Jared grinned and popped the pec Conner had grabbed. “Welcome back, muscle tits indeed! I’m so fuckin’ glad to be back, bro, you don’t even know! What’s next?”

“Good to see nothing’s changed,” said Drake with a laugh. “What do you say to a bit of ab work?”

“Fuck yeah, bro! I’m down!” said Jared.

“This won’t be a new exercise, but we’re going to do a more advanced version. You remember your crunches?” said Drake.

Jared nodded. “Of course, bro!” he said.

“This time we’re gonna use a machine.” Drake patted the seat of the machine in question before walking around the back to set the weight. “Just grab those handles. Ankles under the pads. Just like that. Then just go through the motions of a crunch.”

Just like that, Jared was off to the races. Drake and Conner stood back to watch. Somehow the brief interlude by the mirror seemed to have reenergized Jared.

Jared was attacking the workout with renewed enthusiasm. It got to the point that Drake was concerned he was pushing himself too hard. But Drake had worked with enough clients by now that he could tell Jared wasn’t doing anything excessive.

As he went through his workout, Jared’s top continued to shrink. It had well crossed the line from a regular tank top to a stringer tank top by now, the panel of cloth in the front swallowed up almost entirely by his mountainous pecs.

The sweat-drenched shirt left little to the imagination. The fabric conformed to the contours of his abs, showing off the way they clenched and relaxed with every rep.

As Jared did his crunches, his abs became firmer, tighter. Halfway through, his abs looked so hard he might have been able to grind a rock down to dust with them, but the transformation didn’t stop there.

There was a limit to how sculpted abs could get. Especially with steroids in the equation, it was only a matter of time before any further growth went in a different direction. Drake thought it would be a crying shame for Jared to lose his delicious abs but at the same time, a hard roid-gut had an appeal all its own.

Just as expected, it didn’t take long for Jared to hit the transition point. The more he worked his core, the more muscle he packed on around his stomach. His belly swelled behind his abs, pushing them out against his shirt as their rock-hard definition was stretched out over the new growth.

By the time Jared finished his workout, his stomach was rounder than before. Not that he seemed to notice or care particularly much. He patted his belly and grinned. “Whew. That felt great. I could really feel the burn,” he said.

As Jared stood, his deflated package caught Drake’s attention. Unlike the gynecomastia, there was no surgery that could help with that particular problem. He’d have to figure out how to help Jared through that part of getting bigger when it became relevant.

Conner gave Jared a wolf-whistle. “Damn. You look great. You’re really packing on the gains, aren’t you, big boy?” he said with a grin.

Jared struck a quick pose for Conner. “Aren’t I, bro? It feels fucking great!”

Conner chuckled. “Man, you do those so naturally. Ever considered competing?”

Jared quirked an eyebrow. “Competing?” he said.

“Yeah. There are bodybuilding competitions,” said Drake. “When you get far enough along, the prizes can be really good. You should consider it.”

“I might just…” said Jared, giving Drake a thoughtful look.

“Just think about it,” said Conner, “If you win, you get the bragging rights to tell everyone you competed with, ‘hey, look, I’m bigger than you.’”

Jared’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought of it like that…” From the look on his face, he seemed to enjoy the idea quite a bit.

“Something to think about,” said Drake with a small smile. “For now, why don’t we get you set up with your next exercise?”

Jared cracked a grin. “Sure, bro! What’s next?” he said.

“Thought we might continue doing some lower body work, if that’s alright with you,” said Drake. When Jared nodded his assent, he continued, “We’re going to do some seated calf raises on this machine right here.”

Jared took a seat as Drake explained how to use the machine. “Okay.” He brushed his hands over the handles as he looked over the machine and added, “That sounds pretty straightforward.”

“Get to it, then,” said Drake with a laugh as he finished setting it to the desired weight.

Jared didn’t need much more encouragement than that. He attacked the exercise with gusto Drake had seldom seen. It was as if a fire had been lit under his ass.

If Drake had to guess, Jared was probably feeling the competitive spirit. He shared a look with Conner and smiled. It was a masterstroke, he had to admit. If they could cultivate that competitiveness, they would no doubt be able to push Jared even further.

The magic did its work, as masterfully as ever. Jared’s calves pumped powerfully with every rep, swelling larger and harder. The muscles looked like they’d been hewn out of a block of granite, a pair of fist-sized rocks hanging from the back side of his knees.

While Jared’s muscles continued to bulk, the symptoms of steroid abuse progressed just as much. The hair on his arms grew thick. The few wiry hairs he’d started with on his chest grew into a thick mat that was now soaked with sweat. Even his legs weren’t spared, sparse hair covering every inch of exposed skin.

All that hair had another consequence—especially the thick tangle that sprouted from Jared’s armpits—musk. It had not been too noticeable until now, but with Jared’s chest heaving and his whole body practically drenched with sweat, the scent of him was intense.

Drake wrinkled his nose. Even standing a few feet away, he could smell Jared. It wasn’t an unpleasant scent. It was earthy, musky, and decidedly masculine. But it was strong. Just a hair short of overpowering.

When he was finished, Jared dismounted from the machine and said with a grin, “Bro, you definitely know how to get me the best workouts.” As he stepped onto solid ground, his engorged calves shook. If his footfalls had been solid, before, they were going to be even heavier now, Drake anticipated.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” said Drake. “Don’t want you getting bored of us.”

Jared laughed. “Not any time soon, bro!” He walked over to where Conner and Drake were standing. “Oh! I almost forgot! There was something I wanted to show you guys.”

Conner quirked an eyebrow. “What’s that?” he said.

Jared grinned. “I decided to take some of your advice,” he said.

Drake laughed. “Been a lot of that going around so you might have to be more specific.”

“It’s gonna be easier to show you, bro.” Jared clapped a meaty hand on the phone holster strapped to his bulging arm and practically ripped it off. It was such a brutish thing to do and Drake had to admit, it was a bit of a turn-on.

Jared fiddled with his phone screen a bit, his meaty fingers seemingly struggling with pressing the right thing judging by how many times he had to press the back button. Eventually, he turned his phone around for Drake and Conner.

The two leaned in to check out what Jared was showing them. It was a picture. Jared was on stage, in front, carrying a brass trophy that looked comically small in his huge arms.

“Oh nice! Congrats, buddy!” said Drake. “You should have told us. We would have come to support you.”

Jared shook his head. “Nah, bro! I didn’t want to tell you until I knew I could win. I wanted it to be a surprise. Besides, it was just a tiny thing. The prize was just a kettle bell set.” He grinned. “You’re definitely coming to the next one, though.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, big guy,” said Conner with a wink. As soon as the words left his mouth, a ripple of magic swept through the gym. Posters popped up, mostly on the outside-facing windows.

The new posters showed Jared with his trophy. They read, “Congratulations to the new Mr. Metro Muscle! We’re happy to see you succeed!”

---

“Bro, I was wondering, actually…” Jared slid a hand over his shoulders, rubbing his fingers along the edge of his traps. “Some of the guys at the competition had really huge traps. Fuck. Bro. How can I get there?”

Drake chuckled. “Oh, we can definitely do that for you. Don’t worry,” he said.

Jared grinned. “Fuck yeah! Thanks, bro!”

Drake took Jared over to a more open space in the weightlifting section and went off to find what he needed for the next exercise. He returned with a strange set of weights. They resembled barbells, except they were thicker and had handles.

He placed the weights on either side of Jared. “Squat. Pick them up. Then walk forward.” Farmer’s walks were surprisingly effective for how simple they were. And with the magic, he could only imagine how well they were going to work for Jared’s traps.

Jared was off the moment the words were out of Drake’s mouth. The weights slowed him down, naturally, but it wasn’t long before he’d reached the end of the open space in the weightlifting area.

Drake directed Jared to do a U-turn and come back the other way and repeat the whole process for a couple of laps. It wasn’t an easy exercise, by any means, but Jared took to it with remarkable ease.

A handful of laps in, there was a beep as the front door to the gym opened. Drake looked at Conner, but his partner seemed just as confused as he was.

A glance at the clock settled the matter. They’d been so engrossed with Jared’s progress that they hadn’t noticed the time. The sun was due to rise in about an hour and people were bound to start trickling in.

“I should probably handle that,” said Conner.

“C’mon, bro. Leave that shit to the staff,” said Jared as he passed by.

“We don’t…” Conner trailed off as he looked at Drake with wide eyes. “I’ll be back really quickly.”

Drake could understand the shock. They’d never had the money to hire staff. He and Conner had run the place alone the whole time. They took care of the cleaning, maintenance, and administration of the gym.

He wasn’t sure why it had never occurred to him that the changes to the gym might result in them actually having a staff now. It made sense in retrospect, but the thought had never crossed his mind.

Conner returned a few minutes later, a look of wonder on his face. “You’ll never guess who’s at the counter,” he said.

Drake raised an eyebrow.

“Camden,” said Conner.

Drake was a bit taken aback. Camden was a cute British expat that they’d wanted to hire a few years back but could not find the budget for. “That’s a surprise,” he said.

Conner nodded. “He’s doing great, though. Guess we don’t have to worry about receiving people anymore.”

“Told you,” said Jared as he passed by on another lap.

Drake couldn’t help but laugh. In any case, he was glad they were going to have some help. Even better, since they didn’t have to go through the trouble of vetting staff. The magic had done that for them.

Turning his attention back to Jared, Drake was pleasantly surprised. The magic never failed to impress. Every lap Jared had done packed muscles on his shoulders, upper back, and neck like nothing else.

Jared’s delts swelled with new bulk. They were the size of grapefruits, firm and round, welded onto his clavicles and scapulae. Each individual muscle was bulged under his skin, forming deep ridges between them. It wouldn’t have been much of an exaggeration that they made his shoulders look twice as broad as they used to be.

Just as hoped, Jared’s traps weren’t untouched. They ballooned with muscle. They spilled out of the the Y-back of his stringer top and pushed the shoulder straps up with their size.

The muscles flared out across his back. They anchored at his delts and hooked into the back of his neck. They looked like a second pair of shoulders, wedged on top of his shoulders.

Jared’s traps were so strong that as they flexed, it looked like they were pulling his neck wider and thicker. But the effect was improved by the fact that the workout was packing Jared’s neck with muscles, anyway.

The veins in Jared’s neck bulged. Drake could pretty much see them pulsing as the big guy strained to keep the weights level. If he’d wrapped a tape measure around Jared’s throat, he was almost certain he’d be able to see it packing inches worth of girth in real-time.

The bulk seemed to climb up the sides of Jared’s neck with every lap. It didn’t take long before it looked like his head was perched on the end of a stout, thick tree trunk with corded muscle stretching from the side to his shoulders.

The growth didn’t stop there. Every time Jared passed by Drake and Conner, it had crept further up his neck. It reached the sides of Jared’s face, the muscles growing so powerful they were pulling on his features, stretching his face wider and wider.

By the time that Jared finished, his face looked like it had been blunted. It was as if a giant had stepped on his head, mashing his features down flat. With that went the last of the boyish looks that Jared still had, which was a crying shame.

The floor trembled as Jared dropped the weights at the end of his laps. He rolled his neck—impressive, considering the girth—and flashed a grin as he walked toward Drake and Conner.

His gait had changed, too. He used to walk like a mouse, careful and skittish, as if he were afraid to break the things around him. Now, he lumbered without so much as a care in the world, his heavy footfalls smacking against the mat, his arms swinging at his sides.

“I need to do more of that, bro,” said Jared with a grin. “We should definitely add that to my regular routine.”

Drake smiled and said, “Sure, we can do that,” though he struggled to imagine what Jared would look like if his upper back got any bigger.

As he was looking at Jared’s face he noticed that the big guy’s hairline seemed to be receding. Between that and the unfortunate effect that getting bigger had had on his features, Jared was starting to look a lot older than he used to.

Drake wasn’t sure he liked that. It was one thing to push Jared to the limits of what the human body could do. It was another to make him look a lot older than he was—it felt like they were stealing years of life from the boy.

As he mulled over what to do about Jared’s deteriorating looks, he placed a hand on the big guy’s shoulder and said, “Want to do some more arms work?”

Jared grinned. “Always, bro. No such thing as too big for these babies,” he said, kissing his biceps after striking a pose with them.

It was going to be another fairly simple exercise but Drake expected it would be enough to occupy Jared while he and Conner had a conversation. He loaded up a bar with weights—about the limit of what he himself could comfortably lift, but which would only be an advanced challenge for Jared—and handed it over.

“You’re gonna be doing a bunch of curls,” said Drake. “I trust you know how to do that?” he added, teasingly.

Jared scoffed. “Bro, is that even a question?” His brow furrowed as he lifted the barbell with a grunt. Just like that, he was focused on the exercise.

Drake watched Jared do a few reps before taking a step back to confer with Conner. Another two or three gym members had arrived since the first and they were off doing their own things.

“He looks so much older,” said Conner.

Drake couldn’t hold back and barked a quiet laugh. “I was just about to bring that up,” he said, voice low as he leaned toward Conner.

While the two of them watched, Jared’s hairline only continued to recede. His body hair got thicker. His musk, which had started out only faint at the distance they were standing, grew stronger and more intense in the air.

“I feel bad,” said Conner.

Drake pursed his lips. “Honestly, me too,” he said. “Should we do something about it?”

Conner scratched his cheek. “Like what?”

Drake shrugged as he watched Jared go through the motions. “I dunno, to be honest.”

Jared’s arms were pumped, and only getting bigger with every rep. His biceps had bloated to the size of melons, skin stretched taut over the engorged muscle, rippling along the distinct striations by his shoulders and near his elbow.

Veins bulged across Jared’s arms. They crept over his biceps. They crawled down his forearms. They formed a web across the backs of his hands, shifting with every rep.

“Maybe we can make him older,” said Conner.

Drake quirked an eyebrow. “What?” he said.

“He looks about 30, right?” said Conner. “We could just make him 30. So he looks his age.”

Drake blinked. It was a twisted sort of logic, but it made some sense. The magic had shown that it could work retroactively.

If they made it so Jared was 30 today, then it would mean that he’d simply aged to look the way he did. Jared would have been with the gym for a couple of years. He would have been a part of their success story from the start.

It was a lot. It was… bold. But Drake had no other solutions he could think of. And part of him felt like it was a good option.

“Hey buddy, was your birthday coming up soon?” Conner called out.

Jared huffed and puffed but without missing a beat, he nodded and said, “Just a little over two months, bro. Why? You gonna give me a birthday discount?”

Conner laughed. “We were thinking about it,” he said. “We figured we might take you out to dinner if you preferred, though.”

“Oh, fuck yeah, bro,” said Jared with a grin. “Steak dinner? I want me a big slab of juicy meat.”

Conner smirked. “I bet you would, big guy,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “How old would that make you, again?”

“22, bro,” said Jared with a laugh.

“Oh come off it,” said Conner. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You can’t just make yourself 10 years younger on a whim. You’re actually 32, right?”

This time, Jared faltered halfway through a rep. It was only for a moment, but the hesitation was very apparent. He continued after, a half-grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Okay. You got me,” he said.

The words were barely out of Jared’s mouth when his hairline receded even further. His hair thinned out, especially around where it parted. His skin dulled. Lines grew in the corners of his eyes and across his forehead.

Jared visibly aged in the span of a few seconds, but perhaps the most telling part of the transformation was that he didn’t look much different from how he’d looked when it began. All the wear on his face only served to make his age look more natural, which went to show how much the steroids had aged him before Drake and Conner did something about it.

The changes didn’t seem to perturb Jared. Not that there was any reason they would. Jared would have looked this way for years by now, if the magic really did apply retroactively.

Still, Drake couldn’t help but hold his breath. He only released it when Jared dropped the barbell and flexed his arms with a grin.

Jared’s arms had only continued growing with the last few reps. His biceps had pretty much reached their limits, but toward the end much of the bulk had distributed down to his forearms. Drake was sure that if he placed a coconut into the crook of Jared’s arm and asked him to flex it, the damned thing would crack in half.

“Damn, look at these babies,” said Jared, whistling at himself. “Let me get a better look.”

A few more patrons had arrived in the interim. Those that were between Jared and the mirrors had to scatter out of the way as he lumbered that way. They watched him as he passed by, awe—among other things—plain in their eyes.

Jared didn’t seem to mind the attention. He flexed his considerable muscles for the boys and grinned at them. He seemed to be in a pretty good mood.

By the time Jared made it to the mirrors, he’d attracted a small crowd. They were being discreet about their ogling, but there was a reason that most of the gym was deserted while most of the patrons that had already come in were doing workouts at stations in line-of-sight with Jared.

It should have been a nice thing to see, but Drake couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong. Maybe it was intuition from dealing with clients for so long, but somehow he could tell that the positive vibes weren’t going to last.

Sure enough, it was as Drake feared.

Jared struck a few poses for the mirror, grinning from ear to ear. Then, his expression slipped. First, his eyebrows knotted. He tilted his head forward, struggling to see past his voluminous pectorals. When that didn’t work, he turned his attention back to the mirror.

The frown lines creasing Jared’s brow deepened. With a meaty hand, he reached between his legs and cupped his package. He was smaller now than when he’d first come to the gym, and it seemed he’d finally noticed it.

Jared’s head whipped around. He was checking to see if anyone else had noticed. His eyes met Drake’s gaze, but only briefly. He avoided maintaining eye contact for long, turning his gaze elsewhere.

It was then that Jared noticed a crowd had gathered around him. Distress turned into rage. His whole face turned red, a tinge of scarlet creeping down his thick neck as a vein bulged at his temple.

“What the fuck are you all looking at, huh?!” Jared thundered, beating his chest with a meaty fist as he took a threatening step toward the patrons. Some, timid as Jared had been when he first came to the gym, just froze. Others, perturbed by the sudden mood shift, backed away carefully.

Before Drake and Conner could reach out to comfort him, Jared stomped away. His footfalls practically made the floor tremble with how heavy they were.

Jared beelined for the bathrooms. There was just one problem: he was too big for the doors. His arms and shoulders made him too wide. He had to turn sideways to squeeze himself through, ears turning bright red before he slammed the door behind him.

Drake and Conner shared a look before they went in pursuit. They found Jared inside by the sink, staring at his phone.

Despite the circumstances, Drake couldn’t help but look around in wonder. They’d always kept the gym bathroom clean, but this place was easily three or four times as large. It was spotless. And it had all the amenities someone might expect of a modern bathroom.

When they were done gawking, they went over to Jared. Drake put a hand on the big guy’s shoulder and said, “Are you okay, buddy? What’s wrong?”

Jared said nothing. He took a single tremulous breath and turned his phone so Drake could see what he was looking at.

On the screen was the proof of a male fitness magazine cover featuring Jared from his fitness influencer days. He still had the look of a male super model then, his physique incredible but not huge as he was, now.

“I used to be so fucking hot, bro,” said Jared with a melancholy sigh. He turned his gaze to his reflection in the mirror and traced his fingers down the side of his face.

Drake didn’t think it was appropriate to interject just yet. And since Conner hadn’t already said something, he was pretty confident it was the right call.

“And what’s this?” Jared took a step back from the sink countertop. He looked down and grabbed his package, pushing his head forward to even be able to see past his pecs. “Where’s my cock, bro? Where are my balls?!”

Jared’s breathing had become erratic. His gigantic chest heaved with every ragged breath. His eyes were wide, prickling with tears.

He grabbed the waistband of his compression shorts and pushed them down—with no small amount of effort. His cock and balls, which had shrunken considerably from overuse of steroids, flopped out uselessly. “What can I even do with this?!”

Without bothering to cover back up, Jared thumped a fist on the counter. The whole length of sinks shook from the impact. “I’m huge, bro! Look at me! I could fucking run through that wall without stopping!”—he pointed at the concrete wall between the bathroom and the gym floor—“I should have a fucking monster cock! I should be gaping pussyboys left and right! I shouldn’t have a useless fucking peanut and a pair of grapes!”

Jared turned to Drake and grabbed him by the shoulders. Despite his apparent distress, there was clearly still enough of his original gentle soul inside that his grip was tight but not uncomfortable. He gently shook Drake and said, “Bro! What would people think? What would people say if they saw me? That huge guy has a tiny dick! Hahaha!”

Drake reached up and squeezed Jared’s forearm. Now was the time to intervene. “So?” he said.

The response seemed to take Jared aback. “What do you mean, ‘so?’ bro? I would be a fucking laughingstock, bro!”

“Who cares?” said Drake. “What does it matter what a couple of losers have to say? They don’t know what it takes to get as big as you. They have no clue what kinds of sacrifices you’ve had to make.”

Jared frowned.

Drake smiled at Jared. “You said it yourself. You can snap most guys out there in half over your knee. You’re huge. You’re strong. That’s what a man is supposed to be, right?”

“I… I guess you’re right…” said Jared.

“You’re a man’s man,” said Drake. “You got this way because you had the determination and the tenacity that none of them have got. You have the willingness to push yourself to the limit and break through it.”

Jared pursed his lips, his grip on Drake’s shoulders loosening. “Yeah… Yeah… If they did, they would be as big as me.”

“So what if your cock and balls shrank?” said Drake. “That was the price you were willing to pay. That doesn’t make you any less of a man. If anything, I’d say that makes you more of a man, being willing to sacrifice that to reach the peak of physical fitness.”

“You know, when you put it that way…” Jared’s eyebrows knotted in thoughtful consideration. The fire in his eyes was being rekindled.

“Oh, they’re gonna say shit about it, mark my words,” said Drake.

“So what?” said Jared. He finally raised his eyes to meet Drake’s gaze.

“Exactly.” Drake grinned. “They’re just jealous. They know they can’t ever get to the level you’re at. They might think that they’re better than you because they have a dick but that doesn’t mean shit, does it?”

The corners of Jared’s mouth turned up in a little smile. “Hell the fuck no, bro! Dick size doesn’t matter!”

“So what does matter, big guy?” said Drake.

“Body size, bro!” Jared said, grinning from ear to ear now. “Neck girth! Shoulder width! Pecs! Biceps! Abs! Quads! Traps! Lats! Delts! Hamstrings! Calves! BIG FUCKING MUSCLES, BRO!”

Jared’s voice didn’t just get louder with every word that he bellowed. His Adam’s apple swelled too. His voice dropped lower and lower until it was a deep, baritone rumble that made the very air tremble.

“FUCK YEAH!” said Drake, letting himself get carried away in the energy of the moment. “And if they have anything more to say?”

“I’ll fucking SHOW them, bro!” said Jared.

“Yeah! Show them you’re bigger! You’re stronger! You’re more of a man than they could ever be! And that you’re better than them in every conceivable way!” said Drake.

“FUCK YEAH! I’M BIGGER! I’M STRONGER! I’M A FUCKING ALPHA MALE, BRO!” Jared bellowed, his deep, thunderous voice almost enough to make the walls shake. The fire in his eyes had taken on a different character. There was still determination there, yes, but now there was an abiding arrogance, too.

The door swung open as one of the other patrons made to enter the bathroom.

“HEY! GET THE FUCK OUT! THE MEN ARE TALKING!” Jared shouted, the acoustics of the bathroom making it sound as if his voice was booming from every direction. If he regretted being so mean, he showed no sign of it. The gentle part of his nature was either gone or buried so deeply only his closest friends would see it.

The poor guy at the door blanched and hurriedly closed it behind him.

“That’s more like it!” said Drake. “You know what you should do, buddy?”

Jared quirked an eyebrow.

“Get bigger,” Drake murmured. There was no stopping the words now. They spilled from his lips as if he were the serpent tempting Eve in the Garden. Not that he wanted to stop, anyway. “Do more hardcore stuff. Push yourself past your limits. Show them they could never reach you.”

“FUCK yeah, bro. Let’s get started right away,” said Jared.

Drake grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

---

The guy that had tried entering the bathroom turned out to be waiting just outside. Jared ignored him and he meekly slipped inside once Drake and Conner were out.

Jared strode out into the gym floor, head held high. He walked as if he owned the place, looking down his nose at the other patrons working out on the floor.

He didn’t bother to move out of people’s way. He walked with purpose and anyone that didn’t scram was bulldozed over.

Drake hung back with Conner for a bit. There was a glint in his partner’s eye that he was more than a bit familiar with. “I can’t believe you’re turned on,” he said.

Conner grinned. “What can I say?” he said. “The chemistry between you two in there was super hot.”

Drake chuckled. “I feel kind of bad,” he said.

“Do you, really?” said Conner, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well… I feel like I should feel bad,” Drake conceded.

Conner scoffed. “No, babe. You were great. I was so fucking proud. We’ll have to… celebrate later.”

Drake smirked. “You can bet we will, babe,” he said. “We’ve got a brand new gym to break in.”

“Kinky,” said Conner. It sounded like he disapproved, but the twinkle in his eye said otherwise.

The moment was interrupted by Jared calling out, “Bro! Stop making bedroom eyes at manager bro! How the fuck am I supposed to work on getting bigger if you haven’t even given me something to work on?”

Conner laughed. “You heard the man. Our VVIP wants your attention,” he said, swatting Drake on the ass.

Drake snorted. “Coming, your highness!”

---

Jared was being loud. Much louder than usual. Drake had gotten him set up in the hammer machine to do some chest presses and he was grunting with every rep. The noise was so deep and so guttural that he sounded like a wild animal.

Drake supposed it was no surprise. It was at his encouragement, after all, that the magic had twisted Jared’s personality into something more aggressively competitive. He’d expected there would be a dimension of validation seeking involved.

The brutish display was a demand for attention. With every grunt, Jared was practically telling the other patrons, “Look at me! See how strong I am! Catch up, losers!”

The funny thing was that it was working. Even the guys that had been put off by Jared’s earlier outburst were gathering again, taking up nearby stations just to watch the beast at work.

Conner looked endlessly amused. He had his arms folded over his chest and a smirk on his lips as he shook his head.

Drake didn’t know if Conner was amused by the dramatic noises coming from Jared or the fact that their other patrons were so thirsty they were crowding around the big guy. There was every chance it was both.

Personally, he was more amused by a change that must have transpired while they were consoling Jared in the bathroom. The sight had confused him at first, a massive pickup truck in the space where Jared’s car had been parked, until he realized it must have been the work of the magic.

The vehicle was huge. It had to be. Jared was a huge guy and Drake had his doubts that he would have fit in the cab of a conventional pickup.

Drake supposed that Jared wouldn’t have had much trouble fitting in the convertible sports car that he used to have but at the same time, the car would have looked puny compared to him. Especially with how low to the ground it was.

Jared’s pickup took up its entire parking space and spilled out into the two adjacent ones—one of which was a disabled spot. It wasn’t parked badly, it was just that big. It was less a large pickup truck and more a miniature monster truck, if Drake had to describe it.

The vehicle was an incredible example of overcompensation. The smaller the dick, the bigger the car, and they didn’t get much bigger than this. It honestly bordered on the comical.

Drake’s attention was drawn back to Jared. He was wrapping up his chest workout, just finishing off the remaining reps of his last set, and he was being excessively loud about it.

There was an almost rhythmic interplay between the exaggerated, animalistic grunting and the clang of the machine as the weights settled back into place following every rep. It shouldn’t have been more than a show but somehow Drake was sure the commotion was making the magic more effective.

Jared’s chest swelled to the limits of proportionality. His pecs were like slabs of beef glued on top of his ribcage. They were so big they didn’t just swallow the middle part of his stringer top, they completely hid it.

It was an impressive rack, Drake had to admit. Their size almost beggared belief but they were perfect in every way. The muscles were corded, striations at the sides, where the different bundles of muscle fiber came together.

Thick veins spanned over Jared’s pecs, stretching across from his delts and down from his corded neck. They were as roots, pumping strength into the heaving mounds of muscle.

“Fuck!” Jared growled as he tried, unsuccessfully, to fish his stringer top out of his pecs. His nostrils flared as he grabbed the front of the shirt in his fist and yanked.

Fabric creaked as seams were stretched to their breaking point. The Y-back cut into the nape of Jared’s neck, pressing into the skin and hard muscle of his traps. But Jared was stronger than the shirt. Slowly the stitching gave way, the threads snapping one by one until finally, with a desperate rip, the shirt came entirely apart.

Jared flung the piece of sweat-soaked fabric to the side with disgust. It landed on the mat with an audible splat. It drew a couple of eyes, but no one made any move to try and retrieve it.

“Damn. That’s so much better,” said Jared with a grin as he rolled his shoulders and scratched his chest. His fingers traced a path through the thick pelt of dark, wiry hair that only truly abated around his nipples.

Drake chuckled and said, “I can imagine.”

Jared clapped his two meaty hands over his pecs and grinned. “Also, bro. Thanks for hooking me up. That new stuff is doing fucking wonders!” he said.

“It’s stronger stuff. It’d be disappointing if it didn’t,” said Drake, cracking a little grin.

Jared reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. The strands were thinner than ever, the line where he parted his hair practically barren at this point. “It’s not doing my hair any favors though,” he said with a laugh.

“No, no it’s not,” said Conner. “You can do stuff about that though, if you want. I’m sure you can afford treatment.”

Jared shook his head. “Nah, that feels like a fucking pain in the ass, bro. Besides, I don’t wanna have to deal with something like a hair transplant when I’m prepping for a big competition, you know?”

“Fair enough,” said Conner. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“You should,” said Drake. “If it’s more trouble than it’s worth, just shave it all off.”

Jared held his phone up, turning his head from side to side as he looked at himself through the front-facing camera. “Yeah… Yeah, I think I’ll take your advice on this one, bro. It could be a good look.”

“Well, that’s for later. Let’s do some more work, yeah?” Drake didn’t want to be too pushy but it didn’t seem like anything had changed with their gym over the course of Jared’s last exercise.

Maybe Drake was being impatient, but there were things that he and Conner could get for their gym that had been nothing more than a vain dream for whenever they won the lottery. Jared was already reaching the limits of what a human could do, which didn’t leave much space to get what they wanted.

“I fuckin’ like the energy, bro,” said Jared. He clapped his hands and licked his lips. “Alright. What’s next?”

With the added mass in Jared’s arms, shoulders, and chest, the big guy’s mobility was starting to be limited by the sheer bulk of his body. It was an important consideration, as it meant that certain exercises Jared might have been able to do earlier in the evening just weren’t an option any longer.

There was also a darker part of Drake that wanted to see how far they could take it. More muscles meant less mobility. There was something indescribably hot about the prospect of a massive guy so bound up in muscle he couldn’t do the things smaller guys would be able to do with ease.

“Let’s get you some ab work,” said Drake. “No offense, big guy, but you’ve got a lot to catch up on in that area.”

Jared bared his teeth in a cocky half-grin. “You know, I was just thinking the same thing, bro.”

“The pull-up bar’s occupied so we might have to wait a few—”

The moment Drake mentioned that someone else was using the station, Jared looked in that direction. A guy, probably in his early twenties, with a slim swimmer’s build was using the station. He was wrapping up his set and had dismounted to towel off.

As the guy was wiping the sweat from his face, Jared grabbed him by the waist. The guy was understandably alarmed and kicked his legs in an attempt to break free of Jared’s grasp. It was a hopeless endeavor, of course, as Jared was both too strong and too solid to be fazed even the slightest bit by the kicking.

“Dude, what the fuck?!” said the guy.

Jared bodily lifted the guy off the floor and, with a quarter turn, placed him back down, out of the way.“I’m using this now,” he said.

The guy, understandably, wasn’t having it. “You can’t just do that!”

“Honestly? Bro? That was weak, what I just saw. Go hop on a fucking treadmill. That’d be a better fit for a scrawny little guy like you,” Jared sneered.

Taking a moment, Jared looked the guy up and down. What didn’t escape his notice—something Drake picked up on too—was that despite his indignant protests, the guy was all chubbed up. One of the drawbacks of compression pants: there was no hiding that sort of thing.

“Or you could watch a real man use this station properly,” said Jared with a shrug and a smirk. “Maybe you could pick up a thing or two, little guy.”

The way Jared spoke smacked of condescension and yet the person at the receiving end of his words didn’t say a thing to complain. If anything, the bulge between the poor guy’s legs only got bigger.

Jared motioned for Drake and Conner to come over before reaching overhead to grab the bar. “It’s free now, bro. Come on!”

Drake shook his head and walked over. “You could be gentler with the other patrons, you know?” he said.

“Bro, I was plenty gentle. Ask him. He’s not hurt. Are you?” said Jared, looking at the guy.

The guy just shook his head timidly.

Drake laughed. “Even so. Anyway. You probably won’t be able to touch your legs to the bar like you used to,” he said.

“Challenge accepted, bro,” said Jared. He tried. He really did. But there was already enough mass in his gut that he couldn’t get his legs much higher than just past his waist. “Okay. Point taken.”

“Well, good news.” Drake patted Jared on the back. “You’ve already done 1 rep. Keep going.”

Jared didn’t need any more encouragement than that. He breathed out as he brought his legs up, his cheeks puffing, his arm muscles straining to support his body weight.

“See this, little guy?” said Jared, gloating at the guy that had been using the station just before him between every rep. “Think you can do this? I bet you can’t. This is how a real man uses the pull-up bar!”

Jared’s receding hairline beat a full retreat as he did his reps. His hair retracted into his scalp, leaving behind little more than shaved-down stubble. Before long, the dome of his head had taken on a remarkable shine.

In the lobby, a trophy cabinet appeared. Jared’s picture was in a frame on the middle shelf. Trophies, ribbons, certificates and other awards from minor bodybuilding competitions lined the bottom shelves.

With every rep came another trophy. Municipal contests. Regional. State. Every swing of his legs into the air saw Jared’s clout in the bodybuilding community increase by leaps and bounds. Posters boasting of his accomplishments and wishing him great success cropped up all throughout the gym.

By the time that the magic was finished, the trophy cabinet was near stuffed to full. All that remained were a couple of empty spaces reserved for the most prestigious competitions—goals for the near future.

“Hey, little guy! Wanna feel what a real man’s muscles feel like?”

Jared’s voice drew Drake’s attention back to him. He was still faithfully doing his workout, but his eyes were trained on the guy he’d moved out of the way to even start it.

The guy in question was like a deer in headlights. His eyes were wide. His mouth worked wordlessly. It was pretty apparent he didn’t know what to do about this sudden proposition.

“Come here!” Jared boomed, huffing the words out between reps. “Feel these fucking abs, bro!”

The guy looked at Drake and Conner, eyes pleading. Conner just jerked his head slightly in Jared’s direction and said, “Go ahead,” with a little smirk.

The poor fellow took a few halting steps toward Jared before reaching his hand out and laying it flat across Jared’s stomach. His cheeks took on a tinge of pink that quickly spread to the tips of his ears.

“Yeah. Like that, don’t you, little guy?” said Jared with a grin, sweat running down the sides of his face in little glistening streams. “Now touch yours.”

The guy did as he was told, putting his other hand over his stomach as the front of his pants got visibly tight.

Although he was experiencing a full-body flush from the intense workout, veins bulging at the side of his neck and temple, Jared managed to crack a cocky grin at the guy with the swimmer’s build. “Yeah. Feel the difference? We’re nothing alike, bro! This is what an Alpha man’s body feels like!”

As soon as those words were out of Jared’s mouth, the magic took hold again. It was one thing to watch the muscles grow from a distance. It was another entirely to see them swell while someone else had a hand on them.

Drake’s eyes widened, his cock twitching as he watched the hand splayed over Jared’s stomach get pushed out by the mass of new muscle. Neither party seemed to notice the expansion, though. It was a show just for him and Conner.

Had Jared been using steroids responsibly, his 8-pack might have become more incredible. But his new self was single-minded in the pursuit of ever increasing gains.

As his gut ballooned out, his 8-pack faded. The deep cuts between every bundle of muscle became little more than shallow grooves, all his definition squashed against his skin by his bloated middle.

Jared’s rippling obliques weren’t spared either. They were stretched around the drum-like expanse of his new roid-gut. Even his Adonis belt, his delicious cum-gutters, managed to be obscured.

Drake couldn’t help but lick his lips as Jared dismounted from the pull-up bar. He landed with a thud, despite the floor mat, and gave the smaller guy—who hadn’t yet removed his hand from Jared’s stomach—a condescending grin.

Jared struck a pose, really highlighting his bulging, swollen musculature. “Leave the real workouts to the real men, little guy,” he said, voice thoroughly laced with arrogance. “Maybe you could go do some cardio or go to spin class. Leave the pull-ups until you can bench-press a small elephant.”

Seemingly satisfied he’d put the other guy in his place, Jared swept the guy’s hand off his stomach and lumbered toward Conner and Drake with a smirk. “That felt good, bro!” he said, clapping a hand on Drake’s shoulder.

Drake laughed. “I strive to please,” he said.

“It’s true,” said Conner, waggling his eyebrows at Jared.

Jared winked. “I bet that’s useful in the sack.”

Drake rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah! What do you guys think?” said Jared as he ran a hand over his smooth, polished scalp.

“It’s a good look on you,” said Drake, sincerely.

“I like it!” Conner agreed.

“Yeah?” said Jared.

“Honestly I thought you would try and keep your hair,” said Conner with a laugh.

Jared shook his head and rubbed his fingers into his scalp. “Nah, bro. This is so much more convenient. Besides. I kind of like it. It makes me look so much more fucking manly, you know? Means I have fucking testosterone pumping through my veins, not blood.”

“You know, you’d be dead if that were actually true,” Drake teased.

“It was just an expression!” Jared protested. Then, laughing, he added, “Anyway! Bro! I was thinking of doing some more leg work. Got anything good for me?” giving Drake’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely,” said Drake. Before elaborating, he eyed Jared’s stomach. If the big guy’s mobility had been bad before, it was going to be even worse with that in the way. He doubted Jared would even be able to touch his toes with all that mass around his middle. It was fucking hot.

Jared followed Drake over to one of the leg press machines. He didn’t need much in the way of instruction this time. He mounted the machine as if he’d done it a thousand times, starting a workout before Drake had even said anything about it.

“Just one leg,” said Drake. “Alternate between them every set.”

“So that was the interesting part,” Jared laughed. “I was starting to wonder.”

Drake shook his head. “When have I ever disappointed?” he said.

“I dunno,” said Jared as he pumped his left leg through his first set. He jerked his head slightly toward Conner and said, “Ask him.”

“Where do I begin?” Conner teased.

Any retort Drake might have had was cut off by a sudden tremor that no one else seemed to notice. He and Conner both looked up, just in time to see the ceiling shake.

Their questions were answered by the posters that appeared around the gym. They advertised a second floor, which would have been impossible without the magic as the building they had originally rented out had only had a single story.

The new floor space allowed for many more amenities. There was the usual stuff, of course, but also rooms for yoga and other classes. There were also private spaces for personal training and fitness testing.

Outside the window, stickers began appearing all over Jared’s truck. “Alpha Male.” “Top Dog.” “I can bench press my truck. Can you?” “Bodybuilder onboard.”

Drake had to laugh. As if Jared’s car wasn’t already the picture-perfect definition of overcompensation, the stickers took it to another level.

When no new stickers appeared, he turned his attention back to Jared. He was really getting into the workout. His face was red. His body was flushed. The musk rolling off of him was thick in the air, his skin glistening with a layer of sweat.

Jared’s calves swelled, but not by much. They were pretty much at the limit of how big they could get, each a pair of muscles round and solid perched above a rock-hard inverted triangle anchored at his heels.

This time, his quads saw the brunt of the magic. His thighs rippled as his skin stretched taut over the muscles as they grew larger and larger.

Veins stretched down Jared’s legs. His thighs swelled to the size of tree-trunks, muscles so firm and round that they pushed up against and nearly swallowed his knees wholesale.

Drake was sure that if he tossed a medicine ball between Jared’s legs and told him to squeeze, the fucking thing would explode. He’d never seen such titanic quads before, and they were nothing short of exquisite.

Jared’s engorged thighs left nowhere for his compression shorts to go. The mounds of meat welded onto his legs squeezed the spandex right into the creases of his groin. The only part still visible was the part covering up his diminutive package and even then, he’d shrunk so much there was hardly anything to speak of.

The magic gripped the fabric. It shimmered as the threads took on the color of burnished gold. The legs of the shorts shrank until all that was left was the front pouch—and if Drake had to guess, a string that went up the cleft of Jared’s ass.

The brand new poser pulled tighter and tighter until even Jared’s shrunken nub and balls formed a bulge between his legs, albeit an unremarkable one. By the time that the compression shorts had finished their transformation, Jared had finished his last set of leg presses too.

Jared dismounted from the machine and stood in front of Drake and Conner with a grin that went from ear to ear. He couldn’t stand with his legs together anymore. His thighs were just too wide. He’d chafe, otherwise.

Drake had been mildly turned on throughout the whole affair, but he was fully getting hard now. The thought that Jared was going to be forced to walk and stand bowlegged by his own monstrously huge body was such a turn on and he couldn’t even articulate exactly why.

“Bro! That was so good! Look at me!” said Jared. He did a quarter turn to show off. The magic had affected not just his quads and calves, but his ass and hamstrings, too.

As Drake had predicted, the compression shorts had turned into a poser thong. It bordered on the obscene. Jared’s ass was so huge that the only part visible in the back was the small triangle where the back strap met the waistband.

Unfortunately, more muscles in that area hadn’t meant a better-looking ass for Jared. His round, perfectly supple cheeks were gone. His glutes were simply too strong for that.

Jared’s glutes were so tight they deformed what should have been round ass cheeks into something that more resembled a pair of butterfly wings. But there was no denying that the muscles were well-developed. The folds and striations of the muscle fiber were visible under the taut skin, especially when he flexed.

Under Jared’s glutes were his hamstrings. They’d been big before, but they were truly gigantic now. The texture was incredible. Like Jared’s ass, the individual bunches of muscle fiber were visible, the skin stretched tight, following the contours of the craggy musculature.

Before anyone could say anything, one of the other gym patrons came up and said, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! You’re Jared, right?”

The guy in question was something of a twink, very similar to Jared’s build at the start of the night but clearly a lot more outgoing. He was wearing a crop top and compression shorts that barely covered his ass and he had his phone out, pointed directly at Jared. “Could I have a selfie?! I love your videos!”

Jared laughed. It was a deep, booming sound that rumbled throughout the gym. He had gotten tall enough that he had to crouch a bit to get in frame.

Perhaps it was mean of Drake, but he got a kick out of watching Jared try to contort into the picture. His body was so huge and unwieldy, his muscles so large he could barely bend forward for the selfie.

Seeing this, a couple of guys stepped forward, clearly wanting to ask for selfies too. Most looked like they were just starting out, but a couple were well on their way to becoming amateur bodybuilders.

Conner and Drake were happy to watch the little impromptu picture-taking and stood aside. They didn’t expect Jared to suddenly stand back up and say, “Hey! You two! You should be part of this!” while looking straight at them. Then, Jared turned to the twink and said, “We can’t take a picture without my co-stars, little guy!”

Drake was about to wonder what Jared was talking about when there was a tingle in the back of his mind and years worth of memories slotted into place as if they had always been there.

The twink’s eyes widened as he followed Jared’s gaze. The smile that split his face was nearly blinding. “Oh my God. You must be Chris and Darren!” he said, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Drake blinked. Conner broke out laughing. “Conner,” he said, pointing at himself. “Drake,” he added, patting Drake on the chest.

“I am so fucking sorry! Oh my God! I am such a bimbo. I’m so bad with names!” said the twink as he turned bright red and fanned himself. “The videos with you two are the fucking best, I swear to God!”

“Thanks, man,” Drake said, his cock twitching in his pants. From the suggestive look in the twink’s eye, he was sure the guy didn’t mean the videos they did for Jared’s public-facing account.

In the new memories, Conner had taken over managing Jared’s social media a few years ago. Although not at first, it was a role that eventually included taking over operations for Jared’s FanServ account. It had started out as just editing but didn’t take long to get the two of them involved in a more active sense.

Drake took the time to savor the recollection. The memories were from years back, but they were new to him. He remembered nights helping film Conner worshiping Jared’s body, sitting in a corner stroking his cock while Conner licked and kissed every inch of rock-hard muscle.

Not that Drake’s role was always passive, of course. There were nights when he was the co-star. Jared had needs, after all, and with what he was packing he had to look for other ways to satisfy those needs.

Drake flexed his fingers. He could almost feel the phantom sensation of the latex glove, the way it wrapped almost all the way to his elbow. He remembered the sensation of grease on the glove’s fingertips, the tight grip of that hot bodybuilder ass around his forearm.

Fuck. Drake rubbed himself through his pants. One look and he knew Conner was similarly affected. Part of him was alarmed at having new memories, but the memories were so good that he hardly had occasion to complain.

“Say cheese!” said the twink.

The prompt shook Drake out of his thoughts. He quickly posed for the camera as Conner did the same. Just like that, it was over, and the twink was on his way after thanking them for the great job they did.

By then, the people crowding around Jared for selfies had dispersed. The big guy was grinning at the two of them. “We’re still on for the weekend, right?” he said. “Rented out this gorgeous cabin to film in.”

Drake grabbed his hard cock. The outline was visible pressed up against the fabric of his pants. “We could drive up there and I could give it to you tonight if you’re so eager, big guy,” he said. He didn’t know where the courage to say such things out loud and in public came from, but it felt so natural he couldn’t find it in himself to be concerned.

“Ah, ah. Got the comp tonight, remember?” said Jared.

Drake and Conner shared a look of puzzlement, but it was the magic that gave them their answer. More memories came, this time of being invited, given front seats to witness as their protégé tried to take the world’s most prestigious bodybuilding competition by storm.

It was Conner that spoke first. “Could always do after,” he said, suggestively.

“Maybe if you’re both still on your feet after the after-party,” said Jared with a wink. “But before that, don’t you think I should get some last-minute pump going?”

Drake grinned. “Good idea, actually,” he said. “You wanna show off, big guy? Drum up some last minute support before the big night?”

“Bro. Bro. Is that even a question, bro?” said Jared with a powerful laugh. “FUCK yes, bro!”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Drake’s mouth. T-bar rows would be perfect. There was little more viscerally appealing than watching a monster of a man heaving a whole crapload of heavy weights in the middle of the floor.

“Come this way, then,” said Drake. This was going to be good. The only thing that could make it better was if the station for the T-bar rows was in the middle of the floor for everyone to see.

As soon as the thought was fully formed, everything around Drake shifted. Just like that, the equipment Jared would need was right where he wanted it. It was a nonsensical place to put the T-bar row station, but that didn’t matter to the magic.

Being able to just will things into existence was a novel development but Drake didn’t have time to think about it. He led Jared over to the station and loaded it up with weights, more weights than was strictly practical.

Just the show of loading up the station was enough to draw a bit of an audience. When Jared finally moved into position and straddled the metal frame, even more came in to watch.

It was well into the morning now and many of their regulars had arrived. Even so, only a handful were still doing their routines. Most had gathered to watch Jared.

“Ready, big guy?” said Drake, his arms already burning from the effort of holding up the T-bar.

“Born ready, coach,” said Jared with a cheeky grin. He took the handles from Drake and heaved the bar for his first rep. The result was almost immediate. The muscles in his back bulged, veins shooting down over his traps, lats, and lower back.

Every time Jared lifted the incredible amount of weight on the end of the T-bar toward his chest, it was as if he were pushing pounds of muscle into his body.

His already thick neck bulged wider, flaring to either side. His square face stretched from the pull of the muscles, further flattening his already blunt visage.

The landscape of his back went from smooth to craggy. Valleys and mountain ranges burst into being, the contrast between high and low sharpening with every rep.

The transformation of Jared’s lats was nothing short of amazing. They flared out from his back like a pair of wings, pushing out to either side, shoving his arms away from his torso.

Jared would never stand with his arms against his sides again. He’d never touch his own back. He’d never reach his toes. From this moment on, the bulk of his body would forever be in the way, and Drake could think of nothing hotter.

The polished dome of Jared’s head turned bright red as he struggled to heave the considerable weight, veins bulging on his scalp. The flush spread from his chest to his neck and over his clavicle. It went across his shoulders and down his back.

He huffed and puffed, grunting like a beast as he did his reps. Up and down. Up and down. Every time he reached the top of the motion, a wave of magic would ripple out and wash over the gym.

Conner and Drake looked around. With every wave of energy that washed over the gym, something new was added. Streamers hung from the ceiling. Pennant flags decorated the walls. For the first time since the evening began, the magic created litter instead of removing it, leaving behind the detritus of a massive party in the wake of every wave that rolled out through the gym.

It was a confusing thing to see, at least until Jared finished his set. The clang of the T-bar smashing into the ground was like a thunderclap that reverberated all throughout the gym.

Memories slipped into place. The competition wasn’t tonight anymore, it was two days ago. Drake and Conner had watched Jared completely demolish the competition at Mr. Olympia. They’d had a good time at Vegas and then come home to throw what had felt like the rager to end all ragers.

Jared stepped to the side, his monstrous bulk heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The workout had been so intense, Drake could practically feel heat rolling off of the big guy’s skin. Just a little more and he wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam rising off of Jared as his sweat evaporated.

Once he’d regained his composure, Jared stood up straight and threw his arms into the air. There was a flash and a loud, almost-unsettling tearing sound filled the air. Suddenly, all his thick body hair was gone. Waxed off or obliterated by a laser. Not a single hair was left from his eyebrows down, leaving his skin as smooth as a baby’s bottom.

It was a good thing. Drake had never heard of a hairy bodybuilder. But there was one drawback: the lack of a pelt to distract from it exposed the sorry state of Jared’s skin. Stretched so taut over bloated muscles, it was both translucent, showing the veins and blotches of color underneath, and leathery.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a sight they had to bear for long. Drake could almost hear a faint hiss as Jared’s skin was cooked into the familiar bodybuilder tan. The fake coloration was so intense Jared looked like a bronze statue brought to life, and he might as well have been. He could have well grabbed a massive globe and heaved it onto his shoulders and no one would have questioned that he was titan Atlas.

Ironically, as artificial as the tan was, it managed to look somehow healthier than Jared’s natural skin.

It would have been good if that was the end of the changes but competitive bodybuilding required certain aesthetics. As he was grinning widely for the crowd of fans, Jared’s teeth bleached until they were whiter than the whites of his eyes. It was almost unsettling, on its own. The contrast between his whiter-than-white teeth and incredibly dark bronze tan definitely was, though.

“HELL YEAH, BROS! WE DID IT!” Jared bellowed. “I’M FUCKING MR. OLYMPIA!” The exhilaration in his voice was hard to match but nigh-irresistible.

Drake could hardly stop grinning, himself. He felt a swell of pride in his chest, joy at all their hard work finally paying off.

There was a rousing cheer from the crowd as Jared struck pose after pose, enthusiastically showing off his incredible physique for everyone to see. He seemed to revel in the attention, the little bulge in his poser twitching as the crowd yelled their adoration for him.

“QUIET!” Jared bellowed, his deep voice easily cutting through the din of the crowd. “I WANT TO SAY SOMETHING!”

The hush was almost instantaneous.

Jared grinned as he met Drake’s gaze, and then Conner’s. “I just wanted to say thanks to my two bros, my mentors, my partners in crime. I couldn’t have done this without you, Conner. Drake. I owe all of this to you guys and you deserve the best!”

“Give them a cheer, guys!” said Jared as he motioned for the two to come closer.

Drake and Conner approached Jared. He placed his arms around their shoulders when they did. The stench of his musk was thick in the air, but Drake didn’t find it off-putting at all. It made him horny, instead.

“Can I do the honors, bros?” said Jared.

At first, Drake was confused. He looked at Conner. Conner looked at him. Clearly, neither of them knew what Jared was referring to. And then, the memories slid home.

“Go ahead, big boy,” Conner laughed.

“BIG ANNOUNCEMENT, BROS!” Jared bellowed, his voice near-deafening from where Conner and Drake were standing. “THANKS TO ALL YOUR SUPPORT, WE’RE OPENING A NEW BRANCH! MAYBE ONE OF YOU TWERPS CAN START YOUR JOURNEY TO BECOME THE NEXT MR. OLYMPIA THERE!”

The cheers that followed were explosive. “WOOOO!”

Drake looked into Conner’s eye, a grin tugging at his lips. This was it. This was the dream. Their gym was a success. Their mentee was Mr. Olympia. Life didn’t get better than this.

Laughing along, Drake and Conner joined the cheering of the crowd. They would have to treat Adam to more than just a fancy dinner, but probably after they lavished all the care and attention that they could on Jared.

Because none of it would have been possible without the big guy.