ChatBod

by BRK   

Looking for an unusual gift for his lover, Jeff finds an AI imagery site that seems eager to dream up their fantasy versions of each other.

Jeff bundled through the door to the little bungalow he shared with his lover of just over three years, dropping his messenger bag like a hot stone. Before it had even hit the polished hardwood floor with its customary clunk, he’d pulled out his phone and was checking the time. 5:02. If his very dependable guy kept to his usual schedule, as dependable guys tended to do, that meant Jeff had almost an hour. One hour to research the best possible birthday gift for his one and only.

All their buddies gushed about how Jeff and Geoff seemed like some kind of perfect, fated match. They had almost everything in common. They were both cheerful, reasonably buff, outdoorsy professionals in their mid-twenties, with good educations, strong friend networks, and solid futures in their respective careers—Jeff in sports management, Geoff in financial consulting. They loved spooky k-dramas, bicycling under the stars, and sausage pizza with extra garlic. They both wanted a big, galloping woof-dog with a goofy grin to keep their self-satisfied calico, Chester, in line, too; the dog’s name would be something banal, like Fred or Mikey, and would bask in the sun under the bay window in the den.

Actually, their personalities meshed pretty much perfectly. They finished each other’s sentences and guessed the other’s thoughts in most any social situation. Being with each other was effortless, easier than being comfortably alone or out with their oldest friends. They even looked kind of alike, standing 5-foot-10 or so with short-trimmed locks and cute, boyish faces, the main difference being Jeff’s inky dark hair and brows and Geoff’s brown-themed, autumnal look and glinting hazel eyes. The fact that they’d met at the gym, trading off on the pec deck, helped explain their matching middleweight gymnast physiques, with lean, nicely chiseled torsos and the kinds of strong, sculpted arms and shoulders that drew looks now and then for how well they filled out dress shirts and that basked in the rightness of being gloriously exposed whenever their bearers wore sleeveless tees to bike by the river or shoot hoops in the little urban park at the end of the street. Though they mostly didn’t know for sure, their friends guessed (correctly) that they were each similarly endowed with thick, meaty cocks, the kind that produced noticeable, well-packed baskets in the right pants, especially when certain underwear choices were made.

Jeff dropped into the chair in front of his glass-topped desk in the cozy second bedroom, the twin of Geoff’s next to it on the long wall under the window, and flicked the mouse to wake his iMac up. Chester, who’d followed him in looking for the customary home-arrival ministrations, jumped up onto the desktop to his left, and Jeff stroked his soft fur distractedly as he watched his email and browser load. He gripped the mouse and got to work.

There was one last area in which Jeff and Geoff enjoyed a pleasant, mutually gratifying synchronicity: they both had vivid, specific, and excitingly complementary fantasies about the other, and after three years of apt but practical gifts Jeff was determined to find a different kind of present for Geoff’s 27th birthday a week hence—one that somehow riffed on the best part of their coupledom, this delicious, hidden secret yin-yang equipoise between them. Charismatic, boy-next-door adorable, and attractively athletic, Jeff and Geoff presented as the archetypal dream lovers for a lot of guys, but the truth was their own imaginings remade them as men very different from each other.

Chester, not the most patient of cats, soon tired of Jeff’s divided attention and jumped away. Jeff continued clicking around, clinging to his gut feeling that he’d find what he was looking for—though he had no idea what form that could take. He found some well-reviewed tee shirt customization sites where he could load up a couple of soft-cotton tops with cryptic legends describing their alternate, fantasy incarnations, and he bookmarked these as a fallback; but something told him to keep going and dig deeper. He wanted more than dirty talk about swollen muscles and mismatched cock sizes between them—he wanted something that somehow let Geoff see himself the way Jeff always saw him in his hottest, hardest fantasies.

Maybe morphed images was the answer. After exploring a number of increasingly obscure message boards and arcane wikis, looking for links to sites that generated altered imagery, he stumbled upon a reply to someone’s deleted post that mentioned an obscure AI website that manipulated supplied photos according to guided user input. This sounded promising—these days AI was being used for everything from architectural planning to student essays on the Epic of Gilgamesh, with increasing sophistication and nuance. AI machine imagery would surely be able to warp things in exactly the way he needed. The site was called ChatBod, and that name seemed both apt and eerily appropriate.

Excited, Jeff clicked on the half-hidden link buried deep in the post. The page started to load, then with a silent millisecond buzz his screen darkened for a fraction of a second. Jeff’s stomach twisted—had he been suckered into downloading a cloud-drive-eating trojan or something? He was such a fucking idiot. Then the window stabilized as though nothing had happened and a white-backgrounded, extremely plain-looking website loaded. Under the colorful ChatBod logo was a space to drag image files and, under that, a simple prompt with a blinking cursor. The prompt read, “What do you want to look like today?”

Jeff grinned, his trouser kielbasa thickening comfortably in his snug black boxer-briefs. This, he thought as he dug through his photos to feed the machine, is exactly what we need.

A week later Jeff and Geoff were sprawling on a blanket in a shady corner of the riverside park, enjoying the sunset, and Jeff could barely contain his excitement. Half of their side of the city seemed to be out frolicking in the cool summery weather today, with barbecuing families in blocks of 15 or 20 each and a bevy of shirtless college boys randomly dodging bicyclists as they winged bright red Frisbees at each other; but the two men found a good space that was just a little out of the way where they could enjoy the illusion of intimacy while still sharing splendor of the urban idyll.

Jeff’s plan was simple. He’d get out his phone and show Geoff the images that ChatBod had come up with for them both—perfect manifestations of everything he knew Geoff wished Jeff could be and that Jeff wished Geoff could be, contextualized in their everyday life like they were actual photographs from an alternate reality. Sure, the zealous AI programming had taken his instructions and gone slightly overboard, but that just made the results that much more exciting, in an edgy, slightly impossible sort of way.

The cunning part was, he’d do it right here while they were still in the park, shamelessly letting his easily-aroused lover get all hot and bothered while they were still out in public and in full view of the general populace—an extra bit of self-conscious kink he knew they would both enjoy. Then, with both of then riled up and raring to go, riding the edge of unactionable lust, they’d rush home, lock the doors, and let dirty talk (and maybe a few secretly-made life-size blowups of the images he’d had made) do the rest. It would be the next best thing to living out their fantasies.

Jeff looked his lover over, liking what he saw. They’d both worn their workout duds, shorts and college-branded sleeveless tees—partly because they’d cycled over here and mostly because they liked the looks they got when they showed off their arms and delts together. The food was mostly gone, and after having stuffed themselves on cold marinated chicken sandwiches, corncob quarters, and cheesy bread they were now lolling back and idly topping off their repast with sweet black seedless grapes and mutual smiles of contentment.

Jeff couldn’t wait any longer. He was already a third of the way hard, and his cheeks felt warm as he ogled his man and thought about the dream version of him he’d digitally conjured for himself. He licked his lips, then pulled out his phone, called up the photos app without looking, and handed it to his man. “Happy birthday, G,” he said, feeling a rush of microjitters tingling up his spine.

Geoff smiled and lifted a dark-sepia brow, these bright hazel eyes casting him a curious look as he took the phone. “What’d you do, J?” he asked with wary amusement.

“Look and see,” Jeff answered coyly.

Geoff glanced down at the screen—and frowned. Jeff’s gut went cold. “It’s—it’s you,” he said nervously, sitting up a little on the blanket. “Don’t you like it?”

“I’m… blank?” Geoff said. He looked up again, his expression confused but indulgent, like he’s waiting to get the joke.

“Huh?”

Geoff showed him the photo app screen, which was solid white. Scowling, Jeff took the phone back. What the heck had happened to that amazing first picture of Fantasy Geoff, laying back and enjoying a picnic in the park just like Real Geoff was doing at that very moment?

“Uh, J?” he heard Geoff say, sounding odd.

Jeff didn’t look up. “One sec,” he said. He swiped to the previous image, which should have been the one of him likewise blanket-supine at the park; but Fantasy Geoff and his entire scene was missing, too, leaving nothing but a screen full of bright white pixels. “What the fuck,” he grumbled.

“U-u-h, Jeff, love, you really need to see his,” Geoff was saying. His voice had a slight tremor to it, as though he couldn’t figure out whether to be anxious or excited.

Jeff kept swiping back, but all of the ChatBod images were gone. What the hell happened to them? His stomach sank, though, weirdly, his dick seemed to slowly swelling, as though it liked that they’d been cheated out of their fantasy snaps. Why had they gone away, though? Was there a time limit, or…

An idea occurred to him. In the course of their “conversation” he’d told ChatBod that this was for his lover’s birthday, and when the AI had asked he’d even specified the date and time. Had the images expired as soon as the timestamp he’d given it had passed? Or had—

He felt something cool and soft smack against his forehead. “Jeff!”

Jeff looked up, about to object to being beaned on the noggin with table fruit. Then all thoughts of grapes went away into a fathomless oubliette, and he rose to his knees, mouth agape and awestruck, taking in the sight of his beautiful lover as he crouched before him, inexplicably expanding inch by inch and pound by pound to become his ChatBod fantasy right here in real life.

Geoff’s muscles were inflating just a bit with every breath like they were equipped with tiny bicycle pumps, inexorably throbbing a bit bigger, a bit thicker, a bit swoler with each passing moment. It wasn’t like a time lapse—it was a transformation. Geoff was squeezing his fists hard as he watched himself grow, adding to the illusion that he was literally pumping himself up. Jeff watched in dick-thickening fascination as delts swelled… biceps expanded… pecs pushed out against tightening crimson fabric…

“Oh god,” Jeff heard himself breathe, barely aware of his dick responding eagerly to the sight before him, sliding smoothly out of his briefs and inching down the leg of his loose shorts. “God, G,” he said.

Geoff looked up at him, those sweet hazel eyes wide and round. “I’m—it’s your Sex God me,” he said wonderingly, as his traps swelled against the ring collar of his tee. “How did you—? How—?”

“That dude’s growin’,” somebody said from somewhere to their left. “Fuck me, is that dude growin’?” Both lovers glanced over and saw that a handful of the shirtless college-age Frisbee tossers that had been gamboling nearby were now gathered on the outer fringe of their picnic spot, watching Geoff transform from lean, sexy boy-next-door junior gymnast to thick, devastatingly hot muscle beast pulse by pulse. Fuck, Jeff thought, why does the fact that they’re watching us make this that much hotter? At least the little knot of sweaty man-hunks were blocking the view from the rest of the park. There was public and then there was public.

Suddenly Geoff looked down at his legs, then clambered to his feet, staring awestruck at his mini-keg-thick thighs—their growth must have suddenly gotten awkward while he was crouching on his heels like that, Jeff realized. Geoff’s loose gray shorts were now plastered to his legs. Geoff’s attention, though, was soon back up on his upper body and its seemingly uncontained growth. His long, formerly loose tee shirt was inching up a bit, too. Maybe that was mostly from the increased volume and mass of Geoff’s increasingly reality-defying torso, but Jeff was pretty sure his guy was getting taller, too. He hadn’t really seen a height difference in the raw images the ChatBod had produced, but then it wasn’t always easy to tell scale without clearly delineated referents, was it?

Geoff looked up at him sharply then, his eyes round with alarm, then started pulling off his tee shirt with considerable difficulty and tossing it aside. He got free at last and looked down, then up again. “J, it’s not stopping,” he said, his voice already a tone or two deeper and a shade rougher than before.

“It will,” Jeff assured him, quickly getting to his own feet. “The AI—it just likes… it likes things a little extreme. A little abnormal,” He licked his lips. “M-make a muscle, G,” he rasped. “Please?”

Geoff lifted his right arm and, slowly, bent it in a classic bicep pose. Fuck, Jeff thought, staring at it slack-jawed. That peak is so tall there should be goddamned mountain goats on it.

“Dude, look at his wang,” one of the bros said. Jeff looked down and finally registered what he’d been feeling for the last few minutes: his own muscles were mostly untouched, maybe a little more classically perfect, but one thing had changed—the heavy, pendulous weight of his thick, massive dick and swelling balls. He stared as his cock slowly kept going like it was fucking unspooling from his groin, centimeter by centimeter. It was already free from the left leg of his shorts and was steadily creeping down his leg, past his fucking knee like his dickhead had a sudden hankering for the taste of lawn grass and was growing itself to make that happen…

He looked up and saw that Geoff was grinning nervously at him. “‘A little extreme,’ huh?” he repeated.

Jeff shuddered with the full realization that this was really, truly happening to them. He grinned wolfishly back at Geoff. “Check yours, babe,” he said, his heart pounding hard in his chest from the anticipation.

Geoff blinked, then pulled the waistband of his shorts forward and peered in.

“Dude, is it bigger?” one of the Frisbee bros called.

Geoff looked up at his man, beaming with happiness. “Not bigger, no!” he answered back, though his eyes stayed on Jeff.

“Fuck, why does that turn me on,” one of the bros wondered aloud. He sounded like he really wasn’t sure and wanted to know.

“You into all this, Levi?” another chided. “I didn’t know you were into dudes.”

“You’re the one grabbing your dick, Chad,” Levi shot back.

“I had an itch.”

“Uh huh.”

Jeff found himself moving toward his long-craved massive-shouldered, unnaturally brawny, small-dicked Fantasy Geoff, with the fact of his own refined, hardened physique and Geoff-dreamed megacock, creeping a little more slowly now down his leg, barely registering at all. He was too busy thrilling to the sight of everything he’d ever wanted in a lover, including the fact that his wonderful, loving, totally simpatico Geoff was clearly incredibly turned on and deeply satisfied at having become whatever Jeff craved in every single way.

They came together, and Jeff’s pulse quickened as he saw he was looking up, just a bit, into his muscle-beast lover’s eyes. “My god, G…”

“If you want,” Geoff teased. “If you’re going to worship me, though, we really should find a more private, er, temple to enjoy ourselves in.”

“Eh,” Jeff said. He was staring up into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen—eyes that hadn’t changed at all, because they’d always been perfect.

“Dude, are they gonna fuck, right here?” one of the bros stage-whispered to his buddies.

The two lovers smiled and slid into an embrace, another electric thrill shooting through Jeff as he realized he couldn’t touch his hands together across the expanse of Geoff’s back. Fuck. He let his palms roam over the broad spread of warm muscle instead.

“Okay, yeah, we need to be alone,’ Jeff agreed, murmuring into his guy’s massive dream-pecs. “Let’s just walk it, though. I’m not sure either of us can bike like this.”

Geoff bent and kissed his lover’s neck. “Just don’t trip over that thing,” he purred. “I want to do crazy things with it later.”

“You keep that up and tripping over it will not be the problem,” Jeff murmured.

The bigger man laughed, the sound rumbling though Jeff’s smaller, now-muscle-perfected body, and they reluctantly disengaged. The two of them set what might have been a world record for picnic-packing-up; then, walking their bikes and with their supplies over their new and differently improved shoulders, they started briskly heading the ten blocks back to their house through the leafy urban neighborhood, completely ignoring the small contingent of shirtless, Frisbee-playing jockbro fanboys following at a respectful distance behind them.

Chad frowned as he watched his hunky, mop-haired jockbro best friend, Levi, peer cautiously around the giant-box Corn Flakes endcap and down the next aisle like a Cold War spy sneaking looks at a top-secret Soviet sub. The fact that he was dressed more for beach volleyball than lurking, with a bright blue tank, snow-white shorts that looked blinding against his tan, and a backwards cap, made it, well, kind of weird.

“Bro, what are you—?” Chad started to say, but Levi waved back at him as shushed him without taking his eyes off his target.

Chad got it then. He smiled ruefully and shook his head. “Dude, you’re obsessed,” he said, automatically lowering his voice as he moved closer to get in a look for himself. Levi was the do-er in their friendship, and Chad always went along, even when he thought it was lame.

“Shut up,” Levi said, without heat. Chad put his hand on Levi’s nicely-muscled back and leaned past him to catch a glimpse down the beans and rice aisle. Sure enough, there they were: the gay couple Levi clearly hadn’t been able to stop thinking about, the ones that had seemed to grow bigger and sexier right in front of them that day in the park four weeks back. All out in the open, too, like it was a show they were putting on for Chad and his buddies and the barbecue families and everyone in the park.

Chad still wanted to know how they’d done that. His big slab-o-dick did, too, it seemed, going by how it immediately plumped up and thickened in his cottony boxer-briefs whenever he pulled up the image of those two studs that day, slowly getting studlier and studlier. Maybe it wasn’t just Levi.

So yeah, he’d thought about those two a lot, but Levi, man—Levi seemed fixated. He had, like, doubled the number of runs they went on every week, and he always steered them through the riverside park and then down Pike Street past that sweet bungalow they lived in with the cat in the bay window, obviously hoping to run into the hottie-hot couple and get a rush from seeing them again.

Over the month since it happened they’d lucked out few times. Once on an early-morning jog they’d passed them as they left for work, looking startlingly impressive and dominant in suit pants, dress shirts, and loosened ties—damn, how did the big one even find shirts?

Another time the couple had actually been playing Frisbee in the park, almost like they were looking for Levi and Chad! They’d slowed to a halt and stared, and Chad knew Levi was excited and wanted to go up to them. Then they saw that the couple was whipping the disc around with a young, very enthusiastic chocolate lab, and Levi decided to just watch them bond with their bouncy new pup, walking away with a weird, goofy smile before he finally got them back on their route. What a softie, Chad had thought fondly as they’d trotted through the park, sweat dappling their bare shoulders under the warm morning sun.

When they weren’t tailing them, Levi talked about them. He had spun all these facetious theories, like special steroids you could only find on gay websites, or a secret gay super-soldier serum (“Just like they had in ancient Thebes!”), or a gay couple superpower that you only unlocked if you were really in love and had a sponsoring couple who’d also unlocked it. Chad had laughed along and even contributed a few himself (like, all gays were really part alien and have a special alien hunk chromosome). They were just joking, but Levi spent so much time in this headspace he wondered what the guy actually believed.

And now here they were in the Myway! Expressmart, secretly scoping the pair as they perused the taco supplies like a couple of take-no-prisoners preteen girls staking out a k-pop idol’s hideaway beach house. Barely anyone even seemed to be paying them much mind, apart from a few admiring eyes lingering on them as shoppers passed by and stockboys appeared with boxes of flavored rice pilaf.

“Dude, are they bigger?” Levi whispered.

Chad, who’d been staring at the big one’s hard, round ass and the way his thin gray sweats were clinging to them like a needy wench in a swords and sandals spoof, started guiltily. “Uh, are what bigger?” he asked.

Levi shifted, almost like he was going to turn around and give Chad a look—as if Levi could tear his eyes off those two anytime he saw them. Chad realized he still had his hand on Levi’s back. He should probably move it, but he was balancing kind of weird to peer around his ogling buddy, and he figured he should probably keep his hand where it was if he didn’t want to fall over. If he were a little taller, they could stack their around-the-corner lookie-looing top and bottom, like the Scooby-Doo gang. The thought of being that much taller than Levi made him feel funny and he set it aside, deliberately concentrating on Levi’s question.

And, yeah, they did look bigger. It helped that they were wearing those snug sleeveless tees they liked, both white today for some reason. While the smaller, dark-haired one seemed like he’d been pounding the weights and had cranked himself just about buff enough for a Men’s Fitness cover shoot, the big one was massive all over. His striated delts looked fucking colossal, like he was expanding out of the constraints of a mere tee shirt, even one that had to be 4XL easy. Those arms could probably tear doors off of their hinges, too. “Dude, they’re, like, huge,” Chad murmured, awed. He felt very warm all of a sudden. “Like, huge-er huge.”

“They’re still growing,” Levi hissed, like it was an epiphany.

They kept on watching the couple as their quarry tossed several bags of beans in to their cart—what were they making?—and exited the aisle at the other end. With the two men gone, Levi turned quickly to face his buddy, eyes round. Because of the way they were positioned they were very close, almost nose to nose, and Chad found himself staring into those excited, blue-green eyes like he’d never seen them before. His arm was wrapped around Levi, his hand still on his back. The tanks they were wearing were so thin, it felt like he was pressing his palm against Levi’s hot, bare skin. He should step back… but maybe that would be disrespectful, like being this close was icky or something.

He stayed where he was. Levi didn’t seem to mind.

“Can you believe that?” Levi was saying, beaming with enthusiasm. “It must be like a tiny bit every day. Every morning, pop, pop, pop, all week long. Man, imagine how big that guy’s wang must be by now!”

Chad’s lips twisted in a half smile. He’d been so into the couple’s exceptional muscles—the little one’s 110% aesthetic ripped physique and the big one’s towering, exaggerated brawn—that he hadn’t given much through to the other changes the couple had experienced right in front of them that day.

“What, you like big dicks, Levi?” he teased. As they both knew, Chad possessed just such a dick—Levi had even remarked once that it looked extra-big because Chad’s thin, platinum-blond pubes were practically invisible. In his own ears Chad heard the question as half bro-taunting, half almost invitation. This was just how they talked, though.

Levi grinned toothily. “Dude, what’s more beautiful than a big, sexy wang?”

Right then, Levi himself seemed exceptionally beautiful in his exuberance, with his chiseled features, mesmerizing eyes, and floppy, jet-black curls dripping onto his forehead. Chad didn’t answer, just let himself be in this moment. Instead he said, “Bro, why are you so hung up on those two?”

Levi grinned wider, not moving away even a little. “Dude, I gotta know!”

“Know what?”

Chad and Levi whirled to find the big, brunet one looming over them with a cheery smile. Next to him with the shopping cart, the dark-haired one smirked knowingly. “Look, G. It’s our fanboys!” He turned to the boys, his expression wry and indulgent. “So? What is it you want to know?”

Chad felt himself blush, but Levi, practically unabashed, just swallowed and blurted out, “How you got so big!” As he said this he raked his eyes up the seven-foot-tall muscle beast, though Chad thought he caught his eyes darting first to the smaller one’s loose, heavy jeans, as though looking for the half-hidden equipment there.

“Yeah? You like guys with huge muscles and big dicks?” the smaller one teased, and for some reason he was looking right at Chad as he did so. Chad tore his eyes away from “G”‘s gigantic, outthrust pecs, barely contained in their compression-strength sleeveless top, and looked down, his cheeks feeling even hotter and his slab-o-cock straining at his shorts. Even in his acute embarrassment he couldn’t stop thinking about how limber “G” looked for all his bulk—graceful, even. He wanted to see him move, like a track-and-fielder running the hurdles, or a dancer in Swan Lake. And what had the other one meant, “huge muscles and big dicks”? As in, “dicks,” plural?

“I like that you grew,” Levi gushed, all shame stripped away now that they were all face to face with no chance of pretense. “How did you do it? Is it a gay couple superpower?”

Chad looked up at Levi in shock, his own chagrin forgotten. “Dude!”

“Actually, he’s not far off,” joked the big one, “G.” “You just have to, you know, try it!”

Chad gaped up at the man and caught a glimpse of his glinting hazel eyes before the larger man looked down at his lover. “You doing what I think you’re doing, J?”

“J” had pulled out his phone and was noodling away on it energetically, a mischievous smile on his boyishly handsome face. “Absolutely,” he said. He smiled up at Chad and Levi. “Mind if I get a pic?” he added innocently, lifting up his phone.

“Sure!” Levi said instantly, smiling wide. As fit, good-looking, often-shirtless guys it wasn’t unheard of for them to get random pic requests from strangers and friends of friends, though it wasn’t usually from guys even hotter than they were. Levi seemed to think this was a signal compliment from beings higher up the masculinity food chain.

“J” raised a set of inky brows, ready to take the picture. Almost automatically Chad put his arm around Levi’s muscly shoulder, feeling extra conscious of the firm, rounded flesh there—echoing, he though with a slight renewal of his blush, something else firm and round he possessed down below. To lighten the mood he succumbed to a childish impulse and stuck out his tongue, just a little.

The camera sound effect clicked, and Chad shivered, like something had shifted in him at the atomic level. What the heck? “J,” looking pleased, typed for another second or two, then looked up at them and winked as he tucked his phone away. “All set! Careful, though, there’s some A.I. involved so it might get slightly weird.”

“What might get weird?” Levi said excitedly, as if the two of them were actually serious and not just jerking them around. Levi looked up at “G,” who did indeed seem to be trying to keep a straight face. “And, what did you mean, ‘try it’?”

“G” put a Paul Bunyan arm around his chest-high fitness-model and shrugged massively. “Make out with each other,” he suggested lightly. “See what happens.”

Levi and Chad stared at the couple, shocked, and they started to move around them, clearly amused by the whole encounter. “Let us know how it goes,” added “J” as they passed with their cart. Chad barely heard him.

They turned toward each other. Chad’s arm was still around Levi’s tanned, bulgy shoulder, which meant they were close enough Levi’s body head was fending off the chill of the grocery story’s air conditioning. Chad was crazy hard, and if he just pushed his crotch forward an inch he was sure he would encounter a matching hardness in Levi’s loose basketball shorts. “Uh-h-h, so, yeah, that was weird,” Chad said awkwardly.

“Yeah.” Levi was looking at Chad’s lips, his warm breath gusting across them as Chad’s heard pounded.

A beat passed. Neither of them moved. “I mean,” Chad whispered finally, “I don’t know if…” He cleared his throat. “If you’d ever…?”

Levi seemed to realize what Chad was asking. He looked up, eyes bright. A stray lock had fallen low on his forehead, somehow making him look breathtaking and vulnerable. Chad wanted to brush the curl away, but he was afraid to move.

“Dude,” Levi said easily, “I’d totally make out with you if it meant I got a chance to see you hotter and hung-er!”

Chad was hit with a sudden need to see what Chad looked like taller and blooming with muscle—muscle that existed for him to touch, to feel under his hands and fingers. And tongue, maybe. His throat felt very dry and his cock was very, very hard. “O-only then?” he managed to get out.

Levi grinned a grin of pure, adoring affection. “Idiot,” he said, then moved in and joined their mouths together.

They kissed like it was a revelation, a homecoming. Chad opened for him, Levi eagerly responding by depening the kiss and sliding his tongue along Chad’s like they belonged together, side by side, wrestling like guys who craved the intertwining of long body and strong muscle. They mashed their whole bodies together, embracing hard, and reality seemed to slowly turn and twist as they lost sight of everything else. They broke for air only when Chad literally thought he might pass out from hypoxia, and even then they remained bound together, crushed in each other’s arms, their foreheads pressed together, their mouths millimeters apart.

“Dude, you’re so hot,” Levi said.

Chad thought this was a ridiculous thing to say. “Dude, you’re so hot.” It felt funny speaking the words—there was something odd about his mouth.

There was something odd about the two of them.

Without looking, without taking his face away from Levi’s he could tell Levi was, well, bigger. Like, a hundred pounds of muscle bigger. All of it was rock-hard under Chad’s hands, and the taper of Levi’s back made him sure that it was exquisitely aesthetic. Chad himself was only Olympic gymnast built from what he could tell, and he knew without any doubt that the contrast between the two of them was going to be a constant source of hardons from now on. His, and Levi’s, and probably a lot of other guys’ too, he thought with a smirk.

The hands were… another matter. He’d had his arm around Levi for the pic “J” had taken, but he could tell that were he to pose that way now he could now go on doing that and casually put his hand in his pocket at the same time. He remembered what “J” had said and snorted inwardly. Stupid A.I., he thought. Someone should really teach it how to count limbs. And, uh, fingers.

And tongues.

Chad didn’t care. He’d wished for Levi’s muscles to blow up because he wanted to touch them. Being able to touch them more could only be a bonus.

Levi was taller, too. Bigger. Peripheral vision was tugging at his attention, trying to tell him the top of the endcap was at shoulder height now. They were rolling their foreheads together, so Chad must have stretched up taller as well, if not as wide or bulky as Levi. That was good. Tall was good. He always wanted to be this chose to Levi’s face.

People moved around them, like a river parted by a huge granite boulder. Chad didn’t care. He pressed closer, thrilling as their iron-hard cocks shoved almost painfully against each other through layers on unwanted fabric. He huffed a laugh at what he felt there. “I guess I have an answer to your question, ‘What’s more beautiful than a big, sexy wang?’” he said softly, a little giddy with excitement and the extra arousal.

Levi pulled back enough to grin at him, the picture of sexy bliss. “Dude,” Levi said. His lips were bruised, but he said it like a man who couldn’t wait to kiss him again. Then kiss, and cum, and kiss again, and do all the things. Every fucking one of the things.

Chad grinned back at him, feeling too much of every emotion and loving it. “Dude,” he agreed.

Then they were making out again, and they kept making out until a middle-aged mom with a full cart cleared her throat politely to get their attention, because they were blocking the endcap and some people really needed to buy Corn Flakes.

So Levi and Chad left the grocery store, hand in hand, eager to explore and excited for what the days head might bring. They didn’t forget to be grateful to their patrons, too. Maybe they’d stop by their house and share their results with them.

Tomorrow. Right now all Chad wanted was a lot of naked time with his big, goofy, blown-up bro, and he knew instinctively his guy Levi felt exactly the same way.

Max wasn’t a bad guy. He really wasn’t. He kept telling himself that as he as he sat down in front of Jeff’s iMac, psyching himself up to rifle its innards for the secret of how Jeff and his lover Geoff had gotten so—so—

He adjusted his leaky boner in his cutoffs and tried to concentrate. He could do this.

His progress so far was a frustrating bag of nothing. Six weeks had passed since he’d wandered away from his company’s annual junior analyst barbecue and watched in awe as the two picnicking hotties had gotten incredibly hotter right there in the park. With an audience of astonished Frisbee bros, too, which just made the whole thing even more of a wet dream. As he’d taken in the spectacle, knowing he’d be jerking off to this moment for years and years, a tiny, throbbing need formed in the back of his mind: he had to know how to make this happen. He had to discover the secret that would turn him and his wiry, forgettable body into a godling like them—a confident, lust-inspiring vision no one could ignore.

Then, like a gift of dame fortune, he’d run into them again a week later, a few blocks away on the narrow grassy strip that ran along the east side of Mortimer Boulevard. They looked just as before, so it wasn’t a dream or a sunstroke or anything. There was the smaller, dark-haired snarky one with the tight fitness model body and a dick the size of Detroit. He was wearing extra-baggy sweats, but there was no way not to see what was twined around his left leg like a Brazilian river-monster. Next to him loomed the big, towering smiley one with the autumn coloring and the muscles on top of muscles, so huge that most normal doorways had to be a problem for him, widthwise and heightwise. And between them, straining his lead to get to his absolute new best friend Max that he’d never met before, was a beautiful goofy one-year-old chocolate lab who clearly lived for running and playing and slobbery kisses and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Seizing his chance, Max had dropped to his knees and gave the pup all the loves. The happy, exuberant dog lapped it up—literally for a lot of it, seeing as the pup’s approach to friendship seemed to be all-in and tongue-first. 

Max giggled from all the kisses and looked up at the pup’s sexy owners, who were smiling down at the interaction fondly. His heart stopped for a second. From this angle, with the sun behind them dappling through the massive oaks and maples around them, they really did look semidivine, and Max was painfully hard in seconds. It was all he could do to keep his eyes on their faces and not let his gaze roam willfully over the mesmerizing landscapes of muscles and bulges of all kinds seemingly made of lust and cum. 

Fortunately, the dog was irrepressible enough to demand his attention, yanking him back to reality with wiggled and licks, and Max grinned wide as he hugged and stroked the eager animal. “What’s his name?” he asked.

“Mikey,” the smaller one answered proudly. 

“Mikey, huh?” Max said, addressing the dog. “Are you a good doggo, Mikey? Are you?” Mikey went nuts at the sound of his name, dancing and twisting in circles under Max’s hands before returning for more kisses. Max laughed. “I guess so!” To the couple he added casually, “You know, if you need a walker, I have a few slots open.”

The two visions exchanged a look, and Max straightened, heart pounding, his hand still scritching the dog on automatic as Mikey swiveled his bony head this way and that to find all the best angles. Opportunism was Max’s one real gift. The rest of him was dull. He was okay-looking, with a longish face, dishwater-blond hair, and a shortish, unprepossessingly ordinary body. Long enough cock, slightly wider than average—a good handful, he thought, if nothing to write home about. Decent fellatio skills he wished got put to use more often. His job was boring and his apartment was a place to live. 

But there was one thing he was inherently good at, and that was bullshitting strangers. Part of it was being naturally crafty; you had to find the right angle. Mostly, though, he just came across as genuine and totally ordinary. People trusted him and believed what he told them. He’d used that to his advantage a few times over the years.

The big one just smiled at him, while the smaller, darker-haired one considered him a little more shrewdly—hopefully assessing how good a dog-buddy he seemed to be, he thought, and not drilling deeper into his actual, more carnal motives for weaseling his way into their lives. “Actually, we could use someone,” the guy said. “What do you charge?”

Max’s mind raced. He should have had this part queued up, but the inhuman hotness of his couple had distracted him. “The first one’s free,” he said with a wink, sharing the joke with them.

The big one huffed a laugh. “Like crack,” he said, those hazel eyes glinting. 

Fuck, that voice was so smooth it went straight to Max’s balls. He pushed down a slight throat-clearing noise and continued like he unspooled this spiel all the time. “Exactly,” he agreed amiably. “After that it’s… a hundred a week, plus any expenses. Playtime on top of the walkies for 50 percent more.”

Mikey wiggled a bit at the word “walkies,” though the fact he was already on one of these may have muted his reaction. Max ignored him apart from the petting, keeping his eyes on the couple and his expression neutral. Was quoting a weekly rate too obvious? He’d guessed at the amount—would they laugh at him? Tell him to piss off? 

But the big one was nodding. “That’s pretty good,” he said—evidently they’d looked into walkers and sitters already and not found the right fit, which was promising. Max was good at making himself the right fit. The dark-haired one with the ankle-kisser seemed favorable, but said nothing. 

Max gave them a calmly confident look, like a seasoned pro. “New customer discount,” he said sagely. “We can revisit in, say, six months?”

He was still scratching behind Mikey’s ears, but the dog chose this moment to “woof” at him for more attention. All three of them laughed, just like on a sitcom.

“Sold!” the brunet said happily. They exchanged numbers, a contract was signed, and now, just over a month later, here he was with the keys to the castle… and no luck finding what he was looking for. Meticulous searching had revealed nothing. No mysterious pill bottles marked “Muscgrow” and “Legcock” in the medicine cabinets, no syringes and bottles of sera hidden under the bed or tucked away in bedside cupboards, no rolled up mats inscribed with pentagrams and runes stowed in the broom closet or behind the fridge. Mikey, of course, had thought his antics were a fantastic game, and raced from room to room with him as if auditioning to be the world’s worst apprentice sneak-thief. Meanwhile the cat, a calico named Chester, watched disdainfully from the tops of bookshelves whenever he wasn’t snoozing imperiously in the sunlit bay window.

And what did he have to show for his weeks of running around, in-between the walkies and playtime with this amazing, sweet, and endlessly energetic dog he couldn’t get enough of? Bupkis, he thought as he dropped reluctantly into Jeff’s office chair and woke the machine, Mikey happily vibrating next to him, excited for what came next. Bupkis and, apart from the awesome company, squat. At least it was nicer here than his own place. Quieter, too—he lived near the commuter rail with a couple of roommates who objected in principle to the concept of headphones. And he was hard. He loved being hard—for him cumming was almost anticlimactic. He had never really got why people were so fixated on the squirt when being boned was so nice.

And he wasn’t totally out of luck information-wise. Though he did not know the catalyst yet, he’d been able to observe, week-by-week, that there had been incremental ongoing transformation in both parties, conditioned to their original transformation. Geoff, the bigger one, had added on a few more pounds of physical mass, and by Max’s estimate was another inch taller. The changes in Jeff, the smaller, darker-haired one, were tougher to gauge, but Max thought he seemed subtly firmer and denser in the legs and torso, and his ankle-kissing cock was definitely an inch or two longer, presumably prompting him to do the leg-wrap thing more often instead of letting it hang down the legs of his sweats. (Jeez, how heavy was that monstrosity? And did it actually get all the way hard?) 

The continued growth made him wonder even as it turned him on to the point of being constantly hard around them, or even just in their house, like he was in a temple of manly metamorphosis. Did the first treatment have residual effects, diminishing over time? Was it a series of treatments—pills, injections, whatever? Was something still in their system, like nanobots, doing regular post-TF spruce-ups? He had to know.

His main lead now was to find records of online purchases of whatever drugs or technology had made it possible. He opened the browser with a sigh and pulled up the history, cock throbbing relentlessly in his shorts. “Help me, 27-inch iMac,” he muttered to himself, “you’re my only hope.”

There was a lot of history. Half of it was football-related—Jeff was in sports management, he knew (possibly a clue to his appreciation of bigger, brawnier guys, Max thought)—but there was plenty of other stuff, and it took Max a minute to just stop scrolling the list and target a specific period. He jumped six weeks back. At first he thought he was SOL—it was all pretty much the same. He kept going, scrolling back further, and was about to give up and start searching the documents folders when he hit on a solitary link, unlike the others, to a site called ChatBod.

Max’s pulse picked up. Next to him, Mikey picked up on his excitement and started wiggling, trying to get a better look at the screen like there might be something there for him to play with, but he ignored the pup and pulled up the site. As it started to load it suddenly fizzed out and went black, causing Max to feel queasy for a half-second, like he’d accessed a hidden, eldritch site that was not meant to be found; then the site loaded normally and he relaxed, forgetting his momentary fear. The site’s design was ascetic, with a white background and a simple logo under which ran a short line of text promising “new, more powerful AI-enhanced transformation features.” There was a space for photos to be dragged and, below, a text box for him to describe what he wanted to be today.

Max’s heart was pounding hard in his chest. Who did he want to transform? He thought of his surly interchangeable roommates. There was an associate at the firm everyone drooled over, a tight-bodied Latino with long, lush dark hair and a devastating dimply smile. Or the yummy Nordic guy at the Chipotle on Thursday nights, who looked like he had to be playing soccer every second he wasn’t in his snug little black uniform. 

What was the point in making hot guys hotter, though? Jeff and Geoff must have used this app to make real the fantasies they had for each other. Who did he dream about being hotter? Well, that was easy, he though with a tinge of chagrin. He moved to the photo drag area and clicked the icon to use the webcam. Even as the picture took Mikey jostled him, eager to get a look at what had got Max going, and the picture that came up ended up having more Mikey than Max. “You goofball,” he said, laughing. On screen he responded to the prompt “Identify affected individuals” by clicking on his own face, and a yellow box formed around it.

Okay, now to put fantasies into words. What was Dream Max like? No—he didn’t have to be limited by dreams. Geoff was abnormally big, and Jeff had a dick that he assumed literally dragged the floor when he was naked, and it was fine. All they got that was at all unusual was obsessive fanboys boning up over them like those Frisbee jocks he’d seen a few times early on and, okay, himself. So what was Fantasy Max like? How would he change an unsuspecting Max?

He started typing, becoming more feverish and intense as he worked. He wrote about how he wanted to be seven feet tall and smart, with a sweetly muscled manly body, not at all huge and bulky but firm and lickably defined like that water polo Olympian he’d jerked off to since he’d stumbled across him accidentally in the BBC coverage of the Tokyo games. He wanted to be good-looking, like himself but with a face that people enjoyed looking at and turned people on. He put in a lot of scifi stuff about his body being self-healing and reverting to its original state instead of needing sleep and instantly replenishing balls capable of producing huge quantities of cum at any time and naked by default without people caring. 

Writing all of this out dropped some barriers in his mind and he let himself escalate. He wanted to be totally stretchy and bendy, he wrote, like he was made of something rubbery that let him twist into a ball or pull himself to be the length of a room. Hot. That made his hard dick seem to stretch, too, and he chuckled as he typed, adding that he wanted to be hard whenever he wanted and in total control over the size and quantity of his cock and balls. And anything else on him, he tacked on, because being rubbery/stretchy would make that easier. He wanted to make guys cum just from him kissing them and to make love for hours, building more and more pleasure the whole time until the climax came and there were huge amounts of cum as the euphoria washed through him and lingered for hours afterwards.

By this point he was almost panting. He was going to cum in his shorts soon. A little embarrassed by his litany he clicked submit, not noticing there were now two yellow boxes on the webcam pic…

Max came like he’d never cum before. It was immense in every way—in the intensity of sensation, in the uncanny duration of the release, and in the huge quantities of spunk he was pumping into his shorts with every mind-blowing, body-thrilling pulse. He lay back the chair, sweaty and gaping, letting the overpowering pleasure wash over him. 

It felt like ages before he was able to focus again through the ecstasy, and when he did all he could really see was a face—a grinning, very handsome face that he didn’t… quite… recognize.

“Hi!” the guy said excitedly.

He blinked. It was no hardship having his face filling his vision. The guy was nice to look at, with glittering dark brown eyes, a mess of long chocolate-brown hair, smooth amber skin, and an angular face that was very pleasing, even down to the tiny brown spot on the tip of his otherwise perfect nose. His tongue seemed to loll across his teeth, lapping against his lower lip like a tide. The fringes of his vision suggested a nice body, with broad, bare shoulders, and…

He focused a little, frowning. “Wait—who are you?” He had been alone in Jeff and Geoff’s bungalow, doing… something on their computer? He looked around, confused and trying to think through the afterglow that seemed reluctant to even think about starting to ebb. The office was as before, except the iMac screen was now dark. It should… it should just be him, and—He frowned harder. “Where’s Mikey?” he asked, concerned, and turned suspiciously back to the stranger looming in front of him.

The hot guy grinned even wider, almost shaking with excitement. “Mikey? I’m Mikey!” he said. 

“What?!” Max said, uncomprehending.

“Hi! You’re Max, right? I’m Mikey. It’s all so amazing now! You’re really hot. I want to kiss you. Can I kiss you? Oh, wait, first look what I can do!”

Dazed and bemused, Max followed suit as Mikey looked down at his own naked body—a body he quickly recognized as a slightly elongated rendition of a certain water-polo-playing Olympian responsible for a great deal of cum in his past already, and, as the situation started to clarify for him, probably much much more in the future. They were looking at Mikey’s erect cock, which was long and thick, maybe ten inches and uncut, with a nice upward curve along the shaft. It was beautiful, like everything about human-Mikey, and Max urgently wanted to taste it. Then Mikey started flexing his cock, making it jump, gleefully adding sound effects. “Boop—boop—boop!” On the third “boop,” the jump turned into sort of instant mitosis, and there were two ten-inch sausages curving up toward him, making Max’s mouth water. Actually, they looked bigger now, like Mikey had figured he might as well bump ’em up a size too. Hey, why not?

Max looked up in astonishment to see Mikey beaming triumphantly at him. “See? I’m so turned on looking at you, it’s easy-easy Captain Zekey. Now you try!”

“What?!” Max said again.

Mikey wiggled his fantastically sexy upper body in a sort of “c’mon, you know this” way. “You try,” he repeated. “Your body’s like mine!” He nodded toward Max’s dick, which was still hard after having just cumming. Wait, why was he naked? Where were his clothes? “Apart from your sexy sexy face. But your body is like my body, so I bet you can do anything I can. Like this!” All at once he rolled himself into a fleshy sphere the size of a medicine ball and shot himself at speed across the carpet, bouncing hard against the doorjamb. Mikey pretended this crash “broke” the ball and he came apart laughing in a rolling tumble of rubbery limbs, stopping right in front of Max. Just as quickly he was back on his knees in front of Max, grinning wide and eyes bright. “Now you!” he enthused, nodding at Max’s crotch. “Remember, you gotta do the sounds.”

Max couldn’t help chuckling. He turned a half-incredulous, half-adoring smile on human-Mikey. “Really? The sound effects are important to the process, bud?”

Mikey just grinned. “Absolutely! Now stop stalling and do it!”

“All right…” Max said philosophically, still smiling. He starting to feel like “just go with it” was going to the watchword when it came to his newly human companion. They turned to watch his cock, which he saw was now, slightly eerily, an exact dupe of what Mikey’s had been. Was that the water polo guy’s actual dick? If so, lucky him. Or maybe it was his own concept of the ideal dick? He certainly liked the look of it a lot.

“Ready?” Mikey asked. Then together they went “Boop—boop—boop!”, Max making his gorgeous ten-incher bounce with each utterance. For the last one, though, he deviated from script and “boopboopboop!” and instead of the two dicks Mikey had now Max multiplied his cock into four big juicy extra-fat footlongs and, just for variety and to see what it would look like, one even fatter five-incher. 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” they groaned in unison, then turned to each other and laughed. Knowing they were both rubbery now Max fell off the chair without fear, the two of them tumbling bare-assed and impossibly aroused into the center of the room. Legs and arms wrapped around each other a little more thoroughly than most couples could manage. The carpet felt soft underneath him as he looked up into Mikey’s endlessly loving eyes—unlike their wet, impatient, multiplied cocks, which pushed rudely into flesh that looked like normal human skin but acted more like gummy bears. 

They stared into each other’s eyes for a long time, and Max thought he could do just this forever. He could do anything with Mikey forever. “Are you happy being human, Mikey?” he asked, curious, though he thought he knew the answer.

Mikey gave him a sly grin. “I think this—” He slid his long, stretchy tongue out of his mouth, followed by another one, making Max’s cocks flex hard, almost to the point of penetrating Mikey’s resilient Olympian eight-pack. “—is a little more than human,” Mikey finished smugly. “Are you happy being more than human, Max?” he asked, seeming eager to know the answer.

Max stared at Mikey’s delectably compelling mouth, unable to wait any longer. “Fuck. Yes,” he said firmly. 

Not waiting another second he dove in for a kiss so deliriously hot that they started cumming almost instantly, and they kept kissing and cumming, endlessly immersing themselves in a euphoria that lasted beyond any kind of awareness of time or place. While he could still process thought he found himself hoping Jeff and Geoff didn’t mind exchanging a goofy chocolate lab for an irrepressibly excited and horny seven-foot rubbery live-in hunk… and his equally tall, sexy, and stretchy bedmate, because it would be pretty clear to everyone, Max included, that Max was not going to be unwinding himself from his unexpected fantasy man anytime soon.

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