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Countdown to a New You

Anderson Cooper, live on CNN's New Year's Eve Countdown, was in the midst of his usual lively banter with cohost Andy Cohen. Drinks flowed freely as the excitement of the night built up, and Anderson was caught in the whirlwind of interviews and the countdown. In the midst of it all, a crew member handed him a mysterious red shot. Without thinking much, Anderson tossed it back, laughing along with Andy Cohen.

Immediately, a sharp cough interrupted his good spirits. The taste of the shot was vile—bitter, burning, and unexpectedly harsh. It left a strange aftertaste on his tongue, but Anderson was far from sober. Having already indulged in a few too many drinks, he let it slide, shrugging off the unpleasant sensation. The liquor worked its way through his system, blurring his thoughts and numbing his senses.

The countdown continued: "10...9...8..." Anderson rubbed his temples, his mind cloudy. The idea of spending another year endlessly reporting on the same political stories, particularly Trump, seemed unbearable. His body began to feel heavier, fuzzier. "7...6...5..." The world around him grew more distant, as though everything was slipping out of his grasp, until...

"3...2...1..."

Suddenly, the world shifted. Anderson blinked and found himself no longer in the CNN studio. He was among the sea of loud, rowdy New Year’s Eve partygoers in the streets of New York. The drunken crowd stumbled and shouted, a blend of joyous and confused voices. As he pushed his way through the throngs of people, someone shouted, “Watch where you’re going, big guy!”

Big guy? Anderson thought, confused. He wasn't a hulking figure—he worked out, sure, but big? He glanced down at himself, feeling a strange sensation building in his body. His stomach ached, but he attributed it to the drinks. However, the ache deepened, his muscles twitching, spasming. The change began, slow but undeniable.

Anderson felt his body shift, growing, expanding. His muscles swelled, pushing against the confines of his clothes. He looked down in astonishment as his biceps stretched, thickening, each muscle becoming a solid mass, defined and powerful. His chest expanded, a hard wall of muscle forming where there had once been a more average build. The veins popped out from his forearms, running like rivers under his skin, pulsing with every movement.

His once lean and slightly slender frame was now an enormous, muscle-bound force of nature. His body rippled with raw power, his hands, now large and calloused, could crush anything in their grip. His neck thickened, cords of muscle making it look like it was carved from stone, and his traps swelled, each muscle a solid mound. As the transformation continued, Anderson became a living testament to physical dominance—a massive man, built from pure muscle, his body like a mountain of strength.

His skin, now bronzed and rugged, reflected years of hard work and a life of physical labor—of lifting, of outdoor adventures, of pushing himself to the limit. He stood tall, towering over the crowd, the raw power in his body emanating from every move. He cracked his knuckles, his new stance one of aggression and unshakable confidence. His entire being seemed to scream "big"—not just big in size, but in strength, presence, and raw, untamed energy.

Anderson looked at his new self in awe, both surprised and strangely empowered by the transformation. He was no longer just a news anchor in a tuxedo—he was a living powerhouse. Every step he took was accompanied by the flex of muscles, the pulse of veins, and the certainty that he was now something different, something more.

Anderson stumbled toward the open bar, his new, massive body clumsy and out of place in the crowd. He leaned against the bar, struggling to adjust to the newfound weight and strength of his muscles. As he looked up, his eyes met the bartender, a handsome man with a cocky grin.

"What’ll it be, bro?" the bartender asked with a confident smile.

Anderson blinked, a moment of clarity trying to pierce through the haze of his foggy mind, but before he could answer, the bartender's expression shifted, and he sneered.

“Ugh. Quit checking me out. We don’t serve no homos here. Only good Christian conservatives," the bartender said, his words dripping with contempt.

For a brief second, Anderson felt a pang of memory—pride parades, his advocacy for equal rights, his husband, the principles he once stood for. But those thoughts quickly faded as his body seemed to pulse with the force of the transformation. His mind became slower, fuzzier, and the memories of the past seemed less important, less vivid.

Instead, the new Anderson began to emerge—a version of himself that was brash, muscular, and filled with an arrogant sense of dominance. The memories of his old life slipped away as he embraced his new persona. Anderson felt the urge to lean into this new identity, one that was provocative and unapologetic. His voice grew deep and confident as he responded, his tone filled with newfound cockiness.

“Yeah, I get it. And what’s wrong with that, huh?” Anderson replied, his grin matching the bartender's. "It’s a free world, right?" Anderson sat at the bar, his fingers wrapped tightly around the glass, the next drink slowly making its way through his system. With each sip, he felt a fire rise in his chest, a burning heat that spread through his veins, turning his blood red-hot. The noise of the city around him, the cacophony of voices screaming and yelling, grated against his senses. It was too much. These damn city folk, all of them—loud, entitled, taking up space in the bar as though they owned the place. His mind seethed with irritation, a storm brewing in his chest.

He shifted in his seat, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. His memories of newscasts and interviews with politicians, once full of politeness, professionalism, and kindness, began to fade away. They felt distant, like old shoes that no longer fit. His years of calm, measured conversations were replaced by something darker, something sharper, as if his very persona was being rewritten by the drink flowing through him. The lines of stress and wrinkles on his face, the marks of a life lived in constant scrutiny and responsibility, slowly began to wash away. He could feel his face growing harder, more defined, less empathetic, and much more youthful.

As the liquor coursed through his bloodstream, his body grew hot with rage and entitlement. He could feel the shift in his thoughts—his old self, the thoughtful journalist, disappearing as a new version of himself began to form. The memories of his compassionate interviews were replaced by new, unfamiliar ones—TikTok clips, viral moments, flexing in front of the camera. His mind flickered to the image of a man who thrived on controversy, who built his empire on shocking the world, on unapologetically flaunting his success. This was something more raw, more dangerous, a walking contradiction wrapped in muscle and bravado.

A vision of a hyper-confident, right-wing comedian started to take shape in his mind, someone brash and bold, with a sharp tongue that ripped through the fabric of the internet’s carefully curated persona. The image was clear now—this new version of himself was everything the media loathed, everything society considered "unfiltered." He saw himself as the epitome of masculinity, his body a testament to hours spent in the gym, the sculpted muscles of his chest and arms flexing with every movement. His face wore a cocky grin, a permanent smirk, like a lion looking down at sheep, unbothered by the noise around him.

The new Anderson Cooper didn't care about social justice or "cancel culture" or the so-called softness of the modern world. He mocked it. He derided it. He was untouchable. He was the one who didn’t need the system, who didn’t need the handouts. Everything he had achieved was because of his hard work, his dedication, his willpower. Anyone who couldn’t make it, well, that was their problem, right?

The anger that had once boiled inside him turned into pure, unfiltered trolling. The satire was biting, sharp as a knife. He saw himself mocking the left-wing causes with sarcastic humor, shredding the arguments that sought to change the status quo, all while flexing his financial success. His wealth, his body, his "self-made" empire were all part of his show—his brand. And he wasn’t going to apologize for any of it. He mocked the soft, mainstream conservatives, too, calling them weak and out of touch, gleefully watching as both sides recoiled from his inflammatory rhetoric.

This new Anderson thrived on controversy. He lived for the outrage, the debates, the clashing of ideologies. His TikToks, his viral videos—they were a canvas for his audacity, an ever-expanding collection of one-liners, memes, and references to pop culture that blended seamlessly with his hyper-masculine, self-promoting lifestyle. His followers ate it up—because he wasn’t just about flexing his muscles; he was flexing his right to speak, his right to dominate the conversation. He was always right. Always the loudest.

As Anderson sat at the bar sipping his whiskey, a curvy blonde slid onto the stool next to him. Her tight dress hugged her body in all the right places. She turned to him with a coy smile. "OMG, aren't you like, super famous?" she gushed, big blue eyes wide. Anderson was about to puff out his chest and brag how he was indeed but the bombshell cut him off. "You're that douchebag constantly going on about how the media is full of 'woke fags'" The blonde's words hit Anderson like a punch to the gut. Anderson's mind began to rewrite itself, delving deep into memories of his most douchey, obnoxious rants as a conservative internet celebrity. He recalled his rise to fame, lashing out at the "fucking faggot woke media" in videos that went viral among the Reddit subreddit of white nationalists, MRAs, and other bottom-feeders of humanity. With each memory, Anderson's ego grew, along with the tent rapidly forming in his slacks as he thought about the smokin' hot blonde beside him. God damn, I'm such a catch…famous AND I'm not afraid to speak my truth. The chicks love a man who isn't brainwashed by the liberal media lies, he thought proudly as he straightened his posture. Fuck, I can already picture this fox riding my dick and screaming "White power!"" "You know what would be SO hot right now?" asked Anderson, with a coy smile. "Bitch, I can do whatever I want! In fact…"He roughly grabbed her ass, squeezing her firm cheeks through her dress. Fuck, what did she say her name was? My brain is like, totally fried right now… Focus, dude! Suddenly, a glimmer of light shone behind his glazed eyes and a voice emerged from within his thick skull, "It's Cassie. You're Jaydien…Jaydien DIESEL!"Jaydien grinned and threw his hand up in the"okay"sign."JAYDIEN DIESEL, motherfucker! Host of 'It's OK to Be White' on Gab. Now back the fuck up, ho!"Jaydien smirked, eyes glazed over as he slurred out drunken rants about the decay of American values and how only "family men like him" can fix it. He rambled on and on about his unwavering faith in Jesus Christ as he groped at Cassie's tits and ass shamelessly.

"You see, Cassie…these liberal scumbags and their rainbow bullshit are destroying the very foundations of our nation!"Jaydien yelled, practically drooling on her cleavage. "But God put ME on this Earth to save America from the homo agenda and their pussy propaganda. Men are SUPPOSED to grab pussy, am I right?!"

Cassie giggled, too tipsy and perhaps too slutty to stop this uncouth cretin from feeling her up in the middle of the crowded bar. Jaydien took her silence as a sign to keep going with his Christian crusade.

Jaydien's hand was all over Cassie's body as he ranted about Jesus, guns, and grab-pussy politics, barely able to get his words out through his drunken stupor. The bartender eyed them warily but was too lazy to intervene. This seemed to encourage Jaydien's lewd behavior. "Goddamn it's hot in here… Let's take this somewhere more private!" Jaydien slurred loudly enough for the whole bar to hear. He yanked Cassie off the bar stool, making her stumble in her heels. The blonde barely had a chance to react before Jaydien was dragging her across the floor toward the restrooms."C'mon, time for you to make America great again on your knees, slut!" A few patrons booed disapprovingly but Jaydien just flipped them off. "Eat a dick, libtards! And suck on the RedWaveRapture"

“Is the room getting smaller, or am I getting bigger??”

Alex Lederman

The Resort (Part 2)

Made in collaboration with @ccuunnttbbooyyss , check out Part 1 over on their account!

Moans echoed throughout the small bathroom and objects clattered to the floor as the growing boy fought for more room in the enclosed space.

Jonah thought that he would be spending his birthday with his Uncle, the only father-figure in his life, by relaxing poolside, but taking a shower as he woke up evidently was the worst decision he could have made.

"Fffuuuucckkkkk~" He moaned, voice deeper than it was mere seconds ago. "W-what's- OH GOD!"

Jonah was startled as another few inches was added to his height, making the once baggy shorts tighten up around his thighs even more than before. He still desperately tried yanking them over his legs to run out for help in some shred of modesty, but that would prove useless as the flat butt he once had swelled into two massive, jiggling cakes that stopped any chance of pulling the waistband up and over his hips.

"FUCK!"

Jonah stomped out of the bathroom, hopeful that his Uncle was still downstairs and waiting for him at breakfast. Jonah didn't even wonder if the man knew about this, all he knew was that his once 15 year old body had started to swell further and further towards his early 20s and wasn't stopping anytime soon.

Jonah reached down, examining his growing body as the door to the room suddenly swung open. Jonah looked, seeing the concerned face of his Uncle standing there, whose eyes immediately dropped to Jonah's exposed ass and

"Fuck... Jonah, you too?" The man asked, stepping inside and letting the door close on its own. Jonah was confused, thinking that there might be more people experiencing the same changes, but al thoughts were cut to a stop when his Uncle's huge hand came down to grab and grope at his ass.

SMACK!!!

"Damn kid, didn't think you'd have something like this when you grew up..." The man muttered gruffly. Jonah opened his mouth to speak but only a small whine escaped.

The older man chuckled, delivering a harsh spank to the fatty asscheeks.

SMACK!!! SMACK!!! SMACK!!!

Jonah's whimpers turned to moans as the newly 21 year old man's ass was receiving the treatment a pair of cakes like those deserved- alternating between being groped and spanked mercilessly.

"Didn't think you'd get changed so soon, but I'm not complaining. Lie down and let me get a good look at 'em, boy."

Jonah did as he was told, shakily moving over to the couch and letting his body flop bonelessly onto it. His Uncle was immediately behind him, feeling up Jonah's asscheeks and pulling them apart to examine.

"Fuck yeah, that's a pretty little boypussy..." The man said, immediately replacing his greedy groping hands with his face.

Jonah's moans soon joined the cacophony of others as the resort turned into one huge, hot, orgy- the boy's brain turning to mush as his Uncle had his way with his transformed Nephew's hole.

~~~

Hope you liked this foray back into writing. Let me know how you liked this quickie and I'll make sure to include more detailed descriptions and transformations in my next few posts- more is on the way!

The best transformation

The best transformation is male to male shapeshift

The Woolly Socks - Chris

Chris and Dan had been inseparable in the two years since they had met at the athletics club. Thanks to countless hours of running both men had slim toned bodies and it didn't take long for them to become a couple once they had started training together. While their physiques were ideally suited to the track, they both found it hard to keep their bodies warm in the winter. That wasn't a huge problem as it gave them a great reason to snuggle up together under a blanket. That was one of their favorite things to do together, expect for one issue - Chris's constantly cold feet.

Whenever they snuggled Dan joked about having to position himself away from Chris's feet to avoid getting a chill. Chris knew he was joking but it had been mentioned enough times that with winter coming around he decided he should do something about it. At first he was concerned it might be a medical issue, but his doctor had said everything was fine and suggested he simply wear some thick socks to help trap in the heat.

Chris looked at the socks he had picked up and worried they wouldn't work. They were a lot thinner than he had expected to buy, but the owner of the store had recommended them and assured him they would keep him perfectly warm. From Chris's perspective they looked like any other socks but he'd been promised a refund if he wasn't happy so had gone ahead and purchased them.

Chris hadn't intended on buying any socks that day, but he'd been passing the store as he was coming to the end of a run and something made him think it would be convenient to pick something up then and there.

After getting the socks, and finishing his run, Chris had taken a quick shower and was now feeling whatever warmth was in his feet quickly leaving as he stood on the cold apartment floor. So he picked up his new socks and slipped them on his feet hoping they at least do something to keep in the heat.

What Chris definitely didn't expect was to feel a sudden warmth from the bottom of the socks, a bit like he was standing on a heated floor. The warmth then started to spread up his legs. At one point his whole lower body seemed to be burning which momentarily worried him but then he remembered he had just done his normal leg day routine at the gym. Maybe he should have cooled down with some cardio at the end of the session but, like normal, he had skipped that. Dan sometimes tried to get Chris to join him on a run, but Chris had always said no - in fact he avoided any form of cardio as much as possible.

Chris then decided that if the heat he was feeling in his lower body wasn't from the gym then it would definitely be due to the hair. He'd always had hairy legs and even on the coldest days had to wear shorts to avoid his thighs from overheating. That meant that Dan always had easy access to Chris's legs and Chris loved the feeling when his boyfriend rubbed his fingers through the hair on his thighs, it was something so simple yet so intimate.

Some of the heat then passed up through the rest of Chris's body. He started to feel like the room was becoming a sauna and wondered if there was an issue with the heating. As he walked to check the thermostat, he was sure his body was still getting warmer. In particular his chest felt like it was burning up, although Chris then concluded that shouldn't be too much of a surprise given how much muscle and hair he had there too.

Early on in their relationship Chris had once trimmed his chest hair down and although Dan had said he liked it Chris could tell that his boyfriend couldn't wait for it to grow back in. He was pretty sure he hadn't trimmed it since and loved the way it complemented his muscles.

As Chris reached the thermostat he slipped off the socks he'd put on and threw them towards the laundry bin. He wasn't sure why he had put them on in the first place - normally he walked around bare foot enjoying the cool feel of the floor.

Chris then figured out what the problem was with the heating - it had been set to come on too early and was far too high. The couple had agreed that when Dan was out then the heating would be off as Chris found it hard to cool down. Even when Dan was home they'd keep the heating on low which Chris found okay if he was just wearing his briefs. Dan didn't love the cold apartment but Chris was always ready to give his boyfriend a furry snuggle if he needed warming up.

Over time Chris and Dan had tried different set-ups, but had come to the conclusion that Chris simply had a body that run hot and there was not much they could do about that.

Dirk Jager & Dean Flynn Command Post, 2007 - Titan Men, dir. Brian Mills

Cycle of Corruption

With @aismoker

Seb did not hesitate, flicking the lighter and bringing its open flame up to the tip of his cigarette. He had never smoked before, never had the intention to smoke before. Seb did not know anyone who smoked, and from an early age his family had preached about the dangers of nicotine. But here he was, the freshly-purchased pack of Marlboros sitting beside him as he took in his first inhalation.

Just as his blogger bro had warned Seb, that first breath was harsh, the smoke roughly scratching at his throat. But his bro had instructed him to keep going, push through the first cigarette. If it was still a little scratchy, have a second. Heck, go through the whole pack. He promised that Seb would notice the change once it came. His throat would surrender, allowing the smoke to smoothly caress itself along the walls like syrup.

Seb assumed he must have appeared strange to the passersby. Some looked at him with the common disdain that was given to all smokers, whether they were newbies or veterans. Some noticed the slightly-above average male and took a second to appreciate him, but then noticed the cigarette between his fingers and shied away. Seb was athletic, kept in shape, but he was nothing extraordinary. Just a lucky genetic draw. But his bro promised Seb it would all change. Smoking would make him what he craved to be: a real man.

Seb could not recall how it had all started. It seemed like only weeks ago he had been scrolling through content online, just passing each blog one by one as he had done countless times before. When he came upon a new blog in his feed though, one boasting of the joys and transformative properties of smoking, he was intrigued. Who in this day and age was promoting nicotine, especially at such a level to create fanfiction of Marlboro? With nothing better to do, Seb explored the page, and before he knew it hours had passed. He had become enthralled, blissfully unaware that a latent addiction had been awoken.

Seb continued to visit the blog, fascinated by the opinions and captions shared by the creator. Eventually, he reached out, and was surprised when the blogger quickly responded back. The blogger, an avid smoker and certified bro-type, was happy to explain his perspective and ideology, further enrapturing the pupil in Seb. It did not take much longer from there until his bro instructed him to purchase his first package of Marlboros, and now on his third cigarette, Seb’s world was beginning to expand.

Enlightened, Seb immediately sent a message to his bro, who responded back with knowledgeable confidence. His bro explained that this was his first stepping stone towards manhood, tying back to their discussions in the past. The blogger had uncovered the definition of masculinity to Seb through pictures of smoking men and by outlying the connections between nicotine and the alpha male. And at that very moment, as he was no longer resisting the smoke's phantom embrace coursing through his veins, Seb finally began to understand his bro’s perspective.

From there, the vicious cycle of corruption erupted. With the continued encouragement from his bro, Seb continued to purchase pack after pack of Marlboros until he began to do it automatically. The process engrained itself as a part of his system, the nicotine like a parasite adding one extra item to his mental to-do lists. And the smoking too, a catalyst initiated by his bro, shifted the direction of Seb’s fate, readjusting his life’s path towards new objectives.

Once the addiction took its permanent residence, things began to change. The smoke physically undertook a reconstruction of its host, creating a suitable body to contain its poisonous splendor. Seb’s musculature grew, his body strengthening a little more with every pack. As his bro reminded him, alpha men smoked, so if he was to smoke, by scientific law he would become an alpha. Larger, broader, naturally commanding a presence. As the years passed, his beard grew in, his body hair grew denser, and his attitude grew smug.

Thanks to the smoking, Seb’s relationships changed too. Family members and people he was once close with grew afraid of his new habits, offering help before simply disappearing from his life. His bro had assured Seb that this was simply for the best; their fear for the emerging alpha did not make them worthy of embracing the better him. With this, his bro helped Seb find new men to socialize with, fellow smokers who could laugh and indulge in their superior lifestyle, discussing the worldly topics around masculinity as smoke coated their interiors.

Seb’s corruption furthered, the addiction consuming him before eventually, almost a decade to the day after his first cigarette, he found himself running his own online blog preaching the revelations of smoking. Now sturdier, gruffer, and wiser, he was delighted when a young blogger popped anonymously into his inbox asking a few questions about his perspective. Seb was happy to indulge, knowing soon he would be enlightening the young man onto his own nicotine journey. And what better way to celebrate such a success than by having a smoke.

The Olde Candy Shoppe

After trying some vintage candy Eddie finds himself rushing into the life of his dreams, with a the man of his dreams to boot! Sweet bearification/age progression!

Bit of a long one but I quite enjoyed writing it! Hope it's not too saccharine for y'all! As always, hope you all enjoy! -Occam

It was Eddie’s first day off in a few weeks. He doesn’t really mind the hours but working in an office has been a little less than fulfilling for him. Quite the recluse, he was originally planning on just staying in on his day off but his friend from work, Tony, encouraged him to explore town. He acquiesce, for nothing else than hopefully having something new to talk about with Tony when he’s back at work, secretly hoping that taking his friend’s advice could lead to something a little more exciting between the two of them.

Looking around the town square he’s immediately bored, seeing almost entirely places he’s already written off in the time he’s lived in the city. Eddie doesn’t want to go daydrink or buy some new clothes and he’s already kicking himself in the leg for forgetting that he hasn’t gone out in some time for a reason. Right before he calls it a day and returns home to hop on some video game he sees something new and alluring: The Olde Candy Shoppe.

It looks quite out of place, like a mom and pop shop shoved in between newer developments. Eddie stares in disbelief unsure how he could have possibly missed the anomaly before now, he’s been here before and is almost certain that it has not. Though by all appearances it seems far and away to be the oldest building in the square. He digs deep trying to recall any friends mentioning a candy shop in town and comes up blank. Sighing he decides to push no further, obviously the building is there so there’s no sense at all to go crazy about it. Beside that, the longer he spends thinking on it he realizes he could certainly do with a sugary pick-me-up.

Eddie enters  the candy shop and any edge or nerves remaining were left at the door. The atmosphere was immediately soothing and warm, sweet but not cloying. The cool white light filters through aged windows and bathes everything with the yellow warmth of perpetual twilight. Looking around the shop Eddie just feels at home, he sets to browsing the aisles when he hears a loud deep voice shout, “Welcome in lad! Glad to have ya!” Quickly removed from whatever reverie he was in, Eddie turns to find a man otherworldly. Masculine like a grandfather, the giant would seem more at home at Santa’s workshop than the city center in which his store sits. 

Eddie simply stares at the man who quickly laughs before putting a hand on his hip and walking over, “You know it’s impolite to stare young man, Hah Hah!” His whole body bounces as he laughs and Eddie closes his agape mouth, not even realizing it had fallen open. He tries to speak but stumbles over his words as he massive man comes to pat him on the back, “What can I do ya for lad?” Eddie swallows hard and finds his caught tongue, “Oh, ah well, I’m just looking around I suppose. Sorry-” The bear of a man laughs heartily once more before continuing, “Well I’m certain you’ll find exactly what yer lookin’ for. Ya just shout if ya need anythin’!” With that he goes off to organize the racks behind the counter, leaving Eddie to his own devices. 

While never on his A-Game in social situations, Eddie is absolutely gobsmacked at how off he was talking to the man. It’s almost like when someone way out his league flirts with him, but Eddie’s never been the type to go for men so, wizened. He blushes as he thinks about that man in such a light and promptly focuses his mind on the merchandise to prevent any further embarrassment. Attention drawn to the shelves Eddie finds sweets familiar and novel, something in the back of his mind tells him that anything he could ever possibly want rests somewhere in the labyrinth of crowded candy aisles. 

He wanders around for quite a while, unaware or apathetic to the passage of time, every so often picking up a treat he knows he likes only to put it down in pursuit of something better, something out there calling to him. The stairs creak as he meanders up to the equally cluttered second floor of the candy shop. Reaching the top he turns to look out across the open aisles, bereft of other customers. The square was bustling when he was wandering outside and yet he hasn’t heard the bell on the door jingle once since he’s entered. As soon as the thought enters his mind a saccharine smell overloads his senses and he shakes it off. Anxieties rational or not fade away as he turns to find some ancient candy he’s never seen before.

He grimaces seeing wafers that clearly have been extant for hundreds of years before he was born. Prepared to turn his nose up and return to the more exciting eclectic candies of today Eddie is shocked as his body takes a step towards the sure to be stodgy treat. His hand reaches out to grab a ream of them and suddenly he feels a presence behind him as the booming voice of the proprietor speaks out once more, “Mmm excellent choice Boy. Those are favorite’s from my youth. Would ya like to try one?” Eddie turns to find the man’s hand outstretched and in the center one of the small chalky discs. Unsure why he would ever want them in the first place Eddie plans to turn him down, but his body feels otherwise.

Before a second passes Eddie has already snatched the piece of candy without a thought and shoved it in his own mouth. What should be the muted flavor of a candy that has sat unpurchased on shelf for years instead explodes in his mouth. Every sense is overwhelmed as flavors of a lifetime dance on his tongue. His mind goes blank, unable to process the experience of thousands of thoughts and feelings soaring into and through him. Warmth fills every inch of his being as his mouth again lolls open, he feels every piece of fabric on his dry skin before they grow sticky with sweat as he begins to sweat from the impossible experience. Eyes glaze over as he mindlessly stares at the jolly unmoving face ahead of him. It is impossible to say how long he stands there absorbing everything there is within the small piece of candy as it dissolves on his tongue. He only breaks out of it as he feels drool spill out of his wide open mouth. 

Eddie slurps in embarrassment and mumbles an apology, barely able to will his body to do anything at all as he recovers from a state of ecstasy he couldn't possibly understand. The proceeding minutes are equally foggy, try as he might Eddie is running on fumes as he wanders back down the stairs, the old man ushering him with a gentle hand towards the door. He isn’t sure what awkward things his mouth must spurt out as he accompanies the man through the store. The only concrete recollections he can find as he exits are the man’s smiling face as he puts a small bag of the treats in Eddie’s hand and the jingling of the door bell closing behind him as he is again on the cold streets of the downtown. 

“Did I pay for these?” He mumbles to himself as he wanders towards his apartment. Eddie doesn’t quite care what the answer is as he promptly tears into the pouch of multi-colored wafers, desperate to continue whatever high they brought him before. He shoves a handful of the chalky treats into his mouth and is promptly ushered again to a state of jubilee. His feet stumble onward as his mind grows mindless once more, his face smiling wide and his eyes glassy with ecstasy he still cannot grasp. It’s more akin to discovering a new sense than a new taste as every second passing brings him more rapturous pleasure. His clothes pull on his body with every movement. Tension created between himself and the world around him brings him delight beyond measure as, beyond the heighting of every sense, he begins to feel bloated.

Holding back a burp he arrives at his front door and closes it behind him. Eddie falls to the floor, dropping the now empty bag of wafers, as he experiences release from what feels like a lifetime of heightening pent-up pleasure. Eddie tears off clothes that have been hugging him tighter with each step towards home, doing so with an ease that should certainly be a red flag. Barely aware of his actions the strength suddenly coursing through him only brings him pleasure in a manner he has until now been pushing down as he feels his package swiftly strain briefs still clinging to his rapidly bloating thighs.

Falling face down on his bed he fully and unconditionally gives into the experience, humping the bed like an animal until his cock  breaks free from his underwear. His arms grow larger as he pushes against his bed, widening palms grasping at sheets. Beneath the carnal pleasure of growth across his body he feels burning itches rise. Ever a hairless twink he begins to feel a long absent signifier of manhood begin to grace his form. While his thin arms become biceps, beneath them the thin blonde bush in his armpits darkens and begins a transformation from a garden into a jungle. The few hairs on his chest and around his nipples, in which he had but the smallest pride, stretch longer and do their best to spread, his cock growing even harder as he imagines thick untamable hair covering more of his form than he could even imagine.

Memories of shaving daily fill his mind as a mustache suddenly graces his ever-hairless face. He grits his teeth and clenches his jaw as his neck flexes and his vision flashes white as everything in his being cries with a desire to grow more, to be more. He scratches at his frail form as every disparate part of his body struggles to obey. 

The room fills with the scent of his sweaty body grinding against his mattress. His pert waist expands, his ass ballooning into the air as his thighs fill with power. In his crotch a thick bush of pubes scratch against his cock as it bulges larger yet. Just as he’s about to lose control, his more powerful arms shaking with both the effort of growth as well as holding up his larger body, he takes a deep breath and a dumb grin spreads on his face. Behind the powerful scent of his own musk, there is an unmistakable saccharine haze hiding. With that he moans loudly, his chest vibrating as a deeper voice bellows forth and he collapses in his own mess as his cum stains a treasure trail still inching higher on his torso.

He awakens a completely different man. He groans and scratches at stubble he never dreamed he could grow and pushes himself with arms larger than his thighs used to be. He rubs himself up and down feeling sweat stained, and otherwise crusty, hair covering all the real estate he so wished it would. Unaware of the extent of his changes he allows himself a few moments to play with the new muscle and weight on his improved form. Flexing his biceps, delighting in the soreness therein as he bounces pecs that he certainly didn’t earn, Eddie quickly wakes up to reality and jolts up. Brimming with energy, anxiety he’s always had heightens to a new degree as he jumps up to inspect himself in a mirror.

He turns and inspects every inch of his new body. Pushing and prodding at impossibly developed muscle, twisting his neck to look at his defined jawline underneath stubble, pinching himself only half-hoping to awaken from the dream and yelping as his new clumsy fingers pinch with more strength than he thought possible. “Fuck!” He clenches at his throat as the voice sounding forth is unrecognizable, as well as one that would get any man to drop his pants. He blushes before checking the time and remembering the struggles of his all-too-real reality. He can’t go to work like this.

He scratches his hair and feels that while everywhere else on his body hair has grown fruitful, before multiplying beyond even that, the hair on his head has lost some of its youthful bounce and thinned. No time to worry about that. He wipes a sobering hand across his face, feeling its rough palm scratch at itchy stubble. Eddie forces down the butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the idea before dialing his workplace’s phone number. The phone rings once before the receptionist answers, “Hello this is Chloe with Blue Willow LTD. What can I do for you today?” 

Eddie clears his throat and answers, “Hey Chlo this is Eddie I uhh, don’t think I’m going to be able to make it in today.” There is a pause as the receptionist checks a calendar before she replies, “I see, Eddie, is it? Did you have an appointment today?” This time Eddie pauses, taken aback that Chloe didn’t recognize him. Sure, his voice probably sounds a little deeper but they’ve worked together for years. 

“What? No, Chlo you know me, it’s Eddie?” She promptly replies, “I’m not seeing an Edward or Eddie on my calendar, nevertheless I am sorry you won’t be able to make our company today. If you want to set up a later date I can certainly do that for you sir.” Eddie bites his tongue as he tries to think of anything to prove his identity to Chloe and comes up blank, in fact the longer he sits there the more he has trouble even picturing her face. “Sir? Are you still there?” He grunts in surprise, “Oh! Yes I, sorry for the bother. I uhh, it must be a wrong number.” “No problem at all sir, thank you for calling and we look forward to serving you at a later date!”

There’s a click as the receptionist hangs up. Eddie sits there staring at his phone and sees that he doesn’t even have a contact for the number he just called. He scratches at his stomach as the hair there is crusted with something he can’t quite recall. Unsure of his next move he hops in the shower and cleans up, taking time to play with his wet hair as it’s covered in suds. Still filled with impossible pleasure at the novelty of having this new form he pulls at his pubes and scratches at a face that somehow already has more stubble on it. After that he raises his arms to languish in his thick pit hair and the new musk it carries. Before washing it away and throwing on deodorant that’s leagues stronger than what he usually wears, he catches a whiff of something sweet in the air and it all comes flashing back to him. The candy store, it’s got to have something to do with that.

Eddie ignores the mountain of ulterior motives that returning to the candy store provides as he throws on a button up that barely fits and races out the door and towards the shop. The place is almost exactly as he remembers it, snug in between two businesses not of note and a smell of cinnamon and other sweets wafting through the shut door. Grabbing at the door handle he finds it locked. Briefly noticing the lights off inside, a small letter falls from somewhere he can’t see into his awaiting hands. Breaking the wax seal, his eyes scour the note, “To a not so young Edward. Congratulations on your new life, check your pocket.” Unsigned. Eddie grimaces as he checks his pocket to find a key.

Unwilling to dig into the implications of the note and grumbling to himself about being referred to as not so young ,he shoves the key in the lock and turns it. The store immediately comes to life. The light pouring in through the large windows is somehow brighter than it is outside. He steps in and takes a deep breath, finding himself again overwhelmed with delight as he enjoys the overpowering smell of his, er, the store. After a few moments he shakes it off and sets out to find the old man who presumably owns it. 

Never could he know what he is to lose as he returns to the scene of his rapture however. Crossing the threshold he completely forgets about the hitherto slowly fading life of Eddie the salesman. The job he never truly enjoyed becomes the nothing it had been to him all along as he scratches his stomach mindlessly. Abs he only just received begin to bloat with a different, greater, type of strength that only years upon years of living could bring. 

Walking down the aisles he doesn’t notice as the top button of his shirt pops off and chest hair begins to grow towards his neck. Memories of stocking the aisles by hand flow through his mind as he walks through each one. His goal of finding the proprietor he met yesterday slowly shifts as he instead carefully inspects every shelf, as if he were preparing for the day ahead.

 Ever too lanky for his own good he remembers countless people telling him he needs to eat more and so he does, grabbing a treat or two as he loads shelves to their capacity. Each bite puts more pounds on his body as the hair covering him continues to thicken. Feeling various parts of his new form tighten Eddie stretches and finds his vantage is suddenly closer to the ground. There’s a crack in his back and he grumbles, his voice getting even deeper as his stomach pushes its buttons to their brim.

Suddenly the bell at the door jingles and his face alights with a smile. Setting whatever self-assigned tasks he had aside, he rushes over to help his customer find what they’re looking for. He takes no time to consider that said mission is far easier than it should be. Taking almost no time at all and as soon as it is done the bell chimes once more as a second customer arrives and after them a third. Soon enough the entire store is bustling with patrons looking for sweets and novelties that Eddie is beyond happy to offer. Each and every interaction fills him with purpose and delight as he in turn does all he can to make sure everyone walks out of his shop with a smile.

Walking around with a confidence and pride he’s never held, Eddie doesn’t even notice as he seamlessly works the store all by himself. After all, he's done it for years. Memories fly by and fill him with fulfillment as offers free samples at every opportunity, doing little magic tricks he certainly never honed, and introducing himself as Ed whenever the chance presents itself. After a long day of peddling his saccharine wares and spreading joy Ed eventually locks up and collapses into an old chair behind the counter. The chair creaks underneath him and a few more buttons pop off his shirt as he takes a load off. Wiping his brow after a day well done he takes no note of the dense hair poking through every undone button.

He scratches at his hair and feels it even thinner on his head as that on his stubbled face and chest hair have grown only thicker. Looking down at the barreled body that he would have sworn was far more lithe this morning he pats his stomach and smiles. Looking around at a store growing more familiar by the second, he remembers his apartment upstairs and gets up with a groan. The lights in the store dim without him touching a button as he makes his way to his home he made for himself above the storefront.

Looking around he finds it filled with possessions that decorated the apartment he woke up in this morning. After all where could that have been but right here. Beyond that, the domicile is chockablock full with clutter gathered in a life longer lived. Rubbing his beard in thought he is filled with a desire to explore his new sensuous form as he did the night before, though as he sits there his bones feel familiar. Same ones he’s always had after all, eh? Instead of following heady lust, he yawns with an intensity he’s never quite mustered as he sits in the bed that’s well large enough for two. Sleep comes to his eyes before he can make up his mind to do anything else and he falls back, sugar plums dancing in his dreams as potentiality rushes through him.

Ed wakes up early, as he always does. Sensing something afoot he quickly throws on clothes and makes his way downstairs into the store. Taking the briefest moment to admire how he fills out his uniform he winks at himself and throws on an apron before making his way down the stairs to see a young man standing outside the store and looking in the windows. Seeing the figure something at the back of his mind prickles that he should know who he is, the bizarre feeling compels him to let the man in before the store opens. After doing just that, the sensation only grows more prominent.

The younger man quickly makes his case, “Hi I’m so sorry for the bother I know you’re not open yet I just- Something told me I had to come by.” He pauses briefly and stares deeply at Ed as the older man scratches his beard in thought, “Eddie? Is that-” He is quickly cut off with a guffaw by the candyman. “HAH! I haven’t been called by that name in years, young man!” Despite the brash laughter, something begins eating away at Ed, and from the looks of it, it’s eating at his guest as well. Locking the door behind him lest another visitor sneak in, Ed offers a hand out, “The name’s Ed, welcome to my little slice of the world, uhm,” he pauses and waits for the visitor to offer his name, which he does, “Tony.” 

That sends an eruption of memories through Ed’s consciousness. Tony. Immediately he remembers seeing Tony shirtless and blushes, was that from an Instagram post or had he somehow seen the young man before now in a less than pure manner. He shakes it off just as soon, surely Tony would remember him in the latter case, and he certainly doesn’t have social media, hah! Even if some of his new employees are trying to get him on there. Ed finds himself adrift in his own mind, quite unable to determine what is true and what is faction. Either way the image of the young man’s body is burned into his imagination and he doesn’t understand why. He swallows hard as suddenly an idea pushes itself to the front of his mind, flowing into him as if it’s coming from the store itself.

“You know young man, why don’t you have a look around to see if your friend Edward left something here. If something’s calling out to you I’d be sure to follow it.” Tony nods wordlessly and sets off, following an unseen trail to exactly what he’s sure to be looking for. Ed clears his throat and stays back, not wanting to make the younger man uncomfortable in any way. His mind keeps going through memories foggy and otherwise in between his morning chores. Soon enough he begins to come across a few memories of Tony alongside his younger self, and then there were more. Suddenly he’s flooded with ideas, dreams, memories from his youth. In each and every one he sees the young man right by his side. He scratches at his beard in thought, as he often does, before deciding to simply relinquish his curiosity, washing his hands of his concern, confident that the situation shall work itself out soon. Things have a habit of doing so in the store.

Ed grabs a box and sets out to begin stocking, preparing for another busy day that surely awaits after he opens his doors. As soon as he turns down the first aisle his mission changes. He sees Tony paused, staring at a jawbreaker like it’s a talisman holding the answer to all of life’s mysteries. He watches as the young man reaches out for it and suddenly holds it in his hands before he turns and stares directly at Ed who simply nods. Immediately understanding, Tony tosses it in his mouth and his eyes immediately glaze over just like Eddie’s did the day before and suddenly it all makes sense to the store owner. 

He immediately sees Tony fill his tank top, muscle pouring onto his frame much faster than it did his own. His sharp jaw swiftly lines itself with a sculpted beard that any man would be proud of as his jaw expands large enough to easily hold the large piece of candy. His chest hair quickly spreads beyond the capacity of his tank, up towards his beard and quickly moving to connect with his pits. Staring at the man Ed decides it’s impolite to watch whatever fantastical changes are occurring as he instead opts to get back to work. After all, he was there for the man’s changes the first time.

Turning away, Ed is again overwhelmed with flashes of memories between himself and Tony. His mind flashes back to the large bed he slept alone in last night and is filled with comfort at the idea he will never have to do so again. While much of their lives together remained ephemeral, still to be defined as Tony’s new form the most important thing was clear. The pair were, are, and will be evermore inseparable. He remembers as if it were yesterday the day they met and from that moment on the pair were two halves of one whole. Nothing quite matters to the men besides that they are together.

Memories of Tony as a young personal trainer, or was it a handyman flitter across Ed’s psyche as the man standing in the aisle continues to mature and grow. Already taller than Ed he sprouts even higher, his thick thighs strain the shorts he had thrown on to rush to Ed’s shop and his feet swiftly outgrow his tennis shoes.

The details of their past and their lives lived together don’t quite matter at the moment as Ed stares at the love of his life growing into the man he’s always wanted to be. The ephemerality of their past together holds nothing to the flame burning in the chests of both men. With a grunt Tony grows large enough that the tank top hastily worn rips off of him and falls to the floor. Seeing his hairy body exposed as his package makes itself incredibly apparent, Ed sighs and walks over to his husband. Oft-adjusted gold bands swiftly appear on the ring fingers of both men.

“How many times do I need to tell you to buy clothes in your size Tony!” The recently younger man turns and laughs as he looks down to find himself barely clothed in the middle of their candy store. The two men kiss before Ed ushers his husband upstairs so he can keep getting the store ready for the rush right around the corner. Tony collapses on the bed with the weariness that decades of rapid aging wreaks on the body. Smiling at his sleeping husband Ed tucks him in before returning to the storefront with a cup of coffee. He smiles in serenity as he hears the bell jingle as a crew of other employees arrive and begin stocking and doing other work he has never minded doing himself. 

Colors shine even brighter than before as sun beams in through the large windows. There is a hum of something otherworldly in the air as every inch of the store buzzes with whimsy. Ed sighs with contentment as he hears his husbands snoring through the apartment walls behind him, waving at the new hires, as they rush about the morning’s preparations. Smiling as the life of his dreams has somehow fallen at his feet, he too prepares to do all he can to spread joy as his goal. Tightening his apron Ed heads downstairs to open The Olde Candy Shoppe for business, eager as ever to spread sweet delight.

Pecs. I love them.

People who can transform into other people tend to have one part of a body they love. For me, dicks are cliché and ass is boring. I could see why people would like feet but I'm not that type of guy. But pecs. Sweet, sweet pectoralis major - the largest and superior muscle on the chest wall, that's where the gold is at.

Whenever I transform into other people, my pecs are the first thing I change. The feeling of having your man-boobs stretch and get filled with dense muscles is one of the most euphoric feelings a man could feel. Oh, the joy of waking up knowing that you can grab and squeeze both jigglers.

Most of the time, I like to keep them hairy. For me, hair in your chest exudes brimming manly strength. I like to cop a feel for my pecs and feel the light bristles of my hair run between my fingers. It's kind of therapeutic when I do that. Whenever I show them to other people, they either get intimidated or infatuated. I like both, but the latter gets you several invitations to the bedroom. When I do get invited, I always make sure to have my pecs satisfied.

Although, there are times when I like the absence of hair. I assume it's a placebo, but I'm more sensitive when I lack hair. I moan immediately when someone's finger explores my pecs and nipples. How I'd squirm when they circled my areolas. Or how I'd get to my knees when their tongue prods my nipples.

To make the best of both worlds, I like to keep a tiny patch of hair just between the two breasts. Such big and magnificent pectoralis pairs pretty well with a manly bearded face.

It's always fun saying, "Hey, my eyes are up here," whenever someone stares at my rack. I love it more when I grab their hands and tell them that it's okay to squeeze them. The fluster on their faces is always a priceless thing to see.

So, yeah. I'm the pecs guy. I love it. I'm practically obsessed with it. I don't think I'll ever change, and that's a good thing.