Recruiting Talent (Patreon)

[prettyboy-to-muscled-hulk TF with cock shrinking]

Of course Wesley noticed the two big lunks staring at him as he trained. He was no stranger to men staring at him; it was how he paid his bills, as one of the most popular dancers at the Adonis club where men flocked to see him shake both his gym-sculpted physique and the enormous bulge in his shiny thongs. Their attention lingered as he did some pullups with two 45-pound plates strapped to his waist. He played it cool, eyeing them in the mirror as he did his reps more slowly, allowing them to savor every muscle in his rippling back as he effortlessly performed rep after rep. It was always fun to give a show, even for free.

That’s why he wore such revealing attire to the gym: that night, he wore a blue tank-top cut-off just below his nipples to show off his narrow waist and impeccable 8-pack. His shorts probably should have been a size larger, but squeezing his big glutes and huge package into a large really emphasized a lot of his “assets”--he had a body that would have made a Ken doll jealous and he was happy to show it off.

Later on, as he pulled 100-pound dumbbells for rows, he noticed the two men conversing as they walked closer to him. He prepared himself for the inevitable question–”Can we feel your muscles? Somewhere private?” or, “How much to suck your dick?” He and his boyfriend Kyle had an agreement: outside play was allowed, especially if there was money involved. But these guys weren’t Wesley’s type at all: thick-necked apes with wide jaws for gnashing steaks, wide-built bodies that looked like they lifted cars and beat their chests for fun. Wesley had never been into those roided-out cavemen; they always had little dicks, little flexibility and absolutely no imagination in the sack.

He was surprised when one of the men–the bald one, who was missing a front tooth–produced some folded up papers as he approached. The other–the greasy, dark-haired one who looked like he should be an extra in a mobster movie–cleared his throat as Wesley set the dumbbell down. They stood shoulder to shoulder as Wesley turned, running a hand through his sweaty blonde mane, prepared to hear them out.

“Want my autograph?” Wesley said with a wink. “I don’t have a pen… but I could figure out something to sign it with, I guess.” He swiveled his hips, jostling the sizable mound packed into the front of his shorts back and forth.

The bald guy shook his head. “Job offer. Boss says he called you and you turned him down.”

“He wanted us to come chat about you signing with his club,” the dark-haired one said, puffing out his furry chest. “The deal’s all written out in these papers. Read all about it, call the boss if you’re interested.”

Wesley maintained his grin despite the skeezy offer. He’d already turned down Rocco, who owned The Butcher Shop, the new men’s entertainment club opening up across town. The money seemed absurd: Rocco was offering a half-million dollars per year with a ten year contract! But Rocco (a 21-year old trust fund kid whose beady eyes and thin smirk made him look like a weasel) gave Wesley a bad feeling. Something about the offer seemed off; not just too good to be true, but that there was more about the deal that Rocco wasn’t telling him.

“I think the deal I have over at Adonis is too cozy too abandon,” Wesley said. “But tell your boss I’m flattered he’s trying so hard to recruit me.” He took an intentionally long drink from his water bottle, running his free hand along his obliques down to his groin as he did so. He hoped for more of a look of disappointment from the big men as they walked away, but they seemed unphased by his denial.

“Really? They approached you at the gym?” Wesley’s boyfriend Kyle asked as he climbed into the passenger seat of Wesley’s Tesla.

“Yes, and that’s AFTER I turned down Rocco twice: once when he facetimed me out of nowhere, and the next when he and two of his goons showed up by my car after my last shift at the Adonis!”

Kyle, who was built almost identically to Wesley–wide shoulders, big arms, 8% bodyfat, huge cock–but with short brown hair, cocked his head to the side. “How much do you think they’d offer me?” he said, his eyes twinkling for a moment.

“You’re gonna bail on the Adonis? After all that place has done for your career?” Wesley asked as he pulled into the back parking lot behind the stripclub that employed them.

“Yeah? Why not?” Kyle asked.

“I’ve heard shady things about Rocco and his clubs,” Wesley said. “Jericho told me he puts all his dancers on mandatory steroid cycles and controls their diet. And Reese said he heard something about weird hypnosis and shit!”

Kyle chuckled. “Hypnosis? Why would anyone do that? Guys like us don’t need to be mind controlled to dance. We just need the right price offered, and it sounds like that’s what Rocco has! Plus, it’s not like you and I don’t both juice already. I’m sure Rocco pays for the gear if he’s requiring it. Could be great!”

Wesley shrugged. “I’ve been at the Adonis for ten years, since I was an 18-year old twunk who didn’t know a damned thing, and it’s been quite good to me since then. I think I’ll stay there.”

They kissed before Kyle grabbed his duffel bag and climbed out to begin his shift. Wesley cleared his throat and Kyle paused.

“Hey, babe… if they do call you, make sure you talk to me first, okay?”

Kyle winked back but never actually responded.

*

Wesley found a small black box outside the door to his condo. His name was embossed on the package’s ornate tag. “What the hell is this?” Wesley asked around as he turned the gift–no bigger than a ring box–around in his hand. His name was the only piece of information on the item.

He poured himself a glass of scotch before he opened it in his kitchen. Tucked neatly inside the tiny box was silky black material. Wesley unfolded it to discover a shiny black thong, its fabric as smooth as butter. He held it against his groin. “My perfect size,” he said, imagining his junk stuffed inside the little garment.

Also in the box was a small tag: “It pains me we couldn’t recruit your talent. Accept this gift as a sign of my continuing admiration. ROCCO.”

Wesley sipped some scotch, then rubbed the thong against his face. Good god, that would feel VERY nice against his package, as well as sliding up and down his crack! “Hell of a consolation gift,” he said, an eyebrow raised as he licked his lips and shrugged. It was a gift, it belonged to him now: time to try it on!

The thong felt just as amazing as Wesley had imagined, but it looked flawless on his tan, rippling body. It looked like it was custom made for his big cock and balls, as well; his junk looked shrink-wrapped and put out on display. “Wow,” Wesley said aloud as he admired his reflection. His cock sprang up just from his own image. “I wonder if it’s bad form to wear this on stage at the Adonis,” he said. At the very least he would be wearing it when he picked up Kyle from work. It was possible his boyfriend might even rip them off the moment he saw them!

“Babe, get an Uber back to my place when you’re done,” Wesley texted his lover. “I have a surprise for you when you get here.”

When he turned back to his reflection, he paused. Something looked different on his face–was it a smudge on the mirror? He ran fingers along his jawline and gasped when he felt stubble. “Weird,” he said. “Just fucking shaved…”

He gasped when one of his smooth pecs twitched. “Ow, what was…” The other pec flexed and bounced on its own. He massaged the suddenly sore muscles, rock-hard but compact the way he’d built them. Suddenly, his pecs swelled up. His groaned as he felt the muscles impossibly blowing up as if they were filled with air. A moment later, his sleek chest had blown into two freakish mounds of muscle. He looked like one of those roid-headed bodybuilder guys!

“Fuck… fuck… how…” he cried out as he squeezed the big muscles, hoping he could somehow squash them back to their former dimensions. He grunted as both of his arms suddenly tensed, shooting out straight as the muscles twitched and pulsed. With a groan, his arms started to blow up as well, swelling with solid mounds, so cartoonishly large he looked like he might topple over from being top-heavy.

His bottom soon started to grow to match: his legs stretched and widened until they were each roughly as wide around as his waist. His stance had pushed apart so wide he felt his sense of balance starting to teeter. He couldn’t believe how his legs had ballooned up with muscle. Just the thought of carrying these big slabs around all day made him feel exhausted, not to mention horrified!

His bloating back, pushing his arms apart, wasn’t as shocking as the solid gut that his abs pushed out into. He didn’t gain a single ounce of fat; rather, his rippling 8-pack just bowed forward, as round as a gut but still with the deep grooves of his cobbled abdominal muscles. The growth in his shoulders and neck–BWOMPH!--made his head look tiny in comparison. He winced as he watched a beard sprout from his face. All of the perfect lines of his visage–his flawless cheekbones, his solid jaw–looked like they were melting. Watching his angelic face squash into something that resembled a bull dog’s muzzle was the most horrifying change of them all.

That horror was soon upstaged, however, when he watched his big bulge–forced forward by his gargantuan legs fighting each other for space–started to deflate. He reached for his dwindling cock but fell short. His arms were too thick and inflexible, his pecs too massive and in the way. He could only see in the mirror (since his muscle gut and pec shelf blocked his view) as his big dick shrank until it was barely a little nub. He could barely detect the fact that he had balls at all; one might conjecture the little bump was due to a mosquito bite and not, in fact, a seriously underdeveloped manhood.

Through it all, the thong had shifted to accommodate his new body. The cartoonishly muscled man, so wide he couldn’t see all of himself in the standing mirror, was entirely unfamiliar. Wesley raised a hand and was shocked to watch the testosterone-stuffed monstrosity looking back at him matched the movement. As if his impossibly developed form wasn’t revolting enough, suddenly his skin started itching. That sensation was followed a moment later by dark fur sprouting across his body.

Wesley whimpered–even his voice different, now a low growl–as he stared at the beast he’d become. He didn’t even hear the sound of knocking on his door. When finally he pulled himself away, he stumbled clumsily across the room. He felt so HEAVY, all of his body fighting for space every time moved. Swinging his massive legs around each other, swinging his big arms just to produce the momentum to propel him forward, felt like so much work! He realized, as he approached his condo’s entrance, that he would be turning sideways to pass through doors from now on.

He tried to look through the peephole but his pecs and roidgut were too huge. He couldn’t get close enough. “Go away!” he growled in his new low, gravelly voice. He waddled toward his phone on his kitchen counter and struggled to pick it up. When he could finally relax his arm enough to get it near his face, the phone scanned his face and refused to recognize him.

“Wesley?” said a voice.

“Wesley, our boss sent us over to see if you picked up his gift.”

It was the two men from the gym. Wesley looked down at the thong, then lumbered toward the door. His whole apartment shook as he moved.

The two hulking men grinned when Wesley opened the door.

“Look! He’s bigger than us now!” the bald one said, admiring Wesley with wide, hungry eyes.

“Sure is! Lucky prick,” the dark-haired one said. The two waltzed into the apartment uninvited. Wesley was too bewildered to consider that he could force the men back with his newfound muscle.

The bald grunt produced a phone and held it up. Rocco’s face appeared. “Ah, Wesley, is that you? Looking good my friend!”

“Why… how?” Wesley asked, his big pecs flexing and bouncing as Wesley pawed at himself. “Turn me… back…”

“Sorry, fella! No can do. That’s a one way trip. And if you’re curious, I want you to know that this isn’t personal. I didn’t want to recruit you as I wanted to get you away from the Adonis. See, my club will be WAY more successful if I get rid of all of the competition’s best acts. I was happy to put you on my stage, but if you won’t do that, I’ll have you on as security. The boys here will get you outfitted for your new job, and we’ll get you moved over to my staff compound immediately. From now on, you’re going to keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told, got it? Your days of men fawning over your beauty are all gone.”

“Or… or what?” Wesley said, trying to summon some confidence to fight back. “What if I say no?”

“You think this is the worst thing I can do to you?” Rocco said. “I mean, let’s see how your pretty little boyfriend likes you now that you’re basically his worst nightmare. Let’s see you try to shake that 300 pound body on the Adonis stage! You’ll crash right through, not to mention there’s not enough razors in North America to shave off that fur to get you stage ready. Just being that size is going to be a massive chore from now on, but you come with me, hang with my guys, and you’ll find things are a lot easier than they are now.”

Wesley couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but as the two henchmen produced 5XL-sized pants and a shirt, he felt a desperate need to cover up. He held up his tremendous arms as best he could as the two men cut off the thong, then worked together to get the big man’s feet and massive legs into a pair of boxer briefs. All three were soaked with sweat before the deed was done.

The pants and shirt were easier to pull on but still took effort and all three men working in tandem. When he was finally dressed, Wesley found he was dressed exactly as these two enormous bouncers. They looked like three of a kind.

“Promise, you’ll like this,” the bald one said, reaching out to massage Wesley’s pec through his shirt.

“Yeah,” the dark-haired one said as he stroked Wesley’s arm with both hands, feeling up its size. “We used to be pretty little dancers too. We know how you feel. This is better, trust me.”

As the three stomped heavily away from Wesley’s condo (and his life as a beautiful stripper, worshiped by all) he saw Kyle stepping out of his Uber. For a moment, Wesley realized what he was leaving behind.

“Kyle!” he roared, shoving the other two men away as he trudged heavily toward his lover. His beautiful man seemed so small and fragile, in comparison to his mass now, that he worried he might squash him.

“Hey, uh, I’m… off the clock,” Kyle said, backing away, his face twisted in disgust at the musclebound monstrosity approaching him.

“Yeah, buddy, let’s go,” the bald henchman said, grabbing Wesley’s shoulder.

“Let’s leave this pretty little guy alone,” said the dark-haired man. “He doesn’t need your big tren-swollen ass bothering him, you big dope.”

The look of horror on his love’s face was enough to seal in the knowledge of what had become of him: no one he knew would recognize him now. If Kyle called the cops, he would easily be arrested with no way to prove his identity. Despite how much his heart sank, Wesley realized Rocco had all the power over him now.

He climbed into the henchmen’s nearby van, feeling numb. He flexed his arms, savoring the feeling of their size and strength. He flexed his pecs and chuckled as they made his shirt bounce around.

“The longer you’re big like this,” the bald one said as he started the van, “the better it feels.”

Wesley couldn’t deny that statement. He ran his big paws over his massive thighs, suddenly proud of how gigantic he was, like ten men in one! Then his hand rubbed over his groin and he gasped when he barely felt anything there.

“And don’t worry about the cock,” said the dark-haired man. “Boss likes us to have little dicks. Then we don’t get any wrong ideas about who’s in charge.”

“And,” said the bald one, “we get all the dildos we want. And you should see THIS guy,” he said, thumbing at his dark-haired companion, “use his tongue! He’s amazing!”

Wesley felt a tingling in his groin, a far-cry from the swollen 11 inch boner he was used to, but not altogether unpleasant. Maybe he could get used to this.