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Self Portrait Written by Leo_Todrius Commissioned by Velianaris

There was a unique smell to a school's art department, especially an old one, that couldn't be found anywhere else. The smell of chalk, clay, paint, and varnish hung in the air long after the projects had been completed. It was the scent of creativity, legacy, independence and individual expression. It was easier to manage in the old art room since it hadn't been updated in many years, still filled with ancient desks and old corkboard shelves, but in its own way it gave the art department more charm than any of the newer parts of the school.

"So we're coming up on the end of the year, and it's time for the final pieces for your portfolio." The instructor said, leaning against the board at the front of the room, wearing his smock over his sweater vest, his graying hair pulled back into a ponytail, "In your chosen style, you will create a detailed self portrait. I want you to capture yourselves in this, to bring out your essence... and then in the same style, you will create another piece projecting what you will look like in ten to twenty years." the professor said.

Some of the students were excited, others daunted. Off to one side of the room, one student was caught in the middle. Ollie was eighteen, his shaggy dark brown hair left loose like a mane, brown sideburns running down his cheeks to a little below his ears. His green t-shirt was well worn and his jeans had holes in the knees.

Ollie didn't feel like the fastest artist. He had some appreciable skill, this was his sixth art class and he was hoping to take some good art classes at college even if it wasn't going to be his major. In another world, maybe... He loved art, but it didn't make a good career. He sighed a little, but focused back on the task at hand. Two large size sketches, though, were going to take a bit of doing. He hoped he'd be able to fit it in despite his job and his home life.

"And that'll be it for today. I'll see you all on Monday. Remember, sometimes it is the mistakes that can bring us the best innovation!" The teacher called out as the students gathered upp their things. Ollie zipped up his bag and slung it over one shoulder as he stood, moving through the classroom, feeling a little bit of the weight of it being the end of the year. He nodded to his teacher and turned, moving out of the classroom and down the stairs.

Ollie stepped out of the remote building into the parking lot, heading back toward the main part of the school, looking around at the other kids. His school had a fair mix of street kids, thugs, nerds, geeks, creative types. He'd always sort of walked the line in the middle, though he had wished he'd been a bit more bold, stood out a bit more. Ollie shook his head, chasing those feelings down. Just a few more classes and it would be time for the weekend.

****

The sound of a key working the lock echoed in the house, the teeth turning the tumblers until at last the big latch released and the door opened. Ollie stepped into the house, swinging his bag off his shoulder, dropping it down to the floor by the end of the couch. He passed the living room, stepped into the kitchen and then nearly jumped when he realized there was someone standing there, in the dark, drinking from the milk carton. It only took a second for him to register that it was his older brother.

"Dodge, what the fuck are you doing in the dark?" Ollie asked. His brother looked up, setting the milk jug down. He looked a lot like Ollie, though his hair was cut short and his face was covered in a short kept brownish black beard.

"Getting some breakfast..." His brother replied, reaching up to rub the scruff that covered his cheeks. Ollie crossed his arms.

"That's just milk." Ollie stated.

"I already had the cereal."

"Bro, you are a sociopath, do you know that?" Ollie asked, his brows furrowed. Dodge smirked, moving to flick on the light and sit down at the kitchen island.

"How was school? Learn anything new?" Dodge asked. Ollie opened the fridge and rummaged around before coming out with a protein drink, grabbing a stool next to his brother.

"Well, most of it was pretty boring. If I have to take another internet quiz for health class I'm gonna die... but art class was interesting. We got our final art assignment, a self portrait and a self portrait of what you'll be like in ten years." Ollie said. His brother sat up a little.

"Last project already? That's... Time sure flies." Dodge said, "If it's your last, you better make it something special." He said, slipping off the stool, moving over to the duffel bag on the counter by the garage door. He rummaged through the contents before he pulled out an old, thick cardboard box with a variety of pencils inside. The box was black with grey highlights, emblazoned with the name Dorian on the front. The pencils were thicker than most, easy to get a good grip on. The first several were just shades of black and grey, but the end had several muted shades of blue, red, purple and yellow. Dodge brought the box over and offered it to his brother.

"What're these?" Ollie asked in surprise.

"I was going to give them to you as a graduation present, but I thought you might need them more now. They're really old, they say some of the best artists used them before the company went under." Dodge said.

"You found these at work?" Ollie asked dubiously.

"Yeah, I mean, they were buried in the back. Probably been there for decades. You know how those old shops can be. But the boss said it was fine if I took 'em. And I know how much you enjoy your art." Dodge smiled. Ollie smiled, although he looked a little deflated.

"Now I feel bad for calling you a sociopath." Ollie said. Dodge smirked at that.

"Serves you right dude. But I better get a shower before work." Dodge said, clapping Ollie around the shoulders with his arm one last time before he headed toward the back of the house. Ollie watched him go before looking back at the art supplies.

****

Ollie yawned a little as he moved into his childhood bedroom, carrying the box of pencils in his right hand. He moved over to the art table set up next to his desk, the slanted surface ideal for illustration. He looked around and grabbed an art pad that was big enough for the assignment and set it down, running a hand over the paper. It was thicker than most, with a little bit of roughness, almost like papyrus.

The eighteen year old settled down on the seat, ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair and then began opening the old box of pencils. The cardboard was old and thicker than modern boxes, feeling stiff and sturdy and yet fragile with its age. His fingers popped the seals at the corners and opened it up, seeing the perfect tips of the pencils all in a row. He reached down to touch one, feeling an almost electric thrill as he felt the soft, clay like graphite tip.

These were designer pencils, the cream of the crop, the expensive stuff. Ollie grinned wider at that, running his finger down to the third and then fourth pencil. He pulled it out, feeling the waxy black and grey wrapping on the base before he turned to the paper. With a soft breath to steel himself, he moved his hand to the upper right corner.

'Oliver Sykes, Self Portrait.' The graphite practically oozed out of the pencil, sinking into the paper, almost shimmering with silver light as it was written. Ollie stood up and grabbed one of his senior portraits off the wall, bringing it down closer to the pad. In the picture it was him leaning against a tree in the park, a three quarters turn, looking stoic and cool. That would work fine.

The pencil came down again, this time blocking out the pose. Ollie worked very lightly, tracing a few ovals onto the page, giving a cross structure so he could work out the spacing on the face. He moved lower, sketching out the shape that would become the body, then erasing it and trying again. Little by little he was putting his skills to the test, combining everything he had learned over the year. With each line he added, the more confident he felt about how it was going to turn out.

****

A pale blue morning light filtered through the curtain, ruffling slightly in the breeze. Ollie had left his window open overnight so he could cool down and have some fresh air. He'd stayed up way too late working on his self-portrait, but he was rather proud of how it turned out. There he was, right on the page; shaggy hair, longer than normal sideburns, the true shape of his jaw, his moderate chest and torso, everything about him. It was perfect, but it had taken way too long.

Ollie looked up at the clock, thinking about how much time he had left before he had to go to work. It wasn't going to be enough to complete a second piece from scratch. He had to be innovative. The teenager slipped out of bed and moved over to his printer, lifting the lid to slide his self portrait onto the scanner. He lowered the lid and grabbed a spare bit of the art paper from a second pad and carefully fed it into the back of the printer.

Without even bothering to sit down, Ollie woke the computer up from its sleep, fiddled with the scanner and the printer settings, and set it to work copying the piece. Before long the print head started humming to life, the rollers pulling the parchment like paper down through, adding pixel after pixel of replicated art. The printer hummed as the finished piece rolled out.

There was a bit of trepidation, but how else could Ollie proceed? He had to be at work in four hours, and getting the basic shape had been the hard part. His eyes scoured the scanned copy. Thankfully the paper was forgiving. It's rougher texture made it easier to hide that it was a copy. He nodded a bit and opened up the top of the printer again, retrieving his original self portrait. He moved back to the bed and sat down with it, pulling out one of the old, waxy pencils.

He ran the black and gray wrapped tube around in his hand as he thought about how to proceed. The second assignment was to draw himself as he might look in ten years or more. He'd have been to college and then gotten out... Probably found a better job, one that wasn't so restrictive on everything like facial hair. Ollie grinned a bit, bringing the pencil back down to the paper.

He started with a few light strokes, the soft clay like graphite sweeping out from the already established sideburn in the picture. Ollie worked it down longer and longer until it reached his jaw, and then went back to make it thicker, even adding a little bit of a wisp to the back of his jaw. He grinned, liking the way he looked. It was almost like some strange sense of wish fulfillment to see himself changed, altered, improved. His heart was racing and blood was making its way to his groin.

Ollie huffed a little, liking the way he felt. Maybe that's what the piece was supposed to be about; not just a guess as to what he'd look like, but what he hoped to look like. He'd be able to shape himself after college, living on his own, trying to be the kind of man he wanted to be. He could go to the gym, work on himself, set aside time. Ollie gripped the pencil tighter in his hand and brought it back down.

With a quick erase to some of the lines already there, Ollie started to re-shape his arms. He bulked out his biceps and triceps, drawing the shirt tighter on his arm. He added little lines to express the strain on the cloth, and that's when he got another idea. He grinned a little, bringing the pencil down to the groin of his self portrait. With careful curves and a bit of shading, he made it clear that the jeans were tight, and they were showing off all the goods, including a bit of a bulge... but a bit wasn't enough.

Once more he used his eraser, refining and trying again, bringing the curve out, taking up more room. He pulled back a little, not sure if it was completely appropriate for school, but the way it looked? It was just too good - but it didn't look that far from were he was now. Ollie considered and then brought the pencil back down to the paper. Once more the soft graphite spilled out onto the paper, sinking in as Ollie sketched out more curves, more shapes, adding a high ponytail to the back of his head. He loved his hair, but he'd always wanted a bit more of it.

A smile crossed Ollie's lips as he worked, seeing it all come together. It was surreal and gratifying to be able to just change himself like this on paper. He was so glad he was able to pick up where he left off. He just hoped that his professor wouldn't be too mad that he just copied the first draft rather than starting fresh. Still, a C was better than an F if he failed to present two works. Ollie kept going, adding detail after detail, only glancing up at the clock as time slipped by, counting down the moments until he had to go to work.

****

The old junker car pulled up into the back of the lot, squeezing in between the dumpsters and the cement wall that blocked the noise from the restaurant from leaking into the suburban neighborhood behind. Ollie opened the door and tried to get out, though his seatbelt still hug on to him. He peeled it off his chest and sprung free, feeling a bit more claustrophobic than usual. The teenager tried to pull at the collar of his black polo shirt, feeling how tight it was on his chest and arms. Maybe it had shrunk in the dryer.

Ollie fished behind his seat for his visor hat and slipped it on, slamming the door to his car and sprinting across the parking lot. He slipped through the glass and steel double doors, rounded the counter and made it back to the time clock just in time to punch in. His employee numbers chirped as they were accepted just before the clock rolled over to the next minute. Ollie sighed with relief, grabbing his nametag and sticking it on before he moved up to the cash register. The twenty four year old red head standing there had a bit of a smirk on his face.

"Cutting it a little close, aren't ya bud?" he asked. Ollie nodded.

"Closer than I wanted... Weird day, but I'm here now. The closing shift will be fine." Ollie said. The red head nodded, logging out of the register before he looked up.

"You been working out?" he asked. Ollie's brow furrowed a bit.

"No, why?" He asked. The redhead shrugged.

"I don't know, just thought you looked good." He said before moving to clock out. Ollie turned his head and watched his co-worker go, feeling a little flutter at the compliment, then a bit of shame at not receiving it better. Still, he'd made it in on time, he'd more or less finished his homework, things were looking up. Ollie ran his fingers over the touch screen of the register, entering his code. The splash screen disappeared and for a moment it went black, giving Ollie a brief glimpse of himself - a self that wasn't quite the way he remembered.

Ollie's eyes widened, but the register logged in, showing all of the point of sale buttons he'd need to ring up everyone's hamburgers and hot dogs. Still, the flash had been shocking. Ollie reached up slowly to the back of his head, tucked above the visor, finding a short ponytail of shaggy hair tied back. His hand traveled down the side of his head, grazing his ear before he ran his fingers into his thick, bushy sideburns, tracing them down... and down... and down, all the way to his jaw bone, feeling how thick it was at the back, sticking out with extra volume.

Once more blood rushed to Ollie's groin, but this time it was a mixture of shock and amazement. He swallowed a bit and looked down, staring at the huge bulge in his jeans. The black denim could barely contain it, rounded out before him as if he'd stuffed it full of half of his sock drawer. Ollie's heart skipped a beat, his skin felt cool and clammy. He stepped away from the register and moved over to the shake machine, using the stainless steel to get a better reflection of himself, proving that what he thought was true.

Staring back at him was not the reflection of the young man he was used to being. It was the reflection of the altered self portrait he had created; bushy mutton chops, longer hair, bigger muscles, and a bulge... His drawing, the changes he had made to his self portrait had changed his real self. Ollie reached up with both hands, fondling his sideburns, feeling how dense and thick and manly they were before he grinned even wider. If this was real, if this really worked, then the possibilities... were endless. Ollie took a breath, starting to wonder if there was any way he could call out sick. Worst case scenario, he'd have to put in six hours of work, but that wouldn't be entirely bad. It'd give him time to think up what strange and amazing alterations he could make for himself.

****

A creamy orange flow filled the streets from the streetlights as Ollie pulled his car into the driveway. He peeled himself out of the car, finding it far too confining, stretching once he was out. He looked around, taking in the quiet. The other houses were dark, their families having gone to sleep already. Dodge was at work and would be for another couple hours, and his dad was at another conference.

Ollie barely managed to shut the door to his car, anticipating what he was going to do first. He stepped into the house, locked the door behind him, moved down the hallway and opened his room. With a deft flick of his hand, he snapped the light on and looked right at the pad resting on his art table, the altered self portrait sitting dead center. The detailing was good, he had caught the wisps of hair on his cheeks, the flow of his ponytail. It was beautiful, it was wonderful, but it seemed so simple now...

The assignment had been to project how he would look later in life. The changes he made? That had to be about one year of growth. A little more head hair, some chops... But it wasn't as far as he could go. What if he spent ten years improving himself, guiding himself into being an amazing man? Ten years of working out, of grooming, of refinements. Ollie reached down and groped his ample bulge as he sat down on the stool, cracked his knuckles, and got ready to work.

Once more he reached for the box of Dorian pencils, opened the lid and took a sniff of the smell of wood, graphite, old glue and something faintly spicy. The artist ran his fingers over the pencil tips, selecting a harder, darker pencil. The next phase of changes were going to be bold - literally and figuratively. Ollie shook out the stress from his shoulders, held the pencil in his hand, bit his lip, and then started to sketch.

Ollie focused carefully, hearing the crickets outside as he drew. It was a delicate balance that had to be kept, drawing things larger, adding size without making it look strange. He followed the old lines as a guide, keeping a similar shape before he started to erase the inner lines. He curved out the slope of his neck, broadened the shoulders, sloped the ribs... but it wasn't quite right.

After another moment of consideration, Ollie erased the lines depicting the polo on his self portrait. He added lines for his pectorals, then abs, shading a little to really add definition. He grinned wider, liking the way it was looking. Switching out to a lighter pencil, Ollie shaded the chest to add a spread of hair, then switched back to the darker one to add some peeking out from where his arms rested against his torso. He'd always liked the idea of being hairier, like a real man.

Seeing how well the upper body had gone, it became painfully obvious that the lower body was missing out. Once again Ollie used the original lines as a guide, scaling up carefully. He added width and length to his legs, bringing them down more and more until he tapered off to his feet - those too enlarged to support the increased weight. Then came the erasing, taking away the lines of his pants, of the ripped jeans, of the belt, erasing from border to border until he paused.

Ollie looked around before he grabbed the small mirror he had on his nightstand and set it before himself. He stepped back and unbuttoned his pants, letting them fall before he went for his underwear next. The white fabric strained off of his erection, letting his thick meat spring free. It wobbled under its increased weight and Ollie gave it a few good strokes. He'd been groping himself off and on at work, but this was the first chance he had to really give himself attention... but this wasn't the time.

There was no telling how long it took for the changes to kick in, and he wasn't done yet. What he needed was a reference. Ollie looked at his knee, his calves, the way his muscles were shaped. He sat back down at his art station and drew in the lines to his larger legs, making sure he was as accurate as possible. Once more he switched to the lighter pencil to add a dusting of hair, and then leaned back.

Future Ollie had an amazing body, robust muscles, a large frame, hairy and masculine... but his face seemed almost too immature. It needed... more. Ollie switched to something half way between the hardness levels he'd been using, testing it out along his self portrait's jaw line. What had been monster mutton chops stretched down his jaw, creeping to his chin before he closed it off. Ollie liked it, but it wasn't enough. He sketched in a mustache, connected it up... but it still wasn't enough. He swept the pencil down, light rapid strokes, following the length of his jaw... but still, it wasn't enough.

Ollie worked the pencil down further and further, adding on inch after inch of beard, letting it creep down more and more until he gasped suddenly. His arms were throbbing, his shoulders pulsing. Ollie moaned, the pencil falling from his hand, hitting the table and dropping to the floor. Ollie looked at his arm as it actually started to stretch before his eyes. It grew out longer, inch by inch. The skin got tougher, the bicep thickened, his shoulder felt heavier, denser, meatier... and it was further out from his neck.

The teenager stood up slowly, flexing his arm before looking at the other, watching it grow as well. His shoulders pushed out from his spine, adding on several inches in width. He felt the soft fat melting away from his ribs, showing off what was beneath a bit better before muscle swept in. Even his flat chest was rounding as his pectorals pushed out, bloating slowly. Ollie lifted his arm and looked underneath as thick, long brownish black hairs started to emerge, pushing out from the skin, coming in a soft pelt that stretched out to cover more and more.

Tiny, soft wisps of hair grew out across his forearm, thickening as it moved toward his shoulder, giving him a good coating. Even Ollie's knuckles had tiny spots of hair growing out. Ollie moved in front of his mirror, but he had to get a better show. He left his bedroom behind and stepped into the bathroom, flicking the light on. Already it was impressive how much he'd grown. He looked like a wrestler, maybe even a football player. His soft stomach got tight, toughening up before abdominal muscles slowly stretched out of the skin. Thick hairs pushed out between his pecs, spreading across in a soft downy fuzz covering.

The fuzz stretched down between his pecs like a river navigating a valley, surrounding his navel, dipping down before it fanned out across his lap, connecting to his bush. Ollie ran his hands up and down his chest, feeling the fuzz. His cock was wobbling with his pulse, throbbing with need, and he could deny it no longer.

Ollie wrapped his larger, hairy hand around his cock and started to stroke it, sliding his hand up and down, faster and harder. He was cut, but he'd jerked off enough times over the years that his skin had a great give, slipping up over the head of his shaft, slipping back and forth, enveloping it. Ollie moaned harder, surprised as it changed pitch, dropping a little. He opened his eyes to watch the bathroom counter getting farther away as he crept up, centimeter by centimeter.

The teenager's feet stretched longer, swelling wider, the heel expanding. His toes wriggled as his calves thickened, his legs lengthened, and his spine extended. Each vertebrae seemed to grow larger to compensate for the changing size. Even his ribs pushed apart a little to make more room. Ollie kept jacking off, panting as hair thickened on his legs. He turned one way and then the other, admiring himself in the mirror, grinning as he flexed to show off his new muscles, turning to look over his huge shoulders. His back was shredded in just the right ways.

As Ollie turned back, he caught sight of the change he was perhaps most looking forward to. Little by little, new dark hairs were growing out along his jaw line. They snaked their way down, advancing little by little. Ollie lifted his free hand, cupping his thick mutton chop before his fingers traced the growing hair, feeling it come in. The two lines met on the tip of his chin, the hair thickening, getting darker before his upper lip tingled. The hair that emerged first was soft but dark, though it was getting tougher and thicker by the second.

His mustache grew out, slowly dipping down over his upper lip before a throbbing filled Ollie's face, making him moan, feeling almost as if he was going numb. The hair that had grown out at a modest pace started to extrude from his skin, unspooling and growing in surges. It pushed out with an intensity, a drive, a need. Ollie watched his well kept beard become shaggy, then wild, then robust. It pushed past three inches, six, nine. It dipped down past his Adam's apple, the beard growing out longer and thicker, getting bushier. It caressed his collar bone before it finally slowed, dropping nearly all of the way to his nipples.

Without even fully being able to take it all in, Ollie came hard. Thick jets of cum erupted from his cock, splattering across the bathroom counter. He grunted - a grunt far deeper than he'd ever managed before. He gazed at the mirror, in love with his reflection. He had to be at least six foot five, and his beard would be the envy of many. His muscles were huge, but... there was still so much more to do. He knew how long it took his sketch to come true, but this wasn't just a gift he wanted to use on himself. He had to share the love... to make real something he barely even fantasized over the years.

****

To say that life had not gone quite as Dodge had expected would have been an understatement. Working in a junk yard, let alone overnight, was far from glamorous. Still, there was some promise in it all. The owner of the Junk Yard and the shop had taken to Dodge like a son, and it was looking pretty clear that in the coming years he was going to inherit it all. Dodge moved across the yard, walking through the soupy fog glowing with orange light. He'd made it about half the way across when he started to feel a strange sensation sweeping across his body.

Dodge stumbled to a stop, groaning suddenly as his shirt felt... really, really tight. He looked down as the fabric strained and stretched and pulled. He heard pops, snaps, and then outright tears. His shirt split out down the back as thick, powerful shoulder muscles emerged. Dodge grunted and groaned as his shirt sleeves exploded next, his biceps and triceps inflating outward, expanding.

He panted hard, watching his arms lengthen and grow, his stomach tightening and hardening, rounding out slightly. There was so much muscle that his abs seemed to be built on a cement foundation, giving him a growing muscle gut. Dodge hissed as his pecs kept growing outward, wider, thicker. Even his nipples stretched, taking up more real estate, getting meaty and plump. He licked his lips a bit in uncertainty.

For a moment Dodge wondered if he'd slipped across any weird drugs. Had he touched something with residue? Was this a hallucination? He felt fine - no, he felt better than fine. He reached up, stripping the fragments of his shirt, tossing them aside before he felt another tingle, spreading across his face. At first he thought it was the wind blowing through his beard, but then it became something more. The pleasure was coming from his beard itself.

Dodge's short kept, scruffy beard was filling out. The patches where it was thin grew thick, the spots where it was thick grew thicker. New hair pushed up his cheek line, claiming new territory. His mustache pushed out down over his upper lip, making a thick curtain... and then it ramped up into overdrive. Dodge gasped again as his entire face throbbed, feeling alive and stimulated.

The hair started pushing outward, downward, forward. The hairs thickened, nearly double their original size. They were wiry, bushy, strong, and growing longer by the second. The beard pushed straight out from his cheeks, curved out forward from under his bottom lip, jutting out an inch, then two before it sloped downward. His beard was huge, and it was just starting. Dodge fell forward onto his knees, his hands rising up to grope and feel the huge heft of his beard as it just kept coming.

Dodge drooled a little, the saliva running out of the corner of his mouth, collecting in his voluminous hair and soaking it. The hairs kept extruding out of his face, coming in inch after inch. The mighty, massive growth stretched down past his collar bone, brushing his newly expanded pecs. It descended down further, slipping below his pectorals, sliding along his muscle gut before finally slowing a little. It threatened to obscure his crotch before it finally slowed to a stop, the throbbing in his face slowly dying back into a subtle tingle.

The junkyard was silent, not even the sound of a subtle breeze. The fog was masking it all. Dodge heaved breath in and out of his new, huge lungs before he grunted harder. Something in his pants started to squirm and move. He looked down, watching as his already hard cock started to stretch longer and thicker, trying to find its way out of his pants. It pushed down his leg, creeping toward his knee, but as it grew longer inch by inch, it was getting thicker too. The pants couldn't take it, but they were stronger than his shirt had been.

In desperation, Dodge fumbled with his pants. He managed to pop the button free and work the fly down before his newly huge and hairy hand dipped down in, fishing out his cock. As he pulled it out, the fat meat continued to grow more monstrous, stretching past ten inches to twelve, then fourteen, then eighteen. Dodge wrapped his hand around it, and as any male might do, started to masturbate furiously... but the cock kept growing, getting fatter, prying his hand open until it modestly wrapped around only half of the rod.

Dodge licked his lips and added a second hand on the other side. It was the only way to completely enclose his gargantuan tool. His hands rose up and dropped down in unison, working the huge rod as it grew larger. The veined, thick tool crept back up the length of his mighty beard, resting on the bushy hair. Dodge watched as it got closer, inch by inch, getting bigger and thicker. He could smell the musk, the manly spice. The urethra quivered, glistening with precum. Dodge opened his mouth just as the cock head reached his lips.

His head dropped down, bobbing up and down on the mammoth tool. His tongue slipped under the foreskin, sliding around, slurping up the flavor. He sucked and licked, his hands working his mighty member as best they could. He wobbled a little, realizing that the foundation beneath him, his knees and legs, were starting to change as well. His legs ached as they stretched out behind him, his boots growing tight. They hurt a little until he heard more popping, more snapping, and his boots split out. Newly enlarged feet spread out from the debris, his socks tearing out.

In moments Dodge had grown more than a foot in height, nearly two feet taller. He had packed on hundreds of pounds of muscle, not to mention his immense cock and his gigantic beard. Somewhere below his eager hands, he could feel his balls growing bigger and bigger as he thrust his hips up, sliding his cock back and forth in his hands and his hungry mouth. His sack swung with more mass as his balls grew to the size of oranges, then grapefruits, then bigger. Somewhere deep inside his prostate was changing, becoming more complex, his body shifting and changing and-

The golden moment caught Dodge by surprise. His balls tugged up, his huge cock pulsed with life, and the head inside his mouth erupted with incredibly thick, incredibly potent, incredibly musky cum. It filled his mouth in an instant, the cum pouring out around the cock lodged in his lips, but he started to gulp it down, taking down swallow after swallow. It coated his throat, it poured into his stomach, and still it kept coming.

As Dodge fed from himself, new hair started to blossom across his chest, his arms, his legs and his ass. His pale skin almost disappeared beneath the dusting of hair that now dominated his body. He was more than just a man now, he was something else, something more... and he was loving every second of it. He grinned, draining himself steadily. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but be excited by the idea of showing Ollie what he had become.

****

Ollie sat on his bed, feeling his heart pumping, adrenaline filling his veins. He'd been up for what seemed like ages, but the thrill of changing reality was like a drug that chased away the exhaustion. He sat on his bed, looking out at the window as his little car finished turning into a big truck. The metal groaned as it warped and shifted, the rubber tires expanding, the paint job slick and glossy after years of use and abuse. A pile of big clothes sat on the floor near by, big enough for Ollie's newly expanded frame.

The eighteen year old's eyes drifted back to the sketch pad in his lap. He'd figured out the trick... he'd figured out the rules. He had to capture something's essence, to name it, and then he could change it. After a few moments it would start to take root in reality. There was only one variable left, one thing to check, and as the sun started to rise on the horizon, giving the faintest traces of light to a new morning, Ollie knew he'd have the chance.

Headlights spilled down the road, coming from the old red SUV. It rumbled down the street, pulled into the driveway and then the driver side door heaved open. Ollie swallowed, jumped from his bed and moved down the hallway. He was tall enough and broad shouldered enough that he took up nearly the whole thing, but by the time he made it to the living room, Dodge was already unlocking the door and swinging it open.

The two came face to face as Ollie slowed to a stop, eyes wide, taking in the mammoth sight that was his brother. The two looked at each other, seeing the familiar - both the resemblance to the old, and the new familiarity in each other's changed bodies. They were both huge, hairy, masculine and giant. Dodge had fashioned himself some sort of kilt, though his gargantuan cock still peeked out of the bottom.

"Old man Pierson didn't... didn't see any change. He thought... I'd always looked like this." Dodge whispered softly, his voice rumbling with how deep it was. Ollie grinned slowly.

"Really? Jake thought I was working out, but... that was before I went this big." Ollie said softly. Dodge moved a step closer, though he had to admit he felt a magnetism to his little brother. Even with the dusting of hair, his muscles were practically glistening. The veins, the muscles, the long, thick, drooling cock.

"You look amazing." Dodge whispered. Ollie grinned, closing the gap between them, reaching up to caress his brother's immense, thick, bushy beard. He pet it, feeling the heft of it.

"So do you." he said, blood rushing into his already giant cock, forcing the huge rod to defy gravity and all practical reason to hoist itself up. Dodge grunted a little, feeling flushed and hot and... aroused.

"Ollie, I..." Dodge trailed off. Ollie grinned and nodded.

"I know, but we'll figure it out together." he whispered, leaning in. Their beards meshed together, their chests touched, their groins rubbed and finally their lips found each other. Dodge melted into it, letting his lips part, his tongue hungrily seeking out his brother's. The two let their tongues dance and rub, their lips starting to get more active. Ollie's hands tugged at his brother's kilt until it came loose and their huge cocks could rub against one another.

Ollie started to hump and grind against his brother, letting friction and weight tease their cocks. They throbbed and pulsed, feeling the mounting pressure as the two huge brothers pressed to one another. Strong, hairy arms wrapped around one another, the two clinging and holding. They could feel each other's muscles flex and bulge, their bodies examples of the heights of human evolution.

There were carnal aspects to it, feeling another man tight against the skin, a throbbing cock against one's own, but there was another aspect, a more complex one. Ollie had always looked up to Dodge, and Dodge had always looked after his little brother. There had been love, affection, pride... and now it was something more. An unspoken bond that this change was something that they would share and embrace and enjoy together. They understood each other, they needed each other, and they wanted each other.

Ollie broke the kiss to gasp for breath, but then he gasped even harder as his brother burrowed under his beard to suck on his neck and then bit him. Ollie grunted hard, hearing the wet and sloppy slurps of how wild his brother was. Ollie grunted, moaned and then gasped again as his cock unleashed his thick, syrupy cum. As the semen hit the air, the spicy and musky scent made Dodge's nostrils flare. He shook, shuddered, and then came as well.

The two monstrous males stood there, locked in embrace, cumming in thick jets together. Spray after spray, fountain after fountain. They soaked each other's beards, chest hair, stomachs and groins. It ran down their legs, splattered to the ground, but they didn't care. This was a den of masculinity, their home, their nest, and they'd do whatever they wanted there. Ollie grabbed onto Dodge's hair, tangling his fingers in it as he pulled his brother back and forced him into another kiss, the two embracing fully. In the back of his mind, Ollie knew this was just the start... The possibilities of what he could draw were endless, and his self portrait was begging for one more alteration.