Witch Hunt 2: Things to do in a NCMC Story When You�re Dead

( ... Once upon a time ... there was like, this ten year series of stories about a moody black haired boy named Damien and his adventures with magic and a bunch of side-characters and gay sex ... the way Saturday morning cartoons were meant to be ...

This is a story that references a lot of people from previous ONIX stories, but it's not really necessary to read them ... although I highly recommend it, as I wrote them ... and I'm pretty damn impressed with myself. HOWEVER if plot bores you ... skip to Part. 3, no worries ;)

*WARNING: There BE spelling and Grammer ERRORS HERE!!!

Look I try to edit, but I write these quick ... so please accept my apology and save the poison pens for the CEO's at Chick-Fil-A.

Please feel free to fill out a "dining experience card" on your way out! We'd love to hear how you felt about our service! (Mostly, cause your server's a bitch, and we're looking for reasons to Can her)

ThanX! ONIX)


Remington was a small college town on the outskirts of a very urban city. It had a history. It had mythology. It had three, count them three, taco bells. It was the average American college town that fall catalogue spreads are made of. Remington was a perfect little place. Except that ... far across the tiny town of Remington, across the college green, past the ominous clock tower, in the college dormitory ... something terrible was about to happen. A young gay man, named Peter, was having a total breakdown and about to do something incredibly stupid.

Peter's usually meticulously tidy room was a cluttered, unkempt mess.

His DVDs of Glee were unwatched.

His Men's Express jeans were un-ironed.

His homework wasn't done.

And he hadn't logged onto Men.com in months ...

He was tired.

So terribly tired and guilty ...

That witch ... Damien had changed him into a raging wolf of an older military daddy ... and his friend Drake into a total pig ... literally.

Peter got away but Drake had not. Now, Peter was struggling to return to regular life and Drake was probably flexing his ass cheeks while licking cum up off a backroom floor.

Peter was haunted. He would wake in the middle of the night to memories of Drake's kiss or the horrible things he had done to Drake ...

His days were haunted with memories of Drake and the urge to help him but not knowing how.

Damien had told him he was a coward.

He was so tired ...

Now, after weeks of self-doubt and self-loathing, he had come to decide that he was ready to lie down and finally have some rest.

The pill bottle lay opened by his hand and the liter of vodka rolled empty past his listless feet.

Peter had given up. He just wanted to sleep it all away.

"STEP AWAY FROM THE RIVER OPHELIA!" A familiar voice commanded.

Peter's eyes scanned the shadows in his dark apartment ... but there was no one there. He gripped the pill bottle tighter and strengthened his resolve. He was about to bring it to his lips ... when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, "Oh Peter, it gets better ... but if you don't drop the pills NOW ... it's gonna get a lot worse."

Peter looked up at the bright serene blue eyes of the Witch: Damien Vaughn. He was smiling but had a sad, knowing look. He was as Peter remembered, muscled but lithe, handsome but peculiar, masculine yet seductive, dangerous but whimsical. His dark black hair was cropped tight and high. His face was shaved and he wore a simple black t-shirt and jeans.

"Why ... " Peter croaked. "Why won't you just leave me alone ... "

Damien wiped Peter's sweaty forehead. His smile was tremulous. "Because Peter ... I don't have that many friends. I can't lose the only one I've made in the last six years."

Peter looked at him in wonder, "But you said we weren't ... "

"I said a lot of things." Damien answered in finality. "I was a real Grade A dick for a long while ... " He shook his head at Peter and kicked away the bottle, "I don't think you would like being dead. It's pretty frustrating ... and the air miles suck."

The young college student gave his former tormentor a searching look, " ... are you ... are you dead?"

Damien smirked cryptically. "Depends on who you ask," he shrugged. "It's a matter of opinion ... "


"I'm touching stuff and moving around. This isn't poltergeist, Carol Anne. I'm here because I have some unfinished business to take care of before ... " his voice trailed off, "... before I'm completely gone ... "


Damien winced. "I did bully you ..." he admitted, taking the pills and dumping them down the toilet. "I was a lonely kid growing up," He said, not looking up. "I didn't really have anyone. My mother only blew into town to give birth and none of us ever knew who are fathers were." He sighed heavily. "I grew up at Croer Cruex ... a real lonely place ... I was all alone ... Except for my Sisters ... Medea, my oldest sister. She protected me."

Peter was quiet and startled at Damien's sudden revelation of personality. He had the feeling that the guarded, arrogant, young man had never allowed himself to be so vulnerable or honest. He flinched as Damien brought a cold towel to his forehead.

"I guess I hated you because I saw so much of myself in you. I was compulsively shy when I was a kid ... strange and different from the other boys. I always felt like I was outside ... looking in on life from a window ... We're the same you and me Peter. I just found a way to Control things ... with magic. ... But just like my Sister, Medea ... the magic began to control ME."

Damien seemed to be in a confiding mood and Peter was feverish enough to ask the question that had burned in his mind for months. "What happened to her ... to Medea?"

Damien's face went blank but he didn't seem to be shocked by the question. "Black Magic is Dangerous ... it has consequences..."

Peter asked again ... "what happened ... ?"

"When I was 13 she married a local cop named Morgan Harrington. She loved him ... she loved him." Damien's voice was thick and his eyes shuddered in pain. "But our family is cursed, you see? She was terrified the curse would kill him. She used all the magic she knew to keep him safe. He would go on patrol and she would cast enchantment after enchantment to protect him. Nothing could hurt him. They started to say he was invincible. He would walk away from car chases that ended in fiery wrecks ... he would get shot at close range and the bullets would simply miss ... guns misfired, attackers suddenly tripped, the flames in burning buildings would extinguish in his path. Medea would not let the curse kill him. She couldn't." Damien's sad face was so calm that it melted Peter's fury.

Damien sighed. It was an exhalation that spoke of years of resolute grief. "But Medea was using magic so much ... she was side-stepping fate ... cheating death, over and over again ... It went to her head." Damien turned away and his voice became a whisper. "She went wild with it. She started to believe she could do anything. He was invincible and she was omnipotent." He turned back and looked at Peter. "One night after long deliberation, Medea Vaughn decided that she was so powerful that she could fly ... ."

"Oh Damien ... I'm sorry ... "

Damien wasn't finished. He needed to say the rest. Just so that, once in his life, he had said it out loud. "She kissed me good night, put on her best dress and went down to the campus clock tower. I thought she was the most powerful person in the world ... I thought she would do it. I really did ... when she wasn't home in the morning ... " His voice cracked, "In the end, the curse got Morgan anyway ... The night after her funeral, he went up to the grave, sat down and ate his gun."

"Oh my god ... "

"I swore that I'd never let myself care about anyone that much. I wouldn't let love destroy me. I spent years building walls around myself to keep other people out. I thought it was making me safe. ... that I was Protecting myself." Damien reached for Peter's hand and held it to emphasis his point. "You spend years building a fortress, to defend yourself, and you wake up one day ... and realize you haven't built a fortress ... you've built yourself a prison."

There was a long silence as Damien contemplated the past and Peter said a silent prayer for Medea and Morgan. "Why are you telling me this?" Peter asked.

"Because everybody has a sad story, Hamlet, and ... if I'm going to show you how to use magic ... you ought to know the consequences ... " He gave Peter a flat stare. "Magic drove both me and my family quite mad ... you have to be careful ... not to take it too far ... "

"You're going to help me? Holy fuck ... why?"

"I'm a little limited right now ... and I need to see some friends before I'm gone ... I thought you might like to help me?" Damien's smile was big and genuine.

"Me?" Peter's ragged exhausted breath grew excited, " ... You'd teach me magic?'

Damien's face took on his familiar, arrogant scowl, "I've never had the patience to "teach", rabbit."

The scowl melted and Damien gave him a reassuring grin. "But if you pay close attention, you just might 'learn' something ... and if you learn enough ... maybe you can help ... Drake ... .."

Peter's eyes got big and for the first time in months he felt something amazing.




Brian had come a long way since college. He had taken his degree in communications, added an MBA and become a very successful HR Manager for a local shipping firm. Also he had gained and lost 40lbs and was now happily back to quarterback shape. He had stayed a relatively well-managed houseboy for his buddies Mark and Coach Forman, until Forman moved ... and well ... Mark became the most important thing in his life. Brian still felt they had an "open" relationship ... of some kind. They weren't above playing with a third ... but that always devolved into the poor "third" leaving after being ignored.

Brian thought it was a real shame ... they had all this leather gear that was just going to waste. Both guys had a busy schedule, Mark was a cop and Brian was a weekend warrior.

Brian loved his partner ... but he still had an eye for other men. Like now. He was staring angrily at the snide executive in front of him and wandering what the bastard would look like with a ball gag and a cattle prod shoved up his ass.

Jason's pretty boy face was skewered up in blatant disdain/ "Dude, who made you the Moral Authority on Office Politics."

Brian felt his testosterone rise in response. "Who made you the Authority on who the 'Office Slut' is?"

Jason shrugged disinterestedly and looked at his watch. "Listen man, the bitch quit. What's the point of any of this?"

Brian breathed a heavy sigh of disgust. "Because I don't want the next assistant quitting for being sexually harassed. It's not a problem I or the owners are interested in dealing with."

Jason leaned across the desk and looked Brain full in the face with his big hazel eyes. Brian stopped himself from thinking about how petulantly sexy the young hunk's handsome face was. His dick twitched from his shame (which always happened). He adjusted uncomfortably in his seat. His big ex-jock butt cheeks were still sore from the playful spanking that Mark had given him that morning.

Jason's young and confident voice got loud with bravado. "Look, 'the owners' are my fucking family, so don't tell ME what they will or will NOT deal with." The spoiled playboy stood up and straightened his ill-fitting suit coat. "And if you're going to hire another slut, make sure this one knows ... that she is one. See? Problem Solved." He flashed his letterman grin and waved his hand dismissively.

Jason was probably 6 foot tall. His brown hair was shaved close to his skull in a no-fuss athletic way. He had chiseled features that were still lush with the youth of a fresh college graduate. His toned frame was just starting show the signs of his cushy life: roundness to his jaw, the slight protrusion of a gut. Honestly, it all just made him seem more virile.

Brian watched the sleek, insolent, braggart strut out. "How does someone raise such an asshole?" he asked rhetorically, then dropped his head into his hands in frustration.

"I think it's nurture ... but some people would argue that there's a douche-bag gene."

Brian's head snapped up and he looked straight at his old roommate ... Damien Vaughn.

Damien calmly sat across from him, polishing a pair of glasses. He looked exactly as Brian remembered. EXACTLY. The last time Brian had seen Damien had been the day that Brian moved out of his college house and into Foreman's. That was the day he had decided to explore his submissive side. It was a great day. He remembered Damien was there ... reading in the living room ... wearing baggy black sweats, a long blue t-shirt and a pair of glasses.

... which was bizarrely what he was wearing now ... ?

"Jesus ... you haven't aged a day!" Brian swore.

"I haven't? " He asked putting his glasses on and giving Brian a confused look.

Not a day. His shaggy black bangs hung over his pale studious eyes. His pale geeky skin was as smooth as ... "Gino told everybody you died." Brian blurted out.

Damien smiled, "Boo!"

Brian pushed his chair away. He hadn't really kept up with the guys at the house much. He, Foreman and Mark pretty much kept to themselves ... really only hitting the leather scene occasionally for big events like IML or the Black and Blue ball. They were always a very low key "threesome". When you're into heavy bondage and lots of kink, it is easier to be isolated ...

But since Forman had moved to Fort Lauderdale ... as all muscle daddies eventually do ... and Mark had proposed to him, they had reconnected with Red and Gabby in an effort to be more social. The stories they told about Damien were more urban legends then actual information.

He was a muscle queen now.

No, he was a drug dealer.

No, He was a circuit queen with a stable of porn stars who could make the moon into a disco ball and the sky rain glow sticks.

He was a witch.

He was insane.

A young guy shrugged into the office. He was cute, in a fresh and unsure way. "Hi, I'm Peter." The young man had all the promise of manhood which was blossoming on his slightly chubby face. His frame was slight but pudgy in his bright polo, what the kids called "skinny fat". His brown hair was overdone and painfully arched in some attempt at "gay" style.

"Hi?" Brian answered blankly. "And you are ... ?

Damien smiled at him, "This is Peter ... my lovely assistant."

Peter gave him a knowing smile and nodded, "Yeah, this is going to be weird. So if you just accept that now ... it'll be easier ... "

"What is going on?" Brian demanded.

Peter sat down in an empty chair and looked at Damien expectantly ... "You know how in like 12 step programs you have to make amends ... ? Well, congratulations you're about to get an apology you really didn't need."

Damien rolled his eyes at his young companion, "Thank you, Ed McMahon." He turned back to Brian, "Look Brian I know we don't know each other very well ... but when we lived together it's possible I did something ... and er ... I was just here to apologize."

Brian leaned back in his chair. "You cast a spell on me that made me into dudes." He said flatly.

The looks on Damien and Peter's faces were priceless. "Damien, I've been with Mark for, like ... years. He tells me everything. Even the crazy shit, like: "My best friend's a warlock." Or: "I'm not really Southern" or: "I think the cast of 'True Blood' is hot."

Damien smiled. "You and Mark ... you are ... "

"Yup we're together and very happy. So, no apology needed." Brian considered for a moment and the deep sexual deviant in him had an idea. He stroked the band of the jock he was wearing, underneath his dress pants ... "There is something you can do for me though ... "

Damien sighed and smiled, " ... What's his name?"

Brian smirked, "Jason Fullerton: Crown prince of Fullerton Shipping. He's terrorized three secretaries and his entire staff. I'm a little sick to death of watching his path of entitled destruction."

" ... He-man, Fratboy, athlete, totally impressed with himself, over-sexed, under-sensitive and brutally cruel?" Damien offered. "Sounds familiar."

Brian barked a laugh, "True story." Brian rummaged in his desk, "here's a list of his most recent offenses. His latest victim e-mailed me."

Damien looked at it, and handed the paper to Peter, "Good. Get to work Peter."

Peter gave his mentor a confused look, "What? How? I ... er thought you were ... "

"This is a teaching hospital, Dr. Carter. This is your case." Damien told him. "What is lesson number one, about reality?"

The young man considered for a minute, "Reality is Perceptional. It only exists in the ways in which we perceive it and people should be more careful of how they dictate reality ... to themselves and others ...

Damien smiled and nodded, " Also, remember what I said about negative energy?"

Peter nodded and said in a robotic tone. "Negative energy that is put out by an individual can be focused and returned to the individual."

"Good. Now ... the fundamentals of human desire and sexuality?"

"An individual demonstrates the behavior they secretly wish that they could experience. Or as you said, 'Your dick gets hard both from spanking and being spanked ... depending on your mood.'" Peter repeated.

"Good. Now what did I say about using magic ... "

Peter scowled, "SPIT AND HADES PETER!!! Just go fucking DO it!!! I'm trying to watch 'Breaking Bad'."

"Very good. Now take that list and apply your knowledge, I'll provide the juice. Think of it as your own quick fire challenge. Brian and I are going to chat, while you work."

Peter shuffled to the door. "But what if I try to ... "


Peter heard Brian's rumbling chuckle, "You would have made a very good coach."

Damien answered, "Now there's a costume I've never tried on ... "

Peter quickly rushed down the halls of Fullerton Shipping until he caught up with Jason Fullerton. "Mr. Fullerton! The HR department wants you to review this complaint before they process it ..."



God Damn HR prick. He has no idea who he's screwing with. Can't believe he even THOUGHT he could talk to me like that! "Fuck off." I told the little queer that handed me the paper.

I was walking back to my office. I was fuming. What a damn waste of my damn time. Shit. I'm supposed to be finalizing my picks for my fantasy football league. Not reading some dirty skanks' sob story


Huh? I don't remember that. That's a total lie. Now she's a LYING slut as well as a dirty one ... what a ... huh? Shit, my jockeys feel fucking weird ... I pulled the waist band of my pants down and revealed a vibrant neon blue jockstrap ... that was made of ... holy shit ... it was rubber? And damn my cock felt all oily and slippery against it ... like it was wet?

What the fuck is ...

I was confused for a minute ... . But then my head cleared and I remembered that I had starting lubing up my junk in the morning ... before I put on my rubber jocks ... I liked the slick feeling ... Yeah ... I guess I had been doing that for a while ... Weird ... Rubber is kinda kinky ... but it let me have my dick all greased up ... So yeah ... it made sense ... huh ... could have sworn I was a boxers guy ... Probably shouldn't have "drank" so much lunch.

I stalked back to my office, taking just enough time to yell at the slobs in the bullpen, "Get to fucking work!" I slammed the door and fumed. I could see the fury etched across my face in the mirror behind my desk. Fucking waste of 20 minutes. I looked down at the memo. That fucking Brian ... guy. What did he want me to say about some crybaby slut's list of gripes?


Ha. The bitch did have fucking giant titties ...



My pec's suddenly burned and throbbed. Oh shit ... was this, a heart attack? Holy fuck the pain was intense. OH shit. My body lurched and shook. Then like something out of a horror movie ... my chest began to expand under my shirt. My face reddened and both clutching hands flew to my chest. I looked mighty uncomfortable, squeezing and running my hands over my now mammoth pecs and taunt skin, the suddenly firm and perky nipples STRAINED against my dress shirt and ... WHAM the buttons flew open.

I gave an animal roar and two immense muscular mountains burst from my chest, popped my blazer and sat high, heaving triumphantly on my frame. Before I could even fully run my hands over the new mounds jutting proudly from my shirt, the buttons popped more, leaving the bulging flesh and deep crevice of my pectorals exposed. The shirt was in tatters, the substance of it pulling tightly against my rock-solid, firm flesh, lifting it even higher and letting it spill and bulge mouth-wateringly.

"What the ... " I stared in bewilderment at my Herculean chest. The memo had said ... and then ... I looked back at the paper ...


Again there was a moment where the words sunk in and then burning ... only this time it was everywhere. All over me, like fire ants. I trembled and shivered as every fiber of my body ignited. I threw off the blazer and the remains of my ruined shirt. In the mirror I could see every muscle of my abdomen displayed with meticulous beauty. It wasn't a six pack it was an 8 pack ... with a thousand etches of marble beauty. There were indents of my ribs, and an Adonis cleft that looked like granite. My arms were thick and corded with muscle. My biceps were perfection. They were big but cut, perfectly formed, and exquisite. My triceps were perfect little bat wings arching out toward my back. The massive chest yanked on gorgeous traps that flared from my flawlessly round Deltoids.

I should have been scared but I just ... oh god I was just so in love with what I was seeing. I couldn't take my eyes off of how immaculately sculpted my body was. I mean shit I worked out ... but shit I looked like some genetic masterpiece ... Jesus look at that oblique! Holy god when I turned you could see every muscle in my body lurch ... oh god it was just so beautiful ... and damn that chest ... that big distracting chest ... shit it had to be like 54 or 56 inches ... god I couldn't stop looking at my beautiful ... oh wow shit ... I started to undo my pants to get a look at what my awesome legs must look like ... when I noticed the memo again ... I tore my gaze from the stunning glory of my body and read ...


My dick got hard immediately. IT was so hard. Damn my balls felt like they were churning with fire. The inferno in my crotch was interrupted by a weird twitching in my face. My cheeks felt inflamed and my eyes were blinking furiously ... My dick was gagging against the rubber jock and was leaking pre-cum as it thrust around in its lubed sheath. I was bucking and air-fucking my groin, as my face felt like it was being acid scrubbed. There was a sudden moment of stillness ... and I looked into the mirror.

I had the face of a model. My handsome face was now broad and masculine but pretty in an almost repulsive way: High cheek bones, a perfectly shaped nose ... Dudley do-right chin cleft, perfectly manicured stubble ...

The fire in my crotch was now a slow smolder that seemed to be in my every thought.

I looked at the paragon of muscle and beauty in the mirror and realized what was happening ... somehow ... everything I had said to that little slut was ... somehow ... damn my balls felt heavy ... so fucking needy ...

I looked at the paper absently wandering what other stupid ass shit I had said ...


OH shit that sounded good! I looked up into the mirror and waited for the next change, Hell I could deal with some ... Oh shit ...

My skin was darkening like a California raisin. My tan echoed deep shades of religiously maintained bronze. Yeah I remembered that bitch fake-n-baked a lot. The tan was actually kind of hot ... made all these new muscles look big and plump. My eyebrows shot up in shock ... no they just shot up ... they were so high and arched ... shit my eyebrows were tweezed and plucked like a girl's ... my head itched ... it itched a lot ... . And my hair started to grow. IT WAS FUCKING WEIRD. My brown hair started to bristle out of my skull and grow like some fucked up stop motion video. It had stopped by the time I touched it ... just a couple inches ... then it was sticky and gelled. My hair was now an immaculate jagged ridge of little well-manicured spikes ... ha fucking weird ... I hadn't had hair like this since junior high but it looked really good. My face started to itch and two well-manicured sideburns stretched down my jaw ... Ha shit ... I looked like a fucking celebrity model or some silly shit ... MY big pecs jolted up and down with laughter ... oh damn my chest ... all the hair was gone ... I inspected further and realized ... after pulling the rubber jock down ... that ALL my hair was gone ... just gone ... a fucking bald ass body below the neck ... Like a ken doll ... ha ... my fucking hair did look plastic ... and my eyebrows were practically painted on ... Shit that bald ball sack felt good, all oiled up and slipping around in my jock ... .

Damn this bitch was going to get me the most action I'd ever seen in my life ... fuck yeah, I thought. I'm a fucking sex god! My slippery dick vibrated with adrenaline.


Oh shit ... oh shit ... that's not what i ...

Of course my lips twitched and felt like they were being filled like car tires ... but I couldn't really think about that, cause shit ... . All I was thinking about was a cock ... . A BIG cock ... A big thick sweaty dick, dripping in front of me ...

My big puffy lips looked like a hooker's kiss and now my tongue was lolling out of the big pouty mouth like a dog's. I'm not a fag! But shit I want a dick in my mouth. A big fat cock. Shit I licked my lips nervously ... oh shit ... all I could think about was a thick long schlong slapping my wet lips like a hose.

But I'm not a fag ...

But damn a big dick would be so hot to suck on ... just fucking slobber on ...

Dammit I'm not a fag ... I should stop reading this stupid fucking memo ... this is going too far. My dick is raging like a hungry dog and all I can think about is sucking on some dude's bone.

God I wandered what it'd feel like on my knees ...

Shit, stupid memo ... it's all lies ...

I never said anything like


No ...

No ...

Oh no ...


AHHHHHHH I griped the sides of my plastic styled head ... oh fuck my mind was on fire. It was horrible. This was the kind of migraine that made you die ... shit ... the fire hurt like hell ... . But of damn my body looked so hot, flexing and tensing in pain ... Damn im hot ... But shit so is my brain ... it hurts it hurts ... oh ... wait ... it's like over?

I shook my head a little. Yeah it feels better ... a little cloudy ... huh ... but like fine. Okay that wasn't so bad. Yeah. That was not bad. I guess it was good? Huh? It was hard to decide, like it was difficult ... to focus. That migr- ... that migr- a-? uh that brain freeze must have confused me.

I let out a sigh of relief and noticed that I had blonde hair! It was almost white ... it was all stringy and hard ... oh wow it looked so hawt! Specially gainst my buttery tan skin ... and the way it contrast- er ... contras ... Looked different from my dark sideburns and eyebrows was like really glam ...

My big brown eyes seemed so wide and happy, like a lot wider than before. Wow. It was hard not to get stuck looking in my own eyes ... ha ... wow I'm so fucking pretty ... . Shit ... this is all so weird ... . I should be like worried right. Fuck I gotta strike a bicep pose and see this whole picture ... holy fuck, im creaming in my rubber ... hahaha ... shit I look so good I can't stop laughing.

Shit why is this all so fucking funny ... and why am I so damn horny ... I should be screaming ... but I'm just laughing. Damn my sexy cock-sucking smile is so awesome ... Ha ... oh shit ... I gotta remember to set up my tanning appointments for the next month ... And maybe call my stylist so I can get my roots done ... Hmmmm ... Yeah ... Oh like ... wasn't I worried about something? It was like something really important ... like more important than my gym membership ha ...

Wow ... I wonder what else is gonna happen? I mean what else could possibly make me hotter? I was a total 10! No like more than a ten, like an 11 ... aw shit I was a big old 12 ...

Shit I want to suck a big old 12 ...

Dammit now I just like totally had to keep reading!

Oh ... it's almost done ... I think ... . Maybe I missed something ... Er ... did I read these already ... Damn I can't even remember ... But damn look at that big muscle cleavage ... haha


Judging by the look on my pretty face, when I felt the tingles run down my spine, I knew what was coming next.

My slimy dick lurched hungrily and my sexy lips spread in a wide grin of expectation. I leaned forward onto my desk. Facing the mirror and waited enthusiastically for the next body altering change.

Not for long.

I felt the musculature of my former athlete butt jump and twitch. All fat from my body melted sensually into my butt like melting chocolate. I could feel my gluteus expand like an animal's muscled, well-ridden haunches. My dress pants groaned and ripped under the massive weight gain. I arched my back and moaned happily, pushing my growing fuck pillows out. The muscles hardened and the jiggling fat hugged the big juiced-up bubble but, like a cushion. I stared at my once tight ass, and marveled at its mass and inviting softness. My man cheeks: swelling up plump and proud like two lumps of dough in an oven.

I flexed my glutes to feel their weight and to savor the feeling of my ass soaking up all the fat in my body like a big fucking sponge. Just growing and bouncing ... shit this was making me soooooo horny ... I was just imagining all the crazy funderwear I could slip between those giant butterballs.

I had a fucking caboose ta ride a train on.

Whoa ... like ... shit ...

I totally had an image of big sloppy prick sliding in those massive fuck bags.

Oh like no way ... a dick??? In my slutty mouth ... maybe ... but up my butt ... my massive ass ... my muscled slut hole ... my firm man twat ...

Ah shit ... that'd look so fucking good. That'd be a fucking show ta fucking watch ... God I'd look so good with some hairy schlong slipping in and out of my smooth huge butt cheeks ... all wet and greasy against my tanned skin ... like so fuckin hot ...

My hand left the desk, leaving me to wobble about unrestrained as I twisted around my impossibly tight waist. I thrust my huge chest out hard, so that I could reach back quickly and grab at my bloated muscle cheeks. I had ta feel em. I had ta feel all that dense bubble butt ... And maybe tease that insatiable hole with a finger or ... four ...

God it felt so sexy arching my back and bending over the desk. I felt so hot thrusting this giant moon into the air. It looked impossibly huge beneath my cut abs and long hairless thighs. Ewww my big ass was so sexy. I struggled to grope it with my tanned hands ... greedily trying to get all its mammoth physique in one desperate paw. God! I bet I looked so good bent over this desk. Damn!

God damn shit. What else did the hot slut write? My torn pants tugged at my knees as I grabbed the paper ... Shit she was one hot slut ... . Damn we could be fucking hot slut twins ... taking it on both ends like a fucking ass and mouth machine ... . Damn ... .


MY suit burned. MY big altered body itched under the strange burning. My floppy, slicked-up dick almost lost its awesome erection. The clothes seemed to shrink and undulate around me. There was a horrible tightness and then suddenly it was over and my suit was fucking gone! Like just fucking gone. I looked down and recognized the strange shape of a UPS uniform. The tanned cloth and drab colors hid the amazing curves of my muscles and obscured the cuts and size of my fucking gorgeous body.

I looked back at the paper and the mirror showed me the slutty pout my big DSL's were making. Stupid clothes ... I like totally hated my uniform ... it was so hard to look good in it! But I needed my job. It was like the only thing I was good at it. I really couldn't do many other jobs ... I'm just too air headed ... I get too damn confused ... about things like, you know, adding and shit ... And at least this job gave me like a 1000 different guys to see in a day. Just letting em all look at the dumb look in my eyes ... my juiced up, fake-bake bod ...


Oh shit. Thank god!

I felt the uniform lurch and twist. The pants shrank down to tiny little cutoffs that showed the glorious stretch of my legs and the golden swell of my quads. I could feel the fabric strain and hug my giant bubble but tightly, like a second skin. The shorts looked like ridiculous tan underwear on my hairless thighs. The shirt twisted and shrank until only one button at my navel could stay buttoned. I was displaying a skin tight wifebeater that looked painted on. My giant man pecs heaved out from it like muscled slabs of masculinity, held back by flimsy cotton. The sleeves ripped off, exposing my gigantic biceps and their hairless and vascular beauty.

The bulge from my rubber jock looked comical and I could feel the protruding of my own genitals like a hose and some lemons hanging from my cut and defined groin.

I looked like some kind of male fetish model. It was so damn sexy. I was advertising it all. And damn it all looked so good. MY shoes had become big clunky timberland boots with an enormous heel. I walked a few steps in them. They made my hamstrings flex and my super-ass shake and leap like it was filled with helium.

I look like a super slutty mailman ... like a Halloween costume or some thing ... hahahahaha ...

There's only a few more ... .


"OH Bro, no go ... I neva like eva said dat stuff ... " I grabbed my throat; my voice was way different ... I didn't even sound like myself ... I sounded so dumb ... bwahahah ... like ... "I sound ret-arh-ded ... . Hahahahah" Shit! My voice was all gravely and sultry ... But with a bridge and tunnel drawl ... It was like Harrison Ford and Debbi Mazer.. hahaha ...

Shit I'm all fucked up ... my sexy suggestive voice was turning me on ... Shit! my slippery dick, my burning hole and my slutty lips were all tingling with excitement, every time I heard it. "Yo ... er ... ahem ... I'mah here to deliver dis package for you's guys. You's guy's want mah package? BWA HAHA!"

Shit I was really feeling the vibe of how my voice was sounding ... all deep and sexy but twangy and nasal ... "Yo dawgs, lemme creep on some stamp licking for ya ... " Oh shit watching my lips work dem vowels was fucking choice. "I'm your bridge-n-tunnel delivery bitch and I'm a Grade A moh-ron!" Oh shit I ... do sound dumb tho. For real. Bwahahaha ...

Stupid stud ... Muscled cum rag ... bwahaha ... My big eyes looked so fucking vacant in the mirror. I looked so pretty and horny ... Shit I'd beat the beat down on my own big trunk ... Shit my flat, dull, special ed eyes glitter like diamonds of lust ... ... Aw balls! Dat's what I needed! I needed to rob me some bling! Yo ... I'd look betta with some fucking icing on this stud cake ...

"Aw son, mah whole pie is all fuckin smashed, ain't got no damn ice." damn that voice was hot. "Betta git me a damn chain ... get some neck ice ... hahahah ... Ha you know's what I looks like ... Ha I look like some poser 'lantic city strippa ... hahhahaha." Ewww that was like a fresh ass idea right there ... you know I could lay down a sick beat and bounce my big birthday cakes and make some green at the shore ...

I started dancing my big muscled body, booty and tits around the office ... barking a loud, don't-give-a-fuck laugh the whole time. Shit I dropped -it-popped-it and locked-it. Ha, damn! I looked fresh to death; pulling a "jersey turn pike" on my desk. Shit I felt like I could pound some fucking tail for hours ... awe damn my man tits were fucking flexing and bouncing ... nah I could BE da fucking tail getting pounded for hours ... shit ... I was getting all heated ...

Oh sweat ... I better not sweat ... hahhaha that's fucking funny. SWEAT! I bettah not sweat! I'd fucking mess up my blow out. I teased this blonde brill more then I teased all the dudes on my route. My fucking DO looks so killah.

Oh shit my route ... .

I had ta stop cheesing in this mirror and get back to work ... guess I was supposed to deliver this letter ... Nah nah ... hold it ... I was like 'posed ta fucking READ it!

Emmmm ... Fucking junk be riding like it was ... 3am at the bar ...

Holla ... what was I doing in this damn room ... Oh yeah ... IT HAD A MIRROR ... shit my whore ass couldn't pass off taking a peep at my own pretty body. ... Fuckin-christ-on-da-cross! I was silly cravin some thick pole in my butt ... straight jonesing ... god I'm such a dumb faggot ... Ha but a hot one ...

Betta get on with my route or da thug squads gonna have mah ass ... shit who HASN'T had my ass? "BWAHAHAHAHA"

Gotta deal with this letter ...


I was moving my thick legs and shaking my giant ass passed the slobs in the front office before I even knew what I was doing. I smiled and walked passed those sad beef steaks and flashed some pec. You know those bobble heads were all watching my god-bod strut. I could feel their eyes on my slut-butt. I was hauling my big ass fast tho, so I didn't have time ta give them the full gun show.

Before I knew it, I had fucking - like - treaded all the way down to the warehouse ... Shit! I must have been coming down here to deliver this letter ...


I hopped straight to the docks, excited and happy.

I licked my big, over-sized lips and looked around the dirty warehouse. My greased-up cock was sliding against my rubber jockstrap. I pushed my shoulders back instinctually, jutting my big pecs; up and proud. The dark shadows of my tan were visible on my lush muscles, like five o'clock shadow. My nipples were pointing like faggy daggers. I unconsciously rolled my hairless thighs in sexual excitement.

The laborers all leered at me with disgust and sexual heat. The blue collar workers all had a real predatory look in their eyes, and one or two was rubbing a meaty, dirty hand against their polyester work trousers.

They were all beefy men of various ages ... a 20 year old, with a shaved head, or a 40 year old with a pot belly. All of them smelled like sweat and work. It made me feel slutty to stand there smelling like LOTS of cheap cologne, body lotion, lube and my own sweat. The stench of masculinity was heavy. It made me sweat little demure droplets from my overdone hair.

"Yo Waddup ... I'm JAYZIN ... " ya dat was my slick porn star style name ... "I'm Jayzin Full-n-ten ... bwhahahaha ... " I gave em my deep sexy eye-fuck, "You's guys unloading? Or just lookin for somwhere's ta drop a heavy load ... BWhahaha ... "

A short 40 year old guy, with broad shoulders and a flat face, approached me. I could see the look of aggressive confidence in his blunt eyes. He stroked the girth of his hard beer gut and made me melt. The idea of my hard, gorgeous body totally debasing myself in front of this macho average-joe, made my man-cunt itch and burn. He didn't even speak, he just spat at me and undid his belt.

The thick stomach and the chubby hard cock were mesmerizing. I couldn't stop thinking of how much of a dirty cockhound I was. It was so hot. Just the image of my Adonis-body, slobbering and gagging on that musky, married man's babymaker made me leak pre-cum like a teenager. I fell to my tan knees, stuck out my slutty tongue and began to bath that sloppy cock like a whore. I was so hard. He smelled so rough. He tasted like a man. My head bobbed, making my triceps bounce and my big lips drip slobber. All my big eyes could focus on was the throbbing cock that was jutting from his wide thick and hairy thighs.

I gagged and bobbed like my life depended on it. Suddenly two other men had dragged out their erections. Big hard cocks! All pumping blood just cause I looked like such a cum-dump ... oh shit and they were all gonna dump that cum on me. Oh god I was so fucking horny and crazed. I took a cock in each hand and bent forward, craning my neck, so as not to lose the feeling of the pulsing prick in my throat. The stocky guy, who was face-fuckin me, grabbed my sideburns and started to deep plow me ... Shit he was a stud fucker.

I arched my muscled back and stuck out my huge man-Ass like a horse waiting to get rode. Thankfully one of the goons got the hint. I felt my tiny little uniform shorts being pushed down around my cut legs, like the flimsy panties they were. Rough callused hands roamed my giant smooth booty. My hole burned and begged. All I could see was untrimmed groins, swelling dicks ... Work-boots, gritty hands and my own magnificent body. I could hear the deep and petulant moan of my own sultry voice in my ears. I was gyrating and groaning like an Adonis in heat.

They were laughing at my rubber jock. They were laughing at the big muscle boy faggot. They were slapping me with their dicks and spanking me like a whore. They were shocked at the pinup model debasing himself, the calendar boy humiliating himself like a total sex pig. I bucked and rode, begging for my incredible erection to find release.

They were laughing at my tattoos ... aw shit my tattoos ... the nautical stars on my shoulders ... the writing on my impossibly long and lean torso "Take Me Home" (in latin) ... the racing stripes that ran from my ass crack to my groin ... and the sweet little, "MADE 'N' JERSEY" stamp on my fat tan ass cheek. My ink glistened with sweat and grime. I was beautiful. So fucking beautiful ... the cock in my mouth burst and the man above me roared in triumph. I pulled back and let the cum slap me in ropes, covering my face in pride.

There was one bull hanging the fuck back from the crowd. He was a young head. Maybe he was like 25 ... he had a nice masculine face and slicked back hair ... he looked like a guy I coulda played ball with ... Before he got married and gained all that fucking beer mass. His fucking macho face was all chubby with real life, and his broad body was thick with workmen girth ... he had a stiffy but wasn't stroking or flapping dat pole in like my direction. I got up, strutted to him with my ass being flipped around by the band of my shorts. I put my hands on my big pecs, "C'mon man ain't you wanna git some ... "

The guy pushed back his dark hair and shuffled back. There was lust all over his face and his fucking dawg was like barking right at me. I could feel the fucking hawt jizz running down my face. I was standing there ... right fucking there covered in cum ... and now shit like now I was tweaking my nipples like a fucking nympho ... "I'm not gay ... " He coughed gruffly..

"Shit player, you ain't gotta like suck my cock, ... " I let me hard throbbing cock jump out of my shorts ... and point back at him. "You ain't gotta let me fuck you ... " I spread my hard thighs and palmed my balls, rocking back and forth, let my muscles bulge and bounce, "You just got to use my mouth like a fucking twat or fuck my big ass like a cunt ... " I was real close to him now. He could smell my fucking pit's, the cum on my face and my gallons of AXE. "Damn buddy," I began rubbing the bulge in his size 38 work pants, "You know you wish you could look like dis ... you knows for sure, you hate watching mules wit dis kinda body ... get all the girls ... you wanna teach me a lesson? C'mon young bull, show me what a stupid queer I am ... Gimme some of dat thick real man ..."

Before I could finish he had shoved me down and stuck that straight man fuckrod into my chubby lips. Damn he tasted good. Sweat and pubes and all kinds of real shit ... .

This worked the mob into a frenzy. They were jeering and roaring as another thick angry cock was slid between my eager slutty gym buns. I felt rough denim against my big butt and then ECSTASY as a big dick slid into my fuckhole. My dick flopped out of my gear and swung like bat. I was plugged in both ends, getting ravaged like a stretch of road. My body was arched, fucked and glistening. I looked like a total porn star whore. I was so happy ... . I just wish ... I mean I really just wish der was a fuckin mirror down here ...



"Well, Peter ... I'd call that A+ work," Damien murmured.

Brian, Peter and Damien watched the orgy of partially clothed men with a voyeuristic and morbid interest. There was a truly grotesque beauty to watching men devolve into animals, lusting after one another. All three men stared in a horrified erotic shock.

"Holy Shit." Brian grunted.

Peter gulped, "Uh ... thanks?"

"Holy Shit." Brian grunted.

"This what you had in mind?" Damien asked.

"Holy Shit." Brian grunted.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Brian got himself under control with an obvious effort, "Uhm ... how long is he gonna stay like this?"

"Welll typically ... the spell should break after he cums. The release of the tension would break the magic and things would go back to normal slowly ... with only the memory and the feeling of an intense hangover ... but ... "

Brian looked at Jason and whistled, "damn that is a huge butt."

" ... but," Peter finished, "Jason seems to really like this reality. He'll make it permanent. He doesn't want it to go back to normal."

"Holy shit." Brian grunted.

"Reality will begin to restructure so that he is now, Jayzin. Slutty hard-bodied Delivery man by day .. insatiable porn star lust bunny by night. He's that kind of guy deep down ... " Peter explained methodically.

Damien smiled broadly at the young queer boy and lead them all away from the carnage in the warehouse. Brian however was looking over his shoulder in childlike glee at the debauchery. "Very good, Peter," he sighed. "I used to get really caught up in the morality and ethics of this, but when it comes down to it, it's really none of my business."

"Isn't that a little harsh, leaving him like that?" Brian asked.

"It's actually his choice. The spell would break if he wasn't so damn turned on and into it." Damien's voice got dark, "It's a terrible thing, the male ego. All desire and hunger and insatiable need ... once unleashed its like an atomic bomb. All illogical destruction and endless fallout ... " his smile was like winter, "I speak from experience."

"You're still really weird ... " Brian told him.

"I get that a lot." Damien admitted.

"HA! Well, I'm gonna start having EVERYTHING shipped to my office." Brian announced.

The black haired mage gave him an amused look, "oh that won't be necessary ... THAT particular package is going to be delivered to your home."

The former quarterback spun around stunned, "what?"

"Well ... this is your wish ... you kind of MADE it your responsibility ... Reality is rearranging ... by the time we leave ... It'll seem like you and Mark have always had a live in, house-boy named Jayzin Fullerton ... He's the nice occasional third that you two have taken under your wing ... " He gave Brian a smirk, "fair is fair, and well you're not EXACTLY unfamiliar with threesomes ... ."

Brian scowled, "Isn't he more your type? I mean, Slutty Jersey Muscleboy is much more your thing."

"GINO wasn't a slut." Damien said with heat and a very threatening tone.

The other guys backed away, "Easy buddy, just a joke ... . Shit ... Mark and I would be glad to have 'Jayzin' around ... Mark's got this webcam he's been dying to break in ... and jesus I got like six harnesses that kid would rock."

Peter looked at Damien suspiciously, "Gino ... that's that hot Italian guy ... you keep avoiding and playing virgin/martyr with, right?"

"From the mouths of babes," Brian mumbled.

"Peter. You're one insightful observation away from having a dancing broom shoved up your ass." Damien answered.

"Oh Damien," Brian sighed, shaking his head ruefully, "This is never going to end is it? When are you and Gino just going to ... " He saw the anger start burn in his old roommate's blue eyes and quickly changed the subject ... "WELL! ... if you're doing this whole 'Making amends thing' you should stop and see Gabriel and David. They're getting married. And that was, of course, all your handy work."

Damien smiled at Peter and patiently asked, "What do you think Peter? Can you get me to the church on time?"

"You know ... I kinda feels like you're rainbow bright and you're chasing down all the color kids."

Damien barked a laugh, "Very good Peter. C'mon let's get out of here ... Brian's got a lot of 'male' to sort out."

The young kid laughed mischievously and started to follow him but then ... his eyes froze in terrified confusion.

Damien looked down and could see why. Damien had reached out to grasp a door handle ... and his hand had swept ethereally through it. The mage focused his mind angrily, reached out again and thankfully was able to grasp the door.

Brian was still busy staring at Jayzin getting tag teamed, and didn't notice. Peter whispered to Damien, "What the hell was that?"

"None of your business." Damien snapped.

"Damien ... " Peter's voice quavered, "Are you dead?" He asked again determinedly.

Damien's cold eyes flared, "Peter, you ask the wrong questions. I told you; it's a matter of opinion." And then he stormed off, leaving Peter confused and bewildered.

"Don't worry buddy." Brian said, laying a masculine and reassuring hand on his shoulder. "He's a hurricane of attitude but you're really holding your own. You should stand a little taller and prouder, knowing that."

As Brian walked away, Peter took a deep breath. He felt like he was taller and prouder. The shoulders of his polo felt tighter, the length of his pants felt longer and his confidence seemed to make his whole body swell. Peter followed the big man with macho strides and a self-assured gait.

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