"Don't be silly," Jake said, assessing the body of his eighteen-year-old nephew. Since his arrival in August to start his freshman year until this first week of October, the boy had gained twenty-five pounds of shredded muscle, which was a nice gain on a kid of only five feet seven inches. But it was nowhere near where the program masters intended to take him. Of course, they hadn't told Bradley anything. Jake had agreed to use hypnosis, when the kid was drugged by a harmless hypnotic drug slipped into his beer, to condition him. They wanted to see how a normal college jock would react.

"No, I'm serious. This is getting kind of weird already. My clothes are getting too tight. I catch kids looking at me all the time."

"I don't doubt it," Jake smiled. "You've gone from a hundred fifty pound weakling to a hundred seventy-five pound muscle jock in two months. A handsome guy like you, who wouldn't look?"

Brad looked down at the floor, and Jake looked him over again. The formula was definitely having its effect. The thick black hair that made his coloring so striking had already started making an appearance on his pecs, a heavy sprinkling of tiny hairs that also covered his arms and legs. His whiskers were denser, giving him a darker shadow. Even his armpit hair was thicker and showed some when his arms were at his sides, relaxed. He'd come to the desert a slender, smooth nerdy guy and already he was blossoming into something more like a fitness model. He filled his tank, his pecs and lats swelling outward nicely, his waist a tight twenty-nine inches. In the soft lycra workout shorts he was wearing, his butt sat high, narrow, tight, and round. His thighs were starting to flare, and the space that had been apparent between them was gone now, the thickening muscle pushing together, changing his walk. But the nerdy guy was still living in this body, and the rapid change was embarrassing to him.

"I just feel funny, getting all muscled like this so fast. Not just that. My stuff is starting to, well, you know."

"Starting to what, Bradley? Starting to show? Starting to make more of a manly bulge?"

"Yeah," Brad almost whispered.

Jake looked at the kid and realized that he was right. He'd gotten to the point already that anyone would realize he was doing that formula. But he wasn't the only guy around town or at the college doing it, so Jake wasn't concerned. And it wasn't like he didn't have Brad's permission.

"Bradley, he said, "What words did I tell you to say when you start feeling this way?"

"Aww, Uncle Jake. Don't make me."

"Bradley, you told me you wanted this. Now, just because you're embarrassed right now, don't forget you wanted to do this."

"I know," Brad said.

"What are the words, Bradley?"

Brad kept his head down, and mumbled so Jake could hardly hear him, "massive muscle man."

"Good," Jake said. "Say it again, Bradley. Look at me."

Slowly, Brad lifted his head. His eyes had an intense but far-away look. His voice came louder, more direct. "Massive muscle man."

"Very good, Brad. Is that what you want to be?"

"A massive muscle man," Brad said emphatically. "Yes."

"I know you do. And muscle studs, like you want to be, like those guys you think are so hot, don't mind showing a bulge, do they? It just makes you more a man, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, Uncle Jake. It's hot, getting big."

"I know."

Jake himself had discovered the formula at one of those parties and had changed himself from a thirty-something gym rat to a hung bodybuilder, and was a devotee, an addict, really, of the formula. It excited him that his nephew had wanted to do it, and had been taken on by the "masters" as part of their project. And he enjoyed using the hypnotic post-suggestion to help the emerging muscle boy overcome the struggling shy nerd.

"Are you ready for your muscle drink, then?"

"Yes, please, Uncle Jake."

"Why, Bradley? Why do you want it?"

"Because it makes me get bigger."

"Much bigger. You know, the more you grow, the more the kids will look at you."

"I know."

"Is that what you want, Bradley?"

"Yes."

"You like how it makes you feel, don't you? Not so shy and embarrassed."

"Yeah."

"Good. Here, Bradley. Drink up."

Jake handed Brad a large glass full of a thick protein shake, which included another full dose of the formula. Bradley took the glass and drank it down to the bottom without stopping.

"Now I need you to do your workout. Then you can dress and go to class."

"Yes, sir."

And, as had become the routine, Brad spent an hour in the workout room lifting weights heavier than he could have ever imagined, flexing in the mirror to see the pump, spotting, encouraging, and pushing done by a doting Uncle Jake. The formula he'd taken not only gave him the extra strength and energy, it drove his energy from the deepest genetic core of his masculinity, changing him on that deepest level, little by little, the changes making his body and mind respond. Embarrassment was replaced by a cocky confidence, shyness by a bolder sexuality. As he worked out, the bulge in his shorts reflected the change in a fattened half-boner that displayed his pride.

He dressed for class in shorts than hung low off his narrow hips and high, round ass. The legs, which had once hung loosely now clung to his thighs. His tee shirt hugged his arms and chest but hung loose over his tight stomach and stopped short of the waistband of his shorts, revealing the tight, carved muscle and the ever-thickening sprinkling of hair that merged into a trail the plunged into his low-cut briefs.

He felt proud and sexy walking into his first class. Heads turned. He just smiled. They knew. He knew they knew, and if felt very hot to him. He knew, as the day wore on, he would experience more change. It would be slight, subtle, but he would know. He would feel his pecs thicken and widen, his lats do the same, and his tee shirt stretch just a little more across his chest.

His arms would stretch the material just a bit more, and when his bent his arm to scratch his head or something, his biceps would pop just a little more, a little bigger. Maybe a new vein would start to show. His legs would feel bigger, fill the legs of his shorts a little tighter. He would notice a few more hairs filling in on his arms, a little darker, thicker, and he'd know the same thing was happening all over him. His stubble would fill in just a little thicker, darker, and it would become stubble a little earlier in the day. And, as he walked around, he would feel the pouch of his briefs fill just a little more, feel it against his legs, pushing a little more on the fly of his shorts, the bulge becoming just a bit more obvious. And he also knew, as the day wore on, and he felt those things happening, that the high of the formula would wear off a little, and the old feeling of getting embarrassed would creep back in. He would be even bigger and there was nothing he could do about it. But for now, it made him feel hot. It made him want to get to the bathroom between classes and jack off in a stall. Later could take care of itself.

It wasn't until well after lunch that those old feeling began to creep back into his head a bit. Was he getting more looks all the time because he was looking bigger, or did he just feel like he was getting more looks because he was getting self-conscious again? He wondered if they could tell? The difference of one day, one dose, was so subtle, so small, really. In almost two months, he'd only put on about twenty-five pounds, he told himself. That was not even a pound a day. No one could see just one pound of muscle spread over his whole body. But why did it always feel like his tee shirts got tighter, that his package bulged out more? He'd put his hand to his jaw and his beard felt thicker, more stubble than it would have just a few days ago. Or maybe a week. And why did it always seem like it was the guys that stared at him even more than the girls? He was sure they were jealous. He knew that doing this formula program was something more and more guys were wanting to try, even if just to get a bigger dick or a little more buff. Well, it sure as hell did all that. And it made him feel really hot, for some reason, that he was making guys feel like that. At least it did until later in the day, when the stuff began to wear off. But that was another thing. Every time, it seemed to last longer and, when it did wear off, it didn't quite wear off as much. He was getting more of a kind of cocky self-consciousness. Sure, it was weird, but it also felt kind hot to be self-conscious about being made bigger, hotter, sexier. It would still embarrass him when he caught some guy staring at him, late in the day, after classes, but lately it also turned him on, and he was getting the urge more and more to fight his embarrassment by giving the guy some kind of subtle flex, a reach over his shoulder to scratch his back, or around to scratch the small of his back and make a pec swell into hard definition. And when his dick got a rush from doing it, and made his package even more obvious, he was getting more into letting the guy look, imagining the guy would love to be getting bigger balls and a bigger hose.

And every day, he felt a little hornier, and that never went away. It just got stronger with every dose. It was weird, the conflict, wanting to be one of those guys but embarrassed by growing so fast that everyone could tell. And then he'd walk by a mirror or glass trophy case and see himself the way the other kids were seeing him, and he could hardly believe it was him, starting to look like a bodybuilder, getting that dark beard stubble by halfway through the day, hair coming in on his chest so high that it grew out the top of his tee shirts to the bottom of his throat. And every time he saw that, every day, when he knew it was a little more of everything, he'd feel his bulge thicken and have to get to the john and jack it before he totally boned in the hall, and took the chance of just cumming without even touching himself, it turned him on so much. He noticed, now, that even the embarrassment turned him on. He was becoming a total horndog, and it didn't bother him at all that it was only the attention of other guys that turned him on. He'd look at a girl looking at him, and he liked the attention, but, for some reason, he'd always find the words his Uncle Jake had planted in him popping into his head. Massive muscle man. And that would make him think of the guys up at the compound, and how Uncle Jake was letting them make him one of them, how even Uncle Jake was getting so hairy and big, and then he'd think of his bulging package and growing muscles and the hair that was sprouting and growing in all over him, and it was all so masculine in such a hot way it just took him over. And he'd rush to get home, to Uncle Jake, and be made to work out again, pump up his muscles, with Uncle Jake making him say the words, and them making him feel so hot, wanting to grow, feeling so sexy, wanting to be naked, and, yeah, to get his hole plugged by one of those huge cocks. The bigger the better. The stuff made it easy to take them; no matter how much it hurt, it was so hot that the pain was no barrier. They'd said it made guys queer, and he'd thought, hell, he could fight that. Now he knew he couldn't because it made you not want to fight. It made you want it. Want it bad.

So he'd come home and that feeling would be coming back, maybe he was already big enough, his tee shirt and shorts so tight, already starting to look like a bodybuilder, his balls bigger than any regular guys and his cock bigger when it was soft than his boner used to be. Then as soon as he got home, Uncle Jake would tell him how good he was looking and tell him to take off his shirt and flex, and Bradley would get embarrassed and turned on.

Then Uncle Jake would say something like, "Brad, you are really starting to turn into a massive muscle man."

And all of a sudden, Brad would feel different. He wanted to do this, to do whatever Uncle Jake said. He would take off all his clothes and lift so much weight, and all he could think about was how he was going to get freaky huge like those guys. They were so hot. He'd be sitting on a bench between sets, Jake letting him rest for a few seconds, and he'd look down to see his hard cock pointing almost straight up to his pecs, so big, so thick.

"Fuck, Uncle Jake. Look how fuckin' huge my cock is getting now."

"You like that, Bradley?"

"Yeah. Feels hot."

"Even when you go to school and your bulge is bigger every day? You like how the kids look at you?"

"Yeah, feels hot."

"You're gonna be getting really huge now, you know. Like those guys, like you wanted. Turns you on, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

"So much, just thinking about being a massive muscle man makes you cum, doesn't it? Say the words, Brad."

And Brad would say, "Massive muscle man," and the words would make him feel how hot it was, how they were making him grow, get so big. He'd feel how thick his muscle was, how big and heavy his cock felt, and the words would make him ejaculate, just sitting there. Felt so good. Then Jake would throw him a towel to wipe up and go back to his workout. Every time he said those words, the felt stronger, too. He could make himself cum just by saying them. They focused him so hard on the feeling of what they were doing to him. Made him feel so hot. The whole evening would just be about making him bigger, working his muscles, the morning dose still working inside him, making him change.

Then he'd go to bed, fall asleep, and in the morning, he'd wake up feeling the full effects of the changes from the day before. He could feel how much more muscular he'd become while he slept. His cock would be longer and fatter, his balls bigger, hanging a little lower. His whiskers would be thicker, darker, more of a beard grown in overnight. The hair on his body would have come in more, spread some, gotten thicker, showed up more. And he'd think everyone would be checking him out, knowing that he'd dosed on that formula, and if he got any bigger he would start looking like one of those roided up bodybuilders, and for a kid of eighteen, it would be so extreme. But as soon as he'd say something to his Uncle Jake, he knew what Jake would say. He'd tell him to say the words. And he would. And then he'd feel different, and he would drink his dose, and go to class, and all day he'd feel himself changing, just a little bit more, a little bigger, bulge showing a little more, getting hairier, more manly. He'd go out, feeling all embarrassed again, but every day he looked forward a little more to Jake telling him to say the words. Every day, that nerdy guy who got so embarrassed about being a muscle guy was just a little more ready to say the words.

"Man, Uncle Jake. This is getting so extreme. I'm getting huge. All this hair is coming in all over. And my stuff, man. It's all getting so big."

"Yep, sure is. No doubt about it now, is there. Look how you're bulging. Everywhere. It's happening, Bradley. Pretty soon you won't be embarrassed at all anymore. Right now, all you gotta do is say the words. You know you're lovin' it. What are they making you into Brad? What are you becoming?

"You know, Uncle Jake."

"Yeah, I sure do. Just look at you. Eighteen and some of those professional bodybuilders would kill for your muscles. What are you becoming, Brad? What are we making you turn into. Say the words."

And Bradley could feel the tingle all over as he'd say, "Massive muscle man." He'd feel how those words made him want it. They made him feel so hot. Yeah, he was getting huge, and pretty soon, he'd be one of those totally extreme dudes. He'd drink down another dose, and he'd go to school, and he'd sit in class or walk through the halls, and he'd know his muscles were growing, right there in front of everyone, and his big cock, and his big nuts, and the hair. Aww, yeah. Right in front of all of them, he was turning into a massive muscle man.

Massive muscle man.

END •