Hidden passages

by screamingmoist   

A magical book finds its way to a new author.

Looking at the gorgeous man sleeping in bed next to me, it’s hard to think that this all started as a joke. I didn’t think the book was real. Why would I? It still seems impossible that me writing some words down as a laugh would have ended up like this, but I’ve seen the results. I live with the results every day, and still my brain can’t accept them as real. On days when I feel like being generous with myself, I blame this all on that damned journal. Whatever it is, it’s not just a book. It gets its claws in you and tempts you to things that you’d never do on your own. There’s so much anger in it. The previous passages radiated with them. You could almost feel the rage in the pen strokes. But I wasn’t mad at Jared, was I? I was frustrated, but I was always frustrated when it came to him. He was beautiful and charming and it was impossible not to fall in love with him. The problem was that he didn’t love me back. Or at least not in the way that I wanted. We’d been friends for years, and he loved me as much as a straight guy could love another man, but it only made my feelings for him worse. We never addressed it, though he had to have known. I bit my tongue while I watched him with one lucky girl after the other. It was always me consoling him after a breakup or helping out with something when he needed it, but at the end of the day I was still always the one left on my own. Thoughts like those are the ones that get me. On days when I’m feeling less generous with myself, I know I didn’t need any outside influence to go through with what happened.

I’d just moved back to town and we decided to split an apartment. It had only been a few years since we’d finished college and both of us were still working on building our careers. I’d moved out west for a job opportunity that hadn’t worked out, and Jared was still trying to land something more than the occasional freelance job. In all the years of our friendship we’d never actually lived together but we were sure we could make it work. I certainly wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to get up close and personal with him.

It was moving day when everything happened. People talk about “fresh starts” in new places, and this definitely fits that bill. I’d spent the morning sneaking glances of Jared’s tight, round bubble in his gym shorts, or his strong arms flexing as we hefted boxes and furniture. His soaked shirt clung to his impressive pecs, outlining each round, symmetrical lump of muscle. His handsome face glistened with sweat that ran down from his chocolate brown hair and over his high, stubbled cheeks.

We’d just carried in the last piece of furniture. It was a desk I’d bought at a second-hand store. I could hear something clunking around inside as we fought it up the stairs and wrestled it into my room. I couldn’t figure out where the noise was coming from, but at the moment I was too absorbed with looking at Jared’s panting body sprawled on the couch. His meaty thighs pressed together as he sat, causing his shorts to ride up and form a large bulge at his crotch.

“Duuuude, thank god that’s done,” he laughed, his head resting on the back of the sofa. “Moving is the fucking worst.”

“At least it’s over,” I said, tossing him a water bottle from the fridge. He drained it and lifted his shirt to wipe his face, exposing his toned abs in the process. I’d looked away by the time he let it drop again.

We made plans for unpacking and each went our separate ways to set our rooms up, figuring we’d start there and then figure out the main areas later. Back in my room, I gave the desk a few good shakes, listening for where the thumping noise had come from. It was an old, compact writing desk where the top folded down to form the extended body of the table itself while a small shelf sat above. The thumping sound was coming from underneath the main part of the body, and after a few scrapes around the edges I discovered a small groove on each side. It took some maneuvering with the flat of a knife blade, but I was eventually able to pry the top off the hidden compartment. It was shallow enough to go unnoticed when looking at the desk, but large enough to hold a worn, brown leather book.

Because of today’s completely connected world, there’s a mistaken belief that there are no more mysteries to be found. When everyone is walking around with all the world’s knowledge in their pockets, it’s easy to think that there are no more secrets. If somebody wants something, all they have to do is go on Google or Amazon and a few minutes later it’s on its way. But as I discovered that afternoon, there are still secrets to be found.

The exterior of the book was worn, faded brown leather. There was no marking on the cover or binding, and the pages were made of thick, sturdy paper. It was in great condition, but I remember thinking at the time that it felt old, incredibly so. The pages were filled with handwritten passages, some legible, some not, that didn’t seem to make any sense. They were short, disjointed series of commands without any rhyme or reason to them. It was also clear based on the different writing styles and types of writing utensils that several different people had written these passages. They stopped a little more than halfway through and the rest of the pages were blank.

I couldn’t believe some of the stuff I read. In barely legible cursive someone had written “Jeremiah’s legs will shrink in length by half and his arms will grow by double. His maypole will be stiff always. Jeremiah will do whatever I say and his lying voice will forever more only grunt.” Whoever he was, Jeremiah had pissed someone off. I shivered a little as I pictured a man with short, stubby legs and long, gorilla arms scrambling around hard and grunting. It was a vivid mental image.

They weren’t all so graphic, but they all involved changing and commanding another person. From the context, I quickly gathered that they were all men talking about men. I’d originally thought these were spurned women writing about former or would-be lovers, but as more passages referenced “my cock” or other euphemisms for manly bits, there was no denying that these were all sent from one man to another. The last one in particular was obvious, and surprisingly recent, as one man stripped what appeared to be an academic rival of his rank, and literally of his clothes, as he wrote him into a musclebound dancer.

I remember putting the book down and pacing my room. My hands tingled and my heart was racing. I wouldn’t let myself believe that I’d stumbled on to some kind of magic book. It wasn’t possible. True, the odds that a gay guy with an unrequited crush would stumble on a journal that had somehow been passed down to other men, who then were able to do the very things that I’d fantasized about with Jared, were astronomical. It couldn’t be a coincidence, and yet it had to be. The alternative was unthinkable.

It was too much all at once. I tried to put it out of my head. I unpacked my boxes and hung my clothes in my closet but eventually I wound up back in front of my desk, wringing my hands and sweating slightly from my internal struggle. Call it the imp of the perverse or my own desire; there was a voice in the back of my head saying “just write something in it. It can’t hurt. What are the odds? It showed up, you might as well.”

I finally gave in. “A little thing, that’s all,” I told myself. “It’ll be funny if nothing else. I’ll leave it in there and see if Jared ever notices. Why not?” My hands shook so hard I had to stop and take a few deep breaths before I could get it out. Then I sat on my bed and waited. I didn’t know what I was waiting for. Did I really think this book was magically going to make something happen? I felt like a fool, but I sat and waited. It wasn’t long before I heard the music.

My heart was a jackhammer in my chest. It had to be a coincidence. That’s all. I crept over to the door and cracked it as quietly as I could. I actually had to slap my hand over my mouth to muffle my gasp of surprise. There in the living room was Jared, dancing around totally naked. It was more or less exactly what I’d written: “Jared starts dancing around the living room naked.” His hair was wet and beads of water traveled down his freshly showered body, accentuating the ample muscles that flexed and bounced while he moved. It’s hard to explain exactly how I felt in that moment. It was like holding a winning lottery ticket. I stared at Jared as he moved in a surprisingly coordinated manner and tried to comprehend what happened. There was no way this was a coincidence. Even when we’d go swimming, Jared waited until the last minute to take his shirt off and always wore long board shorts. To my constant disappointment, he wasn’t the kind of guy to flaunt his impressive body. And I’d never seen him dance. I refused to believe that this was the sort of thing he would do even when home alone.

I was mesmerised. His naked body was everything I’d dreamt of and more. Those plump, bouncing cheeks were even more impressive when left uncovered and his flopping cock hung like a thick, shapely banana with a set of furry, hefty balls. I knew Jared wasn’t overly hairy, but seeing how the wiry brown hairs spread over his sculpted chest and down his abs to form a manicured bush, before coating his powerful quads and rocky calves, was mouthwatering.

I fought back the urge to fill page after page. I still didn’t know what was happening and I still didn’t fully believe it. I jotted down another quick note that would tell me for sure and opened my door.

“Whoa!” Jared froze in mid-gyration and turned beet red when he saw me. He grinned awkwardly and scampered over to turn the music down, but didn’t bother to cover himself. His thick hose was semi-hard from all the bouncing and dancing while his toned chest rose and fell quickly. “Uh, sorry man, I totally thought you’d left for some reason.”

I played it as cool as I could and tried not to stare. “Nope, just got done unpacking most of my stuff,” I said, cocking my head and raising an eyebrow. “Is this what you get up to when I’m not around?”

He scratched his head, flexing an impressive bicep in the process and leaving himself even more exposed. “No, uh, not really,” he stammered, seeming confused as he shrugged his broad shoulders. “It just seemed like a good idea, I guess?”

“Looks like you were having a good time. I didn’t know you were such a dancer.”

“Me neither!” He laughed. “I…” he hesitated, his thin eyebrows furrowing slightly. I figured that this would be the part where he’d excuse himself to get dressed, but instead he continued with, “…feel waaaay better after that shower.” He walked past me into the kitchen and I had to fight the urge to reach out and grab one of his firm, shifting cheeks. I watched his broad back expand and saw just how much his trim waist tapered as he rummaged through cabinets. At first I thought he seemed oblivious to the fact that he was flashing his tight hole when he bent to dig through a few boxes, but the more I watched him the more I felt like he knew exactly what he was doing. I’d written “Jared will like being naked and showing off his body around me”, and the more I watched, the more it seemed like that’s exactly what he was doing. “We don’t have any food around here. Are you hungry,” he asked, resting his hands on his lean hips, almost proudly showing off his hefty package. “You want to just order something? I’m too beat to go back out.”

“Yeah, let me grab my phone,” I said by way of an excuse to go back to the book. I was living the phrase “drunk with power”. The knowledge that I could suddenly do whatever I wanted to Jared was heady and overwhelming.

The reason I blame the book’s influence is because not once did I stop to think that I should tell Jared I have a book that could do whatever he wants. He was already gorgeous and still in his mid-20s, so it’s not like he needed to be younger or hotter, but it could have made him smarter, or more successful. It could have done anything, but instead, all I thought about was what I wanted. I like to think that I would have consulted him on my own, but I’m not so sure.

Instead, I was surprised to feel a surge of resentment. I’d been elated at first. Just the experience I’d already had was a dream come true, yet suddenly all I could think about was the years of being denied. Even now, the thought that he was teasing me with that body, despite me being the one to write that, filled me with anger. If he wanted to put on a show, he’d put on a show. I wrote another note and heard the music come back on, only the song was much slower this time.

Back in the living room, Jared had gone from milling around waiting for me to writhing seductively to the music. His eyes were half closed as his hands traveled up and down his lean body. He was at full mast now, his impressive rod throbbing and hard.

“Get bored waiting,” I asked, walking back in just as he started stroking.

His eyes went wide as he turned and looked at me, but he didn’t stop. “I thought you’d like to watch,” he purred, moving closer. I resisted the urge to reach out and grab him as he flexed and pursed his lips in front of me.

I watched how his oozing pole filled the strong hand that was gliding up and down it. It was an impressive sight, and I couldn’t help but think about how many women had been on the receiving end over the years. The thought made me seethe until the next part of my note kicked in. Like an inflating balloon, I watched Jared’s meaty rod become thicker and longer. It pushed out from his body and started to spread his fingers apart until it was a thick, unwieldy nine inches with an equally scaled set of hairy balls. He wouldn’t be putting that in anyone from here on out. He looked troubled as he pumped, but when he opened his mouth he didn’t sound like it. “Ooohhhhhhhhhh, mmmhhmm…uuuhhhnnn….fuuuuck…oh yeah…oh yeah…”

I almost came right then and there. Looking at his new, massive endowment and listening to him moan and whine like a cat in heat was too much. The note had been for his package to grow and for him to become exceedingly vocal, all while thinking that everything was totally normal. I like to think that last part was because I didn’t actually want to torture him, but I also didn’t want to have to deal with him freaking out. His confused expression made me wonder just how normal he felt, but he kept pumping and whimpering until his girthy rod sprayed all over the floor.

“Wo…wow…” he panted, cum oozing out like a faucet. “Never had an audience before…”

“Don’t mind me,” I said flatly, loving how little his huge new cock changed as it softened. He was bigger soft than most guys were hard. His new log swung like a pendulum as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands.

Watching him at the sink, a final vision was starting to form. All the years that I’d thought of him as perfect suddenly seemed wasted. There was so much to fix. His ass was great, but it could be better. And if we were changing things on his body, his pecs could stand to pop a bit more and his arms could be bigger. Yes, he was handsome, but wouldn’t he look better with a bit fuller mouth and less of a nose? The short style he sported with his hair would look better long and shaggy, especially if he grew his stubble out to a trimmed beard. That, coupled with his monster rod, would make him perfect. Physically, at least.

The more I thought back on it the more I realized how moody and sullen Jared could get. He also had a nasty habit of being an uptight know-it-all sometimes. What did he have to be moody about? And what made him think he was right all the time? He was a musclebound pretty boy. What did he need to think about? Maybe that was the problem; he was always overthinking things. Not anymore. His life would be much better off if he just accepted that he was a simple, easy going bro. Throw in a horny exhibitionist streak and he’d be set. Lifting, fucking, relaxing, and friends would be his focus from here on out. We didn’t both need college degrees; it’s not like he’d found a marketing job yet anyway.

I scribbled all of this frantically, almost feeling winded when I slammed the cover shut a few seconds later. By the time I looked up, things were already changing. With his back to me at the sink I watched his perky cheeks start to inflate. They lifted upwards and started puffing, extending back and outwards at the side until he had a huge, round bubble. It gave his formerly tapering build a sudden hourglass look as his trim waist seemed to explode outwards again. This was further magnified when his shoulders pushed out slightly to accommodate the new mass at his chest. When he reached for a towel to dry his hands I could see that his biceps and triceps had increased by at least a third, adding an extra layer of thick muscle. His short hair started growing and thickening until it was a messy mop covering his ears and hanging halfway down his neck.

“I can feel you staring, man,” he said with a chuckle. Before I could respond, he wiggled his hips and started bouncing his new bottom, jiggling each cheek one by one. “Oh, dude, hold on, I think I can finally get ’em to clap.” He leaned forward and popped his hips again, slapping the cheeks together. “There we go!” He laughed, raising a victorious fist in the air and showing off a thickened arm.

I gawked when he turned around. His already impressive pecs were now a pair of large, round muscular slabs that extended well out past the sides of his shredded torso, but it was the changes to his face that caught my eye the most. His thickened lips looked even puffier surrounded by the trim beard that outlined his prominent cheekbones and strong jaw. His smaller nose made his eyes seem bigger and almost doe-like while he tossed his head and brushed his lengthened hair out of them.

“What? You weren’t impressed by that?” Jared came over and wrapped his burly arms around my waist, resting his forehead against mine. His breath was hot on my face as he pressed himself against me. “Oh, wait, never mind,” he grinned, feeling my hard cock dig against him, “there it is.” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I let my hands slide down his back to grab two handfuls of his thick rear. “I knew you can’t resist this meat of mine,” he said, flexing his ass against my hands before letting go and turning around in my grip. He pressed his pillowed cheeks back against me while my hands found themselves on his hairy washboard. “MMMMMmmmmm…” he moaned when one of those hands started kneading his gigantic package.

I dropped my head against the back of his neck and shoulder, loving the feeling of his impossible member in my hand. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to use it as intended made it all the hotter, not that he’d have much need of it from now on. This was evident by the way he was grinding himself back against me and whimpering. I knew what he wanted, but he’d have to wait.

I let go of his lengthened poker and spun him back around, only to find his lips mashed against mine. His scratchy beard on my face coupled with his granite body pressing against me felt better than I ever could have hoped for. We writhed in each other’s arms, tongues and hands exploring mouths and bodies in equal measure. I was in a haze by the time Jared broke it off. He’d already undone my shorts, but he dropped to his knees, tugged my briefs down, and started licking along my aching cock.

“God I love this guy,” he said, his tongue running down my six inches to start sucking on my average sized balls. Compared to his, it was miniscule.

“Yours isn’t so bad either,” I sighed as he continued his tongue bath.

“But you can’t do this,” he winked before swallowing nearly all of me in one gulp. I groaned and clutched at the counter while his beard scratched my thighs and his strong hands held my ass in a vice grip. His soft new lips formed a tight seal while his tongue worked like a third hand. I ran my fingers through his soft, shaggy hair and drifted off until he abruptly pulled his head away. “Alright bud, I think you’re good and ready,” he said, bending and leaning against the counter next to me. I almost came at the sight. There he was, my object of desire, eagerly presenting himself. “Ooohohhhhhh yyyeessss,” he hissed when I slid inside. “Co…come on man…give…give it to me…” He whined, wiggling his hips to work my rod when I hadn’t started pounding.

I couldn’t get over his new speech pattern. I could count on one hand the number of times in a given day Jared would say “dude”, let alone “man” and “bud.” I decided to play along. “You ready, bro,” I said, emphasizing the last part.

“Fuck yeah man,” Jared said, pressing back against me. I leaned in and grabbed his bulging new pecs as I started thrusting. Jared exploded into a writhing, whining mass of muscle. His mouth never stopped. He begged and pleaded and grunted and squirmed while I slammed into his cushioned cheeks. No matter how hard or fast I went, it was never enough. He’d always plead for it to be harder or faster. Once we fell into a rhythm I let a hand drop down to work his solid pole while the other tweaked an enlarged nipple. This, coupled with the pounding, drove him wild. His voice broke as a series of high pitched whimpers and whines shot up out of his strong throat. It finally pushed him over the edge when I leaned in and started nibbling on his ear. He groaned and tensed in my grip before his eager squirtgun started spasming and spraying. I’d just barely been holding back, and the sight of this whining muscle hunk’s obscene cock spurting like a geyser pushed me over. I gave a final plunge and pumped into him, eliciting a weak, panting gasp.

I fell against his broad, strong back and caught my breath. I was having a hard time believing that any of this really happened. It was too good to be true. While Jared caught his breath I pulled out and stumbled back over to the book. I scribbled one last note and closed the cover, watching the book blink out of sight as I did. I had to get rid of it. The release had cleared my head and I knew that if I kept it, I’d never stop changing Jared. I thought back to the anger I’d felt while writing in it and I didn’t want to keep feeling that way. This was enough as it was.

Jared came up from behind and wrapped his arms around my waist just as the book vanished. “That was cheeaaaating,” he said as he nibbled on my neck and reached up under my shirt to tweak my nipples.

“You didn’t seem to mind,” I said, leaning back against him. I could have stayed there forever, and so could he. When I was altering his personality I’d made it so that he was hopelessly devoted to me. At the time I’d been thinking about how long I’d longed for him and wanted to make sure he felt the same for a change. I still shudder to think how far things would have gone if I hadn’t gotten rid of the book.

We stood like that in silence until I felt his stomach rumble against my back. “Oh, whoops, we were supposed to be ordering food, weren’t we?”

He laughed and let go, giving my ass a squeeze. “Pizza and wings?” I nodded and he called the order in. The old Jared was a picky, finicky eater who I’d never seen eat a wing in the entire time I’d known him. This new Jared would shovel whatever into his mouth to keep his burly build intact.

We cleaned up the mess we made in the kitchen and I could already see more evidence of Jared’s new personality. His eyes seemed brighter and he hardly ever stopped smiling. He was considerably more touchy-feely too, constantly slapping my ass and horsing around like an eager puppy.

“You, uh, might want to put something on,” I said when it was nearing the time for the food to arrive. I didn’t actually want him to cover up, but I was curious about the last note I’d entered. Jared was a strict boxers man and a bland dresser. I’d written in a passage to hopefully change that.

“Fiiiiine,” he sighed, trudging off into his room. He was only gone for a second before he came back in nothing but a tiny, bright red bikini with a backwards baseball hat on his head, his shaggy mop of hair spilling out around the sides. I could have stared for hours at the sculpted hunk. The tiny, low-riding underwear accentuated Jared’s shredded stomach, and the small patch of fabric in the back only made his ass seem even bigger as it failed to cover most of it. The front was another story altogether. His long snake pushed out the front far enough that his hefty balls were visible spilling out the sides. Not that he seemed to mind. He came out just as the doorbell rang and the formerly modest man casually opened the door with nothing else on. “Hey bro, how much do I owe you?” I watched the stunned delivery man look Jared up and down, blushing when he got to his crotch, before stammering out an amount. “Cool man, keep the change,” Jared said cheerfully as he waved him off.

That was six months ago. I learned over the course of the following weeks that, for the most part, things weren’t that different. All of our mutual friends seemed to accept the new Jared as perfectly natural. When he came into the room for the first time with nothing on but a pair of tiny, terrycloth shorts that left his ass hanging out and outlined his wide, snaking rod, I’d expected a big reaction. No one so much as blinked. He never wore a shirt anymore, and he hardly ever wore pants. Just about all of our friends saw him naked shortly after the change, as whatever meager clothes he had on would quickly come off as soon as alcohol was involved. They just shrugged and accepted it as normal. The same happened when people found out we were now together. They just looked at me like I’d told them the sky was blue and water was wet. If anything, everyone seemed to like the new, simple stud even more. His lack of inhibition was infectious, and no one was going to complain if he wanted to show off his beautiful body. It was hard not to be happy around the goofy, lovable hunk.

Unlike his old frustrating job hunt, the new Jared ended up quickly finding a job as a trainer in a nearby gym, which suited him perfectly. His new, easy going nature and striking looks made him a hit with the clients. Where the old Jared could come across as irritated and uninterested, the new Jared was endlessly patient. What did he have to get upset about? He got to spend his days lifting and his nights fucking. He didn’t even care when the guys in the locker room would give him a hard time over his mammoth endowment. He was getting off regularly and often, so what did it matter? He knew I liked it, so what else did he need?

The more time that passes, the more our lives before the book seem like a dream. If Jared remembers anything from before, he doesn’t lose sleep over it. I, on the other hand, spend a lot of time watching him slumber soundly, a content expression on his face as long as I’m within arm’s reach. I don’t regret what I did, but it keeps me up at night sometimes when I think about it. I try not to dwell too much on whether it was me or the book that made this happen. What’s done is done.

No, what really keeps me up is the question of frequency. How often does this happen? How often is reality rewritten with an everyday ink pen? How many people that we pass on the street started their days looking like that? Or acting like that? And who has the book now?

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