FTA: Make it a Double, ch. 7

Ben sat at the kitchen counter, still marveling at the changes to Logan’s apartment. He’d only seen it in passing, but the clean, well-appointed living room was nothing like the grungy bachelor pad it had been the night before. Stylish furniture, modern decorations, bright colors, framed pictures of naked men where sports memorabilia had been; it made Ben’s place feel straight by comparison.

“Sounded like you had a good time last night,” Ben called as Logan went through his morning routine in the bathroom next door.

“Girl, you have NO idea,” the former brute giggled. “I haven’t had a dick like that in weeks!”

Ben laughed at the way Logan said it, as if years had passed. “You really went that long?”

“I said a dick like THAT,” Logan corrected. “Fuck no I didn’t go that long.” Despite the giddy tone, the naked stud that emerged from the bathroom was an adonis. His chiseled, granite muscles still glistened from his recent shower and the exposed cock dangling between his sculpted thighs hung long and heavy. Logan only had a towel wrapped around his hair and a moisturizing mask on his face, seeming unbothered at being naked in front of the man he used to torment.

Ben watched Logan prance over to the fridge and pull out a pre-workout protein shake, his perfectly round cheeks flexing as he purposely stuck them out when he bent over. What had been packed full of processed food and cheap beer was now minimally filled with fresh vegetables and carefully selected proteins and supplements. “Shouldn’t you be doing this after we go to the gym?”

Logan daintily stuck a straw in the shake, sipping it carefully to avoid messing with his mask. “Skin care waits for no one,” he chided, leaning against the counter and motioning to his tapering frame. “Beauty like this takes work, sweety.”

Ben grinned, his cock throbbing at the thought of the old, beefy Logan primping and preening naked in front of him. He didn’t know what would have horrified the homophobe more; the way he was acting, or the way he was talking. He walked over and put a hand on Logan’s tanned washboard, his fingers drifting down to the base of the other man’s hefty package. “I appreciate your effort.”

Logan flashed a coy smile, pursing his plump new lips. “It’s all for my adoring public.”

Ben had written in that last part while listening to the other man’s ecstatic howls the night before. He didn’t know what his new friend used to do for a living, but now he made his money from a combination of stripping and online videos. The internet was where he made most of it, having developed a lucrative fan base who loved watching the pretty boy get topped and degraded by the kinds of big, beefy homophobes he used to be.

“Your public’s getting tired of waiting,” Ben sighed. “Can we please get going?”

Logan gingerly set the shake on the counter and put a fist against his trim hips, the large, flexing bicep a sharp contrast to the feminine pose. “Okay, okay,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “Give a girl a minute to get ready!”

Twenty minutes later they were finally in Ben’s car and headed for the gym. Logan had been chirping nonstop, going on at length about the hung stud from the night before, and how he felt like he was getting fat, and how he needed to work on his butt. His new, blonde pompadour was perfectly styled, as were the tight, lime green tank-top and tiny, powder blue shorts that showed off his impressive bulge and meaty cheeks so well.

Ben was only half listening, his thoughts drifting to the plain brown volume in the backseat. He’d been so determined to get rid of it the night before, but now the thought seemed ridiculous. The guilt he felt over changing the guys at the bar was like a distant memory. He could remember it, but he no longer felt it. The urgent desire to undo what he’d done was gone, replaced by a satisfied contentment that the world was as it should be. If the guys weren’t supposed to be like that, he wouldn’t have made it so. His run in with Logan the night before had made everything clear. There was a reason he’d found the book, and he needed to use it or someone else would. It wasn’t a curse. It was a gift. The new Logan was proof of that.

“Ugh, it’s crowded,” Logan whined as he pushed through the front doors with a flourish.

Normally Ben would have been just as annoyed, but he viewed the situation from his new perspective. He wasn’t looking at a crowd; he was looking at seeds of change, just waiting to be sown. The book was heavy in his hand, a weight unto itself, as he followed Logan to the machines in back.

“Why’d you even bring that thing in here,” Logan said, nodding to the book as if he’d been reading Ben’s thoughts.

The lean young man shrugged. “Thought it’d be a good idea to start tracking progress.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Um, hello, that’s what your phone’s for.” He heaved a sigh and crossed his arms over his stomach as he stood and waited next to the leg press machine. “This is going to take foooorever.”

While Logan started taking selfie after selfie, Ben focused his attention on the man using the machine. He looked to be about their age, with short red hair and a tight, lean build similar to his own. He was wearing a loose, sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of baggy mesh shorts that were currently riding up and exposing his toned, pale thighs.

He was writing before he knew it. The book was open in his hands, no longer heavy but almost floating, weightless as he scribbled without taking his eyes off the grunting ginger. The toned man kept pushing through rep after rep of leg presses, unaware of the changes taking place. With each push, his toned thighs expanded outwards, the growth spreading upwards to the man’s tiny bubble.

There was another leg press machine next to him, with a middle aged man straining through the same motions. He had a thicker build, but his dedication to the gym was evident by the solid torso straining against his t-shirt and the sturdy, flexing legs that were on display. Ben smiled, hit with a sudden revelation. He looked around and saw a pair of bodybuilders on the other side of the room at the squat rack, with a third man pumping out deadlifts. Ben started writing faster.

The lean ginger he’d started with was already noticeably bottom heavy, his toned legs having been replaced by a pair of wide, thick thighs that pressed together. The tiny bubble was now a massive set of plump, round globes that stuck out the bottom of his shorts that were no longer bunched but had shrunk to match Logan’s.

The full scope of the changes hit when the man stood, his tiny waist looking almost impossibly small above his massive new lower half. The barely concealed pumpkins were a sea of constant motion, forming a jiggling shelf for his loose shirt as he waddled awkwardly to grab some paper towels so he could wipe down the equipment.

The older man next to him was undergoing a similar change. His hairy thighs had grown to tree trunk proportions, his already larger ass expanding outwards in all directions. Whatever underwear he’d previously been wearing, now the bottom straps of a jockstrap were visible as the impossible mounds spilled out from his equally altered shorts. Both men appeared oblivious, hesitating only slightly when they first climbed off the machines and felt their shifting, inflated lower halves. The older man and the young ginger shared a surprised look when they saw each other, nodding in solidarity at the compact cars they towed behind them.

Across the room, the bodybuilders were just completing their sets. When Ben turned back around he saw three comically shaped hulks. The formerly proportional men now strained their new lycra shorts near to bursting with watermelon cheeks and thick, inflexible thighs that made their large upper bodies seem underdeveloped. Like the other two, the men didn’t appear shocked at all by the changes as Ben watched them critique and compare each other’s new backsides.

He kept writing, focusing on the arms next. A pair of young jocks were hefting free weights in the corner, trying to outdo each other, while a man who looked to be in his fifties was sitting at the preacher curl. Like the bottom heavy men before them, all three started changing. Each rep caused their arms to inflate. Biceps, triceps, and forearms all steadily thickened, growing at a rapid pace while the rest of their bodies remained the same.

The changes to the athletic young men were striking. Their t-shirts shifted and morphed into loose, flowing muscle shirts that showed off just how lean and toned the rest of their torsos were compared to the beefy pistons hanging on either side. The formerly chiseled appendages were now thick and gorilla like, having grown larger than most people’s legs. They were impossibly disproportionate, their range of motion severely limited by the excessive bulk.

The same went for the rugged, silver haired man at the preacher curl. It looked like someone had their legs draped over the edge as his meaty new arms pressed together. His broad, hairy back and thick chest were on display through his similarly altered shirt, his torso looking just as small as the athletic young men’s with their ape-like arms.

Looking at the plump, bouncing cheeks and massive, oversized arms on the men around him, Ben felt like he was high. As more men took up the vacant spots they underwent similar changes, sprouting huge, jiggling globes or growing impossibly thick pistons. What started as a handful was now approaching a dozen, and Ben was still writing.

Chests were next. Men using the press and fly machines or pumping out bench presses found their chests expanding ever outwards. Ben watched one particularly fit young blonde sprout a set of muscle tits so large the young man could no longer bring his hands together in front of him. His tank-top vanished, leaving the mammoth, jutting mounds with the solid, enlarged nipples hanging above his flat stomach on display for everyone. A furry bodybuilder knocking out flys had his slab of a chest inflate like a hairy balloon, forever blocking his view of his stomach, cock, or feet.

The misshapen men piled up one by one. Shoulders expanded to comical width, otherwise lean men sprouted curving, jutting muscle guts like beach balls, calves grew like Popeye’s biceps on thin legs, until soon the entire gym was filled with unique, altered men. Ben made sure that only one area would change on each, leaving those affected with their disproportionate new features. He made sure the change to their wardrobe extended beyond the gym to show off their new appearance. Large, jiggling rears would be constantly on display, huge arms would never be covered in sleeves, and protruding pecs would always hang free. They were the only changes he made. Gay or straight, he left the men as they were, letting them live their previous lives with their new shapes.

“Damn, I don’t remember there being so many hot guys here,” Logan panted, wiping the sweat from his smooth brow. He’d taken off his tank top, letting his chiseled, perfectly proportional torso glisten for all to see. Looking around, he and Ben were the only ones without an oversized top or bottom. “I really DO need to get this thing bigger,” he said, slapping his ample bottom while drooling over an altered man’s colossal cakes.

Ben had considered it. He’d thought about letting Logan change with the rest of the men, but as much as he’d love to see the former homophobe strut around with basketballs for an ass or oversized muscle tits on his chest, he liked him as he was. “I don’t think anyone’s complaining,” he said, giving Logan’s barely covered cheeks a squeeze. He relished the knowledge of how much the former bully would have hated it.

“I think I’m going to need to take a shower,” Logan winked, watching the man waddle into the locker room. Both of their jaws hit the floor when they followed and caught the altered man just as he peeled out of his tiny shorts, his pillowy rear falling free like a landslide. The man’s otherwise average cock looked tiny between his impossibly meaty thighs, but it didn’t matter as all eyes would forever be on the bouncing mountains behind him.

“Is this...oh god…” Logan stammered, putting a hand to his perfect pecs. “I’ve never felt this before! I...I think I wanna hit that,” he said, an exaggerated look of shock on his face. All around them the disproportionate men were in various states of undress, their altered features all the more jarring against their naked bodies.

Ben smiled and drummed his fingers against the book. Even now, more men were changing out on the floor, and they’d continue to do so. He’d left it so that whoever used the machines or equipment would change like the men that afternoon. Given how popular the gym was, it wouldn’t be long before he saw his work all over town. “Stranger things have happened,” he laughed.