Jason Love (musc)

It had been three months since Jason Love had kissed his parents goodbye and walked into his residence hall. Three months since he’d seen people who actually loved him. Three months since he’d been happy.

It had not been a good semester. He was getting great grades – he always did that – and his professors liked him, but when someone is as smart as Jason Love, other areas suffer from neglect. For Jason, it was his social skills. He wanted friends and he’d had them at home, but those were people he’d known since grade school and with whom he’d grown up. They were used to him and his quirks; the awkward silences and the stammer. Jason wasn’t confident even though, with his brains, he could buy and sell anyone. He could take a computer apart and put it together again, but a computer wasn’t a girl. He could finish all of his assignments in an hour, but they just left more time open to be lonely. And that’s what he was, lonely. Even his roommate was out of reach, too busy to really care about Jason, other than making sure that their sleeping habits meshed.

And as Jason sat and read the newspaper, he tried to ignore the fact that, once again, he was alone.

The news was the same: Iraq, elections overseas, elections HERE, tuition being raised, blah blah blah. He flipped to the business section.

“The upcoming opening of Bare on 8th Street signals the arrival of a new type of adult entertainment in town – unisex. With both male and female strippers performing, sometimes at once, the club plans to cater to both sexes to generate revenue and clientele.”

Jason snorted. He’d been to a strip club once, on his friend Evan’s birthday over the summer. It was such a waste of time. And male strippers? Cheesy and pointless. He was lonely but not THAT lonely.

There was a knock on the door. Jason folded up the paper, dropped it on the desk and looked into the peephole. It was his RA. Shit.

He opened the door. “Yeah?”

“Hey man, the front desk asked me to tell you to check your mailbox. Apparently you’ve had mail in there for like two weeks.”

“Really? Not many people know my address.”

“University sends stuff, coupons, and other businesses do too. Probably worth a look, they’ll just throw it away otherwise.”

“I’ll check it out.”

Jason shut the door, then realized the conversation might not have been over. Embarrassed, he looked through the hole to see his RA snort derisively and walk away. God, he could never get a conversation right.

He scurried out of his room and down the stairs, reaching the mailboxes without seeing a soul. His combination didn’t work the first time, but did on a second try.

There were a couple of unmarked white envelopes from the university, a book of coupons and then a postcard with a scantily clad woman and man on it. He shut his mailbox and wandered back up the stairs, looking at the card.

Sure enough, it was from Bare. At the bottom were three silver circles and the message “Scratch and win! Reveal the same message twice (without scratching the empty circle) and get a free prize from Bare!”

He walked into his room, locked the door and grabbed a penny off of his desk. A free prize from a strip club? Maybe he could score a free drink or some cash or something. Worth a try. He reached to scratch, and then thought of something.

He turned on his desk lamp – which was usually off because it was way too bright – and pressed the card up against it. Most scratchcards were too thick to do this, but this one was practically paper. Maybe…

Sure enough, he could see the word “Winner!” on the first two circles. He flipped over the card and scratched the surface off, avoiding the far right circle, and revealed the phrase he had seen backwards through the lamp. Man, that was too easy.

Suddenly, Jason felt kind of woozy and lightheaded. He stood up and grabbed his head, shut his eyes and focused. When he opened his eyes, he still didn’t feel too great.

The room smelled kind of funny. He sniffed the postcard and found a scent of sweat and maybe a little jizz, like how his sheets smelled right before they got washed. It was gross. It smelled like a strip club.

He could barely stand. He went to the sink, popped some Tylenol in his mouth, stuck his head under the faucet and washed them down. Then he fell backwards onto his bed, curled up in a ball, and watched the room spin as he fell asleep.

When he woke up it was a little after nine. Shit, the dining hall was closed. He’d have to go out.

He stood up, a little tired but otherwise fine. The dizziness had worn off. Obviously, he’d had some reaction to whatever it was on the Bare card. He pulled on some sandals and brushed a lock of hair from his face.

And then he stopped.

Jason Love did not have much hair. He already had a small bald spot and his hairline had begun to recede. His hair was brown, nondescript, about two inches long. And the hair that had just fallen in front of his right eye was long enough to cover it and also blonde enough to make him notice.

He went to the sink and looked into the mirror. He had two foot long strips of blonde hair coming down both sides of his face, like some anime character. He turned and looked over his shoulder, and saw that another foot-long patch of blond had grown in where his bald spot had been. The back of his head was looking shaggier than before, and his neck itched. The rest of the hair on his head was still the same length, but had softened to a light, honey brown.

“What the hell?!”

He grabbed the hair and pulled at it, expecting it to just come right out, then yelped when it held firm. “Oh, Jesus. Oh man.”

His stomach growled loudly. He was hungry, REALLY hungry. He hadn’t been this hungry since…shit, he couldn’t fuckin’ remember.

He grabbed one of his roommate’s baseball caps, stuffed all of his hair under it and pulled it down tightly. It still looked funny. His sideburns looked more filled in and the back of his hair was really shaggy now, more blond than brown.

He grabbed his phone and keys and walked out of the room, carefully avoiding all places where interaction could happen. He scurried across the parking lot and called home.


“Sweetie, hi! How are you? How’s your day?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine Mom, listen…I got this weird card in my room and I smelled it and it smelled weird and now my hair’s turning blonde and getting long.”

There was a long pause.


“My hair, it’s like, I dunno…I can’t fu-“ He cut himself off before the “cking.” He never cursed. What was wrong here?

“I can’t figure it out, Mom. My hair looks normal in some spots and in other spots it’s long and…” He scratched the back of his neck and felt a thick patch of hair, much longer than it had been before.

“And what, sweetie.”

“And blond.”

His sideburns had been filling in, he could see he hadn’t been mistaken the first time. They were much thicker than before, and now as blonde as…as…shit, was his baseball cap always so tight?

He whipped it off and thick locks of blonde hair cascaded all around his face. They were different lengths, but all the same color, a beautiful yellow blond, like the sun. He stuck his hands in it. It was beautiful hair – thick, voluminous and silky. Just for fun, Jason tossed his head slightly and watched the hair leap through the hair. It was like a shampoo commercial.

“Jesus, now it’s ALL blond.”

“Jason, is this some kind of joke or dare that you’re doing? I need to go, sweetie, but good luck.”

“Mom, I…” He stopped and started laughing. She was right, this did sound ridiculous. “Okay, bye.”

He tossed the phone into the seat and ran his hands through his hair. He just wanted to touch it and rub it against his skin, it felt so good. By now all of the strands were the same length, the blond waves flowing gently to his shoulders. It didn’t match the rest of his body or style, the sloped shoulders, the 5’8” frame, the tightly buttoned polo tucked into the khakis. He unbuttoned the top button of his polo – it was all he could think to do. The beauty of his hair made the rest of his head look more appealing. It offset his large nose, made his forehead look smaller, and made his teeth seem white and his skin tan. Suddenly, Jason felt…attractive.

God, he was so fuckin’ hungry. He drove to the off-campus salad bar – he was determined to eat healthy tonight – and loaded up on veggies. The woman stared at him while ringing him up, and he wondered how ridiculous he looked. She seemed to be giving him the once-over, and then, suddenly, her eyes widened, she stuffed the receipt in his hands and curtly went “Next!”


He walked out, itching his chest and balancing the salad on his forearm. The cotton mesh of his polo was so scratchy, it felt like fuckin’ wool.

He popped the lock on his Corolla and crawled in, and his knees smacked into the steering wheel. “Shit!” He didn’t fit in the seat anymore. What the hell? He hadn’t changed the position.

Jason leaned down, grabbed the bar and rolled the seat back more, quickly driving home. He fit comfortably at the start, and by the time he’d reached his hall, his knees were touching the steering wheel again.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, what’s happening to me, what’s happening to me…”

His pants felt tighter and when he looked down, he realized that he had several inches of leg sticking out of his khakis, and a couple of inches of skin uncovered on his stomach. He tried to pull his polo down and saw the fabric stretch so tight that he could see his own skin through the weave.


He started running toward the entrance and heard the butt of his jeans rip clean through the seam, a foot-long tear that ended below his fly. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

He sprinted by the desk clerk and bolted up the stairs, feeling increasingly naked.

He made it to his room as his shirt ripped across the back. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and flexed, and saw muscles and veins pop out that he didn’t know he even had. His shoulders were wider, his chest was bigger, and his arms were stronger.

“Nnnnnghhh…” He was making weird noises, a mixture of fear, pain and euphoria that slowly devolved into bassly grunts. He registered that his voice was changing. He didn’t care.

He wanted to get naked and watch his body. Testosterone rocketed through his body and his muscles got bigger as he watched, plumping up and filling in the confines of his shirt.

His hands were getting bigger and his feet tore through his shoes. The grunting in the room sounded like an animal in a cage. Buttons and cloth littered the floor around his writhing body.

His hips gyrated and his pelvis thrust up and down, back and forth. His deep grunts got higher as he started to cum in his tight jeans, and soon he was screaming, his newly-huge cock blasting out ropes of white juice. His jeans were so tight around his meaty thighs and diamond calves that they looked like paper. He could see the edges of blue metallic fabric inside of his pants – he was wearing a blue thong, and it felt good. His butt was big and pert and hard, and it filled out any pair of pants perfectly.

He pulled at his shirt until it tore off, his big hands awkwardly ripping at the fabric until it gave way. He had stumbled away from the mirror and could only see to his pecs, which had gotten so big that they blocked the rest of his view. His big chest heaved to bring in new breath. He rubbed his hands over his abs and felt the brand-new ridges, then ran his hands down to jeans and tore them off in one rip, laughing dumbly, like a big ox.

He stumbled back to the mirror and looked at his face and body.

He didn’t recognize himself. He was a lot bigger, wide, like a football player, with big arms and legs and hands. His eyes looked dazed, confused, and afraid, and suddenly his head literally cracked and he screamed, grabbing his head in pain, as his forehead bulged out and his jaw cracked wide and large.

Jason’s eyebrows were blond now, too, matching his wavy tresses. His skin was richly tanned and his teeth were blindingly white. He looked nothing like himself. The cartoonishly wide jaw, the cleft chin, the thick brow – it was not him.

And that was great.

He started to laugh, a stupid laugh that shook his body and rumbled like thunder. The thin strip of cloth that was his metallic blue thong was the only stitch of clothing on his huge, naked body. He had big pecs and huge arms and shoulders, but his legs were shapely and large as well. He was built like a linesman, but one who worked out obsessively. The blond hair offset his giant physique and dumb face and gave him more of a pretty-boy look.

He wasn’t used to being naked and normally he hated it, but now he had an overwhelming desire to be. His legs began to burst through the jeans, tearing through it as easily as Christmas wrapping. Soon, he was naked save for the thong, which rode up his ass and barely contained his large cock.

He was beginning to look increasingly German, his skinny face transitioning. His nose became more refined and his cheekbones rose. “Oh, Jesus…ahhhhhhhh…”

His voice was low and grunty and suddenly bore a thick German accent. “Ngh…fuck yaaah…” His golden-brown muscles rippled with every slight movement he made. His eyes switched from brown to ice-blue, light and hypnotic, bouncing off of the color of his thong. “Nnnnngh, scheisse…”

His body has stretched and transformed itself from a short, dumpy nerd into a towering pillar of German strength, six-five and nearly 300 pounds of thick muscle, with brutish Aryan features and gorgeous, flowing blond hair. His physical transformation was complete and his mental transformation was nearly there.

He was feeling stupider and stupider. He couldn’t remember his American parents or friends or where he went to school. He began to think of growing up in Berlin, working out constantly, getting big and strong like his Papa. He remembered moving to America and seeing that he was an ideal man there, big and tan and muscular. He remembered realizing how easy it was to make tons of money just by taking his clothes off and showing off his big muscles. He remembered failing at learning English – he could still barely speak it, but clients didn’t care, this big, hot German communicated through his extreme sexual prowess. He remembered choosing his performing name – Jason Love. He remembered coming out to his parents.

Felix started to twitch and his thighs gyrated back and forth, practicing his sexual dancing, turning on the women and men who watched him. It was an hour until he needed to be at Bare. He rushed to the sink and heaved his huge dick into it, releasing torrents of cum out of his thong. It would not be the last time he would cum that night.

He pulled on a white muscle tank that was for a man half his size – it stretched to translucency and didn’t even cover his bellybutton. The shorts he wore were metallic gold and so tight that you could see the outline of his thong and cock through them, and he draped two gold medallions over his neck. Sometime the chains would get stuck in the deep crevice of his pecs and he would have to pull it out, which would make him cum.

He grabbed his things, stuffed them into a gym bag, and strutted his horny ass out to his car. Felix, the big German stripper, would not be happy unless he came home with a hot guy and at least a thousand dollars at the end of the night.