Saturday, April 18, 2020

Dial - Part 1

Dial - Part 1
© 2020 Josef Howard

“You dial in your transformation with this,” he said. As he turned the knob tiny silhouettes of a naked body slid by the view window, first progressively leaner, then more muscular, yet none so far as muscular as him. “You see?”

I put my hand where his had been and clicked through the images myself, imagining what it might be like to look like each, from Captain America size to Hercules to the Hulk and beyond. I spent most of my time at the outrageous end of the dial, astonished at the immensity of the images. I must have spun the dial two, three times around, but there didn’t seem to be an end to the progression of super human muscle monsters. Once you got beyond irrationally large, between the thick thighs that crowded against each other, down at the quads, an elephantine penis began to show, drooping lower and lower. My peripheral vision faded. The room around the dial seemed to dim. My eyes could see nothing but the dial. I could barely breathe.

“Now let’s turn it on.”

His beefy paws toggled a switch, a light blinked red and the console hummed. A back light illuminated the silhouette in the view window, now an embarrassingly accurate outline of me and my skinny-fat physique.

“Give it a spin.”

This time as I bumped up the dial one step I felt a jolt in my chest. My teeth clenched. My eyes shut tight. My breath caught in my throat. It was over in an instant.

“Trippy, huh?” He nudged my hand from the dial. “It’s best to take it quicker.” He clicked through a dozen images on the dial. Staccato convulsions pummeled my body. When they stopped my eyes opened wide. My arms strained the sleeves of my dress shirt as I raised my hand to feel the thick stubble that had sprouted on my chin. The top of my shirt was stretched tight. The buttons held, but between them tight chest muscle peeked through. I dropped my fingers to my stomach and felt the crevices of my abs, the snug fit of my pant legs.

I smiled and took control of the dial. No longer afraid of the pulsations, I turned the dial just to feel them, closing my eyes, knowing that with each jolt I slid deeper into the pit of hyper-masculinity I craved.

I heard buttons burst free, fabric split and felt cool air against my bare skin. The remains of my shirt hung in tatters around the slope of my traps and the bulge of my delts. My narrow waist was still wrapped inside the buttoned shirt, but through the cotton I could feel my abs etched in two stacks of five ridges. My thighs exploded out of my jeans, and my bunched up cock had burst the buttons of my fly.

My shaggy, blond guide and teacher grinned at me.

When this ridiculously muscled young man had stopped me on the street, I was certain his spiel was a come-on, a scam, but I listened to him just because he was so nice to look at. Pale blue eyes, tiny nose, wide lips, effervescent teeth, the smooth skin of his cheeks and his stubbled chin, and beneath the chin, a neck as thick as a bull’s. He wore the largest sized polo shirt I’d ever seen, yet it hardly contained those shoulders, and his biceps bunched the sleeves up above them as he motioned with his hands when he talked. The fact that he was a few inches shorter than me, made him more endearing than intimidating. I would have dropped to my knees right there in Union Square if he’d asked me.

Instead he only wanted me to follow him back to this place, deep in the interior of a low-rise office building, nearly empty on this Sunday afternoon.

His promises were preposterous, but there he had stood, living proof that the body he promised was achievable.

And now, as I flexed arms almost as large as his, with biceps that bunched up like cantaloupes,   I had realized my fantasies.

My guide tugged at the remains of my shirt and tossed the scraps on the floor. “It’s a good start, but there’s a lot more dial.” He reached for it with a thick, hairy blonde forearm and hands as meaty as paws. He spun it like a roulette wheel, and each click felt like a firecracker detonating in my groin, blowing up my muscles and forcing heat up my chest into my arms and down my legs to my toes. My pants split at the thighs and tore down to my ankles. Thick hair sprouted from my chest, arms, legs and face.

When the dial stopped I was gasping for breath and I could have sworn I had smoke coming out of my lungs and my ears. I could barely stand, off-balance from the sudden increased mass and redistribution of my weight. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. My chest heaved. I threw back my shoulders, tightened my erectors and abs, locked my knees, rediscovered stability, my new resting posture, and savored the sensation of boundless strength.

My eyes opened. My teacher stood inches from me, his eyes slightly lower than mine, grinning, sharing my delight.

“What now?” I asked.

“That’s up to you.”

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