Speak The Truth (musc)

Any feedback is much appreciated. It can be emailed to me at [email protected].

Special thanks to the amazing Webb025 and Lloyd311, both of whom proofed this story (Lloyd many months ago).

Just as a heads up: there is some, but not a ton of muscle growth, and you possibly won't enjoy this if you're completely straight. Just to forewarn everyone.

"Seriously Paul, you expect me to believe that dick-head Calloway is going to be here tonight?"

"That's right. Sean Calloway, superstar NFL player, is going to come in here, order a beer and sit down and talk with us until his ride gets here. Even though it's in the middle of this small shit hole town the three of us grew up in, and even though he hasn't been here in over..."

Paul, the speaker, was sitting on his chair with one foot propping it up, like it was a rocking chair. His voice trailed off as he watched the waitress approaching them. Marshall, his friend and drinking mate, was sitting across the table from him. They were currently the only patrons of "The Shady Saloon", which was unsurprising, considering it was only 5 on a Wednesday.

They sat across from each other. Each had a clear view of either the cafe across the street, or the buxom waitress working at the bar.

She was the only other person there. She was a little under six feet tall and had a gorgeous face, long legs, a thin waistline, shoulder-length straight blond hair, and huge fake looking breasts. Paul's eyes didn't leave her for a second as she came over to check on them.

"You boys want another round?" she said. She placed her hand on Paul's shoulder as she spoke. "This handsome guy looks like he can pound them back."

"Not right now. We'll wave you over if we need anything. Feel free to come by again though. I love watching those beautiful legs of yours, and that amazing rack," Paul said.

The waitress blushed, giggled a bit, and turned around to go back to the bar. Paul's eyes stayed firmly on her ass until she was behind the bar again.

Marshall's jaw fell. "How did you get away with that? And what is a woman like that doing in a dive like this? She could be modelling for Playboy. And she was actually flirting with you!"

"Why wouldn't she flirt with me? I'm a good looking guy! Some girls don't mind a beer belly. They think it's manly."

"Come on, Paul. When you try you're decent looking. But that patchy beard thing you're wearing isn't doing you any favors. And don't get me started on that shirt. I mean, it's got holes, and a huge stain. Is that ketchup? Not very attractive."

Paul eyebrows furrowed in mock outrage. "Are you jealous? That for once a hot woman is hitting on me instead of you?"

"Pu-lease! We both know I could care less about women hitting on me." Marshall nodded his head at the waitress. "I'm just surprised. What's she doing even working here?"

"Come on Marshall, ignore the waitress and let me enjoy the view in piece. I know she's not your type anyways. Now where was I? Oh yeah. Sean Calloway. So what do you remember about our famous former teammate?"

Marshall grimaced. "Are you kidding? How could I forget a shit head like that? He was the biggest asshole. Highschool might have been ok if not for him. Why are we talking about him again?"

"Cause he's gonna be here soon and I wanted to make sure you remembered how much of a dick he was."

"How could I forget? He was always riding both of us when we were on the football team. He always thought he was such hot shit. And then that one time I got a bit of wood in the showers, when I was right next to him, he told everyone I was gay and in love with him. He was right about the gay thing but I definitely wasn't the only one who got wood in the showers. Course, that was more than enough reason for Sean and his buddies to pick on me."

"Ok, so you remember him then. Yeah, he was a prick in school. Always banging into me in the hall just because I wasn't as big as him and his superstar friends. That time he poured a slushie on me while I was asking Cynthia Sorenson out was the worst."

Paul continued. "He definitely doesn't deserve his NFL career, all of that money he makes, or his mega hot girlfriend. Susan Dale, 22 year old super model. Man, I would love to bang the shit out of her! Have you seen how hot she is Marshall? I know you're gay, but even you can appreciate a fine looking woman like her."

Marshall laughed. "I don't even remember what she looks like."

"Well then, turn around. She's on screen right now with our boy Sean."

Marshall turned to look, and saw a woman looking remarkably similar in build and beauty to the waitress at the bar: super small waist, huge tits, big lips, and long blond hair. Sean stood next to her, speaking to an interviewer. The TV was just close enough for Paul and Marshall to hear Sean speaking. "Listen buddy, are you going to ask me something worth answering? Of course it feels great to be the highest paid NFL player."

Turning to Susan, his girlfriend, who was all smiles, he said, "Can you believe this guy?"

Sean towered over Susan and the interviewer by at least a foot. He had wide, broad shoulders that tapered down to a relatively small waist. He wore his football uniform, his pads making him look even bigger and more muscular. His helmet was off and his look of perpetual disdain made his otherwise handsome face much less attractive.

Marshall turned back to Paul, quickly bored of watching Sean and his girlfriend.

"Why are we talking about him again? And why do you figure he's on his way here?"

"See this bracelet I'm wearing?" Paul gently tugged at a gold chain on his left wrist.

"This bracelet makes anything I say true. And unless I say otherwise, everyone will remember things as always having been that way. That's why the new waitress working tonight is so hot, that's why you got off early enough from work today to meet me here, and that's why Sean's gonna walk in here in a few minutes."

Marshall's left eye brow rose. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm serious Marsh. No kidding."

"Ok, I'll humour you on this for a minute, even though it's completely ludicrous. Can you prove it?" Marshall asked.

"Sure. For the rest of the night, you'll be able to remember things as they were before I change them. You'll also have new memories like everyone else too. Sean will also subconsciously see the changes happening, but won't understand them, and will accept them without freaking out. Now, to prove it: if you could change your career, what would you change it to?"

Marshall smirked. "Oh, I know this one! Make me a porn star; with super big muscles and an unbelievably huge cock!"

"Do you really have to be so damn gay? Ok then. Here goes: Marshall is the most well known professional gay porn star in the world. He has a huge monster cock that is irresistible to any man that sees it, he can cum over and over again, and he has big but perfectly proportioned 'chiselled' muscles with no visible fat anywhere on his body. That's the type of guy you like, isn't it? A 'chiselled' guy? Oh, and Marshall has an incredibly handsome face and is tall and towers over most other men. How's that, big guy?"

Little sign of the short thin Marshall was still apparent. In his place sat a tall muscle man. His white shirt strained across his large meaty pectorals. His shoulders were like bowling balls, and his round softball sized biceps stretched out the sleeves of his obviously too tight t-shirt. His abdominals were so well defined and hard that they could be seen through the fabric. His face was quite different now too; very angular and hard looking, with smouldering crystal blue eyes and the perfect amount of stubble. He looked like an extremely masculine guy, who just oozed sexuality.

"So I should be a really hot looking porn star now, right?"

"Marshall, take a look at yourself."

Marshall did, and quickly jumped out of his seat. He looked down at his rippling muscles in shock. He felt his pectorals and arms, and then without thinking, reached down to the crotch of his jeans and palmed his impressive and obvious bulge.

"Holy shit! Is this for real?"

"Yeah, it is. Go check yourself out in the can. You'll especially love what's in your pants."

Marshall took off to the nearest mirror, and Paul finished his beer. He signalled the waitress, who brought him another and flirted with him a bit more. When Marshall returned, she still didn't pay him much attention, too interested in Paul. Paul even slapped her ass this time as she left, knowing she would love every minute of it.

Marshall had a wide smile plastered across his face. "My cock is unbelievable! I could give a horse a run for its money. The thing hangs almost down to my knees soft. Hard, it's practically as big as my forearm and wrist. And it's probably too much information, but I've never been this horny in my life. Even when I was a teen, I wasn't ready to go this fast. My dick went from zero to 60 in under 3 seconds. And even weirder, I know the old me would be too shy to talk about any of this, but the new me knows that thousands of people have already seen me fucking and getting fucked, and isn't shy at all. The new me loves thinking about all of those guys stroking themselves off watching me, wishing it was them on screen with me. Where the fuck did you get that bracelet and what the fuck is it?"

"I don't know much about the bracelet, and right now, I don't much care. I bumped into a woman that looked like a hooker coming out of the corner store this morning. I told her to watch where she was going, and she told me to chill the fuck out. Then she gave me the bracelet, and said to be careful with it and think things through, or I'd be as fucked as her. I had no idea what she was talking about, until I noticed at work that everything I said became instantly true. I mean, I told Mickey at work that the report I was late on was finished, and there it was, finished in my hands. I told Terry that Diane was dying to suck my dick, and that she'd be practically tearing my pants off in the bathroom at lunch to get to it, and sure enough at lunch, I went to take a piss and she followed me in and sucked me dry."

"Just to state the obvious Paul, it sounds like the woman that gave you the bracelet was warning you about it. And why didn't she keep it? Aren't you a little worried?"

"You're kidding, right? With something like this, I can't pass it up. You're not really worried anyways. You're excited to see what I'm going to do tonight, and love what I've already done."
Marshall realized that what Paul said was true, and relaxed, eager to see what happened next.

Paul smiled widely. "Now to make some improvements to my life, and get some revenge. Here comes Sean now."

Out of nowhere Sean Calloway appeared in the street, storming towards "The Shady Saloon". This surprised no one other than Marshall, who wasn't quite used to the magic of Paul's bracelet yet. Sean flung the door to the bar open and sauntered over to the bar. The bartender/waitress was just returning from one of the back rooms, and stopped in shock when she realized who Sean was.

"Can I get a fucking drink or what?" Sean said.

"Of course! Hey, you're Sean Calloway, aren't you?"

"No, I'm the fuckin pope. Yeah, I'm Sean Calloway. And just because I'm stuck in this loser town for the next hour doesn't mean I want to talk to skanky bartender sluts. Get me a Kokanee and shut up already."

The woman poured the beer and put it down on the table. She started to tell him how much it was, but he held up his hand and put a twenty dollar bill down. He turned around, dismissing the waitress, and surveyed the bar. That's when he saw Paul and Marshall. Paul waved at him. Sean sighed. "Who the fuck is this jagoff?" he mumbled as he headed over to their table.

As Sean got closer, he recognized both of them, though they both looked different. From Sean's perspective, Paul had put on some unflattering weight and looked a bit older; Marshall had put on some weight, and it was quite flattering, if you were into that type of thing.

"Aren't you those two losers I used to pick on in High School? We were all on the football team together, weren't we?"

Paul smiled as warmly as he could, his lips tight.

"That's right. Why don't you sit down and have a drink with us? We can talk about old times."
Sean sat down. Marshall drank his beer, silently glowering at Sean from the other side of the table.

"You guys always warmed the bench, you were so terrible. Coach almost kicked you both off the team, but you were better than the rest of the guys at school, so he kept you on, in case someone else got injured. But man, did you guys stink at practice!"

"That's not really how I remember it" said Paul. Sean ignored him and just kept going. He looked at Marshall now.

"You're the one that got hard in the showers that time. Right when you were standing next to me. Man, with a donkey dick like yours, you couldn't exactly hide it. I'll bet your friend here loved riding that thing every night. What do you do now, fag bait?"

Of course, in Sean's memories (and everyone else's), Marshall had always had his huge cock, even when they were all in high school together.

Marshall gave Sean an angry look as he answered.

"You're just trailer trash that happened to make it famous. How have you gone through life for the last ten years without growing up at all? Do you know how hellish life was for me after you told everyone in school that I was in love with you, and that Paul and I were ‘butt buddies'? And all because you're an ignorant asshole; I wouldn't touch you with another guy's dick!"

Marshall glared at Sean, who just smirked back at him, happy that he could still make Marshall mad after all these years. That's when Paul started talking.

"Marshall's actually a gay porn star now. And he's actually the richest and most successful gay porn star in the industry. There are tons of guys that would give anything just to suck his dick."

"That's not too surprising. It must hurt to know that I was right all those years ago. You're just a big fag."
Marshall started to get up, ready to pound Sean to a bloody pulp. Sean was a big strong guy, but Marshall was taller than him and at least 30 pounds heavier, all of it muscle. Paul took steps to make sure that things didn't go further.

"Marshall, take it easy. Sean's just taking the piss. We're all gonna settle down, sit down and talk about old times some more."

Paul's words became true, of course, and Marshall calmly sat down.

"Now Sean, you're remembering a couple of things wrong there. It wasn't you that caught Marshall's cock getting hard. It was Marshall that caught you getting hard, while looking at his big dick. The fact that your own dick was so small still didn't make it easy to hide. And the fact that you got a boner every time you were in the same shower room as Marshall made it even more obvious."

"Yeah, in your dreams..." Sean started to reply, as his new memories kicked in.

His memories slowly changed and he realized that that's how it really was. He had been so embarrassed, but couldn't help it. He had been questioning his interest in girls, and then after a couple of showers and seeing Marshall's huge cock, he realized where his real sexual interests were. Even more embarrassing is that he started to tent his pants right there in the bar, wondering if Marshall's cock had gotten any bigger since high school.

His bombshell blonde girlfriend was now just a cover; they never had sex. He hadn't ever told anyone about his sexual orientation, except for his agent, who picked him up tricks every once in awhile. Tricks that he paid extremely well, mainly so that they'd keep their mouths shut.

Both Paul and Marshall watched Sean intently, and saw his expression get much less confident. He was still the all star football player, and still just as built and handsome. But now he looked uncomfortable and guilty. Sean looked down at his beer, making short furtive glances towards Marshall every few seconds.

"It was right after that when you started drinking all the time. You showed up for practice with the worst hangovers, and you got so bad that the coach had to drop you. I always guessed that you were so embarrassed about being gay that you decided to drink yourself silly. And I'm right, of course. That's exactly what you did."

Paul paused as Sean's memories slowly changed again, as well as his body. He could still vaguely remember being a star NFL player, but now, even more present in his thoughts, were memories of him getting kicked off the high school football team, marrying his high school sweet heart, and taking a job at the mill in town. It felt wrong to him to think that he was such a loser now, but he knew that it was true. It felt to him like the old him was just a day dream he had made up.

His body quickly morphed, and both Paul and Marshall could see the changes. He now had an obvious spare tire around his mid section, and huge bags under his eyes. His skin was mottled, and he looked much older than his relatively young age. He had a 3 day growth of patchy beard, and his still muscular arms were now covered with flab.

"You're such a cliche now, living in a trailer park, working at the mill, drinking yourself silly every night. You've even got a mullet, to finish off the perfect image of a small town red neck."

As Paul said, Sean's hair transformed into a mullet, and his life reorganized. He and his wife did live in a trailer park, and he knew that he drank himself to sleep in his easy chair every night.

"I should actually thank you, Sean. It's because of you that the coach finally took a chance on me. For a lark, he made me quarter back that first game after he dropped you from the team. That's when all of the practicing I did on my own time, plus my amazing unseen talent, kicked in. The team kicked ass the rest of that season, basically because of me. And that's how I got seen by the scout that turned into my Agent. If it hadn't been for you being so embarrassed about getting a woody in the showers, I never would have got my chance, and I wouldn't be the superstar player I am now. I'm the best in the league now, and everyone loves me. I'm on the TV all the time, I have tons of modelling contracts, and I even married that incredibly hot model, Susan Dale."

Paul paused for a second. Sean saw on the TV over the bar that they were interviewing Paul after a recent win now, his hot wife on the screen beside him. He felt jealous of Paul. In his gut he could feel something wrong, but couldn't really understand what it was. Hadn't he been the incredibly awesome football player? But his memories told him that it was Paul that was the successful superstar.

Marshall watched Paul's form change. His formerly large gut was now a flat shredded stomach. His flannel button up shirt changed into a black t-shirt, stretched tightly over his large and impressive chest. His broad shoulders looked like boulders, and his biceps were large too. His face was even more handsome now, worthy of a magazine cover model.

Paul wasn't quite finished with Sean yet.

"You never stopped thinking about Marshall after seeing his cock in the showers, Sean. I know; Marshall told me. You were so unhappy after you married your fat lazy slob of a wife, and all you could think of when you jerked it was Marshall's huge cock. When you came across one of his movies online, you tracked him down and begged him to let you blow him. Marshall was so rich he didn't need your money, but he got off so much on having you beg him. He told you he wanted a full month's wage from you. And so you waited a few months, saved up enough money, and then you paid Marshall, and you blew him in the back of a car when he was filming in a nearby city."

Sean just kept looking at his glass, ashamed that someone else knew his terrible secret. He could now clearly remember driving an hour away to meet up with Marshall, nervous as hell and worried that Marshall wouldn't show. Marshall was there though, leaning against the door of his rental car, looking as cocky and masculine as he did in all of the movies of his that Sean had watched. Marshall insisted on getting the money first, and had laughed when Sean nervously handed it over.

Marshall had then pulled down his pants, and his humongous cock had flopped out, already semi-hard and even bigger and fuller than Sean had remembered it from the time he'd seen it in school. Sean had been transfixed, and had completely forgotten about his own hard, aching dick. Sean fell to his knees in the dirt, and sucked for all he was worth. He hadn't been disappointed when a few moments later Marshall shot in his mouth. Sean had eagerly swallowed every drop he could, and licked up what he couldn't using his hands to wipe the remainder from his face.

It was so clear, so hot, and so degrading to Sean. He didn't like being gay, and didn't like having no control around Marshall.

"You've been on repeat ever since. You keep saving up enough money to blow Marshall, waiting for him to get close enough to drive to, and then blowing him so that you have mental material to jerk to when you get home. Of course, Marshall gets off on knowing how hard it is for you to raise the money. He doesn't need the money, and he definitely doesn't need the head. He just gets hot thinking about how much control he has over you, and how much of a pussy you are."

Paul's statements changed Marshall. He realized now that he really did like being in control of Sean, and loved taking his money and making him do something he knew made Sean so uncomfortable, even if it was what he wanted. Marshall's impressive meat got as hard as it could, snaking even further down his left pant leg.

Paul stared for a moment, soaking in the image of the new beaten down Sean, a total shadow of the man that had walked into the bar a short while before. Paul felt extreme satisfaction knowing he had ruined Sean's life, and gotten his revenge. He decided that he had done enough.

"This must be your wife now Sean. She's picking you up, right? She's a total bitch. Nags you all the time, wondering where all of your money goes. Course, she's not exactly attractive herself now. She was hot in her time, but not anymore."

An extremely overweight woman came waddling into the bar, aimed like a slow moving missile at their table. Of course, her look of anger changed to surprise and awe when she realized that Paul was there.

"You're Paul Smith! I remember you from high school. I'm a huge fan of yours. You are so amazing! What are you doing with my loser husband here?"

"We were just catching up on old times. He's all yours now."

"All mine; right! If only that meant I didn't have to pick his sorry ass up from work every day, and that he'd bring some money home once in awhile. Come on limp dick. Let's get out of here. I don't want you to embarrass me further in front of Paul Smith here. It was so nice to meet you!"

With that, she trundled off, Sean walking slowly behind her, his head lowered in shame.

"That was awesome! I can't think of a better revenge for Sean Calloway. And even better, I'm now the super star NFL player. Can it get any better than this?" Paul beamed, barely paying attention to Marshall.

"I'm off to the can. Be back in a few." Smiling, he left the table and headed for the bathroom at the back of the bar. It was empty when he walked in. He stood in front of the one of the urinals, unzipped his pants, fished out his dick, aimed and let go. A few seconds into his piss, he heard the door open. Busy, he didn't bother to see who was entering.

"According to my new memories, you haven't seen it since high school, have you?" Marshall said with his deep and rich voice. Paul could barely make out the sound of fabric rustling as he glanced Marshall's way, not sure what he was talking about. That's roughly when all rational thought left Paul's mind.

Marshall had pulled down his jeans. Not wearing any underwear, his extremely large member was now on display. It couldn't be described as swaying in the wind though; it was much too thick and heavy for that. Paul could make out a thick vein snaking down from the base of it to the huge flared cut mushroom head. It was soft, and yet still so big. It overwhelmed Paul. Without Paul's awareness, his own dick had stopped streaming piss and was rapidly getting hard.

The very presence of Marshall's amazing cock had transfixed Paul. He felt inferior to it, and to Marshall as a result. He felt like so much less of a man, and felt forced to submit to that ultimate symbol of masculinity before him, and worship it. He would do anything Marshall told him to now, just to appease Marshall's magnificent manhood.

"Pau-aul! It's not going to suck itself! Get over here and please it, bitch!" Marshall said with a cocky grin. His relatively new memories informed him that no man could resist him once he had uncovered his dick.

Paul stumbled over to Marshall absent-mindedly, and fell softly to his knees in front of his friend. He licked his lips, opened his mouth, and ran his tongue over the huge velvety head. Once it was good and wet, he opened up wide and did his best to swallow the thing. He gagged at first, but after a few tries, managed to get the head to hit the back of his throat.

"Didn't think things through too well, did you? You made me get my kicks from dominating other guys, and gave me an irresistible dick. Not a good combination, if you wanted to stay in control. Now that's a good boy. Play with my balls too!" Marshall commanded and Paul complied. He lifted his bracelet adorned hand and tickled the bottom of Marshall's large low hanging balls. He gently tugged them away from Marshall's body, and fondled them like precious goose eggs.

"Being as hot as I am now is great, but I want more. Especially when I know I can have it. I bet you'd be pissed at the situation if you could think about anything other than my amazing cock." He reached down with one of his powerfully muscled arms, and grasped Paul's wrist, curling his fingers around Paul's bracelet.

"You gave me the magic bracelet just before you left the table to come into the washroom, Paul. You really wanted me to have it, now that you've made your own life so great. And you're extremely happy to know that I'll be able to use it to improve mine even more."

The bracelet made Marshall's words the truth, and the bracelet disappeared from Paul's wrist, reappearing instantly on Marshall's own.

"We're gonna be spending a lot more time together from now on. You love my dick and hot body soo much, but even more than that, you love doing what I tell you to. From now on, when you're not playing football, you love to wait on me hand and foot. You're so in love and lust with me, that you just follow me around like a puppy dog, eager for my attention. You'll do anything to make me happy. Just like you are right now. Fuck my life's great!" Marshall declared, just as he released himself and filled Paul's mouth with his generous load.

Epilogue:

Sean reclined in his easy chair, sipping his eighth beer of the night. He and his wife were watching recaps of Paul's big game a few nights ago. He sighed wistfully, wishing that he was the big football star, but knowing he had fucked things up so badly when he was young.

His wife slowly hefted herself off the couch, and waddled out of the living room of their trailer park home. "I'm going to bed, fuck face. Put your beer cans in the trash before you go to sleep tonight, or you're gonna hear about it tomorrow."

Now that she was gone, he quickly got out his favourite dvd of Marshall, stashed away inside their tattered old couch. He slipped it into the player, and skipped through to his favourite part. Marshall was leaning against a telephone pole, wearing leather boots and tight jeans. He was shirtless, his beautiful and full pecs huge and on display. His biceps were lightly flexed as his powerful arms held another man's head firmly below his waist, making the valley between his perfect pecs even deeper. He was pushing and pulling the man's face, face fucking him hard. Marshall suddenly pushed the other man's head away and grabbed his monstrously huge cock with both hands. He aimed at the other man's head, and shot a huge load of his thick and juicy jizz all over the lesser man's hair, lips, nose and eyes. Marshall looked at the camera and winked.

It was the wink that sent Sean over the edge. He shot his own pitiful load into his hand, desperately wishing it was himself that Marshall had face-fucked. He quickly did the math, and knew it would be another three months at least before he had enough money saved to see Marshall again. He started crying as he realized how badly he wanted to taste Marshall again, and how pitiful he was.

END

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