Brandon Twice
patreon
Hexed
🕑 Added 2020-01-11 19:34:43 +0000 UTC[6 Word "You Call It" Request: Brad Rowe, Gay Voodoo Doll Victim]
[Body Control, Muscle Growth, Disproportionate Growth]
Sweat soaked Brad Rowe’s head-to-toe spandex. The cut-off tank-top he wore (the only article of clothing that wasn’t skin-tight, shiny muscle-hugging black material) was soaked as well. He was starting to leave hot salty puddles around the gym. “Promise I’ll clean that up later,” he called to Morty the gym manager as he tried to catch his breath between sets.
This was an especially aggressive leg day--and for Brad, that meant something. He left everything on the table on leg day, desperate to blast his tree-trunk legs and huge bulbous ass into the stratosphere if he could. “The intensity of leg day says a lot about you as a bodybuilder,” he used to tell clients, and he absolutely believed this. His massive wheels were so pumped that he had adopted a waddle just to get around.
He lumbered as quickly as he could to the leg extension machine for a nice burn-out set as a finisher. It was hard to squeeze his big pumped legs into the machine, but once he was in he started to blast out reps. Ten went by like nothing. The burn started setting in around 20. Brad kept firing away, putting his mind on anything but the increasing pain, like an ice cream headache in his legs.
He couldn’t believe how ferociously he was going at this particular set. After what he’d gone through already, he figured his tank would be empty. Not that exhaustion ever kept him from pushing forward before: “When you’ve got nothing left to give, every extra rep you do guarantees more growth,” he used to tell his clients.
But for some reason he felt especially stimulated. His hard was pounding in his massive chest. It was hard to concentrate. He lost count of reps around 40. He blinked as he felt a haze falling over his senses. Fuck, doing this felt so fucking good. So fucking good! It felt like all of the blood in his body was in his lower body. Not much of it was in his brain, that was for sure; he felt dopey and groggy, despite the amount of energy he was exerting. He grunted at every rep. His grunts grew into a scream. He had never felt so frenzied in a set--so out of control. And he loved it.
He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth and growling as the lactic burn hit critical mass. When he opened them, he was shocked to see his cock, rock-hard and very obviously tenting his spandex.
He wanted to stop--a crowd was gathering! Everyone could see he was continuing to pump out reps despite his massive hard-on. He lifted his hands to cover the organ. It was a futile effort, all 9 inches of it standing at attention and threatening to burst through both the compression shorts he’d worn to keep his junk under wraps and the spandex stretching to its capacity just over them.
“Stop!” he screamed, as if he could command his body with his voice since his mind was no longer connected. “Stop! Stop now!” Sweat poured from his body. His head lolled from side-to-side as his whole body got warm. His nipples were alive and screaming as the spandex rubbed against them. His whole body felt tingly. He must have hit his two-hundredth rep when it finally happened--he thrust his groin forward and roared as he blasted out his load.
Of course, because he’d worn compression shorts underneath, none of the sticky fluid escaped, but a growing, shiny stain spread along his crotch and down his massive legs. When it was over, he was so exhausted he thought he may pass out. If he hadn’t been so humiliated by the crowd that had seen it all, from dick rising from its spandex prison to soaking his already-wet workout gear, he would have just relented and fallen into sweet sleep at that moment.
He had no words for anyone. He couldn’t even make eye contact. Someone had a phone out. Had he gotten the scene on video? What was Brad going to say when that hit the internet?
Immediate need dictated he get away, so he waddled to the bathroom, his legs so smoked he had to walk on tiptoes like a ballerina with an extra wide gait. In the locker room, a couple guys chatting with each other froze mid-sentence and stared at him.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Brad demanded, and the wise gym-goers did what the massively built man said.
“What the fuck,” Brad said, examining the sticky mess his spandex had become. He had a change of clothes, luckily. He could shower and get changed quickly, but he would have to cancel his clients for the day. Maybe the next day, too. Head to a doctor or something to figure out what the fuck had just happened!
He heard the locker room door open while he was in the shower. He ignored it at first, lathering up his big nude body and scrubbing himself like he could wash the humiliation of the former scene from his brain. Then he felt a tingling at the back of his neck. It felt foreign, but pleasant, and it spread through his limbs.
Suddenly his hands opened, dropping the bar of soap on the ground. His hands moved on their own, rising to his nipples and tweaking them, at first gingerly but with more zeal every moment. As he desperately tried to command his body to stop, he found himself walking out of the shower, totally nude, dripping with sudsy water as he stomped through the locker room stiff-armed like he was an automaton, still twisting his nipples, unable to suppress his own moan.
One of the guys he kicked out before peeked a head in--but seeing massive Brad, his dick swinging with every step, traipsing through the locker room with a determined posture but a panicked look on his face, he ducked out the door again.
“What the fuck is happening?” he asked out loud. He was horrified again as the door opened again and a blonde man walked in.
“Hello Brad,” the stranger said. In his hands he held a little bundle of material. As the man got closer he saw that whatever he held was fashioned into the shape of a doll of some sort. “Did you enjoy your little bonus orgasm today?”
“What the fuck?” Brad asked. He had so many questions, but that was the only one that would come out. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Calm down, big man. I’ll explain everything,” the man began, twisting the lock on the door shut. “My name is Syd. I’ve been a fan of yours for some time. I admire your body, more than any other. And I have access to a particular kind of… well, let’s call it a religion. You’re a careless fellow. You leave sweaty towels around, t-shirts, even little hairs here and there. You did a poor job cleaning the sink the last time you shaved at the gym. And I got enough material from you to compose what some would call… a ‘voodoo doll.’ Do you understand?”
“The fuck are you talking about?” Brad said, still confused, but his head was nodding. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile.
“If I wanted to, I could wipe your whole soul out and replace it with whatever I want. And what I want is for you to be humiliated. I want that powerful, beautiful body to be mind to play with, and I want you to feel absolutely powerless. But I’ve done this before, and it’s less fun that way. I want you to willingly cooperate. I’m sure I can train you. Do you think you can be trained?”
“Fuck you!” Brad said, but his head nodded and he smiled despite himself.
“Good boy! So I’m going to make some requests of you and you’re going to carry them out. Understood?”
“I’m not doing anything you say!” Brad said.
“You will,” Syd instructed, “and if you don’t cooperate I’ll make you--and it will be far worse than if you’d just been obedient in the first place. Understand?”
Brad just stared at the man. He was furious, confused, exhausted, and still his hands were twisting and pulling at his sensitive nipples, throwing arousal into the mix as well. His dick twitched and he felt ashamed that he couldn’t cover himself at all. He wanted his clothes. He wanted to be away from this freak.
“What do you… want me to do?” he said, his tone suddenly changing.
“Flex for me,” Syd said. He was small and thin, the same height as Brad but completely eclipsed by the hulking bodybuilder’s physique. Syd got comfortable on the locker room bench, setting the strange looking doll in his lap. It seemed to be made of scraps of fabric, hair, and what looked like pieces of rubber.
Brad hit a double bi. “There. Happy now?”
The man smiled. “Just getting started. Lick your bicep. Act like it tastes good.” The man licked his lips. “I bet it does.”
Brad grimaced. “No way! This is going too far.”
Syd rolled his eyes. He lifted the doll to his face. Syd licked between the doll’s “legs”--Brad noticed a little nub attached there.
Brad tried to move but felt his body locked in place. But if his toes could have curled, they would have. The feeling of a massive tongue running up and down his crotch overwhelmed him. He felt his dick shoot to full mast almost immediately. His balls twitched and he moaned, suddenly desperate for release despite the shame of knowing it was all because of this skinny little man who had all the power over him.
Then Syd stopped. Brad stood there, engulfed in an erotic haze that was slowly starting to fade. His whole body tingled and he was desperate for release, desperate to just grab his cock and give it the one or two jerks it needed to go over the edge, but he still couldn’t move.
“Let me try again,” Syd said. “Lick your biceps.”
Brad felt his arms released from their hold. He raised a massive muscular peak to his face and licked it. He had to close his eyes to really sell it, but he made satisfied moaning sounds, hoping to appease his captor. Strangely, he wasn’t sure if he wanted Syd to completely set him free or let him release the sexual tension building in his huge body.
“Good,” Syd said. “Now twerk your ass for me. I want to see that big ass move!”
Brad winced. “Fuck no. Please. This has to stop.”
Syd let out a deep sigh and turned the doll around. “Look, I can’t have you begging and pleading with me between each instruction. You’ve got to learn: you’re mine now. Your body is so totally in my control. I guess I’m going to have to prove it to you.” Syd clenched his hand around the doll. Brad’s whole body stiffened and he felt some other force starting to guide his actions.
He walked to an unfamiliar locker and opened it to find a small duffel bag inside. “This isn’t mine,” Brad said as best he could with his unresponsive jaw and barely responsive tongue. Syd didn’t reply.
Brad opened the duffel bag and pulled out two skimpy pieces of material. He unfolded them to find a tiny neon green thong and what looked like a bikini top. To his horror, he watched as he held the leg holes on the thong open and slid it over his massive legs. It was a tight fit, requiring some jumping and squeezing, but he was barely able to jam his cock and balls into the tiny pouch and thread the back deep between his huge ass cheeks. Then he pulled the bikini top on, horrified as he found it just had tiny squares to cover his nipples and green strings to hold the rest together.
“Looking good!” Syd said. “Let’s see those pecs bounce in that sexy bikini top of yours.”
Brad turned (against his will) to face the mirror and stared at his reflection. He looked ridiculous, his massive body making the tiny clothes look even more insignificant. His incredibly muscular torso contrasted with the feminine top in an absurd way. He watched his huge mounds of pec meat crunch up alternately, beyond Brad’s ability to resist.
“Let me try something,” Syd said. Brad suddenly arched his back and flexed his pecs, sticking his big glutes out as well. Syd wandered around the locker room, opening doors gathering items. On Brad’s wide pec shelf he stacked a bottle of hand soap, a razor blade, a wallet and watch. On his ass, Syd stacked a bar of soap, a cell phone, a roll of toilet paper and a protein shaker.
“Look at you!” Syd declared. “You’re going to be great at my next party, serving drinks. I think I’ll get you a nice leather harness to wear then. But for now, you have a client to train, don’t you Brad?”
Brad glanced at the clock on the wall. Fuck! He did have a client to train--an older gay gentleman named Rick who had just hired him. “Please--” Brad started to beg, but Syd put a finger over the doll’s face. Brad’s voice died in his throat. No sound would come out.
“So you’re going to go out there and train your client. During each set I want you squeezing your pecs and your ass. Don’t take your hands off yourself out there, understood?”
Brad mouthed a silent response, but then just nodded.
“Good. I’ll be watching, Brad. If you do good, I’ll let you put on more clothes. But if you disobey, let me tell you… this hot little getup I’m going to parade you around in isn’t going to be one-tenth of how much I can exert my power over you, understood?”
Syd made the doll nod and Brad did so as well. Then he felt his body moving toward the locker room door. His stomach went cold as he realized he was going to walk out there wearing less than a women’s bikini competitor--but knowing that the alternative could be much worse, he steeled himself for the nightmare he was about to experience.
Of course everyone stared as Brad walked into the gym. His body was massive, veiny, bulging on all sides, all of which was made to look much more extreme by the tiny amount of material covering his massive form. He got some whistles as he walked by in his tiny bikini top but he just tried to ignore the attention. Rick was warming up in the stretching area. The older guy’s eyes went wide when big hulking Brad waddled up dressed like a Maxim cover model.
“Hey Rick,” Brad said, his voice shaky. He tried to get control. He just had to get through this session and obey Syd, then it would be over. “Let’s get started.” He felt a tingling in his backside, like an invisible hand were were tickling between his ass-cheeks. Then it got stronger, as the invisible hand seemed to dart inside. Brad’s whole body twitched, his hips thrusting forward as he tried to escape the unseen invader. Rick leapt out of the way as Brad stumbled around.
“Sorry,” Brad said, his voice cracking. “Muscle spasms.” He searched the gym floor for Syd--could he see him? Was he watching from somewhere--and reached up to grab a handful of his own pec, giving it a squeeze. Poor Rick nearly fainted from the sight, but Brad ignored it. He just had to do as he was told.
“Nice work,” Brad cheered Rick on as he bench pressed with decent form. “Your form looks great.” It took extra concentration to try to motivate Rick while reaching behind him and squeezing his own ass cheeks, all while ignoring the crowd that was forming around him while Brad gave his show.
Brad’s blood went cold as Morty approached, shaking his head. “Brad, what the fuck are you doing? This some kind of internet stunt or something?” Morty said.
Brad wanted to tell Morty the truth--”A guy with a voodoo doll is making me do this!”--but, even if Morty did believe him, Syd was no doubt within earshot and would certainly enact a far worse punishment on him. “Uh, yeah,” Brad said. “Internet challenge. Guy dared me to… Dress like this for an hour.”
Morty shook his head. “Well what the fuck was up with you earlier? People say you blew a load in your pants doing a set!”
“Just… got really into my training,” Brad said. “You know how hard I go, no holding back. All this testosterone and all…” He switched from squeezing his glutes to squeezing his pecs. It was far less off-putting, he figured.
“Jesus,” Morty said with a look of disgust. “Brad, I can’t have this. You wanna dress like a freak, fine, but get your damned hands off yourself! Take the day off if you need some rest, man. Don’t lose your shit on my shift.”
Brad looked around. Most everyone around was watching him cop a feel of his own big chest. “Okay, Morty,” Brad said. “I’m sorry.” Brad took his hands off his chest. If Syd were watching, he reasoned, he had to know Morty wasn’t going to let this scene continue. Getting kicked out couldn’t be part of Syd’s plan. He turned back to Rick, whose face was flushed (and who had his own tent starting to form in his shorts) as Morty backed away. “Anyway, Rick, let’s do one more set, and then--”
He felt the tingle in his spine. Suddenly Brad stood up straight, arms at his side. He opened his mouth to yell for help but no sound came out.
He started doing jumping jacks. He waited for it to get worse, but no, just jumping jacks. While his huge pecs and glutes bounced, he felt the bikini and thong stimulating his nipples and ass respectively. He looked around as people started to snap photos of him and video the scene.
Suddenly Brad’s chest felt warm and tingly. Each pile of muscle flexed on its own, then expanded out. Brad was shocked as he saw each pec growing larger on his body! In seconds he couldn’t see the floor anymore. The triple-sized muscles bounced much more dramatically than before as the bikini strings threatened to snap.
Behind him, Brad felt the same pleasant growth spreading through his glutes. His ass swelled like a tire inflating. The extra weight in his chest and ass threw Brad’s center of gravity off. All that extra mass bouncing with every jumping jack drove his mind wild. In the mirror he caught a glimpse of his form. He still recognized the pretty-faced bodybuilding behemoth he had always been, but in the bikini, with his ass and pecs swelling out of proportion with the rest of his body, he was starting to look like some crazed stripper toy, a bizarre blend of big-tittied bimbo and bodybuilder brute.
The bikini snapped, as did the thong, and Brad found himself naked, his cock and balls now jiggling like his ass and pecs. There was nothing he could do to stop himself as he grew more and more out of proportion. His eyes darted around, looking for Syd, wondering when this was going to stop, as the gym clientele that had once revered him started mocking him while they videoed his cartoonishly ballooning physique.
