What Wayne Wants

Wayne thought he heard someone else in the locker room while he was lathering up his hair, but when he walked out, towel around his lean waist, he saw nobody.

“Could’ve sworn I heard a locker door close,” he said, looking around. His survey of the room--still humid from his recent shower--brought him face to face with his own reflection. He took a look at his lean body in the mirror. He couldn’t understand why all those apes would want to waddle around with blown-up muscles like they’d swallowed a bunch of bowling balls.

Lately, that type--”so much muscle the skin looks like it’s gonna burst”--was frequenting Global Gym in great numbers. What used to be a chill place for guys to get ripped was turning into a freakshow, big meatblimps lifting massive weights in skimpy shorts before oiling themselves up and posing in even skimpier outfits. Those were the kinds of guys he and his buddy used to make fun of! But now those big roided up gorillas were taking over the place, and all his buddies, one-by-one, just quit showing up.

“Wayne
”

He was sure he heard his name, whispered, echoing out of the now empty showers. Wayne spun around, almost losing his towel in the process. Ripping each plastic shower curtain aside, he soon discovered no one was there. Was he losing his mind?

It was on his walk back to his locker that a thought crossed his mind. Looking down at his tight, lean chest, he imagined what it would be like to have huge bulging pecs like those roided out guys. The image of big mounds of meat bouncing with each step evaporated from his mind a moment after it formed. He chuckled. What a stupid thing to thing about.

The warmth started in his hamstrings. He hadn’t done much for legs that day, just some lunges with some bandwork to keep everything tight (he didn’t want to get too bulky) but suddenly his hamstrings cramped up. He clapped his hands on his lower glutes as his breath caught. Damn, he thought, should have stretched out more.

Suddenly, beneath his hands, his rock-hard ass started to inflate. He couldn’t believe it at first as his granite glutes started to expand like rising bread dough. A moment later he found himself widening his stance to accommodate the new mass in his legs.

“What the fuck--” Wayne started, ripping off his towel to watch in horror as his legs, flexing involuntarily, pulsed and expanded into tree trunks of veiny muscle, his skin stretched so tight he worried it may split. Behind him, a shelf of gluteal muscle formed. He took a step and felt it bounce. He reached back to feel it and found that, unlike his wrapped-in-chicken-skin legs, his ass had a layer of softness to it. Beneath a warm layer of sensuous fat, his glutes were massive and hard as biceps.

He looked in the mirror to see what look like a frankenstein of a man, as if someone had attached his top half to a lower half that looked more like a Clydesdale’s than a man’s. He couldn’t stop patting the throbbing muscle to make sure it was real. God, it was so fucking hard! It didn’t even feel human. With every movement, he watched every hyperdeveloped little stabilizer muscle crunch up and bulge.

“Hello, Wayne,” said a voice behind him. Turning around was awkward; his legs’ thickness had widened his stance so much that his center of gravity was off. His arms waved wildly as he struggled to stay upright.

He didn’t even know the name of the guy behind him, but he recognized him immediately: skinny but fit with floppy brown hair, high cheekbones and big lips. It was the guy his buddies had nicknamed, “Prettyboy,” the one they were sure was always staring at them.

“Stop where you are,” Prettyboy said, and Wayne was shocked when his body went rigid. Try as he might, he couldn’t move! Prettyboy approached, walking a slow revolution around Wayne’s distorted body with an appraising eye. Wayne struggled but couldn’t move a single muscle. Outside of breathing, he was completely still no matter how badly he wanted to sock this skinny little wimp in the mouth. “Okay, you can talk now,” Prettyboy said, and suddenly Wayne regained the ability to speak.

“Please, man, I don’t know what’s going on, but
” Wayne, still awash with panic, suddenly realized his body was reacting to Prettyboy’s commands. His eyes darted around as it all added up. “Are you
 are you doing this to me?”

“You’re one of the last ones,” Prettyboy said. “All you guys mocked me, so I turned you into your worst nightmares--which just happened to be my ultimate fantasy. Going to this gym has been a lot nicer, hasn’t it? And all your buddies don’t even remember what homophobic bullies they used to be.”

Wayne couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but his disbelief was dispelled by his massive lower half. “Bro, please, just
 turn me back, man. I’m sorry we said bad shit about you, honest! I was mostly just going along with the other guys!”

Prettyboy got up close to Wayne. The helpless man couldn’t inch away. Prettyboy leaned in so close his warm breath tickled the back of Wayne’s neck. “When I first started coming here, you were nice to me,” Prettyboy recounted, “until your buddies decided they didn’t like me. Then you went cold.”

Everything Prettyboy said was true; Wayne shivered as he remembered. “I’m sorry, man. Since those guys are gone
 I mean, I should be nice to you. I can be nice to you. I will be nice to you! Honest!”

Prettyboy smiled, a perfect flash of white. “Tell me what my name is.”

Wayne’s stomach went cold. He had no idea.

“Typical,” Prettyboy said. He snapped his fingers and Wayne growned. His arms twitched, flailing out from his body, as he got a cramp in his chest. He doubled over as his abs tightened and flexed. His heart pounded in his ears. Wayne growled and groaned as he watched his upper body puff out, twice as wide as it had been, and piled with dense, bulging muscles. His arms sat on thick lats. Veins like fuel-lines crisscrossed his arms. God, his arms were bigger than his legs used to be! He glanced down to find his entire view of the ground completely obscured by a wide shelf of pectoral muscles. He flexed, hearing tendons popping and crunching as they settled into the huge new form. He felt like he was four feet wide.

“I found something else in that brain of yours,” Prettyboy said, tickling the back of Wayne’s neck. Suddenly, long, full golden curls fell around his face. They tickled his traps as he shook out his beautiful hair. As he turned to the mirror, he saw his eyelashes lengthening. He felt his lips plumping. “So those other guys, I turned into their living nightmares. Their greatest fear was to be like they are: body-obsessed mindless muscle-whores. But you, deep down, you want this. I got that from you the first day I met you. You didn’t know I was special, that I could see the deep-down you. Ready to take the last few steps, Wayne?”

Wayne’s eyes went wide as he watched his facial features rearranging. His cheeks sucked in. His jawline hardened. His face looked like he belonged on a romance novel. His body was as big as a tank.

“Your real fantasy, Wayne,” Prettyboy said, grabbing a handful of Wayne’s absurdly huge (and INCREDIBLY SENSITIVE) ass, “is about to come true.” Wayne’s already narrow waist suddenly pulled in, Wayne’s eyes grew wet as he watched the big soft dick swinging between his legs suddenly shrivel away to a nub. The tuft of pubic hair obscuring it vanished with a pop. Wayne’s entire body was hairless. He shivered, as shiny as a doll.

“I’m going to tell you my name,” Prettyboy said, “and as soon as I do, all this will be your new reality. Or, say the word, and everything will snap back to the way it was before, your buddies as well.”

The longer Wayne stared at the monster in the mirror--its eyes blinking as his did, its face reflecting more confusion as the anxiety rose in his chest--and then he glanced at Prettyboy. He was so much bigger--at least four times the bodymass--but the sight of Prettyboy made his heart flutter. He remembered that first day at the gym, the way he felt when Prettyboy had smiled at him. He remembered burying all those feelings the first time the guys had decided Prettyboy would be their new target.

“Make it real,” Wayne growled in a deep, bovine voice that rumbled in his immense chest. “Tell me your name.”

Prettyboy leaned in and said something. Wayne didn’t hear it so much as he felt it, ricocheting around his head, washing away decades of fear and doubt and negativity. He felt braincells popping like soap bubbles as he regained the ability to move again.

He still didn’t know the man’s name, but knew he was his Master. He leaned in and laid his blocky, pretty head on Master’s shoulder.

“Let’s go,” Master said, and Wayne sprang into action, eager to go wherever Master did. “Put on your trunks and let’s go pose for my friends. They love to see those big muscles in action!” Master patted a small hand on Wayne’s massive lat, and the musclebrute made his big muscular wings crunch and bulge for his Master’s approval.

“Can I wear the purple ones?” Wayne said. He attempted to clap his hands together but as usual, his massive pecs got in the way.

“Of course you can,” Master said, tossing Wayne a pair of sparkly purple posing trunks no bigger than an eyepatch.

Deep within Wayne, the last vestiges of his old self screamed at the look of the tiny slip of material. That little bit of the old Wayne dissolved away, leaving him feeling light and bubble-headed, just the way he liked. Wayne couldn’t wait to squeeze into them and show off his body. He was property for his Master and he wouldn’t have it any other way.