long time afterwards. Mario nestled against him, nuzzling his armpit. This feminized version of Mario was so darned cute that Tyler couldn’t get enough of him. He was quickly coming to realize that he preferred a femmed-out Mario over the macho one.

“I think you should go with it, bro.” He kissed Mario’s forehead, feeling so proud. He had to keep pinching himself to believe that Mario Bianchi was really his lover! “Become a woman. I don’t give a fuck what you look like as long as I can fuck that big ass of yers!”

Mario was thoughtful. “I don’t know. It’s weird, bro. I fuckin’ love it when you fuck me and treat me like a girl but I also love butching it up and bein’ a bro. Maybe I can be both?”

Tyler shrugged, “Works for me. Yer hot both ways.” When this was met with silence, he looked down to find Mario in tears. Stricken, he asked, “What, bro? Was it sumthin’ I said?”

Mario shook his head. “Nah, ignore me. I’m just bein’ a girl is all.” He smiled, adding, “I juss can’t believe we found each other!”

“Me, neither, bro.” Tyler kissed him again. “Me, neither. It’s like a dream come true. A dream I didn’t even know I had!”

***

Chapter 6

“Good on you, bro,” Cash said as he watched the video play on Tyler’s phone. He put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Ya found him. I was sure you was the real Amerigo but I stand corrected.” He chuckled, letting his hand slide down onto Tyler’s bottom, “But now that I see what he looks like, I’d take you over him any day. I mean, don’t get me wrong! Big, girly butts’re awesome and I’ve fucked more than my share. None as big and booty-full as Amerigo’s, of course, but plenty big.” He paused, shaking his head, “But after watching you for the past couple months, I’ve realized I like yer big jock butt best. I also love yer cocky attitude. You really know how to turn a guy on!”

Tyler stiffened, uncertain how he felt about this. He’d taken a bold step in showing Cash the video of him fucking Mario, thinking that it would somehow convince the man to leave him alone. He hadn’t expected that it would only whet his appetite!

A week ago, he would have slapped Cash’s hand and shoved him away. Now, though, he stayed put and let Cash’s big, manly hand cup his bootycheeks. They were in a private corner of the food bank warehouse. No one could see or hear them. He was surprised to find himself getting aroused. Cash was aroused, too, judging by the size of the bulge in the crotch of his uniform.

“Come back to my place,” Cash coaxed, leaning in close and licking his ear. “I got a surprise for ya.”

Tyler hesitated. He knew he should turn him down and leave, that Cash was bad news…but it was his last day and he had to admit that the big man had done a good job of wearing him down over the summer. He’d walked a fine line between being a stalker and giving Tyler just enough space to be curious. Plus, he was undeniably attractive and, now that Tyler had given in and acknowledged that he was queer, it was easier for him to admit this attraction.

He gave in.

Cash drove him back to his little apartment over an old garage in a poor section of downtown. The place was hot and messy with dirty dishes in the sink and used underwear on the floor. It smelled thickly of man musk but Tyler didn’t mind. He actually liked Cash’s strong fragrance. He was such a rough stud!

He allowed Cash to strip him down to his underwear and watched as the big man shucked his own trousers, revealing the stained jockstrap he wore underneath. The bulge contained in that dirty mesh pouch was epic. Cash Donahue was really hung!

“You like my big man-cock, dontcha?”

Tyler swallowed, licking his lips. The words were straight out of a bad porno but somehow they worked, getting him so aroused that his erection thrust luridly out from his boxers. He was a lot smaller than Cash down there but, at nearly seven inches, his cock was bigger than average. 

“Lemme see yer ass, Booty Boy.”

Tyler turned and, with shaking hands, bent over and pulled down his boxers. The balmy air of the apartment settled over his bare buttocks like a lover’s kiss. He shivered.

“I can make it bigger. You want that, dontcha? You wanna big-ass booty.”

Tyler braced, looking over his shoulder in alarm to find Cash brandishing a syringe. “What?! No! What is that?” He backed away from him. “I didn’t come here for this!”

Cash stepped forward, grinning. Tyler hated how handsome and feral he looked. His knees grew weak at the sight of his dominance and, even though he wanted to resist, he already knew in his heart he would let the man do anything to him.

“You took the thong,” Cash stated. “You took the ‘roids.” He laughed, “I know you wanna be like Amerigo. I can see it in yer eyes and now I wanna see it in yer booty. C’mere. Lemme give ya what ya want!”

Tyler held up his hands. “Wait! No! That’s not what I want! I don’t wanna lady butt! I don’t wanna little clit between my legs!” He looked down at his aching erection. “I love my cock!” Then he braced, remembering something else, “AND I REALLY DON’T WANNA BE A FREAK!” He clapped his hands over his sizable–but still very manageable booty–dreading being turned into a sideshow attraction. How would he ever find a job if he had a booty the size of Mario’s!

Then he remembered Mario’s compression shorts and his resistance melted. 

That was it!

Those shorts were the answer!

If he wore those shorts, he could compress his booty down to size. He could pass! He’d be Ok! 

It’s worth noting how addled poor Tyler was by this point. His head was cloudy and he was whipped into a frenzy of fear and desire, a potent mix that left him utterly irrational, unable to consider the true ramifications of his decision. All he knew was that he wanted Cash. He spent enough time denying his attraction to the guy and now he was ready. He didn’t care what price he paid. He’d do anything!

Cash could read the longing in his eyes and chuckled, “Yeah, that’s right, pretty boy! Say goodbye to yer old life and yer old body.” He brandished the syringe, grinning. “That’s it. Come to Daddy. Now bend over an’ give it up. Give it all up!”

Tyler was sweating, feverish. He stared at the syringe in panic before obeying. He cried out as he lowered himself down, presenting his meaty ass to Cash. There was a horrible pause and then his butt cheek was on fire as Cash emptied the syringe inside. He cried out and started to straighten but then there was another burning pain in his other cheek. He sagged down onto his knees, panting. Sweat dripped down his chest and poured off his face. He looked up at Cash in despair, already feeling the awful changes.

“Wh-Wh-What’s goin’ on?” he panted. “Why do I feel so weird?”

Cash laughed. “‘Cuz it’s workin’, dat’s why!”

He picked Tyler up and carried him over to the stained couch, laying him down. Tyler was sucking in shallow breaths, feeling his body vibrate with increasingly devastating results. His skin was on fire and he scratched at it, trying to find relief. Then he looked down and saw the unthinkable: Thick, black hairs crawling out from under his smooth, soft, unblemished skin. They writhed out like spiders, growing into an increasingly thick, fragrant forest of fur. In no time, he had copious amounts of fur spreading out from his underarms, his chests and his pubes. He wailed as he stared at his formerly pristine flesh, now covered in a pelt of smelly, black hair.

He started to wail in protest–the drug was supposed to make his booty grow, not turn him into a hairy ape–but then something drifted down over his lips. He pulled at it, gaping in horror when he realized it was the hair from his head. He lifted his hands to forehead, coming away from more and more of his wavey locks. He cried out, feeling the top of his skull. It was completely bald!

And then the hair started curling out from his smooth cheeks and neck, growing into a bristly, black beard. He clawed at it but it was no use. In seconds, he was both fully bald and fully bearded. He stared up at Cash, accusing, “Wha…ya…do…to…me?” It was hard to talk. Fuck, it was even hard to form words! And his voice sounded heavy and dull.

Cash waved dismissively. “You was too smart an’ pretty. I’m makin’ ya dumb an’ ugly.” He laughed crudely. “I tole ya I was gonna take it all away from ya. Nobody’s gonna recognize ya no more now that yer big and dumb and ugly! Haha!”

Tyler gaped up at him, struggling to form a coherent reply. But it was difficult, not only because his IQ was draining out of his thick skull, but also because the other changes were kicking in. He braced, grimacing in pain as his body simultaneously contracted and expanded. His flawlessly defined muscles grew big and bloated, a round ‘roid gut pushing out from his stomach. He lost a few inches of height but gained a heavier, stockier bone structure. His muscles aged, becoming misshapen like he’d been doing ‘roids for years and years. His pecs pushed out before sagging heavily over his belly, his nipples swelling into an impressive pair of bitch tits. His skin became lined and papery. His face furrowed. Soon, his youth had disappeared and he looked like he was at least fifteen years older.

“NOOOOOOOO!” he cried. “PAH-LEEZE! MAKE IT STOP!”

But there was no stopping it once it began and the changes only accelerated. He looked down in stunned disbelief as his cock began to shrink, pulling inward to become both shorter and thicker. Losing inch after inch, he was finally left with a short, circumcised stump that was all but swallowed by the thicket of his dense, stinky pubes.

And then the grand finale!

Tyler moaned as he felt his buttocks begin to plump up beneath him. They pushed him up from the couch, growing ever more massive and firmer. He flailed his arms, trying not to roll onto the filthy carpet as they surpassed basketballs in size. Unlike Mario’s big, soft, feminine booty, though, this one was hard as granite. He whimpered pathetically as he reached down and felt the enormous boulders. They were so fucking huge and solid there was nothing even the best compression shorts could do to hide them.

He was a freak.

CASH HAD TURNED HIM INTO A TOTAL FREAK!

He staggered to his feet, throwing out his thickened arms as he tried to find his new, lower center of gravity. His ass cheeks stuck behind him like a couple of chiseled rocks, so heavy they nearly brought him to his knees. A muted clapping sound came from behind him and he realized with a shudder it was the sound his huge cheeks made as they bounced against each other. Across the room, he caught a glimpse of himself in a dirty mirror and gaped. He looked like a caveman with a chode!

“WHA DA FUCK???!!!” he demanded, careening haplessly over to Cash and grabbing him by his stained wifebeater. Cash sneered down at him, much taller than he should have been. “TURN ME BACK!!!!” Tyler hollered, sounding like a crazed bovine. “ME UGLY!!!! ME’S A FREAK!!!”

In reply, Cash merely pushed his head down and forced him to spread his newly grown ass cheeks. The big man yanked down his sodden jockstrap and liberated his big, ugly cock and spat into his palm, slicking it up. And then he parted those granite boulders hanging off Tyler’s behind and unceremoniously fucked him.

Tyler screamed in pain as he felt his poor sphincter give way. Cash was brutal, not wasting any time with foreplay or other niceties. He’d waited far too long for this moment and he wasn’t about to let it pass without Tyler handing him his ass. He took that ass as his very own, fucking it and utterly dominating it.

At some point, Tyler woke from the red hot haze of pain to realize he was turned on like never before. Cash was grunting behind him, slamming into his boulder-buttocks with brute force. It hurt like fuck but his ridiculous chode was dripping precum like a faucet. He could see it pooling on the grimy floor at his feet. He leaned forward and opened up his boulders even further, begging Cash to fuck him harder. His hands splayed out to catch his weight and he stared in wonder at them. Those big, swarthy, hairy arms couldn’t possibly belong to him, could they? And those fingers! They were the size of sausages!

He grunted, lifting his ugly mug and letting out a bellow as Cash came violently inside him, pumping him full of his rich seed. It dribbled out of his ravaged hole, trickling down his taint and dripping off his heavy, hairy balls. And then Cash took his chode between his thumb and forefinger and jacked him to an equally violent climax.

As Tyler’s jizz mingled with his own on the floor at their feet, Cash rumbled, “Welcome home, Cueter. You can call me Boss from now on.” He laughed harshly, “‘Cuz I own yer ass!”

“Nooooo!” Tyler pleaded. “ME TY-LER! ME NOT COO-TER!”

Cash grinned, “Tyler? Really? Not anymore, yer not! Ha! Look at ya! Ferget it! Yer nuthin’ but a dumb-ass skank now, bro. Yer livin’ here with me from now on. Yer never goin’ back to yer old life. ‘Sides, even if ya did, yer too stupid now to be a fancy university student. Haha! Yer dumber than a fuckin’ stump!”

Tyler stared at him, eyes going round. Cash couldn’t be serious! There’s no way he would ever trade his old life for one stuck with this malicious and domineering sodomite! But as he looked from Cash’s unflinching gaze to the mirror behind him and saw the reflection of the slope-shouldered, ‘roided-up, balding troglodyte gaping back at him, his chest clenched and he hung his head in defeat.

Cash had won.

Tyler and his big, awful booty belonged to him now.

He was now Cueter.

***

One year later…

Cueter cussed loudly as his buttocks got stuck once again in the manhole on the sidewalk. He worked for the sewer department now, cleaning out clogs in the city’s drain system. He’d just succeeded in breaking up a particularly large and odiferous ‘fatberg’ in the main tunnel and was covered in filth. Waddling up the grimy ladder, his ass got stuck in the hole and he struggled to pry himself out. His high-vis vest ripped open as he did so and his big, hairy belly flopped out, landing heavily on the rim of the manhole.

“Fahck!” he moaned, pulling off his hardhat and wiping the sweat off his bald pate. “Me stuck!”

His coworker, Buford Martin, let loose a guttural laugh. “Haha! Cueter’s stuck again! Haha!”

Cueter glared up at him, demanding, “Well, fucker! Don’t juss stand there! Halp me!”

Buford sneered, his thick lips curling, but then he squatted down and offered him a hand, his own big, hairy ass spilling out of the back of his filthy pants as he did so.

A young couple was walking by at that moment. Dressed in expensive clothes and looking very elegant, they wrinkled their noses at the stinky pair. The man–a big, strapping jock with an arrogant and possessive mien–pulled the girl closer, instinctively moving between her and the uncouth laborers. His eyes flared with derision.

Cueter caught the man’s stare and bridled. He was tired of being treated like a nobody! Only a year ago, he’d been just like that guy: A rich, handsome jock with a bright future ahead of him. And now…

He shook his head, trying to clear it. These strange memories that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him were growing hazier every day but sometimes they still captured his dim attention. He grunted to himself. Who was he fooling? He was too dumb and ugly to be anything other than a sewer rat!

“Come on, Maria,” the young man prompted when the girl turned to stare at Cueter. “Forget them. They’re nothing but trash.”

The girl opened his mouth to protest and at that moment her eyes widened as she met Cueter’s. A frisson of something–recognition?–shot through his system and he was certain he knew her from somewhere. But from where? They were clearly from two different worlds. There was no way their paths could ever cross.

She was pretty with big, brown eyes and wavy hair but her shoulders were remarkably broad for a woman’s and there was something almost masculine about her features. When she turned and looked up at her boyfriend, Cueter did a double take. She had a truly enormous bottom! It was big and round and very soft, the material of her pale satin dress caressing its curves like a lover.

“But, Luigi!” she complained in a throaty voice. “Doesn’t he look familiar? I swear I’ve met him before.”

Luigi glanced back at Cueter, lip curling. “Trash, Maria. He’s just trash. Now come on, we’ll be late for the opera.” With that, he placed his hand possessively on her broad buttocks and pushed her along.

***