The "D" Word

 

The cap was working, as far as Russ could tell.

Not one hour ago, he was 20 going on 21, hovering below 140 lbs with nery a hair that wasn’t on top of his head.

But that had all changed. Russ wasn’t going to wait for a body that would never come; he wanted to feel the power and authority that came with maturity, he wanted guys to faun over his muscles, to worship the very ground he walked on, and present their asses for fucking. He wanted to be called… well… let’s just say this cap was the solution: a powerful magical object that would turn him into the very word printed across the top.

The first part of the transformation was all about aging him up. Moments after first putting the cap on, Russ felt his head fill with memories, memories of a future he had not yet experienced. Over the last hour, Russ remembered hitting the gym hard throughout his 20’s and 30’s. He remembered even entering some bodybuilding competitions when he was in peek form. He remembered getting married, having a kid, working out, getting divorced, retiring early, working out, getting a tattoo, finally coming out, and working out some more...

Now, his body was beginning to remember too. Russ groaned in both pleasure and agony as his muscles underwent decades of growth and development in a matter of minutes. Pecs that were previously non-existent now swelled to the size of footballs, forcing poor Russ to lay on his back and writhe as his frame struggled to accommodate for all the new mass. He could scarcely bend his arms now that they were ripe with hard muscle. Russ watched with a mix of horror and amazement as his biceps inflated like bubbles, the taut skin revealing tapestries of veins underneath.

A loud crack as Russ’ new skeleton finally snapped into place. The growth proceeded at a much quicker pace now. Russ craned his muscular neck just in time to see his abs appear beyond the canyon of cleavage obstructing his vision. But when he looked back again a moment later, they themselves had vanished into a huge muscle gut, which was now rising as high as his pecs.

Perfect, thought Russ to himself. He continued to watch as the view from the top of his chest got darker and darker... while hair had been gradually appearing all over his body since the transformation began, what Russ witnessed was nothing short of an eruption, as a forest of bristly black scruff completed the awesome landscape on his chest. No sooner than it appeared did it turn a silvery grey.

Perfect.

Russ was able to stand now—though barely. He couldn’t tell if his newfound soreness was a byproduct of magically gaining over a hundred pounds in ten minutes, or just getting old. Russ vaguely recalled surgery on his lower back sometime in his 40’s. Sciatica? He couldn’t remember. Whatever it was, it had worked; Russ had an impressive, full range of motion for a 55 year old.

Or was it 56?

Russ lumbered to the bathroom, every bit of furniture wobbling a bit as the floorboards bent with his incredible new weight. Though when Russ turned on the light and stared at his reflection in the mirror, there didn’t seem to be anything “new” about him. He was a grizzly, middle aged bodybuilder. A bear. A brute. A…

“HMMMFF!” Russ gripped the edges of the counter. The cap wasn’t finished. He panted, struggling to stand as his legs doubled in size. The marble edge of the sink seemed at least several inches further away. Had he gotten taller too?

As if Russ didn’t look intimidating enough, his tattoos finally came in. As he watched the ink trickle down his thick, round shoulders and hug his biceps, Russ remembered the pin-prick pain of the needle under his skin as if it was yesterday.

He also felt a strange sensation in his ass cheeks, a faint heaviness. Russ spun around just in time to see the two globes jiggle with their final bout of growth, another dusting of silver hair following suit.

It was the ass Russ had dreamed of his entire life. The only thing missing was a hungry twink buried between those cheeks. Just imaging it was enough to make him—

“AGGGH!” It was like getting the blow job of his life… except with every suck, Russ’ dick grew another centimeter of girth. The cap didn’t make Russ’ cock “longer” (he was still the same, proud 7-incher) but it almost tripled in weight, completing the transformation into his ideal, 58 year old self. This was the kind of dick that would make guys scream, the kind only a skilled bottom could fully take.

Now, it was just a matter of finding one…

It didn’t take long; within moments of setting up a new dating profile, Russ’ inbox was flooded with pictures of pretty pink assholes, ready to swallow his colossal cock. But Russ was picky. He didn’t just want a guy who could take his dick; he wanted someone who would worship it.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Russ commanded in his booming voice. It was the first time he’d really gotten to hear it come out of his mouth since transforming, and it was one of the sexiest things he’d ever heard.

His new partner seemed to agree. The handsome twink was already undressing at the sight of Russ, himself naked, waiting on the couch and stroking his beer can cock.

Russ stood and pulled the young man into his chest, and those silky white hands made quick work exploring the peaks and valleys of his physique. Russ had never actually been touched like this before… but in his memory, this was how every guy had touched his body for the last 25 years.

After all, how could they not?

“You gonna let me take care of that ass?” Russ growled as he grabbed each of the twink’s cheeks and spread them wide. Between their sloppy, wet kisses, he heard the young man whisper…

Rewind (ASK)

 

Ah yes, it’s always the decisions we didn’t make that sting most. You could have become a huge fitness freak in quarantine… you could have spent all this free time building your dream body… instead, you vegged, you over-ate, you watched TV for hours and hours on end.

Trust me, I can relate.

If only there were some way to turn back time, to rewind and return to those very first choices — the ones that really mattered — between reaching for that bag of chips or reaching for the protein shake, between hitting the “snooze” button on your 7 A.M. workout alarm or actually getting out of bed. If only you could change the past, then everything would be different now, wouldn’t it?

Oh hey, what’s that we’ve got here?

No, it’s not a sex toy! Get your mind out of the gutter. It’s a remote control, obviously! 

Okay to be fair, this isn’t like any remote control you’ve ever seen. Because this remote doesn’t control your TV. It controls your whole life. Yes, just like that Adam Sandler movie, how astute of you.

So, say you wanted to go back to the start of quarantine and change your decision to work out at home. Let’s say… a couple hours every day? It’s not like you didn’t have the time. All I gotta do is change some settings here… tweak a couple presets… aaaaaand…

Voila! 

WOW. That’s a lot of progress for just under one year! Turns out only a couple hours of home workouts every day is enough to make you look like a meat headed bodybuilder.

But it’s not enough to look like a meat headed bodybuilder; you want to become one. And speaking of “meat,” how was your diet over the last eleven months? Not very good I assume. Yes, that would explain why you look so bulky. 

How about we go back to the beginning once more? Start a brand new set of eating habits, shall we? Keep that calorie count nice and high, but swap out all those fatty potato chips for some nice, hearty protein… sound good?

Good.

Yes, those are real abs appearing on your torso as we speak. Yes, you can touch them; they’re yours! This whole body is yours, so you better take care of it. I don’t wanna have to break out this remote again in another year. You’ve got no excuses now.

Besides, nothing beats the satisfaction of showing off at the gym, pumping those rock hard pecs in full view of all the guys you’ve envied for so long. Trust me when I say you’ll be the one getting jealous looks from now on… and lustful looks… a LOT of lustful looks…

Needless to say, I think you’ll have plenty of motivation to keep this body in shape.

Have a nice week!

Thirsty

 

“Harder…” you moaned, but it went without saying; you had the most delicious ass on the planet, and the guy underneath you was absolutely destroying it. His tiny bedroom reverberated with the ripe, rapid patter of his waist slamming against your sweat-drenched cheeks, fast as machine gun fire and harder than a tribal drum. 

He was a monster—whatever his name was. He dwarfed his queen sized bed, and you practically had to do the splits just to mount him. If anything, this made it easier for you to fuck: all 9-inches of his solid flesh and muscle deep inside your ass, spread wide like a canyon. Before tonight, you wouldn’t have dreamed of taking a dick this big. Now, it was like second nature. 

Everything went fuzzy as you reached your third orgasm of the night, your shivering body awash with fresh endorphins. But along with the familiar pleasure came a familiar pain, an ever-so-slight contraction of your muscles… as if they wanted to recede back into your body…

“FUCK,” you cried. You unleashed a torrent of hot seed onto his muscle gut, just as he delivered another load into your already gapping hole. You looked down to see him panting beneath you, sweat soaking the milky-white sheets all around him. 

He’s so big. You couldn’t stop saying it to yourself, not since you saw him lumber out of the bathroom at the bar four hours ago. Had it only been four hours? It felt like four days. He’s SO big. Like your mind trying to remind you that this was real. That he was really there, laughing, sweating, leaking out of your ass. 

“You’re so big,” he smiled, running one of his hands up your chest. His hands… Jesus. You wanted to sit and stare at him forever. But with every passing second, the pain grew more and more present, until it was impossible to ignore. In less than a minute, you would look exactly like you did when you woke up this morning; scrawny, spindly. Small. 

No. Not right now. Not like this.

You dove for the water bottle on the bedside table. It took only a second to pop the cap and throw it back. You felt the cool liquid trickle down your throat. The water tasted just how it had looked back when you first saw it cascade over that waterfall in Thailand several months ago: magical. Simply magical. 

And it was—according to the locals. One sip of the water from the falls, and you could transform into anyone you imagined. But the effect was temporary, lasting about as long as the water took to exit your system. You took as much of it as you could carry, but the hike was long and the water was heavy. This bottle was all you had left. And now, it was almost empty. 

“Someone’s thirsty,” the horny bodybuilder said, continuing to feel your pecs in utter amazement. He was going to make you cum again. Just knowing he was still there, still inside you. The way he felt your muscles, how he cherished every perfect hair, every flawless inch of skin. 

You were like a bitch in heat; it would take everything in your power to dismount him. But the pain wasn’t getting any better, and you couldn’t let him see you for who you truly were. 

“I have to use the bathroom,” you said, but you were already halfway there. Your asshole ached in the absence of his dick, as if an entire part of your body had gone missing. As you fumbled around for the light switch, you recognized this feeling as withdrawal. You’d felt it several years back when you tried to kick cigarettes; when your body builds a chemical dependance on something, you can’t live without it.

But when you finally switched on the lights and saw your reflection in the mirror, you realized it wasn’t some random guy’s cock you were addicted to… it was this:

It was the same reflection you saw staring back at you in the pool under the falls, that very first time you took a sip from the mystical water. As it trickled down your throat, you imagined everything you ever wanted: to be taller, to be hotter, to have muscles that would take decades (and specific genetics) to develop. You wanted to be hairy, to have a pelt of fur guys could get lost in, a testament to a level of raw masculinity you knew you could never possess. 

Only now, you did. You had become the man of your dreams, and that same man was laying in the next room, dick still hard, waiting for you to come back and share your incredible body with him.

But that very body was already beginning to vanish. You could see the hair receding back to its follicles, the top of the counter growing ever closer to your face as your height began to shrink. 

It was just as the town locals had said: the water was a gift, and a curse. It is one thing to look like your ideal self, and another to have that ideal self ripped away, again and again? Now you understood why the hike to and from the falls was so arduous, why the locals themselves never dared drink of the water themselves; once you became your dream self, you never wanted to go back.

You looked down at the water bottle in your hands, and the one, big sip left swirling inside. There was a lot you could do with one big sip. At least one more good fuck. Maybe two? Or was this the water itself talking, trying to extend its presence in your life even further? Because even as you deliberated in the bathroom, your muscles getting smaller and smaller, your mind was already planning your next trip to Thailand.

It was like cigarettes all over again. You shook your head and closed the cap. You were going to walk out, tell your new friend that things have been fun, and escape before he could notice the changes. Then when you got back home, you would dump the rest of the water. No matter how incredible your fantasy was, it was just that; a fantasy. “A lie is like a parasite,” one of the wise old villagers had said, “it lives in you for as long as it can. You feed it just as it feeds you. But eventually, it dies, as every living thing does. Because only the truth can live forever.” 

You walked back out into the bedroom, mouth open and ready to say goodbye. But you stopped when you saw him, spread-eagle on the bed, his cock still chubby and his smile still wide.

“How about another round?” he purred. 

Without thinking, you removed the cap and downed the final sip. 

What’s the harm in one more lie?