Bullshit.

The word rang in Lyle’s head. Was it bullshit? he thought to himself. He had to admit that the prospect of being stronger was tempting. If he had been bigger, the bullies might have thought twice about targeting him just because he wasn’t interested in the same things the other kids were interested in.

But no. No. Lyle shook his head and held his hands over his ears. He felt like he was back by the bar again, listening to that infernal music. It pounded in his ears, making it difficult to think.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Bruno practically making out with the pole and it jolted him back to his senses. “I don’t want any of that,” he said to Andrea, managing to somehow find a hint of defiance inside him. “I just want to be myself!”

Andrea smirked. “Are you sure?” he said. “Wouldn’t life be easier if you were tougher? Stronger? You’d be able to take the hard blows on the chin and shake it off. People could call you all sorts of names and you wouldn’t give a fuck. Doesn’t that sound better?”

A small voice in the back of Lyle’s head agreed with what Andrea was saying. And on some level, he understood the appeal. But he knew the price was going to be high. Higher than he wanted to pay. “I don’t care!” he said, shaking his head. “I just want to be left alone! I want my friends back!”

The low chuckle that rumbled out of Andrea sent a shiver down Lyle’s spine. “If you were stronger, you could put the people that wrong you in their place. Putting your bullies down, making them kneel and grovel at your feet with your own power… That doesn’t appeal to you?”

Lyle’s breath hitched in his throat. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted to do exactly what Andrea had said. There was a point when he wanted the old Andrea to use his money and connections to make his bullies’ lives miserable.

But he’d moved on from all of that. He might never have forgiven, but he had put it behind him. He’d chosen to take the best kind of victory: winning by living a good life.

He shook his head. “I-I don’t want that!” he said, the words catching briefly on the tip of his tongue.

A fresh wave of heat washed over Lyle. His muscles strained as pounds of bulk swelled his body. “N-no! Stop!” he said, his head spinning from the intensity of the heat and the insistent, pulsing need he felt between his legs. “I-I don’t want this!”

Andrea chuckled. “You don’t want the power to take me down?” he said. “If you were stronger, you could knock me out. Make your escape. Save yourself.”

Lyle groaned. The heat simmered inside him but he was managing to contain it. The effort took nearly all of his willpower, leaving very little to resist the sweet words that Andrea was throwing his way.

Escape. It was so simple. It was all he wanted. Part of him wanted to take the opportunity but deep down he knew it was a trap—a prize dangled in front of him so he’d chase it and fall into the pit without noticing.

Lyle shook his head. He wasn’t so weak that he’d give in so easily. “No. I don’t want it,” he said as he fought down the rising tide of heat inside his body.

“If you were bigger, you could grab him.” Andrea gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. He was pointing at Steve, who was leaning against the wall and rubbing his hard cock through his pants while watching Bruno dance.

Andrea chuckled as he turned his gaze back to Lyle. The corner of his mouth curled into a devilish little smirk, a glint of mischief in his piercing eyes. “You could push him against the wall. Slam him on the ground. Force him to turn your friends back to who they used to be.”

Heat spilled past Lyle’s defenses. However hard he resisted, he couldn’t stem the tide. He tossed his head back and groaned, clutching the edge of the couch as his body swelled again.

The legs of his pants bulged out, straining at the seams. They creaked dangerously before bursting into shreds to reveal sculpted tree-trunk thighs underneath.

Even though befriending Andrea, Bruno, and Tag had been a matter of survival, Lyle had grown to care for his friends a lot over the years. It was already bad enough that Andrea had been taken over by another personality. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what his life would be like now that he’d lost Bruno, too.

“Lyle the Hero,” said Andrea, his low, gravelly voice sending a faint chill down Lyle’s spine. “Doesn’t that sound so good? You’d be the one rescuing them this time. Don’t you want to repay them for everything they’ve done for you?”

“Stop twisting everything!” Lyle shouted. He couldn’t take it anymore. Every word that Andrea spoke tugged at his heartstrings. He did want to be stronger. He did want to help his friends. But he knew it was a trap, so he’d never accept what Andrea was saying.

“I’m not twisting anything,” said Andrea with a little smirk. “You like the idea of being the protector for once.”

Lyle shook his head. He hated how no matter how hard he tried to cover his ears, he couldn’t escape Andrea’s words. “That’s bullshit! I’m happy with the way I am!” he said.

Heat spread through his body. A fresh wave of growth rippled through him. The frame of the couch creaked under the weight of his new musculature as his ass filled out, his pecs turned into a slab of meat on his chest, and his stomach tightened into a washboard.

“Want to know a little secret?” said Andrea.

Lyle shook his head. He didn’t want to hear another word. Andrea was getting him all twisted up inside and he didn’t know how much more he could take. But he knew that the leather cop his friend had turned into would say it anyway.

“Your body wouldn’t be changing like this if you really didn’t want the things I’m talking about,” said Andrea with a smirk.

“No,” said Lyle. He looked at Andrea with wide eyes and shook his head, horrified. He searched for any sign of a lie in Andrea’s gaze but couldn’t find even the slightest hint. Still, he couldn’t accept it. “No, no, no. That’s not true. You’re lying. You’re lying!”

Andrea laughed. “Why would I lie?” he said.

Lyle clutched his belly as he felt a gurgling in his gut. Cold sweat trickled down the sides of his face. For a moment, he was afraid that he might shit himself, to add to the humiliation he was already experiencing, but he quickly realized that wasn’t what he was feeling at all.

“What would I have to gain from it?” The dangerous glint in Andrea’s eye sent a chill down Lyle’s spine.

Lyle could feel a set of rock-hard abs through the fabric of his shirt but as he felt the pressure build in his gut, he realized that the sculpted definition of the firm muscles was beginning to fade. His eyes widened. Looking at Andrea and Bruno, he could guess what was about to happen.

He doubled over himself, clutching both arms to his belly in a vain attempt to stop the transformation. “No. Stop. Please! Stop! Anything but that!” he cried out—but to no avail.

The pressure in Lyle’s stomach built to a critical point. He groaned as he felt himself bloat. His gut expanded outward, filling the front of his shirt. “No. Please. Please!” he pleaded to no one in particular as the bulk of his new belly forced the bottom hem of his shirt to ride up on it.

Lyle slowly and hesitantly sat back up when the sensation passed. He looked down at his body and grimaced, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Where once he had been slim and lean, he was now packed with muscle. His flat, taut stomach had been replaced by a thick roid gut. Not an ounce of the bulk that had been packed onto his middle was fat—not that he could tell, anyway. He could make out the faint impression of abs against the fabric of his shirt, but they were nowhere near as well-defined as they had been before his stomach bloated into this.

Lyle rubbed his eyes and shook his head, the words catching in his throat. He pushed aside the faint arousal pulsing in the back of his head and between his legs, trying to think through the haze of pleasure that had settled over his thoughts. “E-enough, please. I can’t take anymore!” he said.

Andrea laughed. “If that’s true, then why isn’t it over yet?” he said. “Deep down you want to be even stronger. More confident. More manly.”

Lyle shook his head. “No. Please.” Heat washed over him and practically every inch of skin he had began to itch.

He bit his lower lip and clutched the edges of the couch in a white-knuckled grip. He tried to ignore the sensation, hoping that maybe it would go away if he refused to give in.

The itching only became more intense with every moment that passed. He whined softly through his nose and looked up at Andrea. “Please, man. Please. I don’t want this. I know you’re in there somewhere. Just stop. Let me go!”

For the first time since Andrea’s attention had turned to Lyle, Tag spoke up. He’d been huddled in a corner of the room and hadn’t made a peep in so long Lyle had almost forgotten he was there, which was definitely something considering Tag was nearly twice his size.

“I’m done, man. I’m done. Fuck this shit,” said Tag. Even though he tried his best to sound brave and strong, there was still a tremor in his voice as he got up from his seat.

Lyle looked up at Tag, eyes pleading. He didn’t know how Tag could help him, but something, anything was better than nothing. “Please, man. Help me,” he said.

Tag walked around the stage, making a visible effort not to look at Bruno as he did so. He stopped and took a deep breath a couple of paces from where Andrea was standing before striding forward and placing a hand on Andrea’s shoulder.

“Hey, man. He told you to stop,” said Tag.

It was the meekest and most respectful Kyle had ever heard his friend speak. Tag didn’t even talk to his grandmother with half the reverence he was giving Andrea.

“Can’t you just let him off?” said Tag. “You’ve changed him already. Isn’t that enough?”

Andrea laughed. “I don’t know,” he said as he glanced briefly over his shoulders at Tag. “Why don’t we ask your friend? Do you think you’re strong enough to stop me yet?”

“Y-yes!” Lyle said. The moment the word left his lips, he knew he’d fucked up. That brief hesitation, the quiver in his voice that hadn’t lasted even half a heartbeat, it was enough.

He tilted his head back, toes curling against the floor as he moaned, “Oh, God. Please! Why is this happening to me?!” At the same time, dense hair sprouted all over his body, forming coarse, thick mats over his back, chest, and stomach.

Lyle’s arms and legs weren’t spared. In the space of barely half a minute, he started looking like a gorilla. Past the ruined sleeves of his shirt and the top of his pants’ waistband peeked wiry, sweat-slicked bushes of hair.

He’d always been baby-faced, with not a speck of facial hair even in the height of puberty. The sensation of scratchy, coarse beard hair was a novelty. He couldn’t help but touch his cheek, numbly brushing the tips of his fingers over the thick hairs growing from his chin.

“Looks like that’s a no,” said Andrea with a smirk.

“Dude! Just stop! You’re going too far!” said Tag. He tried to turn Andrea around. At least, it looked like he did. Andrea didn’t budge one bit.

Lyle was only half paying attention. He was too busy coming to terms with what had happened to his body. The collar of his shirt had split from all the excitement, leaving him space to touch the thick mat of hair that had formed over his chest.

“Oh, God,” he whispered to himself. “I look like a fucking ape…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Lyle saw Tag try again, but Andrea was immovable. He saw the brief flash of fear in his friend’s eyes and got to watch as Tag released Andrea.

“You!” Tag growled under his breath as he whirled on Steve. He stood between Steve and Bruno—he was big enough to completely block the view from where Steve was leaning against the wall—and jammed his finger into Steve’s chest. “You did this!”

Steve chuckled and shrugged. “I didn’t do anything,” he said. “Remember. You guys chose this.”

“Bullshit!” Tag raised his voice. It seemed like he was finding his confidence again. “We didn’t know this was how it was going to turn out!”

Steve raised one arm when Tag grabbed him by the shirt. His other one stayed down, rubbing his cock through his pants. “Woah there, big fella. Don’t do anything you’re gonna regret.”

“Let us go, man!” said Tag. He glanced over his shoulder at Bruno, Andrea, and Lyle. “I swear, bro, if you don’t turn them back and let us go, I’m gonna fucking—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” said Andrea.

The sheer weight of authority and disappointment in Andrea’s voice made Lyle’s heart skip a beat. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but think to himself how glad he was that the words weren’t directed at him.

He mentally smacked himself for it. All Tag was doing was trying to help. But for some reason, it was instinctive. He didn’t want to disobey Andrea. He didn’t want to disappoint. He was relieved he wasn’t the one that had made the mistake.

“I know you’re eager to have your turn, but go back and sit in your spot. I’ll get around to you soon enough, son,” said Andrea. He’d turned to look at Tag and was pointing with his baton at the spot where Tag had been sitting earlier.

Tag’s complexion visibly paled. He let Steve down and backed away. “W-what are you going to do with that thing, huh?” he said. He was trying to be as confident and aggressive as before, but it was clear his bravado was little more than a façade. “You going to hit me?”

Andrea clicked his tongue. “Don’t test me, son,” he said. “Be a good boy and go sit down. I won’t say it a third time. One…”

“F-fuck you!” said Tag.

Lyle would have praised his friend for his defiance if Tag weren’t already slowly shuffling back toward his spot.

Andrea waved his baton. “Two…”

Tag’s eyes widened.

“Th—”

“Okay! Okay already! I’m sitting down!” said Tag as he practically flung himself down onto the couch.

“Good boy,” said Andrea.

Lyle could have sworn he saw Tag shiver and blush before the sensation of the smooth, cool surface of the baton against the side of his face distracted him. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but look up to meet Andrea’s gaze.

“Think you can take me on, big guy?” said Andrea.

After seeing Andrea handle Tag so easily, the first thought that leaped to Lyle’s mind was that he couldn’t. He realized his mistake too late. He whined as he felt heat suffuse his body yet again.

Andrea laughed. “That’s what I thought.” He flashed a grin at Lyle. “You’re going to need to be bigger.”

Lyle groaned as his body inflated with even more muscle. The couch creaked under the weight of his new mass. “No. Please. Enough!” he begged, but Andrea wasn’t listening.

“You’re going to need to be manlier.”

Lyle’s face itched as the hair on his chin filled out into a full, luscious beard. The pelt that covered his body got thicker. He could barely see his forearms through the hair.

Andrea chuckled. The glint in his eye told Lyle that the worst was yet to come. “You’re gonna have to love masculinity. Value it as a fundamental part of who you are and where you came from.”

This whole time, Lyle’s pale pastiness had remained relatively untouched by the transformation. His entire body began to tingle. Not a single spot was spared. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he watched his skin take on a richer, darker tone.

A splitting headache struck him, eliciting a groan from his lips. He clutched his temples as memories of a life he’d never lived crowded into his head. “No. No. No. Please! No! I don’t want to become a freak!”

Lyle desperately tried to hold on to his old life but the memories kept on coming. As his previous self became buried under the deluge, his face changed as well, his features shifting to reflect the Arab immigrant in his new memories.

His new life was more difficult—and longer than the one he used to have. He was bullied for being different. His parents kicked him out when he came out as gay. He had to work and scrape together the money to put himself through college and even when he did, jobs dropped him because he was an immigrant, though they never said as much to his face.

“You need the attitude. The drive. The confidence.”

Rami groaned as his cock throbbed against his leg. His tattered shirt changed into a low-cut tank top stretched over his firm, bloated gut. His pants shifted into tight gym shorts that showed off his rock-hard thighs.

The fear and uncertainty he’d been feeling throughout the night slowly faded with the memories of his old life as a backward baseball cap seemed to appear from nowhere to settle on top of his head. A cocky half-grin curled the corners of his mouth.

“That’s more like it,” said Andrea.

Rami’s muscles bulged as he flexed his powerful body. Sharp pain lanced through his nose as a gold ring pierced through his septum. He felt the same twinge on his right nipple, a similar ring piercing hanging out past the side of the shoulder strap of his tank top.

He grunted as he flexed his massive biceps. He felt strong. He felt powerful. And he loved it. Sure, life might have thrown him a few curveballs but he’d refused to surrender. He kept getting up when he was knocked down and he never stopped working on himself.

Rami might have been the little kid that got ganged up on during recess once, but now he had the power and the confidence to face the world on his terms. He felt like he could take the worst that life could throw at him and break it over his knee.

“See?” said Andrea as he reached over and placed a hand on Rami’s shoulder. “Doesn’t it feel better to be strong? To be a man. To be Alpha?”

Rami cracked a grin. He felt the sharp pain of a thousand needles piercing his upper arm but he didn’t even wince. He had a good idea of what tattoo he’d just been branded with and contrary to what he might once have thought, he didn’t mind at all.

He rubbed his cock through his pants and groaned, knowing that it was the last thing that needed to change to cement his new life. Instead of shrinking away from the future that was before him, he egged it on.

Rami chuckled. “Come on, little guy. You don’t think a self-respecting man like me could walk around with such a little thing, do you?” he said as he rubbed his cock through his pants, encouraging it to grow, to leave behind the last dregs of his old life.

A low groan escaped Rami as his cock filled out his gym shorts. Arousal pulsed through him, his cock swelling in time with the rhythm of his heartbeat. It grew and grew until the head peeked out of the leg of his gym shorts, the outline rigid and obscene against the fabric.

With a flex of his whole body, from his arms and thighs to his chest and roid gut, Rami polished off his transformation. His cock twitched and swelled, throbbing with need as his balls pulled up against his body, churning with a hefty load.

Tossing his head back, Rami moaned and blew his wad. Streaks of cum painted the side of his leg as shot after shot of hot Arab jizz spewed out of his fat knob.

“That’s more like it,” said Andrea. “Now you look like the kind of man that could put a boy in his place.”

Rami laughed and stood, gently brushing Andrea’s hand off his shoulder. He was a good few inches taller than the leather cop, but as much as things had changed, he still didn’t think he could take on Andrea and win. “I get the point, old man,” he said as he cracked his neck. “That’s enough already.”

Andrea grinned. “You know what? I think you’re right,” he said.

Rami’s gaze turned to the only one of their group of friends that hadn’t yet been touched by the transformations. “You know what else I know, old man?” he said.

Andrea smirked and followed Rami’s gaze. “What’s that, stud?” he said.

Rami grinned. “There’s only one left.”

Tag visibly paled.

---

Tag could hardly believe what was happening. The night had started off so well. They’d had such a good plan to ruin Cocksucker Clyde’s birthday bash and it had all just fallen apart.

He gulped audibly when two of the hulks his friends had turned into looked at him. He was the only one left. He was the only one that was still himself. And that meant he was next.

Tag didn’t even know why he hadn’t already made a break for it. He must have been under some sort of spell. Well, come to think of it, that part was pretty obvious.

Still, he couldn’t believe that he’d been so meek and obedient the whole night. He was a big guy. He was a strong guy. He didn’t know if he could take the leather cop that Andrea had turned into but he liked to think he had good chances.

Rami was decently intimidating too, but Tag didn’t need to beat them both to a pulp. Hell, he didn’t even need to win. He just had to make it past the two of them and reach the door.

He hated the idea of running. He wanted to help his friends. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to do shit if he joined them and became one of the faggotized freaks.

No. No. Tag would just have to figure out a way to save them after. For now, he had to focus on escaping. And he wasn’t going to let Andrea order him around this time.

He leaned forward. He had his route planned out. He just had to jump on the stage and use all his strength to break through. As long as he got to the door, he was home-free.

Tag took a breath and mentally readied himself. Andrea was probably going to tell him to sit back down but he wasn’t going to listen. Not this time.

He took a breath. I can do this, he told himself. I can do this. There wasn’t anyone left to hype him up so he was just going to have to do it himself but he really did believe that neither Andrea nor Rami could stop him if he wanted to leave.

With a roar, Tag burst to his feet but he’d barely made it a couple of inches off the couch when he felt hands on his shoulders forcing him back down.

“Where do you think you’re going?” said Andrea.

Rami grinned down at Tag and suddenly, Tag felt incredibly small. “We’re not done with you, yet.”