I held my bicep curl, marveling at the intense peak, rotating my wrist back and forth to watch how the topography shifted beneath my skin. Was that really ME? And was this really Benny and Judd, kneeling in front of me, Judd’s rhythm on his cock relaxing only a little, and Benny now ramping up toward his own helpless cum, flailing at his cock, his eyes fixated on my stupendous arm as it twitched and danced in front of him. “Cum for my guns, Benny,” I growled, to see how it sounded. My voice was surprisingly deeper, more masculine, than before, having transformed along with the rest of me. I let go of my throbbing lycra-encased package with my left hand – felt it sag and bounce under its own weight -- and raised that arm into a symmetrical curl, blasting a double-bi at my two new worshippers. As if on command, Benny mewled and let loose an arc of cum that shot surprisingly far, leaping toward me and striping my left quad with his milky spooge.

My two lifting buddies just came on me, I thought to myself. I am dripping with their cum. This thought, which would normally repulse me, now made me smile. This thought, which normally would have shrunk my dick as far as it was possible to shrink, now made my dick kick out blindly against its stretchy confines once again, demanding attention. The tingling sensation, though it had receded after my transformation was complete, still suffused my whole body as though in the background, and it was still intense where the posers touched my skin, where they wrapped my enormous cock and balls in their delicious, liquid grip.

I dropped my arms and looked at Benny and Judd appraisingly. They both looked as though their grandmother had shown up in their favorite porno.

I was about to flip my newly massive cock out of its thin-stretched wrapping and feed it to one or both of them, but just then, I caught a glimpse of myself in the locker room’s full-length mirror. It was to my right, on the other side of the entrance to the showers, so I first saw myself in profile. My eyes magnetically swiveled to my own image, hulking above my kneeling worshippers in the mirror, and I forgot about the two of them for the moment. My chest must have been 24” from front to back. My ass rode high and proud, the proverbial bubble-butt, with the seat of this fucking posing suit sinking deep into the split between my mountainous glutes, leaving them mostly exposed – it wasn’t a thong, but the insignificant triangle of lycra would have been inadequate to cover a normal man’s ass, let alone a hulking behemoth like me. And, in profile, my meat-stuffed shrink-wrapped lycra package jutted out in front with a brazen disregard for gravity – so thick, so three-dimensional, so… fucking hot.

Forgetting the gazes of my new acolytes for a moment, I turned to the mirror and walked over to it for a better look. Or more like, lumbered – I wasn’t used to keeping my thighs out of each others’ way as I walked. I could feel my massive glutes shift and roll with each step, and my pent-up package was flopped first to the left and then to the right as each thigh muscled forward with my gait.

I stopped a foot in front of the mirror and gave myself a hard look. I hardly recognized my face – it was still me, but now had the hallmarks of hypermasculinity: deep jaw, heavy 5-o’clock shadow, strong nose, deepset, penetrating eyes. It was like alpha-me. I let my eyes travel downward. My shoulders were probably 50% wider than they were before. The freaky cuts where my delts met my pecs, and where they intersected the traps and bis, were just a mind-fucking sight to behold. I gently rotated my right shoulder and watched the entire right side of my body pulse and throb in harmonic muscular synchronicity. Absently, I scooped up a slug of Benny’s cum from my twisted-cable quad and licked it off my index finger. I had always wanted to be able to dance my pecs, but never quite had the mass for it; now, I merely thought about dancing my pecs and the inhuman mounds of meat leapt into exquisite motion, heaving up and down with almost no effort on my part, now freezing into striated granite, now pulsing and dipping with perfectly controlled sensuality. I let them fall into relaxation (so heavy, so right) and turned my attention to my abs. I raised my left arm, letting my hand dangle behind my head, and shocked my whole left side into a stunning side ab pose, my intercostals and serrata like a miniature staircase up to my armpit, the wide plates of my abs like deep-set flagstones leading the way down to my jutting, meat-packed bulge.

And oh, that bulge. I kept coming back to it. Never had I felt so masculine, so truly alive, so fucking sexual, than when I concentrated on the way this incredible suit gripped my newly grown equipment. No normal form of lycra could ever have done what this thing was doing to me: gripping, lifting, stimulating, teasing. Like the tingle that had transformed me, this suit was exerting its influence on me, on my body and my mind. I slipped a finger under each of the string-thin side straps and lifted them upward and outward. I looked down and smiled deeply at the coiled meat I saw hammocked there in its lycra cocoon – a world of metamorphosed flesh that I would spend the rest of my life exploring.

Just then I heard motion behind me, and saw in the mirror that Judd and Benny were shuffling up behind me on their knees, hard cocks still bobbing. I pivoted, still dangling my weighted package from the side straps in each hand, and bounced it in the springy pouch for them like bait as they approached.

“What the god-damn…” Benny shifted and tried to get his shorts up again, but they were tangled where he had shoved them down to his knees, and he lost his balance and fell over.

Judd was struggling to his feet, his dick still hard, trying not to stare at my stupendous form. “You’re fucking…”

“Huge,” I finished. Somehow it wasn’t hard to put on this cocky attitude, with such dominant size and obvious sexual power over my two friends.

“Ha -- how did…” Benny stuttered, righting himself, his shorts askew.

“What the…” Judd contributed.

I slung my thumbs under the narrow side straps of the posers and rolled them slowly, sensuously downward. “All I did was put on these,” I murmured. The waistband peeled from my lower abs and slowly rolled downward, pressing on the top of my jutting package, forcing it downward so that it bulged out even more tightly as my pubic hair was progressively more exposed. As I pushed them down further against the root of my thick meat, the pressure became greater and greater, until finally I reached the breaking point. My fantastic new cock popped out of the pouch like a spring-snake in a can.

Several things happened at that moment – again, all them almost too fast to absorb. Benny and Judd both jumped backwards and screamed, almost girlishly. My hungry, de-chrysalized dick sprang forward like a live beast, finally tasting air and the promise of its first fresh prey. And I was hit with a violent wave of nausea that doubled me over as though someone had steel-toed me in my new orange-sized balls. I groaned and my knees buckled, and the realization hit me before I even hit the floor.

I could feel myself receding. Just as pulling these posers on had transformed me into a god of muscle, pulling them off was reversing the process. As quickly has I had exploded in new, hard-etched muscle, I was reverting to my previous body – and it felt more awful than anything I had ever felt in my life. Not just to be losing the glorious form that I had suddenly been introduced to – but physically, the worst, most sickening, gut-churning nausea you can imagine. I felt the tingle in reverse, retreating concentrically from my extremities toward my groin, leaving cold desolation in its wake. I moaned and writhed on the floor, retching and dry-heaving, my new armor of magnificent muscle melting off my body like snow in July.

Finally it stopped. I laid there for a moment, stunned, breathing hard. I felt like I had just been hit by a truck. I turned my head and saw Benny and Judd backed against a wall of lockers, aghast and shocked into silence. I struggled to sit up, the posers tangled around my skinny thighs, still with the insistent tingle on my skin. I looked down and saw my shriveled little cock, almost buried in my pubes. I saw the top corners of my pelvis through my fish-white skin. I saw the harsh corrugations of my ribcage on either side of my concave, undefined chest.

So now another realization dawned, and it was like being kicked in the nuts all over again. I hadn’t shrunk back to my previous size – I had actually shrunk more than that. Way more. Where before I had been a decently beefy gymrat, your average self-styled hottie, now I was a pathetic, stick-armed weakling. My skin was pale and sickly-looking, with mold-blue veins running under the surface. I was all bones and skin and gristle. I was... ugly...

“No…” I moaned. “Nooo….” •