Bored Warlock

[6 word request: Bored Warlock Messes Around at Gym]

Andreus rolled his eyes as his boyfriend, Cal, demonstrated proper deadlift form. Cal looked perturbed as he set the bar down. Hands on his hips, head cocked to the side, Cal sighed deeply. Andreus’ attention still wandered even as Cal focused and directed his irritation.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to do this,” Cal reminded Andreus, who shrugged in response.

“What I SAID was, ‘I want to do more normal things,’ if you recall,” Andreus said. “You told me I was becoming far too dependent on my magical powers, so… You’re my tour guide through humanity, my love. And it’s implicit upon tour guides to keep the tourists’ attention!”

A month before, Andreus’ clanmaster had demanded that, as a half-breed between his mother’s mystical race and a human, he would have to decide which world he would walk through. Had he chosen his warlock heritage, he would have transcended to a greater plane of existence and basked in tremendous power for all of eternity. For most of his life, he thought that’s what he had wanted--until he met Cal.

Undeniably, his desire to spend time with Cal had more to do with the biological imperative of his human blood, but he could not reason past it. Rather than embracing eternity, he foolishly chose the mortal coil--several decades of withering before death. Cal’s beautiful face and the belief that Andreus was truly good often seemed like enough to justify the trade-off.

Except in the tedium of moments like these, where Cal took the role of “mentor”--Andreus’ handsome love had no idea how patronizing he could be in the interests of being helpful.

“Dre,” Cal pleaded, “if you didn’t want to be here, I could have just come alone. I know how you get when you’re bored.” Cal gently grabbed Andreus’ broad jaw and turned his beautiful face toward him. “Dre, c’mon, baby. I know how you get when you get bored.”

Andreus’ licked his lips and brushed his blonde hair out of his face. “What exactly is THAT supposed to mean, Cal?” He grinned. Cal shook his head.

“No magic, babe. Not today. Please. These are all good guys here,” he gestured around at the other gym-goers, knowing how Andreus’ concepts of whimsy and cruelty far too often overlapped.

“I promised you,” Andreus said, leaning in for a kiss, “that I would only ever use magic as a force of good in this world.”

Cal kissed his boyfriend and then leaned his forehead against Andreus’. “Okay, well… let me just finish a few sets of deadlifts and then we’ll skedaddle, okay?”

But even as Cal started to lift, Andreus’ attention turned toward an hirsute beast of a man and his much smaller companion,both dripping with sweat and heading toward the locker room. Andreus got a glint in his eye.

“Take your time, love.”

*

Ian paused before heading toward the showers, watching his hulking trainer, Mario, strip off his sweat-soaked tank top. “I, uh, figured you’re going to…” Ian stammered, staring at his shoes, glancing around the empty locker room. He gestured toward the shower. “I’ll wait until you’re done.”

Mario peeled off his dripping compression tights, letting his big dick swing free. He smirked at his blushing client, amused by the effect of his massive, nude body. “You kidding, bro? There’s multiple shower heads for a reason.”

Ian cautiously removed his gym shorts, watching as his trainer stomped toward the showers, leaving a puddle of sweat with every step. Imagine, he thought, being THAT big, THAT confident in his body--and having such a massive dick, too! Mario was so big, he’d probably need two showerheads just to get clean--and an entire bottle of shampoo to wash his thick beard.

There was a thick cloud of steam in the showers already as Ian approached, his posture slumped as if he could hide how scrawny his body was in comparison. “So, uh, I just wanted to… y’know… thank you, for training alongside me today,” he shouted over the sound of the showerhead. He tiptoed awkwardly into the shower room--one large tiled room, 8 showerheads pointing at a center drain--keeping his back turned so he wouldn’t accidentally glimpse Mario lathering up a meaty pec or his big, swinging balls.

“I mean, I hope, someday, I’ll be… y’know, not as big as you, but maybe… y’know, still a big guy,” Ian droned. His heart sank when the big man didn’t even respond. Ian decided to get washed quickly and get out of there--he probably seemed like a pathetic sycophant, kissing up while they were both nude within feet of each other. “I know it may seem weird,” Ian said as he soaped himself with both hands, “but I was never an athlete or anything, so… locker room nudity is still… I have a ways to go before I feel comfortable with it.”

No response from the big beast behind him.

In fact, Ian realized, other than the blast of the hot water, Ian couldn’t hear anything from Mario. There was no way the brute had slipped out without Ian hearing him. A few more moments of awkward silence later and Ian just had to turn around.

He was shocked to see no one behind him. He looked around. “Mario?” he called into the locker room. He tiptoed across the small room and turned the handle, cutting off the stream of water aimed at no one. “How the hell…”

A pain in Ian’s groin caused him to lurch forward. One hand on the wall, his other slapped to his junk--it was burning up! He yelped as he felt his average-sized dick and decently plump balls starting to shrivel in his hands. “What the--WHAT THE FUCK!” he cried as his manhood withered away. Seconds later he was patting at a smooth spot where his dick should have been. His hands shook as he patted the area for a lump, a hole--but he was as bare as a mannequin. “How the hell…” he moaned.

Had he not been doubled over, he never would have seen the movement against the shower wall. He thought it was a rat at first, but as his eyes focused he realized it was a little man.

It was Mario, no bigger than six inches tall, huddled against the wall, more fearful than he’d ever been at full size.

“Jesus, how the hell did that… How…” Ian stooped down, and the sheer size of him seemed to overwhelm the miniaturized hulk. Despite all his big, bulky muscles, he toppled over, wriggling like an overturned turtle as he tried to crawl away from what, to him, seemed like a building-sized man reaching for him.

Mario was so wide with thick muscle that he couldn’t get up in time. Ian snatched him up easily. The feeling of all that muscle wriggling in his hand, shrunken down to plump little mounds, drove Ian crazy in a way he’d never experienced before. He wasn’t sure what was more shocking--his shrunken trainer, or his missing cock. He didn’t have much time to admire the tiny bodybuilder’s physique before Mario shrieked (a high-pitched, comical squeal), throwing his hands in the air. His arms seemed too short all of a sudden.

Ian could only watch in amazement as Mario’s legs started to stump down in length as well while his body remained the same size. Ian exhaled; the rush of air blew Mario’s hair and beard off like so much dander. His waist seemed thicker, his muscles smoothing out. Ian just held the wriggling little man as it all played out.

Seconds later, Mario’s new shape became apparent: the tiny man was transforming into a cock! Thick veins threaded along the throbbing little “man” as his head plumped into a flared mushroom shape. Mario’s eyes blinked frantically before finally sealing shut forever, his mouth forming into a piss-slit as a gob of thick cum spilled out.

Somehow, Ian knew exactly what to do. Mario’s nubby legs were still plumping into hefty balls as Ian pressed the disembodied cock against his own groin. His body LIT UP, as every nerve in his body suddenly fired up. Ian’s hands shook as the thick cock merged with his body. He gritted his teeth as he reached out to grab the now-rock-hard cock as it spat out huge dollops of pre-cum.

What the fuck happened? Am I… am I a cock? Why can’t I see anything? God, I’m so warm… Somebody grab me--somebody jerk me! God, I’m so horny… I need to cum so badly!

Ian could clearly hear Mario’s voice in his head. His own thoughts were getting hazy as his brand new balls started flooding his body with all Mario’s male hormones. Ian’s arms flexed, and he looked down in amazement as he saw them visibly thicker than they’d been when he’d walked in the shower that day. He looked down at his widening legs and watched new veins rise to the surface. “Holy… shit…” was all he could moan as his flexing pecs doubled--no TRIPLED in size.

His cock was still screaming for attention, but he was just as distracted by his massive limbs. Ian could feel his bones stretching, hearing tendons crack as he slowly rose up to his full height--now nearly seven feet, his hair brushing the ceiling--and flexed his newly massive limbs.

Ian stomped a heavy foot on the ground and wobbled his quad, which seemed like an entire side of beef flexing back and forth. He flexed his massive muscles, his cock straight as a flagpole as it bobbed ahead of his most muscular pose, spewing copious amounts of precum.

God, so horny, so horny. I’m not a cock, I’m a man--god, I can feel the cum, bubbling up in my feet, coming up my throat, god it’s so hot--I’m so hot! God, I want to spew this cum out so much. What am I talking about? Get ahold of yourself, Mario. You’re a man! No, I’m… I’m a horny fucking cock. Please, somebody let me cum!

The buzzing in his head, plus his ecstasy over his newly enlarged 400 pound frame, was enough to cause Ian to collapse to his knees. He jerked his massive cock with both hands--it was only a few pumps before he arched his back and powerwashed the walls with a gallon of his load. When it was over, he lay there as his big hose deflated. Just for fun, he started doing one-handed pushups, amazed at the ease with which he raised and lowered his mass.

After rinsing off, Ian posed in the mirror. He could barely see all of him--and while he vaguely recognized his facial features, the rest of him had been blown up so much he was now unrecognizable. “Fuckin a!” he growled in a voice much deeper than he’d had before. “How you feeling down there, Mario?” he said, giving his big cock a squeeze.

Oh god, who is that? Was that a hand? God, I’m so small--how did I get so small? God, I’m so soft… and squishy… getting hard again… god, I want someone to jerk me so bad… so bad!”

Ian sneered at what a needy little lump of flesh his herculean trainer had been reduced to. He rifled through Mario’s things and squeezed into some of his clothes--which were still far too snug for his new body, but would at least get him out the door.

With every step, he could feel the tight joggers shredding around his massive quads and ass. The locker room door swung open and two puny (“No,” Ian reminded himself, “AVERAGE sized guys…”) men walked past, gawking at his stature and his steadily decomposing attire.

“Let’s go, Mario,” Ian said, jostling the big stuffed basket and giving his demanding cock a squeeze. “Let’s see how much ass it takes to satisfy you.”

*

Cal gawked long after the enormous man had left the locker room. “Jesus, how does a guy GET that big?”

Andreus smirked. “He was putting out quite a bit of pheromones. I imagine this place will stink like him long after he’s gone.”

Cal shook his head. “Did he just call his dick, ‘Mario’? You think he named his cock after that big juicemonkey trainer I pointed out to you earlier?”

Andreus shrugged. “Cal, my love, all I can think is how the manly stink in the air is getting me all riled up.” He twitched a finger; Cal’s sweatpants suddenly shrank to booty shorts, his shirt becoming a crop top. “Much better,” he chuckled.

“Dammit, Andreus,” Cal said, blushing at his new attire. “You get so out of control when you get bored!”

“Well then,” Cal said, kicking aside the two discarded discarded duffel bags left behind by the locker room’s prior inhabitants, “you’d best entertain me then, eh?”