Making The Perfect Roommate

Butch couldn’t find the key to his apartment. Again.

“Dammit,” he said stupidly, fishing his pockets. He wondered if he left it in his gym bag, or on the floor of that chick’s house last night. What was her name? He couldn’t remember, just like he couldn’t remember where he put those god damn keys.

There was a click and the door swung open. Butch looked down to see Rodney standing there, smelling like cleaning supplies and scowling his usual scowl. “Looking for these?” he said handing Butch his keys.

Butch laughed nervously. “Yeah bro. I’m sorry about that man. Must have forgotten them or something.”

“As per usual,” Rodney hissed under his breath as the mountainous man pushed him aside and lazily throw his gym bag on the couch.

Some roommates seem perfectly matched. Some personalities fit together like block puzzles, with one person’s assets matching the other’s insecurities, and their interests harmonizing in sweet perfection.

And then, there are Rodney and Butch. Who couldn’t be more different. Rodney was a chemist with a Harvard degree stuck working at a Ralph’s pharmacy. Butch was… well Butch was Butch. He worked out, fucked like a horse and didn’t do much else. He was a nice enough dude (and ungodly attractive) which drew Rodney to him in the first place. Little did he know that Butch wasn’t going to get a job, pay rent, or even bother to clean up after himself.

Butch, on the other hand, didn’t notice any of this. To him, Rodney was the guy in the other room, the guy who “liked” to clean everything up, as he seemed to be doing when Butch got home that day.

“Working on the kitchen?” Butch asked as he plopped down on the couch and cracked open a beer, throwing his dirty sneakers up onto the coffee table.

Rodney resisted the urge to scream. He told himself that this would all be over. He just needed to show Butch that he meant business. That he wasn’t fucking around.

“Actually,” Rodney said, “I’ve brought some work home. Someone asked for a muscle enhancing formula, and I had to do the mix here.” It was complete bullshit, but it had the desired effect. He had Butch’s attention.

“Really” Butch asked, suddenly interested, “like… what does it do? Make you swole and shit?”

“Something like that,” Rodney continued to lie, “but it’s not ready yet. I’ve still got a lot of work to do, so don’t go in the kitchen, alright?”

Butch nodded. Not only was he an idiot, Rodney thought, but he was predictable. As soon as Rodney walked into his room and shut the door, he put his ear to the wood. Waiting for the inevitable.

On the couch, Butch deliberated going into the kitchen. A muscle enhancing drug. His muscles always needed enhancing, he thought. Maybe just a little bit wouldn’t hurt. Just to see if it had an effect.

Quietly (or as quiet as he could be being 6’4’’ and weighing over 250) Butch tiptoed into the kitchen. It reached of chemicals, and the various empty bottles suggested Rodney had been hard at work for a long time. Finally, he saw them. Next to the sink. Two small red pills.

Just a half of one, Butch thought whilst slipping a full pill down his throat. It didn’t take long for the actual growth to start. Just the time it took for the pill to hit the back of his throat. When it did, Butch exploded.

His muscles bobbed up and down, as if something was beating underneath the skin. His body flooded with testosterone, and Butch saw stars as he lost all feeling in his body. It was like being high, only instead of the faint feeling like he was floating, Butch felt like he was a balloon, growing larger and larger.

And wow he was. Rodney peaked his head out of the room to see a comically large version of Butch bumble over to the couch. With every pulse, Butch’s iconic lean muscles vanished underneath pounds and pounds of cartoonishly large and round mounds of meat.

“Whats… happening… bro…”

Butch collapsed onto the couch and groaned fitfully as his behemoth bubble butt freed itself from the constraints of his pants, as his lats tore at the seems of his tank top. As his biceps became so round and fat, they forced him to speak his arms apart as he crouched, ass up, his body continuing to grow and grow and grow, until he looked like a fantasy plaything. Like something a muscle enthusiast would cook up in a dream.

And he only kept growing. Rodney had concentrated the formula so much, that even just a quarter of a gram would have been enough to turn a skinny twink like him into a muscle beast. To think what it would do to Butch, already reasonably large, and with a full dosage…

Rodney couldn’t take it any longer. He wasn’t satisfied with Butch’s persistent (and much deeper) cries for help. He needed to see what he had turned his roommate into. He needed to experience the full breadth of his revenge.

With great caution, and great anticipation, Rodney opened the door and turned into the living room. His jaw dropped.

Butch was over 7 feet tall. All his clothes had torn off. All that it, except his jock strap, which was stretched so thin over the bro’s monster of a cock, that Rodney could see the shadows the erect dick was making under the threadbare fabric.

And his body. Oh god his body. By now, Buch was packing so much muscle that it was getting hard for him to move his limbs around. Everything was so round, so hard, so exaggerated, that he would have made Johnny Bravo look normal in comparison. All of his muscles were drenched in a layer of nervous sweat, and at the sight of Rodney, Butch threw his hands around his cock, ashamed.

“Dude…” he said, still getting used to the low timbre of his voice, “I… I think I took.. too much… ohhhh…” another wave hit him, and he fell to his knees. It wasn’t much of a fall, as his thighs were so big now that they were practically a cushion of their own, but it sent shock waves throughout the apartment, almost toppling Rodney over.

“Did you now,” Rodney said with a smirk, “you know I told you not to go in there.”

“I’m so… so sorry,” he couldn’t even finish the sentence. Rodney walked up to him. Even though he was sitting, they were at eye level.

“Just like I told you to clean up your room, or pay rent, or pick up after yourself in the kitchen.”

“I… I…”

Rodney put a finger to his lips. “Shhh, no need to talk. You won’t be able to in a minute anyways. You won’t be able to do anything actually. I bet with a little extra boost, those muscles there will be so thick that all you’ll be able to do is lay around all day. Oh don’t worry,” he stroked Butch’s beard as terror swept across the jock’s tiny face, “it will give you some time to think. Maybe after you’ve spent so much time in the house, you’ll be a little more sympathetic to keeping it clean.

“Besides, I put in a little extra ingredient in the formula. Something that will help you enjoy your time a little but more.” Butch looked at him confused, but then Rodney reached down and grabbed his cock.

And Butch froze. The sensitive feeling, the warmth, no, the heat radiating between Rodney’s hand and his penis was one of the most intense things he ever felt. As soon as he touched it, Rodney felt all his usual g-spots ignite with horny passion: his pits, his feet. Even his ass hole began to tingle eagerly, as if it was suddenly missing a cock between its plushy cheeks.

“Yeah,” Rodney nodded, “you like that don’t you big boy? I can’t imagine you’ve ever been fucked before. Trust me when I say it feels amazing, especially when your body is this sensitive, and this… well…” he stepped back, admiring his work as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe.

“Now,” he said tapping it, “let’s finish this up, shall we?” Butch tried to shake his head, but his traps were so thick now that he could barely turn his head.

He didn’t even feel the needle go in. All he felt was that familiar rush of testosterone, that familiar feeling of expanding. Of exploding. He heard a snap, and felt his monster meat fling out just inches form Rodney’s face, some excess pre dripping from its tip like a thick soda fountain.

When he finally stopped growing, Butch was over eight feet tall. He weighed upwards of 800 pounds, and Rodney decided to just keep him right there in the living room, his own personal sex toy. He would suck Butch’s dick (as much as he could), fuck his eager ass, and even sleep on his massive chest sometimes, feel the warmth radiating up from his colossal muscles, rising and falling slowly as the beast slept.

As for Butch, he didn’t so much mind. All he could come to think about was Rodney coming home from work and using his body as he saw fit. He only got up to use the bathroom and shower, both of which needed assistance from Rodney, but it was a much simpler life being big. So simple that both he and Rodney almost forgot that this was all supposed to be temporary. It had seemed, for a while at least, like they’d become the perfect match.