John's flatmate Dave wasn't nearly as house-proud as John, but that was the way he'd been brought up. John's parents went through a messy divorce, and John had finally decided to live with his Mum, which meant moving away. "A place for everything, and everything in it's place". That's what she used to say.

John had always had his Mom telling him what to do, how to do it and when. It was all he knew. "Playing about in some field will get you nowhere - look at your father" was another one of her pearls. John's Dad used to be a rugby player, a good one too - but he'd got injured and ended up working as a security guard. And so John was banned from sport, and had ended up thin and pale.

He was about 5"11, 155lbs, jet black hair, green eyes, a decent endowment, but never used. His hair was unstyled, quite long and just flopped over his bright jade green eyes. He was clean shaven - always, and still wearing his short sleeve shirt from work.

John walked back into his room and slumped back into the chair with a sigh. It seemed to most people like John had it all right, nice place, nice job, but John was bored of his life, it was empty. Every day was the same - get up, clean up after Dave, go to work, come home, clean up after Dave, mess about online and then go to bed.

Dave had gone to his girlfriend's place, which left John on his own, again. He sat there and thought about his life and how it'd got so boring. He'd thought about this before and always came to the same conclusion, it was when he went to live with his Mum. I wish I'd moved in with Dad instead, that would have been much more interesting.

He unbuttoned his top few buttons and pulled at the collar of his wife beater he had on underneath, he was feeling a bit flushed. It was weird, he was think about what it would have been like moving in with his Dad, it almost seemed like he was remembering doing it. His pants started to feel tight. "Must have stuffed my self a bit at dinner" John thought as he undid his belt.

Just then his stomach grumbled, he went to pat his belly, but instead of finding the distinct slap of his skinny waist he heard a definite jiggle as it wobbled a bit. "What the heck?" he said as he got up to look in the mirror. He lifted his shirt up and looked at his now podgy belly. "Where did you come from?" he said. He looked up and noticed his shirt was looking a bit small, or rather he was looking bigger.

He was filling out, it was as if he'd been shifting weights and eating some serious carbs. He looked over at his bed, it was messy. "What the hell?, Shit i just swore!" John never used to swear, "Language Johnathan!" he could hear his Mum saying. But then his Dad never minded, he started to remember more things, starting rugby training with his Dad, going the gym too.

He looked back at the mirror, he now looked about 185lbs, most of it was muscle but there was a fair bit of fat giving him a rounded thickset look. The shirt was definitely small on him now, showing his new arms and chest, but John liked it. His pants too were looking a bit tight on his growing thighs. He flexed his right arm and felt the mass of muscle bulge underneath. He was hot now, and sweating too.

The hair on his head was getting shorter, but everywhere else it seemed to get thicker. He scratched his chest as the hair sprouted out from his collar, and then his legs and arms too. He didnt know what it was, it felt like his body was surging with testosterone. John was developing fast, his muscles were growing bigger with every breath he took, starting to stretch the fabric of his work shirt and pants.

More and more memories were flooding into his brain, rugby trials, working out, going to a different school, his first fuck. "Fuck!" he moaned as he felt his cock growing with pleasure, he stared in the mirror as it snaked down the inside of his leg, outlined by the ever tightening pants. His voice sounded deeper, his accent had changed too, maybe it was all that testosterone, or maybe it was just where he'd been brought up. The room around him was changing too, it was getting disorganised, a lot more messy, more of a mans room.

John looked like 220lbs of pure man now, thick muscle rounded off with a nice layer of fat. His shirt was really tight now, he could see it straining over his sweating pecs. He moved his arm up to feel, a button flew off his chest and ricocheted off the mirror. He took a a deep breath in as he was about to laugh, but that sent more buttons flying off. He tensed his pecs and sent the last button whizzing off, it hit the mirror and flew back at John, hitting him above the eye.

"Fucking shit!" he shouted, he dropped to the floor. "Arghh" he shouted as he brought his huge arms up to his head, splitting the shirt straight down the back with a tremendous RRRRIIIP. He started pushing himself back up, leaning on the wall as he moved his tree-trunk sized thighs. RRRRIIIP he heard again as he split his trouser seems too. His cock popped up like a soldier coming to attention his hairy bollocks hanging low in his now tight boxers.

He stood back and looked at the reflection of the humongous rugby player he had become. His short messy hair on top of his filled out face with a nice five o'clock shadow, a neck thicker than his head led down to a massive set of rounded shoulders. A very strained wife beater was clinging to his huge pecs overhanging a defined six pack. His arms bulged with every move, veins snaking their way across his massive torso, his forearms and wrists packed with muscle too.

His cock was still standing tall and proud, throbbing hard and in time with his fast beating heart. His massive legs rippled with every change in stance, pushing his bollocks out on top of the monstrous muscle. John was so horny now, he headed for the bathroom. He walked though his place, it was different now though - but he remembered it that way, messy, unkept, but then he had more interesting things in hi life now.

He strutted into the bathroom and peeled off the skin tight boxers, taking his throbbing cock in hand he started to stroke it up and down, and at the same time rubbing his other hand over his sweaty muscles, tensing them with every tug. "John, you there mate?" shouted Dave. "Nearly" john shouted back. "What? We're late mate, are you coming?" shouted Dave. "Yeah.... yeah" shouted John as his hands moved up and down his pumped cock, and with that he shot his load all over, hitting the mirror. He grabbed a towel and strutted out.

"John, the guys are waitin. " said Dave. "Well I'm worth the wait!" said John with a smile. "OK then stud, get some clothes on an lets go". John went back into his now messy, room, he rummaged through one of his drawers and came out with a few thongs. "Fuck yeah!" he chuckled to himself, "lets make things interesting!" •