I still can't believe Luis got kicked out of school. I mean, seriously? It was just pot. Next season's going to suck without that guy. Here I am, youngest football team captain ever at SCS, and I'm out my best starting fullback. And, to make matters worse, my best roommate ever.

The new guy is a total geek. You know the type. Skinny, pale, awkward, the whole deal. Professor Rivers would probably dock me points if I ended it there, so he's also kind of exotic looking. I mean, mostly white, but there's probably some other stuff mixed in.

I didn't really want to talk to him, and he's shy enough that he's left me alone for the most part. He did tell me that he's a Computer Science major. Who takes Comp Sci, anyway? Me, I'm just going to coast along on the way to my useless English degree. Football got me this far, and those scouts are going to be all over me next year. 6'1, 220, starting QB heading in to my junior year?

I'm like blood in the water, baby.

Rocky Langella is going to take pro football by storm.


This kid is a major downer. It's not anything he does, particularly, just what he IS. I come out into the common room and he's watching some show with robots and space junk, plus that one Latino guy who looks like a tractor ran over his face. He asks me to watch. No thanks, nerd.

But I'm trying to make dinner and he comes over, starts asking me about working out. He's what, like, 5'7 or so, his hair is black and cut like some emo rocker's, and he has these little toothpicks sticking out of a size small undershirt. It's like a blanket on him. He's wearing boxers, too, and I can see he doesn't have much going on down there either.
He literally has nothing going for him, so I sure hope he's smart or something.

Anyway, I give him some advice. "Start off going a few times a week. Take rest days. Protein powder. Creatine." Blah, blah, blah. And then I notice he's staring at my chest. He's got a weird look on his face, like he's been hypnotized. I've seen girls get that look when I show off the bod a bit, but never a guy.

It'd be just my luck that I'd end up rooming with not just a nerd, but a homo. Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against that sort of thing and I've experimented a few times, but I don't want some little pansy drooling all over my body.

It takes a while after I stop talking for him to notice that the kitchen's gone dead silent except for the simmering of chicken breasts (boneless and skinless, duh) in the frying pan.

"Thanks," he says, and he takes a deep breath, like he'd forgotten how to breathe or something while we were talking.

I realized I'd never asked his name. Maybe he's told me before or something, but I just forgot. It's Callum, I guess.


Yeah, the kid's totally gay. Keep catching him watching me when I get out of the shower, get home from the gym, whatever. I'm pretty sure he's creeping on my grade A beef.

Can't blame him, though. The guns are getting close to 19" rock solid, and the old eight-pack is summer ready. The beaches won't know what hit them.


Good news: I broke 19". I am officially fucking huge.

Bad news: Callum.

Over a month and I'm really getting kind of tired of this. He's been coming with me to the gym lately. He never asked; he just started tagging along. Rude! I started sneaking out of the dorm, but he just shows up once he figures out where I've gone.

Nick Ward was over in the gym when I--okay, we--showed up. He comes up to me, and it's clear to me the guy's been lifting hard since the season ended. He's almost as big as I am. Sure, he's a year and a half older, but still, you can't let guys like Nick get the edge with you.

You know the type: wannabe alpha male. Almost the biggest, almost the best-looking. He has a bright white smile and green eyes, great six-pack... okay, but that's beside the point.

He always seems to be at the gym when I go, and I've seen him snickering with his dumbfuck buddies when Callum asks me to spot him. I want to punch him in the mouth, but he's a good halfback on the field and his backup blows.

So he glances over at Callum, who's struggling with a pair of ten-pound weights in the corner. The kid's head looks like it's going to pop, his face is so red. I can't believe he's struggling with ten pounders. Does anyone use those for anything?

"Better go help your girlfriend out," he says.

I need to get rid of Callum.


The 'girlfriend' thing had more traction than I expected. One of the dudes threw it out there while we were out grabbing tacos tonight. We took things outside, and then I went back to drinking. I can't have this sort of thing following me around. I have a reputation to protect.


Man, I fucked up big time.

So we were out at this shitty bar down in Cerritos. It's a total dive. Neon signs everywhere, music playing too loud from a ratty old stereo system. Smells like smoke and sweat and beer. I was there for the beer. This crap with Callum has totally gotten me down. He's always around and I'm being too nice to him.

Ward and I got a few beers in us, and he started it up again. Asking if Callum gives good head. Saying I should take Callum to a nice restaurant. Telling me I should take him home to mom and dad over the summer. Stupid shit, but like I said, I was there for the beer. I'd had a lot.

So next thing I know I'm kicking and punching Nick, and one of the fullbacks is trying to pull me off of him. Then the bouncers are pushing me out, and I'm shouting at the guys.

I said "fuck" a whole bunch, and I told them I didn't want to see them until pre-season. I meant it. I work damn hard for this team and I don't need them joking about that sort of thing. Jokes like those can ruin a career before it gets started.

It got worse when I got home. I must have passed out in the hallway outside, because when I woke up, Callum was trying to move me. I laughed, and he startled like a deer in the woods. His eyes got wide.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"What does it fucking look like?"

I shook off his attempts to help me up and somehow, dizzily, I managed to rise. Everywhere I looked, things were out of focus. Colors were too vivid, the lights in the hallway overhead almost blinding. I pushed past him and in to our dorm room.

"You're hurt," Callum said, his voice shaking.

I stared him down. "I'm fine." A drop of something hot tickled its way down my cheek. I thought it was sweat, but my hand came away stained red. "Fuck."

Callum guided me to the couch. I don't know why I let him, except that the dorm felt like he had the heat on and my heart was going crazy in my chest. I probably should have made a run for the toilet, with all the alcohol twisting in my gut, but I just lay there.

A cold towel pressed against my temple. The shock of it cleared my blurry vision. Callum stood over me, concern narrowing his brows and making his lips purse. He dabbed at the wound again.

"That might scar," he said. "The other guy--"

"He's worse."

Callum grinned. "Maybe you can teach me how to fight," he said.

I didn't answer. I wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. He was already following me to the gym, ruining my time with my friends. I just needed to be firmer with him, I decided.

"Is that beer on your t-shirt?" he asked.

I looked down and groaned. "Yeah."

"And you're sweating. Here, let me help you with that--"

He started tugging at the hem of my t-shirt, pulling it up over my cobblestone abs. One of my hands shot out and grabbed his bony little arm. I glared at him.

"What do you think you're doing, bro?" I asked.

His face flushed as red as it had been at the gym the other day. He stammered something out and tried to wrench free of my grip. That's when I saw it. His boxer shorts were totally tenting. They were too big on him, like most of the clothes he wore, but the hard little protrusion was obvious.

Red rage pressed in around my vision, and I pushed him so hard that he stumbled and fell onto the floor. I exploded up from the couch in a single motion and stood over him, face burning, fury roiling in my gut. The world spun, but I stood steady.

"They were right," I shouted. "You want my junk, you little queer!"

"What? Rocky, no, I just--" he began.

I'd known for a while, of course. Whether it was the alcohol coursing through my veins, or being confronted with solid, visible proof of his infatuation, I don't know. All I knew is that I wanted to teach this little bitch a lesson.

He had just managed to get to his feet, so he was still off-balance when I threw him up against the wall and held him there. One of my hands was around his throat, choking off any of the protestations he made. I had intended to terrify him, but the little lump in his boxers only seemed to grow harder.

They were barely hanging on, I noticed. He didn't have much of an ass to speak of and the shorts were definitely too big for his girlish waist. His struggles finally managed to work them free, and they fell down his legs and caught around his ankles.

I stared down at the source of my anger. It couldn't have been more than 4 and a half inches, fully hard. If it hadn't been surrounded by a nest of silky black hair, I would've sworn it belonged on a child.

I let him fall to the ground and released a drunken guffaw.

"No wonder you're a queer," I growled. "No woman would have you with that thing. I sure wouldn't."

My fingers fumbled at the buttoned front of my jeans. One button came off, then two, followed by a third. Towering over my quavering roommate, I shucked down my pants, leaving myself standing only in my own boxer briefs. A slumbering beast inside was starting to awaken.

It only took a few jerks to get myself hard. I'd always been ready, willing, and able at the drop of a hat. I hefted my eight inches of meat out of my shorts and swiveled my hips, waving it around.

"This is what a real man's cock looks like, homo," I said. "You should try getting one."

I tucked my schlong away and went to go throw up.


I can be such an asshole when I drink. I can't believe I humiliated Callum like that. He left this morning for the weekend. Wouldn't speak to me. I'm going to be lucky if he doesn't press charges or something. I think he has a bruise on his neck. Fuck.


Callum got back late. I was making a chicken breasts and salad for dinner and he walks in, loaded up with laundry and stuff. He didn't even look at me as he went in to his room. I let him have a little while to think before knocking on his door.

"Hey," I said. "You there?"

"Where would I have gone?" he asked. I heard him mutter something that sounded like "asshole."

I sighed. "We need to talk."

Just as I'm about to leave, the door opens. He's standing there with his little toothpick arms crossed over his bony chest. Even the t-shirt he's wearing can't hide how small he is. But he's got presence, that's for sure. His eyes are hard and glittering, like pennies at the bottom of a well.

"Fine. Talk."

He let me in. I sat on the floor, and he sat on the bed. It took me a while to warm up to what I was trying to say, and all the while, he stared at me with those hard eyes. If I was him, I would have been scared shitless, but I could practically feel the anger washing off of him in waves.

"The other day--that's not who I am," I said.

Callum rubbed the bruise on his neck. "I have significant evidence to the contrary."

"Look, I'm sorry for what happened, dude. I'd like to say it was an accident, but it wasn't. I was drunk, and I was pissed off at the guys, and I was pissed off at you. I'm... not very good with anger."

"No kidding."

I leaned forward and lowered my voice. "Honestly, I don't have a problem with queers. I've done some stuff with guys myself. I just--you're really not my type, and the guys have been ragging on me. I'm so sorry, you have no idea."

Callum's shoulders slumped. "I'm not going to call the cops on you," he said.


"That's why you're apologizing, isn't it? You're afraid you're going to get in trouble for beating up your little fag roommate?"

I couldn't quite meet his eyes. Relief flooded through me. "No," I insisted out loud. "I really am sorry. You can come to the gym with me, you can even come to Taco Tuesdays and the bar. God knows I've fucked things up with all of my friends."

"No thanks," he said.

"Why not?" I asked, stunned. "I thought you were all... y'know, in to me?"

His eyes scanned my body. "Who wouldn't be? You're built like a Greek god."

"I can show you how to get bigger," I offered.

He shook his head. "I'll figure it out for myself. You can't just slip off the hook with a trite apology, Rocky. I'm willing to put this behind us, but you're going to have to prove you learned your lesson by treating me with some respect around here. How many girls have you brought over this month?"

"Four?" I ventured. "Five. Okay, six."

"And how many guys have I brought home?"

"None?" I scratched my head. "Do you want to?"

He nodded. "In return, I'll leave you alone in public. You can pretend I don't exist outside those doors. I'd just like for us to get back to normal."

Once we'd finished talking, I felt a spring in my step that hadn't been there all weekend. It had been almost too easy to patch things up with my roommate. Then again, I did have that winning smile, and he totally wanted my dick, so I guess that gave me a leg up.

Besides, summer's coming up, and there's no way he's going to end up taking summer school courses, right?


He's taking summer school. Fuck. Guess that means I'll be stuck with him throughout the summer. I guess it won't be so bad, though. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?


Callum brought his first trick home. Skinny little guy, just like him. Same bony build, maybe a little bigger and taller than he. His name was Rick or Rich or something like that. Afterward, he comes out and asks me if I really think he has a small dick. I didn't see any sense in lying to him, but I put it gently. He asked if I knew anything about pumps or pills. I told him to try the Internets.

I guess some people are desperate enough to try anything.


Asked Callum if he wanted to go to the gym today. Thankfully, he didn't accept the offer. He never seems to go any more, but he must be working out. He's put on a little size. He's still a twig, but doesn't look like he's going to blow away any more.

From the amount of tail he pulls down, I guess the boys approve or something.


It's two in the fucking morning and I can't go to sleep because Callum and his latest 'friend' are fucking around so loudly. Maybe this whole 'respect' thing was a mistake.


I swear Callum gets more tail than I do. I've started to forget what the lot of them look like. He and this scrawny little one were coming out of his room, hair all mussed up and sweaty like they'd run a few miles. I tried to ignore them, but they were being a little loud and I was trying to watch the TV.

"Hey," the trick said. Man, he was a shrimp. He almost made Callum look athletic by comparison, something I didn't know was possible. What was this guy, about 5'4, 5'5?

I gave a polite smile and went back to watching the set.

After Callum saw him off, he came back and sat on the couch opposite mine. During a commercial, he asked me to turn down the volume.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Rico thinks you don't like him," he said. "I know, it's stupid. I told him you've been great about letting me fool around here in the first place."

I shrugged. "First impressions, I guess. Not like you're going to see him again, right?"

Callum laughed. "No, Rico's cool. I've hung out with him a few times. Don't you remember? He was like, the first guy I did stuff with."

I searched my memories. Had it been Rico? I'd remembered Callum's first trick as being a little taller than he was. Maybe the muscle he was putting on was skewing my perspective.


I woke up to the sound of a dish breaking, and now I can't go back to sleep.

Rico was cursing at Callum in Spanish when I made it out into the common room. The dish in question was shattered, littering the ground around Callum's feet, and there was a small dent in the wall. My first thought was that it would probably come out of the security deposit. Fuck.

"You can go to hell, you and your fucking pills," Rico shrieked, before stomring out.

I had to marvel at how small he was again. Seriously, Callum practically towered over the guy. He stood by the door, red-faced and clenching his fists. To my surprise, little muscles popped and rolled under his arms as he fumed.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I broke things off with him," he said. "He wanted a relationship and I'm just not looking for that. He's not really my type."

I opened the fridge and fished around for a beer. "I thought you liked him," I said.

"Me too," Callum admitted. "But I dunno, I think I can do better. Someone a little more athletic, you know?"

"You've been working out pretty hard," I said. "It shows."

He looked down at himself. "I guess so."

I glanced back at him. "Growth spurt?"

How had I not noticed? He wasn't just bigger around the shoulders, arms, and chest. He'd gotten taller, too. I'd guesstimate he stood about 5'8 now, maybe almost 5'9.

"Well," he said, with a knowing smile. "Not quite. But I'm totally growing. And I do mean everywhere," he added sheepishly.

I rolled my eyes. "Gross," I said.


He wasn't kidding. He really is growing everywhere.

I got home from the store while Callum was in the shower. All he seems to do lately is eat, sleep, gym, and shower. Oh, and fuck. He never brings home the same guy twice any more, but I've started turning on music to fall asleep to. It muffles the squeaking bedsprings. I'd say something, but things have been going pretty well lately, you know?

Anyway, I was unpacking groceries when I heard Callum's shower go off and his bathroom door open. I turned without thinking, and got an eyeful of a totally naked roommate. It must have been a second or two before he realized I was there and ducked in to his room, but the sight is etched into my brain.

He must be about 5'10 now. I mean, he still looks slim, but there's suddenly muscle on his body and it looks really impressive. His shoulders are broader, stronger, and he's taking on the look of a swim jock. Hard pecs and wide lats taper down to a waist that, as ever, is improbably small. He had these two narrow grooves framing his abs, and they were pointing down to--

Well, let's just say that his little kid dick has grown up. It looked like it was almost seven inches, maybe more, and almost as thick as mine. I was still staring after him when he came out in a towel.

"Sorry about that," he said. He didn't look sorry.

"Don't worry about it."

"Hey, I've been thinking about something," he said. "You think I might try out for football next year? I know I'm a sophomore already, and I don't have much experience, but..."

"You're a little small for the team," I said, trying to distract myself from the sight of his body. I felt my cock plumping in my jeans.

His cheeks flushed. "Well, if I gain some more weight? I played in middle school, before everyone starting hitting their growth spurts."

"It's way different than middle school, trust me. Besides, do you even know anything about the game? Do you even know what position you'd want to play? I mean, if you're good at kicking--"

"Oh, I totally do," he said. "I'd try out for quarterback."

"That's my position," I said. My cock was rock hard, and I was glad for the counter hiding it.

"For now, yeah," he agreed, before sauntering off to his room.

Our conversation from a couple of weeks ago came back to me, and I decided I had to find out what was going on before my little queer roommate outgrew me.


I had it all worked out in my head. Rico had talked about pills or something, and I figured if Callum had told him about them, he might tell some of his other tricks. But I wasn't about to go slumming it around my gay roommate's gay friends.

So I totally spied on Callum tonight. I'm a bad person. Yes, I saw more than I really wanted to see. Yes, I am ashamed of myself. And yes, I totally know his secret now. I admit it was kind of stupid, but I just had to find out.

He brings another of his tricks home. This guy's fairly athletic. Looks like a runner or something. To my surprise, he's a little shorter than Callum and less muscular, but still pretty built. My roomie's growth is like, in overdrive, and I swear he's gained about 10 pounds in the last couple of days. He must weigh 170 or so, solid. Not as big as me, but it's only a matter of time.

So anyway, Callum takes runner boy into his room and I sneak out through the front door. There's a little garden behind our dorm, so I head out through the back gate and crawl up to the window. The blinds are shut, so there's no way they'll see me, but I can peek through. More, I can hear everything.

"...so big," runner boy says to Callum.

I hear my roommate chuckle. His voice is deeper, too. A rustling of fabric comes from the bed.

"You wouldn't believe what I looked like a couple months ago," Callum says.

"These pills did all that?" Disbelief in runner boy's voice is almost palpable.

"Yeah, seriously," Callum says. "Try one. They're supposed to be for, y'know. Enhancement. But they really work."

"Just one?"

"One goes a long way."

A rattling sound. "Tastes gross," runner boy says. "Oh, wow. That feels amazing. Holy..."

I forced myself to stick around through the whole mess that happened afterward. Lots of moaning and sucking. I swear runner boy must have come four or five times. By the time they finished, my knees and elbows and I was sore from lying on the ground for so long.

It'll be worth it. Totally.


You're not going to believe what happened. I don't believe it myself. Fuck.

I waited until Callum had gone to the gym before sneaking into his room. Everything was so neat and tidy inside that it was easy to find the bottle. They were hidden in the top drawer of his nightstand.

The bottle was easy to distinguish. White and with a bronze wrapper that had some unreadable Asian font on it. Caricatures of enormously endowed men standing to either side of the label made it pretty obvious what the bottle was for. I took out one of the pills.

Small, white, and octagonal, it could have been some sort of off-brand aspirin, but I knew better. This medicine had turned my roommate from a grade A nerd into a stud in just under a month. I imagined what it could do for me.

So I took the pill. It tasted sour and salty all at the same time, but it didn't have much of an aftertaste. Once I'd forced it down, I started thinking.

I could be the biggest, fastest, strongest quarterback that the scouts had ever seen. I could have a porn star cock. I could be a freaking god for my last two years at SCS.

Besides, Callum might catch wise if he saw me growing the way he was. He'd certainly notice his stash was missing. I figured there was only one way to do this right. If one pill a day could make you into a stud, then it stood to reason...

I crammed my hand into the bottle and forced a bunch of the pills into my mouth. Swallowing them took every ounce of willpower I had, especially without water. Sure, he'd notice some were missing, but by then it would be too late. I would be huge.

I capped the bottle, put it down on Callum's nightstand, and went into his bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. My t-shirt was practically skin tight, just the way I liked them. I'd have to buy bigger t-shirts soon. I flexed my 19" guns in the mirror and smirked at the way the seams strained to contain them. Damn, I looked good. You could almost see my eight-pack beneath the fabric.

A sudden warmth built in my groin, and my dick plumped. It wasn't like any boner I'd ever felt before. My cock tingled, like a sleeping limb coming awake, a huge mound stirring in my overstuffed jeans. I was suddenly consumed with one desire: to get off.

First, my clothes.

I ripped open the zipper of my pants and shucked them off. My boxers, however, I drew down slowly, savoring the feel of the waistband sliding over the hard, hot skin of my cock.

Was it bigger? It looked bigger already, hard as diamond and ready to burst though it had barely been touched. As I wrapped one of my hands around the thick, swollen pole, I let out an involuntary moan. I couldn't touch my fingers around it, it was so hard, but trying was its own reward. It was like every sensation from the nerves there was magnified a thousand times.

Precum drooled from the magnificent head, providing more than adequate lube as I traced the patterns of veins leading down the shaft. Hot shocks of pleasure pulsed up my spine, making my ass clench and buck.

Without warning, an orgasm built in my balls. It seemed to take an eternity to climb my eight-inch shaft, but when it reached the head, it geysered forth in a white spray that coated the lower half of the mirror.

My knees shook and I almost fell to the ground. Somehow, my cock was still rock hard and ready to go again. Consumed with desire, I put my hand around it, and was ready to go for another round when I noticed something. The tip of my thumb and middle finger were touching.

I looked up at myself in the semen-spattered mirror and felt my stomach sink. I was smaller. My biceps couldn't have been over eighteen inches. They no longer strained the sleeves of my sweat-drenched shirt. My pecs had retreated. Even my hands looked smaller.

"What the fuck," I rasped, but my voice had lost some of its usual timbre. No, I had to be seeing things.

A key turned in the lock. I stumbled and slipped in some of my own cum, barely managing to catch myself on the bathroom's towel rack. My heart pounded as Callum stepped in.

Oddly, my first thought was not that he would see me, half-naked and drenched in sweat, my cum all over his mirror. It was how amazingly hot he looked.

He wore a tank top that would have been a tent on him a month ago. Now, his compact musculature filled it out perfectly. He still had a lithe build, but every muscle was shredded and hard, enmeshed in pulsing veins after a great workout. Even his face had changed. It looked like it belonged on some Roman statue. I felt pleasure echoing down my shaft at the sight of him.

His eyes widened as he stared at me, then down at my cock. "What happened to you?" he asked.

"Don't know... don't feel right," I moaned.

My had swam. It was hard to think. I just wanted him, wanted his body near me. I lurched toward him and he caught me, hard arms only a couple of inches smaller than my own wrapping around me. My cock ground into one of his hard thighs as he helped me to his bed, and I felt him getting hard too.

Once he had me settled on the bed, he tugged at the hem of my shirt. I tried to reach out and stop him, but languor kept me from doing more than moaning. I could feel my heart pounding in my head, in my cock, lulling me. Callum tugged the shirt off over my head and stood before me, his cock inflating in his gym shorts.

"Pills," I moaned. "The pills."

"How many did you take?" he asked as he hastily removed his own clothes.

"...lots," I said, breathless. As he pulled down his trousers, inch after inch of meaty cock came into view. Mine was still bigger, a part of me protested.

"You're smaller already," he said. "What a waste. This'll be interesting, though. One goes a long way."

He knelt between my legs and kneaded my cock with his callused hands. I tried to rise, but part of me wanted the pleasure. I tried to beat his hands away, but he pushed back against my flailing, tired limbs with surprisingly strong ones of his own.

The ecstasy built to a boiling point, and again, it was like a balloon bursting. Semen gushed from my cock and sprayed across his muscular chest. This time, I felt the bedclothes moving beneath me as I came, again and again. To my surprise, he began massaging my cum into his skin, his own cock thwacking against his hard belly as he groaned and grunted.

And grew. I thought I was hallucinating at first, but the horrible truth revealed itself as he began letting out a series of triumphant groans. Every breath he took seemed to make his chest stand out a little further, his shoulders a bit wider, his spine a bit straighter. But he wasn't standing straighter, he was growing.

He had to be 5'11 now, and was quickly closing on six feet. I finally managed to get to my feet and tried to push past him, but he grabbed me by the waist and threw me back toward the bed. He wasn't as strong as I was, but he had the advantage of not being disoriented.

"I can't let you go," he said through gritted teeth. "We're not finished yet. You know how many guys I had to trick into trying those to get this far? Nice guys, wimps like I used to be. You've got muscles to spare, buddy."

Callum leaped on top of me, his hard cock lying against my abs, and reached for something out of sight. I heard a rattling sound as he opened up the pill bottle. As hard as I struggled to get away, it was no use. He pried my mouth open and poured the bottle inside, forcing me to swallow or choke.

Then he knelt between my legs and began to suck. The effects came much sooner this time, and with greater force. I felt like my cock might grow right out of its skin, it was so hard, and this time, as orgasm neared, Callum was ready to catch every drop.

My hips bucked so hard that they nearly threw him off the bed. He steadied me as the first spasm went through my body, sending a blast of hot cum into his mouth. I heard him gulping it down hurriedly before the next came, and the next, and the next. All the while, the bed shifted beneath me as I shrank.

At the same time, Callum expanded. His shoulders broadened, his pecs thickened and thrust forward, and his dick widened and lengthened. He was as big as I had been. Bigger, maybe. Once I'd stopped cumming, he pulled me to my feet and dragged me to the bathroom.

I was still dazed from the pills, but the sight in the mirror was undeniable. He stood almost half a foot taller than I was, and he was half again as broad. The only sign left that he had ever been slim was his narrow waist, but it was cobbled with bricks of muscle.

His cock was easily nine inches long and as thick as my forearm. As he admired our images in the mirror, it bounced appreciatively, and a wicked smile split his lips. He swept me up into his arms and lowered me down onto the huge tool, which pressed hungrily against my ass.

I whimpered at the pain as it pushed past my defenses, but my eyes rolled back into my head as it struck something within me, nearly drowning the pain out with equal pleasure. Callum's strong arms held me against him as his hips thrust against me, every stroke a wash of pain and a blast of pleasure.

He hastened as he neared orgasm. It didn't take long. I could feel every ridge and vein of his dick inside of me. It expanded precipitously, and he came, shooting hot cream in to me. At the same time, I let out a cry, and a smaller eruption of jism spattered down around us.

As I knew I would, I felt his muscles hardening, swelling with new and sturdier fibers even as mine became weaker and more yielding. The ground retreated slightly from below us as his arms swelled past 21 inches. I did not need to look at mine to see that they were painfully thin, with only a sparse layer of lithe muscle lurking beneath the skin.

"Think I could make quarterback now?" he asked, his deep voice resounding through his chest. "It looks like the team may be missing one."

I couldn't take it any more. The shock of it all, combined with my exertions, sent me spiraling down toward unconsciousness. My last glimpse of Callum was his towering form, 6'4 if it was an inch, retreating into the distance as he lay my diminished form to bed.


5'7. I don't know what to do.


Guys from the team came by and knocked. I pretended I wasn't here.

Not one of them any more.


Can't lift 20s. I hate Callum.


"I am sorry."

That's how the email started. I was tempted to delete it when I saw the sender's name, but something stopped me. I hadn't seen or heard from Callum since that night. When I woke up on the morning of the 22nd, I'd found his room empty. There were no signs that he'd ever been there. He'd even cleaned the mirror.

And it wasn't like I could go to the authorities, anyway. What would me story be? "My roommate stole my muscles"? You'd have to be a crazy person to even dream up a story like that.

So the email.

"Dear Rocky,

I am sorry.

For what it's worth, I genuinely am. You were kind of a jerk, but you probably didn't deserve to have your dreams ruined for that. My bad. It's hard to feel really guilty because being this big is great, although I'm sure you knew that.

I just wanted you to know that this has changed my life. I hope that will give you a bit of comfort in the days to come.


My hand trembled from the rage that shot through me at reading that. He was out there, enjoying everything I had ever worked for, while I was living in terror that someone would find out I was no longer Rocky Langella, star jock. Come football season, I would be a laughing stock. A freak. No one just shrinks. No one.

I almost hit delete on the email when I noticed that it continued a ways down. After what seemed like an eternity of scrolling, I came to the end:

"Just kidding, man. Check the medicine cabinet."