Diary of a Muscle Theft God

 

I’m addicted and I just can’t stop.

It started off with just a taste. And then I was hooked.

I was living with an aunt of mine. Parents were dead. I discovered when I turned 17 that my heritage was not what I thought it was. My father wasn’t dead. He was just missing. Oh, and a GOD. As in a Greek god, and he was immortal.

You can imagine my shock, but the proof was already in the pudding.

I learned by my senior year of high school I had an ability. I could take from other men. I could take what they had. It started off with abilities. I really needed to pass a math test. I reached out and it was like I could see inside my tutor’s mind. He failed his test. I got an A.

I couldn’t believe how much I understood math. I was seeing the world in a whole new way. I began to, there’s no other word for it, see the attributes of others. I could sense their attributes. And I began to sense I was some kind of demigod. That I was going to rise and rise. So I took. A little bit here and a little bit there. I took a half inch from a guy I didn’t know that well but didn’t like much. I couldn’t believe it worked!

After that...I started stealing athletic ability. I became great at every sport. Several boys at school started to really suck at their team positions after working years to perfect their athletic goals. And I had them. I could dunk a basketball and hit a baseball. I could wrestle and run with a football. I had strategies in my head. I could outmaneuver most of the other boys. But I needed...a boost.

So I stole about ten pounds worth of muscle. I did it over a few weeks, and if anyone asked I said I had joined a gym. I hadn’t. I didn’t need a gym. I was a demigod, after all. I stole a pound from each male classmate. I began to really feel pumped. I woke up feeling better and better every day.

I started to skyrocket in popularity with my classmates, and especially the girls.

But, being a greedy little demigod, I wanted more. And being a closeted gay kid, I wanted to take and take and take everything I could.

I chose the man I wanted to be like. My coach. He was so beautiful. A paragon of manhood. I stole a few years from him. I thought he wouldn’t mind. I shot up in height and overnight I had a five o’ clock shadow. I still had a bit of a baby face. Girls were swooning. Guys were jealous.

My coach was so big and muscular and a perfect daddy. I wanted to look more like him. I stole a few pounds of muscle at first. Just enough to feel like a part of him was now inside me. It felt amazing. Better than anyone else I’d taken muscle from before.

I wanted more.

I stole five pounds one day. He definitely noticed. He felt fatigued by it. I felt like a million bucks. He was disoriented. I felt like climbing a mountain.

The next weekend I took five years from him. I couldn’t help it. I just took one year and another. I was looking in the mirror at my 23 year old self. I looked gorgeous. Brilliant. I looked like a MAN. I concentrated on him. I took more muscle. I took five more pounds.

Over the next few weeks, I was all anyone was talking about. I was growing a beard and I was becoming HUGE. I had gained 20 pounds of muscle  I felt like I was becoming the man I was supposed to. Everyone told me I was looking like a fucking STUD.

Coach was distracted. He was also losing his gray hair. He looked like he had a fraction of the gray he used to. He was 7 years younger, after all. He was excited to see me but I could tell the weight loss was perplexing him. I overheard him calling a doctor’s office when I passed by his office.

So I decided to confess to him what I’d done.

I went to his house and asked to come inside. I told him I knew he’d lost a lot of weight that he couldn’t explain and that I was responsible. I told him about my powers.

He didn’t necessarily believe me until I stole 20 pounds right there in front of him. It was orgasmic. I tore off my clothes and flexed my muscles, which were becoming engorged. He watched as I siphoned off the muscle directly into my body and his arms shrank. His legs contracted. I roared right there in his living room and took five inches of height from him. I was now taller than him.

Like a god should be.

He was freaking out. So I told him not to worry. I was going to take good care of him...

I told him about my plan. I told him it would work just fine if he did as I told him to do. He didn’t have much of a choice.

Before school started the next day, I took everything from him. I took 30 years from him. And all his muscle. He cried and I screamed in glory. I took so much muscle I thought I was going to explode! I roared and roared, drenched with sweat. He looked at me, the 17 year old version of himself, brimming with tears. I had taken too much. He was now a skinny twig of a boy at only 95 pounds sopping wet. I smiled and flexed my new body in front of him. 

 

Now I truly looked like a GOD. I LIKED being older. I liked having a graying beard. It's not like I couldn't just be young again by giving my years away whenever I wanted to.

As it turns out, he was definitely into older men. I took his asshole that day. I lost my virginity as an older muscle daddy GOD. I held his slight, wiry body up in the air and fucked him mid-air with my now engorged 9 inch dick. My dick had been 4 inches and that was unacceptable. So I took 5 inches from his former 7 incher. I’d left him with practically a nub at 2 inches and reveled in how big I now was).

The last thing I took was his facial features. I swapped faces with him, only now my face adorned his pathetic and meager frame. And I was now way more buff than he had been.

All the students the next day commented on how fucking ripped I was getting. Luckily Coach had been covered up for weeks with long sleeved shirts. And I wanted to show off how fucking huge I was. I had my former self transfer to another school and began my new buff life.

The good news was I loved my new life as a gym coach and I enjoyed fucking the kid version of the Coach. He was really getting into being fucked by a Daddy. Everything was as it should be.

Only...the thing is...

I still want more.

 

 

Entrapment Part 1

 

“What makes you think you’re getting your body back?” He says it in your voice, and he sounds like he’s trying to come across as perplexed. And you know he’s not.

You feel your heart drop. 

“What...do you mean? We agreed to switch back.” God, your voice is so...light. Almost like a girl’s. Not gruff. You feel your pathetically thin and bony arms and shiver, even though it’s the middle of summer. 

“Oh,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. “I think you misunderstood. You see, I told you we would switch bodies back when it was time,” he pauses. “But it’s not time yet.” 

“Then...when? Dude, i have a life. You can’t just keep me from my job! From my family! My uh...friends.” You breathe in a little rapidly, and say sadly “My girlfriend.”  

“Look, you’re great. You know that? I’m grateful. I mean, you didn’t freak out as bad as you could after I swapped our bodies. I mean, you went along with it. I’m just asking that you KEEP going along with it.” He sounds stern. His voice is powerful and resolute. You, on the other hand, squeak your words out. You sound ineffectively weak and people often just look over you now. I mean it’s almost too easy with your new height. You don’t even reach 5′2″ anymore. Your kid brother is now taller than you, though he wouldn’t recognize you. 

You wish you’d never met him. He looked so lonely at that party. He kept saying he wished he could be like you. He was buttering you up. He made you think he was just an innocent kid looking for a big brother figure he could look up to and emulate. You knew his sister vaguely, some ditzy hippy girl who dabbled in all that Wicca nonsense. Only it hadn’t been nonsense. It had been a trap. When they invited you over to their house, they made you dinner, gave you some wine and you drunkenly agreed to play a game. The body swap spell game. You laughed. You were so drunk. How had you gotten so drunk? Because they slipped you something and made you really susceptible to suggestion. So you agreed to swap bodies with the pipsqueak who smiled like he just won a game show jackpot. The next thing you knew you were staring at yourself, and your body was jumping up and down in glee screaming “It worked it worked IT WORKED!!!” 

“Please,” you plead. Panic begins to set in. Your eyes begin to water. “I have to get my body back. I can’t live like this.” 

“Like what? A puny wimp? Dude, I get it. Your body sucks. I know what it’s like to be in there and I know what it’s like to be in here. I am NOT leaving. I love this body. Now, we might switch places later if I decide I don’t like your life. But so far uh...I like it. Family is great.” 

“You’ll never fool them. They’ll totally guess something is wrong.” 

“Yeah, so I might just move. You’ve got a lot of money and I asked the company...they can send me to another state. I can start a new life. Man, I can’t tell you how much I don’t miss THAT body.” He shakes his head, smiling as if you’re in on the joke. But you aren’t. 

“This isn’t funny. You said-you said-” You say the words, and your voice cracks. You sound so juvenile and unmasculine. You wish you felt manly again. You wish you had some weight to you. Other men almost all tower above you. And you are helplessly looked down upon in a world that values height as a sign of maturity. Your hair is blond and your body and face are nearly hairless. This body of yours that you find yourself in barely has any testosterone. You can’t even...get excited anymore very much. You have to resort to...other methods of stimulation. Methods which involve dildos and your prostate. It has been a shock to be in a body with SUCH a tiny penis as well. You are not even what you would consider a man anymore. You’re more of a sub-male. You find yourself thinking of yourself as lesser, less than other men with their powerful vigor and dominating voices. 

He claps a heavy hand on your shoulder. It engulfs your shoulder now. 

“Look. If you’re good, I’ll try and find you some other snmuck who will agree to a body swap spell with you. I mean the only guys really willing to do that are gay guys with a fetish. You can find them online. I’ll give you the info on finding a willing partner. At least you have the incantation. I’ll even let you borrow the necklace so when you find someone willing, you can tell me. I’ll come let you borrow it and observe you two swap. Then I’ll take the necklace. And you’ll have a whole new body.” 

“But...my family.” 

“I might get sick of this body some day. I mean, I probably will. I am thinking of keeping it at least for a couple of years and having some fun. Thinking of getting some sick tats.” He flexes. God, he looks so much stronger than you. “But there’s one catch. I want you to stay in that body for at least a year.” 

“A year!” Your voice cracks again. “I can’t! I just can’t,” you blubber. The job that you now have is basically sucking cocks of older men for cash. They love your smooth young butt and your pixie like looks. When he told you that was his, now your, main source of income, you balked that you would ever stoop so low as to suck a cock. But then he send you images of his clients and you were filled with a longing for cock you never dreamed of. Within days you were being invited over to wealthy men’s houses who used your ass and then stuffed cash in your pockets, called you son and/or slave boy, or maybe even just plan FAGGOT. 

“I want you to see if you still want to change back after a year. You can try being me for a little while longer. I know you can do it. As for your life, I’m handling it pretty well. I promise I won’t get any girls knocked up. But sex with girls is so different. I didn’t think I’d even want to try it but they all love me. These guns!” He proudly flexes for you again. You salivate over the arms you used to own. You close your eyes and can remember what it was like to curl 30 pound barbells. To be of a height where you look other men in the eye. 

He comes close and kisses you on the lips. 

“Baby, just do this for me, okay? Okay, boy? You like it when guys do that, don’t you?” 

You know he’s not attracted to you. He’s straight now. But even the thought of him touching you sends you over the edge. He traces a line on your thin, meager arm. 

“I think you look real good this way. I think you’d look even better getting fucked by some much bigger guy. Wouldn’t that be great? I can set it up for you.” He shows you the much bigger man on his phone. He has a taste for boys your size. And he’s gorgeously covered in hair. His receding hairline and heavy beard make your mouth water for his cock. 

“Okay. A year. Sounds good,” you quietly decide. 

“Excellent. I knew you’d come around. Welcome to the life of being a fag, man.” He smiles and claps you on the shoulder, and sends an email. 

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I write all kinds of male transformation story, including:  body swap, age progression/regression, hypnosis/brainwashing, muscle growth, muscle theft, jock/nerd swap, elderly/young adult swap, humiliation, height growth/theft, life swap, sexual orientation swap (gay to straight, straight to gay), good boy to bad boy, arrogance/domination/bullying, man/dog, female to male, and various other forms of male transformation fiction.    

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Derek (aka muscledrain)