— —
“C’mon,” Joshua insisted. “I guarantee there is nothing you are doing Friday night.”
“Who knows?” Cody added. “Those stocks could drop out any moment now, so Ryan is probably too busy to have a guys night with us.”
“Well, it’s not that, I just... um…” Ryan stuttered as he tried to come up with an excuse to avoid these two.
“Wow, you’re almost as bad as the old man upstairs.” Cody elbowed Joshua, subconsciously giving him a signal to laugh at his joke.
“Yeah,” was all Joshua could manage to say between induced chuckles. “I almost had a heart attack watching that performance last week; I was on the verge of tears.”
“It’s about time that guy retires, otherwise he’ll die in his office,” Cody quipped.
“Hey guys, I’m gonna get back to work now, if you don’t mind.” Ryan quietly exited, the shortest man of the trio gliding back to his desk quickly. Four eyes followed him as he sat down and instantly got back to work.
“For an intern, he’s pretty dedicated,” Cody mumbled,
“He knows we aren’t getting paid yet, right?” Joshua replied, scratching his well-manicured goatee. It was something he took pride in, having the time to maintain it so finely.
“I’m gonna head out for the night, but are you still on for Friday?”
“Sure thing,” Joshua replied. “Haven’t gotten laid in ages.”
“Lucky you, I’m an excellent wingman.” Joshua followed Cody as he strolled to his desk, grabbing his things. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. At least some of us can commit to things.” The last remark was shot at Ryan, who was so absorbed in his computer that he didn’t even hear the two men still conversing.
“Yup.” Joshua watched the taller man head for the exit before he proceeded to his own setup. Adjusting his burgundy tie, he was surprised to find a small can of detergent spray standing proudly on top of his briefcase. He picked up the object along with his belongings, noticing a small note taped on the side.
“What’s this?” Joshua eagerly said to himself as he headed for the elevator. Reading the information that was printed on the card, it was supposedly a present for all the new employees at TenHaken, a “Great job, we did it!” sort of thing for the investors meeting. With further investigation, Joshua was surprised to find no ingredient label, instead discovering the only thing printed on the can to be two words, presumably the name of its scent.
“Stricte Maturitatem?”
Joshua probably pronounced it wrong, but he didn’t really mind. He wasn’t phased by the weird name, as working in the medical business often provided an abundance of weird names, but this one certainly was odd. After placing his briefcase and the can in the backseat, he turned his key into the ignition and began to pull out of the parking garage. Maybe it was Latin for something? Thinking about the words again, he could see “strict” and part of “maturity,” but he was no scholar. He’d be able to find out once he got home. Luckily, traffic was awfully light for a weekday, so he was home in almost 20 minutes.
“Tim?” Joshua shouted as he entered the apartment. “You here?”
“Yeah,” came a gruff reply from down the hall. Joshua and Tim had been roommates for almost five years now, having shared a dorm in college and sticking to the same routine when they had graduated last year. While Joshua worked for the medical business, Tim was strictly athletic, working at a new sports agency as an assistant. His body easily advertised his lifestyle, as Tim had maintained his muscular body by his daily gym sessions. He didn’t look like a professional bodybuilder, but anyone could mistake him for a minor-league football player.
“Whattya say to pizza tonight? My treat,” Joshua persuaded.
“Your treat, eh?”
“I’m feeling frisky.”
“Alright, thanks,” Tim replied from his room. “I owe you one.”
“It’s on the house!” Joshua responded back, tossing his things on the kitchen table before pulling out his laptop. Looking up the local pizza place’s website, he didn’t notice the silver can slowly roll out of his bag and to the ledge. The metal object hit the floor, the loud clang bouncing around the small living space.
“What was that?”
“Sorry,” Joshua responded, bending over to pick the can up. “Those were my balls. Just puberty things, you know?”
“Oh yeah, real clever.” If it was possible, it sounded like Tim’s voice was rolling its eyes. Joshua grabbed the detergent spray and placed it onto the table. Getting back to ordering the food, he didn’t hear the shaky hissing noise escaping from the top of the can. Apparently, the impact from the wooden floor was just enough to crack the lid open. It wasn’t enough to cause an explosion, but just right for a slow escape.
As Joshua clicked away at his order, he could’ve sworn he felt a small itch at his face. He slowly shifted one hand from his mouse to his cheek, scratching the hair subtly growing messily around his face. At first, it had seemed wrong for hair to be on that part of his face. Didn’t he have a goatee? A small rumbling from his stomach interrupted his thoughts, bringing him back to the pizza order and forgetting about his growing beard. While Joshua proceeded to the website’s checkout, his beard and mustache finished their connection, lightening from a raven black to a walnut brown as the hairs traveled a short distance down his neck. His once well-cared for goatee now looked more like a scruffy five o’clock shadow.
While the next page loaded up, Joshua grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, adjusting his back while doing so. The black leather material had been replaced by a faded brown, but he was too focused on getting his credit card to take notice. Typing in the numbers individually, Joshua's speed dropped dramatically, losing his quick pace with each new integer. By the end of the process, it seemed more like he was plucking at his computer, with his leathery fingers now struggling to find the next key. He could’ve sworn he put on lotion this morning, but Joshua’s hands seemed thicker and harder than usual. Did he always have this many callouses?
The ping of a completed order flashed Joshua back to reality, affirming him that his donation to the local middle school’s math team had been made. Wait, hadn’t he just been ordering pizza? Straightening out his back again, he didn’t recognize the small crunching noise as he shrunk just barely in his seat. Pizza? Joshua wasn’t going to order something like that! He wasn’t a snob by any means, but he knew what food was bad for someone’s health. After all, he had to keep Tim’s interests in mind, and eating lousy crap wasn’t part of them. Joshua should know, as he felt like he had some responsibility over the college student’s well-being. Although he was only a few years Tim’s senior, he felt almost like an older brother to his roommate.
Shutting his laptop, Joshua slowly trudged his way to his room, exhausted from a long day of work. Being employed as a department’s assistant often had its toll on Joshua. Even though he was almost thirty, it felt like a job meant for someone much older and more experienced. As he walked past Timothy’s room, he was happy to see the younger lad working on his homework. He was hunched over his desk, intently catching up on a chapter in one of his textbooks.
“Straighten up, kid!” Josuah demanded in a gruff voice, causing Timothy to shoot up obediently.
“You can’t leave high school as a hunchback,” Josuah added, his voice deepening with every syllable.
“Yes…” Timothy sighed, continuing with his work. Josuah beamed with joy as he made his way to the master bedroom. Standing in front of his mirror, he watched as he slowly pulled off the black suit. Taking off the jacket revealed his blue dress shirt, which he could’ve sworn was white moments before. However, the longer he looked at it, the less his previous thought made sense. He was wearing a blue suit, so it made perfect sense that he was wearing a blue shirt underneath to match. He directed his attention back to the suit jacket on his bed, confirming that it shared the same shade of navy as his pants. Focusing back on undressing, Josuah slowly maneuvered his hands up to undo his tie, watching his dark brown eyes slowly shift to a steel-cold grayish-blue.
“The can!”
Josuah had completely forgotten about the detergent, never figuring out what the name was supposed to be. Still partially in his suit, he wandered back out to the kitchen, his height diminishing once again until he now stood at 5’10. His hairline slowly pushed back as he made his way to the table, lightening to the familiar brown as it thinned out and lost its former volume.
He snatched the can with great speed, flexing his blooming muscles as he brought the detergent up to his eyes. Although Josuah was fit before, his biceps and triceps didn’t have the same definition before as they did now. Of course, with the hardening forearms and shoulders hidden underneath his shirt, Josuah couldn’t take notice. Bringing the can up to his nose, he was surprised to find the scent rather… unpleasant.
“Aftershave?” Josuah mumbled, somehow not noticing the already opened lid as he put the can back. Placing his arms back to his sides, he should’ve felt surprised to feel the tangled bushes of dense hair in his pits, but instead carried on with the next task: dinner. Being a man over thirty, cooking had become an easier task for him over the years. He had learned to cook healthy as well as economically, knowing how to eat well without spending too much. And with Timothy still in the heart of puberty, he had to make sure the kid ate right. That was how Josuah himself had kept healthy all these years. While he reflected his diet, Josuah’s upper torso gathering a light coat of hair as his pecs barely sunk in. Abs vanished to reveal a hairy muscle gut, formed from hard manual labor with the lightest of fat. If Josuah wanted Timothy to live right, he’d have to set the right example.
Josuah opened the fridge with immense strength, showcasing a display of vegan and gluten-free options. Pulling out a few ingredients allowed his neck to expand, adjusting his deltoids as they made room for a maturing voice-box. Josuah stepped away from the fridge to light the stove and grab a pan, his legs pulsing inside his pants as they firmed up. Thighs and quads thickened as they began to push against the seams of the navy fabric, the tougher skin allowing furry coats to cover his upper legs. Bending down to pick out a box of organic noodles, Josuah’s knees crunched as they shrunk him just barely shorter. His calves thickened with meat while he proceeded to boil the water, allowing maturity to give his skin a more weathered texture as they too were covered with brown fur.
“Um, when’s dinner gonna be ready?” Timothy’s voice came from the other room, a little higher than Josuah had remembered.
“Didn’t I teach you anything about patience and manners?” He yelled back, surprised to feel a quick anger rise from within.
“Well, Joseah, I thought tha-”
“You do not call your elders by the first name!” Joseah shouted, fury boiling within him as he threw the noodles into the pot.
“Sorry… sir,” Timothy replied, his voice rising once more as it now adorned a light quiver.
“That’s more like it.”
Kids these days had no respect, and that’s why Joseah would make sure to raise Timothy right. The kid had only been in high school for a year and it felt like he was already becoming a scoundrel, maybe even a menace. At almost 40, Joseah felt like he was in charge of the lad, so he’d bring him up the right way. Preparing the food required so much focus that he didn’t even feel his face lengthening out, his skull becoming more ovular as his jaw stretched. His prominent nose extended further downwards as his lips shrunk, losing their cushiness as they were now more often seen in a frown. Eyebrows became busy as thick lines of wrinkles and crows’ feet slowly painted themselves onto Joseah’s face, cementing his increasing maturity.
Joseah mixed together the final ingredients in another pot as he drained the noodles in the sink. He called for Timothy to set up the table, expecting the boy to help him as he fixed together the meal. After not hearing any immediate movement, Joseah quickly made his way to Timothy’s room, his shortening fuse already lit.
CLUNK CLUNK!
The sound of Joseah’s expanding loafers echoed off of the wood flooring as he stomped his way to the boy’s room. The previously average-size feet grew with each step, expanding in length and girth as the lightest layer of hair graced the top of his toes. By the time he had found Timothy playing with his video games rather than doing his homework, the Size 15 feet were about as big as his fury-fueled fire.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Joseah roared.
“Well… I was-”
“You were what! This homework doesn’t look done to me!”
“I was just tAKing a brEaK.” Timothy squeaked, his voice cracking violently.
“A break? You needed a break! Do you think I work over 40 hours a week so you can ‘take a break?’ Back in my day…”
While Joseah carried on with his aggravated speech, he didn’t notice his pants begin to strain over his growing bubble butt. Two perky mounds of flesh began to emerge in the back as a third bulge pushed itself forward in the front. His hairier balls slowly dropped lower inside his slacks as his pubic bush became wiry and untamed. Although Joseah was already decently endowed, his co*ck grew even more as it pushed its way out to 7 inches soft, allowing him to always easily assert his dominance. After finishing his speech, Joseah grabbed the middle-schooler and turned him over, spanking him in hopes of teaching his unruly kid. Once he saw Timothy on the verge of tears, Joseah knew the kid had learnt his lesson.
“Now, clean yourself up and meet me at the table in 3 minutes for dinner.”
“Yes, daddy,” Timmy replied timidly, hurrying off to wipe away his tears. Joseph knew raising his own kid would be hard, but this made him feel much older than 45. Thankfully, he knew he was raising the boy the best way he could, with Timmy recently becoming the best member of his math team as only a sixth-grader. Joseph wanted to make sure his kid was fully committed to academics: no trashy sports to teach his kid how to be a worthless jock or the arts to maneuver his kid into some lousy pride parade. Throughout Timmy’s childhood, Joseph had raised him to be a genius, and he’d make sure the kid would even be sent to an Ivy League school. Joseph had even pushed the nerdier stereotype onto his kid, forcing him to wear glasses and semi-formal outfits to school. His methods may have seemed strict to others, but Joseph knew what was best for his boy. At least his coworkers understood, like his boss Frank, who thought the head of human resources was mature enough to raise his kids however he wanted.
Returning back to the present day, Joseph set the table for dinner, happy to have a healthy dinner with his son before they both went back to their work. Pushing aside the detergent can, Joseph was surprised to find it empty, but he didn’t hesitate to toss it in the trash. He leaned against a wall while watching his son quietly enter the room, taking a deep breath as he held himself back. Joseph was strict, but he was also mature, knowing now wasn’t the best time to correct Timmy on his attire for supper. Maybe if Joseph stared disapprovingly at him longenough, the boy would figure it out himself.
— —
“I’ll see you tomorrow then. At least some of us can commit to things.” Cody glanced at Ryan, but the third man was obviously not paying attention. Grabbing his things and leaving quickly, Cody was ready to head back to his apartment for the night. He had a guys’ night planned with one of his friends from out of town, which involved beer, movies, and some drunk banter. Adjusting himself through his gray suit pants, he remembered the can that he had grabbed from his desk. It looked like something the company had given all the employees, but he couldn’t really tell what it was. The only words on the can,Suburbanum Maturitatem, didn’t really give much clue as to what it was supposed to be, but the elevator doors had opened before Cody could reflect on it any longer.
It didn’t take long for Cody to reach the basem*nt level, find his car, and drive out of the building. After parking in his driveway and entering his house, he immediately threw on a pair of sweats and a faded college shirt, ready to enjoy the night. He didn’t have much food in his pantry, but looking around his fridge he was delighted to see a decent amount of alcohol.
“Hey! Anyone home?” A voice from the front door shouted, surprising Cody.
“Usually people knock before entering,” Cody replied back, making his way to the front door. Standing at 6’3 with a fairly slender build, Cody looked a little intimidating, but his childhood friend knew better than to be nervous.
“And I thought I was the exception.” Ethan, a brunette an inch shorter than the other man, tossed his backpack to the side and greeted Cody with a hug. He wore a blue hoodie and sweatpants similar to Cody’s; perfect for a late night hangout.
“You look taller than last time,” Ethan remarked, taking a step back.
“And you look fatter.”
“Shut up,” Ethan shot back playfully. “Jess likes a little bit of pudge.”
“So do I.” Cody tried to tickle his stomach, but Ethan jumped away just in time.
“Good try!” Ethan strolled into the kitchen, swinging open the fridge to snatch the first two beers. The two had known each other for almost 20 years, becoming friends in preschool and sticking to each other like peanut butter and jelly. Even though they had attended different colleges and now lived in different cities, the two had stayed pretty close. Ethan cracked a beer open and took a long swig before tossing one to Cody.
“So, what’s the plan for tonight.”
“Games, booze, maybe even some movies.”
“Sounds fun, just give me a sec… I gotta-”
PPHHHBBRRT!
“Dude! Why’d you do that?” Cody covered his nose, grimacing and laughing as Ethan had just let out a massive fart. The stench immediately had filled the small home, giving no sign of surrender.
“At least you have some detergent here!”
“What?” Cody replied, his eyes almost watering.
“This thing here!” Cody heard the opening of a lid and a small hiss from the kitchen. Slowly trudging his way in, he found Ethan spraying the contents of the silver can everywhere, eliminating the smell of flatulence.
“Oh yeah,” Cody coughed, slowly regaining his steady breath. “I forgot about that.”
“What is it?” Ethan muttered as the can slowly fizzled out. He shook it vigorously, hoping to revive the detergent, but nothing else came out.
“It was a gift from the company, it looked like everyone got it.”
“No kidding,” Ethan smirked, tossing the can into the trash. “Definitely free, the scent is pretty generic too.” Cody had been too focused on the removal of gas that he hadn’t noticed the other scent that had replaced it. Taking a timid sniff, he was surprised to have his nose greeted by a stale musk, almost reminding him of...
“Charcoal?”
“I think so,” Ethan responded, gathering the same information. “Maybe the name was Latin for ‘Backyard Barbeque’.”
“Sure,” Cody chuckled, taking another swig of his already-opened drink. The mouth of the bottle casually graced his lower chin before finding its target, scratching the thickening stubble on Cody’s chin. The shadow slowly grew into a slightly messy beard, shading itself blond with small hints of gray.
“Let’s go see what’s on tonight, I think I’m in the mood for a thriller.” Ethan eagerly started the conversation once more, making his way to the living room. Cody followed closely behind, watching Ethan’s height suddenly fall before him. Stopping in bewilderment, he swore he was just barely an inch taller than his childhood friend, but the longer he looked at Ethan, the more confused Cody became. Yeah, of course he was just barely taller: Cody was 5’11 and Ethan was 5’10, although the other man always insisted there was another half inch. Laughing quietly under his breath at himself, Cody continued his path to his seat, sitting on the other side of his white couch as Ethan booted up the television.
“So,” Cody began as Ethan searched through the channels. “How have you and Jess been doing?”
“Jass? She’s fine, but planning for the wedding has become a bit of a hassle.” Cody glanced over at Ethan, looking for some kind of a hint that he was joking, but the other man seemed unfazed. He was still looking intently for something to watch, scratching the back of his balding head while doing so. Cody subconsciously itched the top of his own head in response, flipping his thinning hair from one side to the other as it grew into the same blond as before.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, mostly it’s been hard to get around work.”
“What’s your job again?”
“Did you already forget, Cogy? I’m an assistant publisher at my city's newspaper.”
Cogy seemed surprised by this at first, but it settled with him almost immediately. He could’ve sworn his friend was just starting, but that wouldn’t have made sense--Ethan had been there for a few years now. Furrowing his brow, Cogy continued to contemplate on it, allowing for thick creases to etch themselves onto his head.
“Sorry, Ethen, it's been a long day.”
“I bet,” Ethen smiled understandingly. “You’ve been at your job for almost ten years now, I’d assume you’d be exhausted after work.”
What Ethen said had made sense to Cogy. As a “amen to that,” he raised his bottle and chugged the alcohol down his throat. He loved the feeling of the cheap drink sliding down his gullet. Gripping the bottle intensely, his hands expanded with meat, becoming thicker as they grew into two beefy mitts. The smallest of calluses slowly decorated themselves across his palms as Cogy placed the bottle down, exhaling in content.
“Should I get you another?”
“Please.”
While Ethen walked off to the kitchen, Cogy snatched the remote to continue looking for something. Originally he had agreed with Ethen’s idea, but now a thriller was becoming less and less appealing. With his eyes on the television screen, Cogy didn’t notice the light rippling throughout his arms. The scrawny appendages slowly began to inflate as years of outside labor began to pile on. Thick muscles emerged from his biceps and triceps as his forearms became bulkier. His arm hair grew thicker as it lightened, the blond hair now contrasting the leathery, tan skin.
“Here ya go.”
Ethen placed an open beer in front of Cogy on the coffee table before taking a seat.
“Find anything yet?”
“No, nothing.”
“Here, let me look again.”
Cogy handed the remote off to Ethen, noticing his friend's muscular arms while doing so. Had Ethen always had that much meat on his bones? Cogy scratched his head once more, opening up his swelling forests of pit hair. The wiry strands grew outwards as they became lush, lightly-colored jungles. A soft, pungent odor began to emit from them too, breaking past the barrier of Cogy’s cheap deodorant.
“Wait! Stop here,” Cogy sputtered, his voice dropping slightly.
“Football, really Crogy?” Ethen questioned.
“Of course, it’s my university's team against yours!” Crogy hunched forward in sudden excitement, finding a new interest in the sport. “Aren’t you just a little curious, Euthen?”
“I guess,” Euthen agreed, placing the remote down and observing. Taking a swig from his second bottle of beer, Crogy was surprised to taste something a little different than he remembered. He glanced at the bottle, confirming that it was the same booze as before. Not cheap, but not too expensive, perfect for a meetup with an old friend. Well, Euthen wasn’t that old--they had only just passed thirty after all!
“I’m glad we found this,” Euthen grunted in a sturdier voice.
“Ditto,” Crogy replied with the same depth and gruff tone. Relaxing in his seat, Crogy felt a low grumble in his stomach as he took another gulp of the beer. Being too focused on the plays of his own team distracted him from his thickening gut. As the years of exercise in the gym disappeared, so did his slim figure, replacing itself with a muscle gut of a true alpha man. Crogy’s thickening pectorals and lengthening deltoids were formed by hard, manual labor to maintain his house. Mowing, trimming, and maintaining the exterior of his home became his primary source of exercise, creating a juicy pair of pecs and a solid muscle gut. Even his shirt adapted, changing from his old college gear to a cheap navy tee.
“Just throw the ball!” Euthen shouted at the screen, furious that his team had messed up. He stomped down a leg in anger, stealing Crogy’s attention from the game. Wasn’t Euthen overacting a bit? It was only a game after all. Crogy also could’ve sworn that his friend had been wearing sweatpants before, but Euthen’s tan khakis said otherwise. Crogy, deciding not to dwell more on the subject, turned back to the game just in time to see one of his players ushered off the field.
“Come on, Ref! Let ‘em play,” Crogy yelled, abruptly becoming enraged when he knew his team was innocent. He ferociously stomped his foot into the ground, sending an energy wave throughout his legs. Crogy was furious with the referee’s seemingly unfair decision. His team had done nothing wrong, it was just a faulty play! Crogy hated that there were more and more pansies these days, all soft and careful. It was only a game after all.
Regaining himself and focusing back on the game, Crogy’s legs began to softly stretch. As their length had already been diminished greatly, the only way to grow was out. First, his thighs fattened as they became dense with beefy muscles. Thin calves and quadriceps disappeared behind the new layers of meat, becoming the perfect diamond shape underneath Crogy’s expanding pants. Two massive bubbles suddenly pushed Crogy up from his couch cushion as a decent bubble butt began to form, created by many hours spent working in the garage. As a final touch, his skin grew sun-kissed as a healthy layer of hair was slathered across his legs, highlighting his bulkier lower body.
As Crogy’s pants shifted from sweats to a pair of straight jeans, the live footage suddenly came to a halt, switching over to a commercial break. Knowing they’d have a few minutes, the pair decided to continue catching up.
“So,” Crogy began. “You were talking about how it’s been difficult balancing between work and Jan?”
“Yeah, I mean we’ve been married for ten years now and she still wants the same kind of attention I used to give her,” Euthen grumbled, patting his stomach as he finished his second beer.
“Doesn’t she know that being a vice marketing manager keeps me busy? We aren’t in our twenties anymore--in fact we’re almost not in our thirties!” They both laughed heartily at that, stretching Crogy’s vocal chords as his voice reached new depths.
“Well, Eughen, women are needier than us men.”
“No kidding, Croig! I don’t know how you can manage it, being an assistant production manager with three kids! You and Linny must be exhausted!”
“You have no idea.”
Before the two could continue, the game had popped back on, ending the small talk. Croig tapped his feet excitedly, the bouncing causing his soles to gradually expand. Taking their time, Croig’s feet casually pushed at the seams of his socks, causing them to grow too as they became a simple, worn-out shade of white. The arches and heels stretched sideways, making room for the increasing amount of meat which forced Croig’s shoes to always have wider widths. His toes also became chunkier as blond coatings of hair covered the tops of his skin, adding to the developing sour funk. After almost a minute of tapping, Croig leapt up into the air with elation as his team scored a touchdown, commencing a stop to his growth. He sat back down on the couch and smirked at Eughen, setting his beefy Size 14 feet comfortably on the coffee table.
Croig and Eughen watched attentively as the game rushed into its final minutes, getting closer and closer to the end. Croig himself felt eager to see the finale, with his team almost 20 points in the lead. Focusing on the screen, he felt his jaw crack as it subtly stretched downwards. Croig’s nose added some girth while his lips shrunk barely, allowing for larger, shinier teeth to be displayed. His prominent cheekbones sunk in as his cheeks filled in with a little fat, gained from his wife’s exceptional cooking. Finally, his eyes shifted from a dark brown to a lighter hazel, cementing his more soft, approachable look.
“Here we go,” Croig mumbled beneath his breath as they entered the last minute. Adrenaline filled his system as excitement began to boil inside. While his blood churned, so did his sem*n, expanding his balls as they began to droop from weight. Thick blond hairs erupted from the surface of his skin, causing a small itch inside his deteriorating boxer shorts. Croig was becoming so ecstatic that he even began to get a boner, but he was too concentrated to care. His hard 6-inch co*ck was barely above average, but as the seconds ticked away, it silently extended, stretching out to a whopping 8.5 inches. With a prominent bulge now pushing at the crotch of his jeans, Croig grabbed the remote in anticipation, turning up the volume so everyone could hear who would win. The timer ultimately came to a halt, announcing-
“Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! Told ya we’d win, Eugene!”
“Whatever, Craig, my team will always be better than yours!”
The two old frenemies began to bicker with each other, laughing and arguing over the game. Craig was almost euphoric over his team’s victory, as this win would definitely throw them into the playoffs. He’d have to see it in person; there was no way he would miss it. It would take some convincing from the wife, but 20 years of marriage had taught him what Linda liked. He’d have to get some time off work too, but it’d be simple. His boss Frank adored him, as the two easily hit it off when they first met. Craig had attended the same university Frank had, so they easily replaced the boss-employee relationship with something much more friendly. Craig was lucky to be the production manager for a guy like Frank.
“If you think your team is so good,” Eugene chimed in, breaking Craig’s train of thought. “Then why don’t you show me with your own skill?”
“Oh, so that’s how you want to play it, huh?”
“We still got some daylight left. Just us two 43-year-olds in the backyard, tossing around the old pigskin.”
Eugene got off the couch, and, noticing Craig didn’t seem totally interested, decided to push buttons again. Being friends for over 40 years, Eugene knew what would push the other man’s buttons.
“By the speed you're going at it looks like my team will have an automatic win. Sorry, old man.”
Craig smiled with a mixture of pride, arrogance, and competition, turning off the television and grabbing a football he didn’t realize had just materialized behind the couch.
“You wanna go?” Craig taunted, ready to chuck the football. “I’ll smoke you like we did just five minutes ago!”
— —
Frank waltzed out of his office as the day came to an end, almost bounding with excitement over what would come tomorrow. Every intern had been given the experimental detergents, and from what his nephew Mark had told him, the results would be jaw-dropping. When he was coming up for an idea, he’d remembered having a discussion with his brother’s youngest son, with Mark convincing him to invest in some up-and-coming company. Apparently, the scents they’d create help reshape men into their ideal form. Mark’sHeirhad proved tremendously successful, so Frank had decided to take a similar route with hisMaturitatem. The only difference between the two was their purpose, with Mark’s only scent to make jocks and Frank’s three to age men up.
Frank, chuckling to himself over his brilliant plan, almost didn’t notice the intern still typing away at his desk. Frank checked his watch to see that it was 8:00 pm, about two hours past when everyone else had left the building. Confused and curious, the older man strolled over to the hunched over employee.
“Excuse me?” he began, patting on the other man’s shoulder. “What could you possibly be working on this late?”
“Hmm?” Ryan grunted, twisting in his chair to see the CEO watching him intently. “Oh, sir! I-I’m sorry! I just wa-wanted to finish something, an-and it looks like I-I lost track of time.” Ryan grimaced at his own stuttering, unintentionally making himself more nervous in front of his superior.
“I’m sorry,” Frank laughed, calming Ryan’s nerves. “I’ve just never seen such dedication from an intern.”
“Thank you?”
“What’s the name, son?”
“Ryan,” he replied, extending a hand as he stood up, almost a full foot shorter than his boss. “Ryan Scherber.”
“Nice to meet you,” Frank responded as he shook the hand warmly. “You were the intern who helped me out at the investors’ meeting, right?”
“Yeah, sorry about tha-”
“Oh no, don’t apologize!” Frank chuckled. “I’m thanking you, you really saved me from further embarrassment back there.”
“Oh,” Ryan quivered. “I guess it was no problem.”
“Well, I ought to head out back to the wife, she’s gonna be mad if I’m home late again. Do you want to walk out with me?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m so close to finishing. Probably only ten minutes more.”
“Understood,” Frank responded. “Well then, enjoy your evening.”
“You too.”
Frank was about to depart, but before he could continue, he noticed the glimmer of a shiny detergent can in Ryan’s bag. Making sure the intern wasn't looking, he nonchalantly switched out the can with an extra from his own bag. Frank then proceeded to scuttle to the elevator, glancing at what he’d taken as soon as the doors shut. He’d made a good choice, exchanging his own for the scent that created the stricter men. When they’d handed out the detergents, it had been completely random, but Frank felt like this kid needed something special. Maybe he should’ve given him the suburban scent, but the longer he dwelled on it, the more convinced he was that he’d make the right choice. He’d know for sure by tomorrow.
Ryan powered down his laptop and gathered his things silently, quickly grabbing his belongings before heading out. He had definitely stayed way too late; losing track of time at work had started to become a habit. He rushed to his car and sped home, almost passing out on the way from pure exhaustion. After putting away his things and undressing himself, he collapsed into his bed, letting the airy mattress devour him. He closed his eyes without any further thought, falling asleep almost im-
“What is that smell?” Ryan whispered to himself, hoisting himself out of bed. He was just about to doze off when a sudden funk had invaded his nostrils. Delicately exploring his room in the dark, Ryan was surprised to find the nasty odor coming from his dress shoes. Apparently his Size 8 feet had been rather sweaty throughout the day. Not knowing what else to use, Ryan desperately snatched the detergent can he had gotten from work, noting a flash of silver letters on the side of the object readingDux Maturitatem. Spraying the contents of the can heavily inside his soles, he was surprised to feel the lid tense up in a matter of seconds. Apparently, he had used all its juice in one go. He tossed the can aside and fell back into his bed, nodding off as soon as the foot funk disappeared.
As Ryan snored peacefully away, the detergent slowly performed its magic, filling the small room with the smell of old scotch. At first, it didn’t bother the sleeping man, but he slowly awoke as the scent became more intense. Rubbing his eyes groggily as he arose, he turned to his alarm clock lazily, sad to see that the time hadn’t even reached eleven. Ryan slowly pushed himself up as he took a timid sniff of the air, surprised at the stench that had flooded his room.
Lying back down, he decided to accept his fate and try to fall back asleep. While he waited, he didn’t recognize the feeling of his body slowly stretch out, pushing his legs closer to the edge of the cover. Originally at 5’7, Ryan was definitely shorter than most men, but as his lower limbs and torso stretched out, he unknowingly made his way past average. Bones cracked and tendons snapped as he was painlessly pulled to the edge of the bed. After a little while, his body came to a halt, plopping his small feet off the edge of the bed frame as Ryan reached a more suitable height of 6’1.
Ryan curled himself up as his eyes began to droop once more, subconsciously tucking into a ball so he could fit more comfortably on his bed. Scrunching his legs allowed for more powerful muscles to appear, expanding with meat as his scrawny figure was replaced with bulk. Thick calves slowly enveloped his lower half while meaty thighs and quads developed above. Powerful knees created after hundreds of squats steadied the growing bubble butt in the back, acting as stabilizers for the two hard balls of flesh. Finally, a thick coat of black hair slowly grew in, replacing the barely lighter brown as his skin grew older and weathered.
Ryan laid there hesitantly, as falling asleep seemed to be becoming a harder task than expected. Having nothing else to do, he guided his hands over to the bedside table to grab his phone. His thin, lanky fingers pulsed gently as he reached, elongating as they thickened. Hard palms developed from his rather malleable skin as the tiniest of calluses surfaced. His nails widened while noticeable coverings of raven hair appeared on the mitts and sausages Ryan now called his hands.
Ryan tapped the home button to open his phone, checking to see if there were any worthwhile notifications. Other than work emails and prompts from his calendar, he was surprised to see a text from a number he didn’t recognize. Apparently, the mysterious person had known him, telling Ryan to call him as soon as possible. With nothing else to do, Ryan called the number, believing it would be some prank.
“Hello?”
“Ryman! Glad you decided to call back.”
“Oh yeah, I was-”
“Doesn’t matter,” the man interrupted. “I didn’t mean to call this late but I need you to finish my report tomorrow on productivity analysis--think you can do it?”
“Uh…” Ryman was hopelessly confused.
“Do it for your old friend Craig, won’cha? Come on, we go way back.”
“Ok, yeah sure I can do it, but you owe me one.”
“Sounds good, man, see you tomorrow then?”
“I guess…”
“Alright, bye!”
“Bye.”
Ryman decided to keep looking through his phone, bewildered at the exchange he had just taken part in. What had he just signed himself up for, and who was Craig? Maybe it was a new intern that he hadn’t memorized the name of yet. Ryman remembered how hard it had been when he’d been an intern a few years ago. Luckily, he’d been moving up pretty quickly.
Reminiscing the past few years had allowed for Ryman’s arms to gingerly throb. The mildly-built appendages bloated with muscle as thick layers of flesh piled on. Previously thin forearms grew outwards as moderately-developed biceps and triceps expanded, gaining girth as they formed outlines underneath Ryman’s cheap pajama shirt. Strong deltoids released his ligaments as his skin became slightly older, tightening to gain a more beaten texture. Finally, a dense covering of the familiar black hair splattered itself along his arms, more prominent than most men’s as it covered every open spot.
With the scotch smell becoming less and less noticeable every second, Ryman didn’t notice the time passing as he clicked away at his phone. Ryman’s breathsbecame longer and fuller, allowing for more of the detergent to flood his system. His torso responded positively to this, swelling as his skinny-guy abs pushed more prominently into a masculine muscle gut. Hardening layers of tissue swallowed his core up as his body pushed at the seemingly shrinking shirt. Broadening pecs helped rip the fabric apart, moving him into the extra-large category as his pajama top rematerialized upon him. The stitching tickled the blossoming hairs as they sprouted from Ryman’s skin like weeds, the salt and pepper coloring surrounding his entire chest and back. Even his armpits were filled with lush amounts of hair as they became to produce hefty amounts of musk.
“Hello, Rymand, are you still up?”
An odd, grammatically-correct sentence appeared in Rymand’s message center, prompting him to investigate. Apparently, someone named “Joseph” was trying to contact him. Still waiting for sleep as the clock passed midnight, he decided to respond.
“Yeah.”
“Good. I was wondering when we could have a meeting about one of our top employees tomorrow, apparently Frank is trying to fire him without any major coverage.”
Not knowing how to respond, Rymand decided to play along, hoping these weird interactions would end soon.
“Sure thing. I’m busy almost the entire morning, but if you want we can meet at 7 for coffee. Same place as usual?”
“Sounds good, I can work with that.”
“Alright then, I’m gonna head to bed then.”
“Bed? I thought you were a night owl. For an older man, you tend to stay up later than most of us.”
Rymand’s brow creased inwards as he read the text. How did this Joseph guy know so much about him, and why did that name sound so familiar. Sure, Rymand had just turned 40, but he wouldn’t call that “old” by any means. And he had to admit he was going to be fairly early, he really only needed 4 hours of sleep tops. A cup of coffee would help him through the day.
Finishing off his conversation with Joseph, who he was beginning to remember as one of his favorite colleagues over the past 20 years, his neck slowly began to expand. A widening tunnel made room for his trachea and voice box, which were blowing up as his voice dropped multiple octaves. The light tenor grunted as his pitch gained a much gruffer, grittier tone, dropping below baritone to reach a frightening bass. His head began to adapt too, stretching out his jaw as it became a more uniform lantern shape. Lips developed softer, cushier edges while his eyebrows thinned into a more tame shape. Cheeks became fuller from many years of good dieting while lines of wrinkles rapidly pushed back his hairline, nothing to be ashamed of but noticeably receded. With a thicker nose and eyes a shade of cold steel, the only thing left was Rymand’s hair, which adopted the familiar salt-and-pepper coloring. The hair tossed itself in a different style as his beard and mustache grew furrier, now a trimmed stubble rather than a hipster’s shadow.
Rymand ultimately decided to put down his phone in hopes of falling asleep, dropping his phone back onto his bedside table. Rolling around to get comfortable, he didn’t notice the feeling of his feet stretching and widening off the end of his bed. His once tiny feet ballooned in multiple directions as they grew long and thick. The soles became meaty as each toe flattened like miniature pancakes. Thick, black hairs erupted across the skin, giving an almost carpet-like texture to the tops of his feet. Even his already noticeable funk evolved into something much worse as the musk filled the room, erasing the smell of the detergent almost completely. As the swelling came to a finish, it left two gargantuan Size 16 feet drooping off the end of Rymand’s bed.
In minutes of leaving his phone, Rymand had peacefully entered a deep sleep. Twisting and turning in his bed, he moaned excessively as he dreamed of younger women. His pouch responded to this appropriately. His testicl*s went first, expanding in his sac as they filled with much more sem*n than before. As they thickened, so did his previously 4-inch co*ck, which shook with determination as it surged upwards. Unit after unit, it quickly made its ascent, reaching for the ceiling as it now proudly stood at 9.5 inches hard. His dick also added girth as his trimmed bush became wild and messy, adopting the same black color as most of his body hair. With a final grunt, he came all over his sheets and pajama bottoms, spurting loads of cum everywhere.
— —
Waking up at 5:30 AM every morning had become easier for Raymond, but the 55-year-old still struggled every now and then. Working as the new CFO of the TenHaken Industries had proved to be a little more difficult than expected, but as Raymond peeled away the sticky sheets, he knew he’d made the right career choice. Sure, long days were a struggle, but at least he had his best friend as his boss and a plethora of colleagues who understood him.
After a cold shower, his first cup of coffee, checking his emails, and a second cup of coffee, Raymond was ready to head off to work. Dressed in a grayish-blue suit that really pulled off his excellent figure, he confidently strutted down the streets of the city as he made his way to the coffee house. It only took him minutes to get there, and he wasn’t at all surprised to see Joseph standing outside waiting for him. When Raymond had said seven, he’d really meant 15 minutes before that. The two were always early to everything, and that’s what made them a great team.
“Have a nice night?” Joseph greeted.
“Yeah,” Raymond grunted.“Some dirty sheets but otherwise pretty easy.”
“Alright, then let’s talk about-”
“Ah, hold on a sec. What do I always say?”
Raymond smirked as he put two fingers to his temples, signalling Joseph to think hard about his answer.
“Nothing professional before coffee?”
“Nothing professional before coffee.”
They smiled as they entered the shop, both ready for another intense day of work before the weekend.
