An interesting request from me. What if a straight man wishes to become Chris Evans because he wants the attention from girls. Well instead he becomes Kris Evans and he doesn’t notice until he is completely Kris and love the attention from men.
Who doesn’t want to be Chris Evans?
Stellar career, great body, super nice guy, dog lover, and, by all accounts, a total chick magnet.
But nobody wanted to be Chris more than Blake. He was everything Chris wasn’t: unattractive, untalented, unsuccessful, and terrible with people (especially women).
So when Blake got his hands one one of those rare changing stones—ancient magical rocks with the power to transform the user into whomever's name they wrote on the smooth granite surface—he knew exactly what name he was going to write.
Unfortunately, spelling was among one of Blake’s many deficiencies. He relied heavier on spell check than the average person. But this wasn’t Microsoft Word. The changing stone had no spell check, so whoever (or whatever) one wrote on the rock was… well… set in stone.
At first, everything seemed to go according to plan. Blake felt himself shoot up an extra nine inches in height, followed immediately by a drastic drop in size. His blubbery gut receded back into his stomach, so much so that when looked down, his feet came into view for the first time since middle school.
But the view was short lived, as only moments later, a cartoonishly large pec shelf burst forth from his chest, once again obstructing his feet.
Jesus, Blake thought to himself, I knew Chris was big, but I didn’t know he was this big…
He had no idea.
Seconds later, the rest of his muscles began to come in: big veiny biceps, eight pack abs, a broad back, boulder shoulders, and legs the size of Thanksgiving turkeys.
It was then that Blake began to realize something was wrong. Chris Evans was a celebrity, not a supermodel. This was the body of a man whose entire career was his body. A model, perhaps… or a pornstar. God, I hope I’m not turning into a pornstar.
As if in response, Blake felt a tension in his groin area. He craned his neck over his muscle tits and watched as his cock grew to an impractical 9 inches, the fleshy sheath of foreskin inching up over the head.
Thanks to that screen sharing fiasco, everyone knew that Chris Evans was cut. This was not his dick… and this was not his body.
Blake assumed that the transformation was complete. He bore about as much resemblance to his former self as he did to the actor who’s name he’d written (or thought he’d written) on the changing stone. Instead, he had transformed into a 6’4”, 203 pound boy toy with a massive joystick.
I guess it’s not the end of the world, Blake thought as he explored his new body, chicks are gonna dig these muscles!
But there was still one last change. You see, Blake didn’t just accidentally write the name of any pornstar: he had written the name of a gay pornstar, and a prolific one at that.
As Blake entered the final stage of his transition, his mind flooded with fantasies of gay sex, images of guys sucking his dick and pounding his ass.
He tried picturing the busty blonde women he’d jerked off to his entire life, but his thoughts kept wandering back towards men: big, meaty men with big, meaty cocks, filling his every hole with their hot white spunk.
“No, stop! I’m not gay,” Blake cried out in a comically deep hungarian accent, “I don’t like guys! I like girls!”
But his dick begged to differ. The harder he tried to deny his new sexuality, the harder he got, until Blake’s dick was as hard as the changing stone itself. Whether he liked it or not, this was his new destiny: to live as a gay man.
A huge, hot, muscular gay man.
“Oh…. FUUUUUCK!”
He couldn’t take it any longer. All it took was one stroke and he shot his wad all over the stone. As the pornstar’s cum soaked the surface of the rock, the hastily scribbled black ink melted away.
His transformation was complete: Blake was no more, and in his place stood the iconic gay pornstar Kris Evans.
The hunky Hungarian gave a deep belly laugh, amused by the thought that not five minutes ago, he’d been some pathetic straight dude with a dream of turning into a Hollywood celebrity. Kris couldn’t fathom wanting to be anyone other than himself. He had the body of a god, an amazing job, not to mention the pick of any guy he wanted.
Every gay guy, that is.
One of my all-time favorites!
“Hey bro, do you think you have what it takes to be a firefighter?”
You stop dead in your tracks. Next to the rows and rows of folding tables set up for career day is a big red fire truck. But instead of free pens and buttons to entice you in, three half-naked firefighters stand laughing, rubbing their thick muscles through their loose handing fireproof jackets.
This has to be some sort of joke, you think to yourself with a scoff. One of the meat heads approaches you with a hunky swagger. “So,” he asks again, “you think you have what it takes?”
It’s been a pretty boring day overall, so you decide to have some fun. “Alright,” you say with a sarcastic smile, “tell me: what does it ‘take’ to be a firefighter?”
“Well,” the guy says, “first, you’ve got to be jacked. Like… really jacked.” As he says this, you begin to feel your clothes grow itchy, like they don’t seem to fit quite right.
“Yeah,” you say trying to keep an air of confidence, “and what else?”
“Well,” he continues, “you’ve gotta have tough skin. Tough enough to withstand serious heat.” The itching is insatiable now, and you look down to see a rough callous develop over your hands, which are now bulging with muscle. You frantically look around the room, but no one else seems to be noticing the muscles now begging to escape from your tight clothes.
“You’ve got to have a lot of upper body strength,” he says before you can stop him, and suddenly your arms grow sore, biceps the size of baby heads bursting at the seams of your shirt. “And good legs…” he says, sending your thighs tearing through your jeans. “Not to mention a good core.” And with that, your chest expands into two square pecs and a rack of abs directly below.
“Is that it??” you plead with him, struggling to contain your new body as it continues to grow per his suggestions.
“Not yet,” the guy continues, “you’ve also got to know a thing or two about firefighting. Not much else though, you don’t want your brain getting too crammed if you know what I mean.” You try and resist the overwhelming feeling of numbness that envelops your mind. You feel memories of training and lifting with your fighter fighter bros begin to replace those of your friends, family, and education.
You, moan, trying to resist as a new feeling overtakes your body. “No… please…”
“Oh yeah! And one last thing. You’ve gotta be pretty hung. It can get pretty boring at the station with nothing to do. Some of us like to fool around a little bit. Wouldn’t hurt to have a 9 inch dick.”
You know it’s coming this time. The testosterone, the heat flooding your pelvic region. You look down just in time to see a full, 9 inch penis burst forth from your briefs and unleash a wave of cum all over the floor. With it escapes all your knowledge of your past life; you’re nothing more than one of those meathead firefighters now, nothing else on your mind by saving lives and sucking dick.
“Here,” says the guy as he leads you over back to the truck and away from the crowds, “lets get you into something more comfortable shall we?”
You nod stupidly, eagerly awaiting the minute you can get him into bed with your thick new cock, both your muscle bodies rubbing sweaty together for hours. As he slips you into your firefighter’s coat, you know you’ve chosen the right career. Even if it wasn’t exactly your choice…
Hey, i'm a nerdy gay bottom and I've never been able to actually get muscle or even have some definition, if you could help with that it be great but can I keep my intelligence I have a report coming up and want to be able to understand it
Ah, so you’re looking for some “definition.” Looking to “define” those muscles a little bit. Don’t worry, I think I have an idea, and trust me when I say you won’t be loosing any of your intelligence. If anything, this transformation is going to make you smarter.
But there are two things we need first. First, these glasses. Yeah, I know you don’t need glasses to read, but these aren’t just any reading glasses. These special lenses help to “distort” things, help to “broaden” your gaze. When you wear them, things might seem “larger…”
You’re not getting it, are you? Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought. But not to worry, that’s going to change soon. The second thing we need is a dictionary.
Yup, that’s right. The only muscle you’ll be working out today is that one in your head. But after we’re done, you’re going to be spending just as much time at the gym as you do at the library.
Now, the trick to getting real definition is to learn some real definitions. You’ll see what I’m talking about in a second. Let’s crack that thing open, because the first word I want you to define is “Swell.” Can you do that? Wow, look at you. On it already. What does it say?
SWELL (verb, used without object)
1. to grow in bulk, as by the process of growth.
2. to increase abnormally in size, as by inflation.
3. to bulge out, to well up.
I’m sure by now you understand what I mean. Can’t see the page very well over those swollen pecs, can you? Might seem a little bit farther down, as your ass is practically a cushion in and of itself. And your arms. Man, it’s funny what just a couple words can do. You barely fit in that t-shirt anymore your muscles are so big! Why don’t you take it off, get more comfortable.
There you go big guy. We can find you more clothes later. We’ve still got two more words to go. Ready? The next word is “Sprout.”
SPROUT (verb, used without object)
1. to begin to grow; shoot forth and develop.
2. to develop or grow quickly.
I think I can see what’s sprouting on you. Feel that tingling on your chest? Like someone pouring champagne bubbles out of every pore? Don’t worry, it’s just the forrest of hair sprouting on your chest. A thick mane to accompany your mountainous pecs. And that’s not the only thing its complimenting. No one is ever going to be able to look at your legs again without popping a boner or getting wet; you’ve defined a perfect amount of hair to dust those thick-log like thighs about to burst out of your shorts. Take them off, you’ll see what I mean.
Yeah, I would definitely invest in some bigger pants. But wait! There’s still one more word. You didn’t think you were done, did you? Trust me, this is a really big word. Super important. Define, “Erect.”
ERECT (adjective)
1. upright position or posture.
2. raised or directed upward.
3. hard and firm, standing upright.
Don’t fight it. Just let it happen. Let the feeling of pain and pleasure sweep through your muscular body and down to your new, 10 inch penis. Your cock was always meant to be this long. It’s less of a cock now though and more of a weapon. Hard as solid concrete, long as a dagger. Not to mention it spurts like a fire hydrant when you cum. But you’re a bottom, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem… I hope…
Welp, I’ve done about all I can do, which is to say I’ve turned you into literally the perfect man. Solid adonis muscles, thick coat of manly hair, and a dick that people are going to make a religion out of. But deep down, you’re still the same, nerdy bottom with a big project due very soon. I wouldn’t worry about that though. Just keep those glasses on and you’ll always be the smartest guy in the room.
And the hottest…