Pack on the Muscle

As he walked down the sidewalk, Dalton couldn’t help smiling at how well things were going. It was his 25th birthday, which was certainly going to be better than the previous 24. He had managed to convince Hans to come over that evening, and Dalton knew that they were going to have a good time together. And most importantly, his formula was almost ready.

“Just a few more minutes,” he thought, “and puny Dalton will be a thing of the past.”

The six-pack of beer in his hand was getting heavy, so he was glad to finally get back home and climb the steps to the porch. At only 5’2’, his legs were not long enough to take more than one step at a time, but again he reminded himself: “That’s all going to change very soon.”

Dalton opened the front door and set his keys and the beer on the table next to the coat rack. As he was hanging up his jacket, he stopped when he realized the foyer light was on. “I could have sworn I turned that off,” he said.

“You did,” replied his boyfriend, with whom he shared the house. Patrick slowly came out from the kitchen into the foyer.  Physically he resembled Dalton – short, small, frail, although with dark hair instead of Dalton’s blonde. He was dressed casually, in a black t-shirt and gray sweats, and he had his left hand behind his back.

“Patrick!” said Dalton in a way that sounded a little more surprised than delighted. “What, um, what are you doing here? Your conference lasts a few more days.”

Patrick smiled, but stayed in his spot across the room. “I came home early to surprise you. I felt bad about missing your birthday and wanted to do something special. What’s that you got there – beer? You don’t drink beer.” He pointed with his right hand while keeping his left hand hidden.

“Oh, um, yeah. It’s beer. I thought I give it another try. You know, my birthday and all.”

“Really?” asked Patrick. “So, it’s not for Hans?”

Dalton tried to act surprised. “Hans? Who’s that?”

“You know, Hans. The jacked guy who lives in the blue house across the street and is always mowing his lawn without a shirt. The one you stare at but never actually talk to.”

Dalton was starting to get worried, but he shook his head. “No, of course not. Why would you think that, sweetie?”

Patrick’s smile disappeared. “Because when I came home early to set up your surprise, I found this book on the bedroom dresser. I didn’t know what it was at first, but it turned out to be your journal, and there was sure a lot of entries about Hans in there.”

Dalton didn’t respond, so Patrick continued. “All the things you wanted to do to him. All the things you wanted him to do to you. And how you tricked him into thinking you were having a big party tonight when it was really just going to be you two here alone.”

Sweat began to drip down Dalton’s forehead. “Um, yeah, those are just fantasies, Patrick. I would never cheat on you. You know that.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. I found some other very interesting parts in the journal that did mention me, but they weren’t fantasies. Mostly complaints that I’m too cheap and won’t give you more money for the experiments you conduct in the basement. Nothing in there about how I bought this house and cover every single bill for both of us, of course, or that you haven’t had a paying job in over two years.”

“Fuck,” Dalton thought as he looked down to avoid Patrick’s gaze. “I was only gone for a little while. How much did he have time to read?”

Patrick then pulled his left hand from behind his back to reveal he was holding a small vial. “And in the next section of the journal, you mentioned this formula from your lab. The one you were planning to take this morning that is supposed to instantly turn you into some sort of stud. The one I should get rid of because it seems so weird…and dangerous.”

Dalton looked back up as he was now very worried. “Patrick, honey! Please, I beg of you. That is years of work in your hand. Please don’t get rid of it!”

“What really made me mad was that you didn’t want to use this formula to impress me – no, you wanted to impress Hans,” replied Patrick.  “A guy you don’t even really know!”

Dalton inched his way forward across the foyer. He had to get the formula away from his boyfriend before he got rid of it. “Listen, Patrick, I’m so sorry. I got carried away. I promise you, if you let me have the vial, I will make it up to you. I swear! Just please don’t pour it out – I only had enough ingredients to make one batch.”

Patrick rolled his eyes at Dalton’s desperation. He didn’t think that the formula would actually work, and he started railing about his boyfriend wasting time on such nonsense.

Seeing that Patrick was losing focus, Dalton decided his best course of action would be to charge at him mid-rant before he could pour it down the drain.

“Even if he spills some on the floor,” thought Dalton, “I could lick it up. A few drops and I’ll be relatively normal-sized, like maybe 5’9” or 5’10”. If I can get more than that, I will be at least as big as a high school football player or wrestler, or maybe even college-level. Maybe not enough to get Hans’s attention, but certainly big enough to score a more receptive sugar daddy.”

The scientist was about to sprint forward as fast as his tiny legs could carry him when Patrick did something very unexpected. He flipped of the top of the vial and drank the entire formula.

Dalton almost crumbled where he stood. “Why did you do that?” he moaned.

Patrick smirked. “I told you – to prove that this whole thing is just poppycock.”

Dalton let out a wail at his stupidity. If he has just waited at home and gotten the beer later, none of this would have happened.

Patrick furrowed his brow at his boyfriend’s reaction, but he didn’t say anything as his stomach began to feel a bit funny. And warm. He put his arm up against the wall to brace himself as something strange was happening.

Dalton spoke weakly. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

Patrick began to shake and shiver as his body reacted to the potion, ad he dropped the vial on the floor. "Fuck, yeah," he said under his breath. "It is working.”

The swearing was foreign for Patrick. He rarely swore, even when incredibly angry. But in this moment, it just felt right to say “fuck.” It felt natural.

Sweat began to pour down his face. “Whatever was in that vial is making me really hot!"

The muscle enhancement formula that Dalton created was doing its job, and the growth began around Patrick’s shoulders. He marveled as they thickened and broadened, which caused his shirt to tighten across the top. He thought about gym class back when he was in high school and all those times he couldn’t do any pullups. Looking at his shoulders now with his massive delts, however, he didn’t think that would a problem anymore. “I bet I could do 100. Or 1,000!” he thought.

His gaze was torn from his shoulders as his chest began to thrust outward as well. Patrick quickly pulled off his sweaty t-shirt to see the transformation, and once he saw his burgeoning pecs in all their glory, he started groping them vigorously. They were thicker and denser than before and heavy with…the only word coming to Patrick’s mind was “mass,” which changed his once-flat chest to look like that of a bodybuilder. “They feel so fuckin’ good,” he thought as he rubbed the wet muscle. “Like big slabs of slick steel.”

Next to grow were his arms, filling with beefy corded muscle from his wrist to his shoulder. Every second that ticked away seemed to add more size and more power to his previously scrawny limbs.  Patrick had joined a gym a few years ago in an attempt to bulk up a little, and he thought about how he had struggled to curl the 5-pound dumbbells on his first visit. He had been incredibly embarrassed and thought for sure everyone was staring at him.

He flexed his biceps, now snaking with visible veins, and gasped at how massive they had become.  They had to be at least 20 inches around, maybe even 22. “With these pythons, everyone will definitely be staring for all the right reasons.”

Patrick could feel the growth continuing in his lower body, too, so he quickly removed his sweatpants, leaving on only his boxer shorts. He got a full view of his much-improved legs, which were transforming from the chicken legs of a 97-pound weakling to the powerful quads, hamstrings, and calves of a very experienced lifter like Hans, the stud who lived across the street.

“But I am pretty sure that I’m bigger than him now,” Patrick thought. He loved staring at his sturdy new stems and flexing the teardrop-shaped muscles in his thighs.

He turned to see himself in the foyer mirror and gasped – more and more mass continued to pack onto his body, and he was growing taller, too. Starting at 5’2” like Dalton, he was shooting past 5'6, 5'10", 6’2"…and Patrick estimated he stopped somewhere between 6'6 and 6’8”.

Finally, there was one element left in his transformation. Patrick’s cock began to expand in his boxers, which at this point were skin-tight due to the increase in size of his super muscular ass, so he reached down and effortlessly ripped them off his body. His dick grew and grew and grew, still soft but no longer the 3-inch stub he was used to, and now looking like it had to be somewhere around 8 inches. Patrick could only imagine how long and thick it would be once hard.

The big man smiled big as he looked back into the mirror. He was HUGE all over, with bulging muscles and a commanding presence. His body was now so perfect, so masculine, and so strong.  He knew he was going to be ogled wherever he went, and he wanted to do so many things with it – lifting, showing off, dominating other guys.

But there was one thing he needed to do first: get rid of Dalton.

He turned to his boyfriend, who had remained transfixed during the transformation. “Like what you see, little man?” asked Patrick, with a much deeper voice than he had previously. He began rubbing his cobblestone abs with his left hand, and then slowly moved it up to cup his beefy pec.

Dalton struggled with what to say, mostly because he was excited to see his formula had worked, but also angry because it hadn’t been on him. And because he had gotten a raging erection that threatened to blow at any second. “You look great, Patrick. Like a different person.”

Patrick looked down at his hunky physique and then nodded, but he realized he didn’t just look different. He felt different. The old Patrick would have never been so cocky. He certainly never felt sexy. But suddenly the new Patrick felt more commanding, more masculine, and a lot less scared of everything.  He felt invincible, like he could lift any weight without getting sore, or do anything he wanted with no regrets.

“Maybe I need a different name to go with this change,” he said. “‘Patrick’ represents the old me, so perhaps I need something new and less formal.”

“You mean like ‘Pat’?” asked Dalton.

Patrick shook his head. “Too androgynous. I want something that reeks of manliness and matches my new body. Patch…Pax…Pack. Yeah, Pack is good. Real good.”

Dalton raised an eyebrow. “Pack?”

Patrick continued to caress his pec with his left hand. “Yeah, as in ‘How did you pack on so much muscle?’” He then moved his hand down to his groin and began exploring the tremendous length and girth of his huge member. “Or as in ‘How much cock did you pack into those jeans?’” he added with a chuckle. “So it’s definitely going to be Pack from now on.”

“Um, ok, I’ll call you whatever you want, Pack,” replied Dalton.

Pack frowned. “No, not you. You won’t be calling me Pack.”

Now Dalton was confused. “I won’t?”

The big man lumbered over to his now ex-boyfriend, with each step of his 320-pound body causing small shudders across the floor. “No, Dalton, you won’t be calling me anything because I won’t be in your life. I’m breaking up with you right fuckin’ now. You’re leaving this house and won’t be coming back.”

“But, but, but…where am I supposed to go?” asked Dalton as Pack approached.

“Don’t care. Listen, I’ll Venmo you cash to tide you over for the next few months. I promise it’ll be enough to stay at a hotel, eat at whatever restaurants you want, and pay your bills. Plus a little extra to buy a suit for some job interviews. Then you will have to make it on your own.”

“But what about my research in the basement? I need that!” yelled Dalton, even though Pack was less than a foot away.

Pack shook his head. “Text me where you end up, and I’ll send over your clothes and personal items. Everything in the lab, however, is staying with me. I paid for it, after all.”

Dalton was almost crying. “Please, Patrick, I’m begging you. I need the notes down there. I won’t be able to start over without them.”

The big man reached down, grabbed the back of Dalton’s pants, and effortlessly hoisted him into the air. Looking at Dalton right in the eyes, Pack growled, “Seriously? You were using me for my money, creating a growth formula that you weren’t going to share, and planning to ditch me for a virtual stranger. You are lucky that I am FUCKING letting you escape this house unharmed!”

Dalton tried a different approach. “Please let me stay. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll give you all the blowjobs you can handle. I’ll have sex with you anytime you want.”

“You think a stud like me wants to have sex with a wimp?” said Pack. “I’m way too big, and way too hot, to waste my time with a fuckin’ drip like you. Besides, if you had really loved me, you would have started that a long time ago.”

Pack then opened the door, walked out onto the porch completely naked (and completely unfazed by his own nudity), and dropped Dalton onto it. He was amazed how easy it had been to hoist Dalton up and carry him, as he knew his weight was around 120-130 pounds. “Felt like a fuckin’ feather,” he thought.

He went back inside for a few seconds and returned with Dalton’s coat, which dropped on top of his head. “The money will be in your account within the next few minutes.  Go enjoy it, and don’t let me catch you coming back here. If I do, you’ll get a pounding, but not one you’ll enjoy.”

Dalton pulled the coat off his head watched as the hunk retreated into their former home and slammed the door. He thought about what he could do to change Pack’s mind, but he didn’t want to upset the angry, sweaty monster more than he already was. He descended the steps and headed for his car and parts unknown.

“At least I managed to grab the vial off the floor while he was transforming,” thought Dalton. “If there’s even a drop of the formula still left, I can do my best to re-create it.”

Pack went back to the mirror, flexed his mighty biceps, and started thinking about the visit from Hans later that night. From the journal he knew his neighbor was planning to arrive at 5:00, so he had a few hours to get ready for the visit. He took another look at his perfect body and decided he needed to shower and find some clothes.

“Something nice and tight for me to flex out of when Hans gets here,” he said with a laugh.