Description Brian finds a magical backpack that uses magazines as fuel to transform him. Soon, he realizes that his enhancements are sexually contagious, making his sex partners hotter. What else will he discover about the magic sack?
|Updated||17 Mar 2017|
Brian ran along the shore every morning and night, but still couldn’t rise above his plateau weight. On one humid Saturday evening, Brian finished his run and rested on a bench looking out to sea, watching the sunset. He heard squawking of the gulls. He noticed a few seagulls picked at what looked like a spare tire near the wash. Against his better judgment, Brian picked the bag up and looked inside. Nothing. Then he looked closer at the front of the pack. Embroidered stitching read: To change yourself, feed me a magazine.
Naturally, Brian thought little of the note. However, he needed a new backpack, and since funds are tight, he went back to the his dorm, grabbed the Lysol spray and went back to the coastal path where he had left the pack, and sprayed the bag, inside and out, with the cleaner.
A few hours later, after drying in the sun, Brian wiped out the bag diligently, and then brought the bag inside. He thought again about the stitching. “What the hell?” he thought. “I don’t have much to lose, except,” he snorted, “maybe my sanity.”
Brian rushed to the magazine rack of the nearest newsstand and picked up the current issues of Men’s Fitness, Men’s Health, Flex, and Muscle & Fitness and, in addition, a couple of back issues of the last one. Before he even thought of what else he could feed the bag, he desired this change, his transformation into a well-muscled hunk. In the bathroom of the campus library, he unzipped the bag and took a stack of three and fed them into the bag as if it were a heavy-duty shredder. After feeding the last three, he began feeling himself all over. His biceps and abs didn’t seem any more refined. He immediately thought the whole thing was a hoax, dropping the bag and walking away.
Brian only made it about five paces before he realized: “I’ve got to put it on!”
Putting on the backpack, Brian noticed the changes first in his biceps. They began to thicken, and as they did, he felt them burn. They burned in an extremely pleasing way. When he flexed, they peaked to amazing heights. To reveal more of his body, he ripped his clothing off with his powerful arms. He turned halfway. Brian’s exquisite ass bounced, tight, round, and succulent. It too burned, the cheeks on fire, a radiant and blissful heat. His torso rippled with powerful muscle, his body aflame, rejecting fat and gaining strength.
Brian was now clothed only by tight camouflage underwear and black combat boots. His pecs expanded, adding pound after ponderous pound of muscle. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing his tightly chiseled abs, full pecs, broad shoulders, carved arms and a fantastic bubble-butt. His waist was getting smaller, his chest bigger, while giant arms bulged from the bag’s tight sleeves.
Brian looked down at himself noticed one thing that had not changed. Cupping his bulge, he estimated his dick was still only about five-inches long.
With the backpack in tow, Brian rushed to the nearest adult video store, which had a plethora of porn magazines for sale, many of which were back issues from magazine publications that had made a digital transition to be paperless. After he selected and purchased the magazines Mandate, Playguy, and Men, plus six assorted back issues, as next to be fed to the bag, he looked for a spot at the end for a far aisle. He made sure to include the issues containing articles that featured men who had exceptionally large, pleasurable and prodigious cocks, who were the most limber, who were the most sexually experienced and able, and who seemed to have the most sensitive g-spots.
Then, as he fed the magazines into the backpack, the manager of the store came up to him. Putting the backpack over his shoulder, the most powerful erogenous waves of pleasure he ever felt came over him, and the manager simply stared. As his dick grew in both length and width, he ended up orgasmimg over and over until his dick was so big that the manager could see its huge bulge where it was trapped, yet still cumming.
The bag changed Brian’s camouflage undies into spacious, white boxer briefs, his package explicitly prominent. The manager, Russell, was pretty sure had a grapefruit inside the underwear because there was no way a man could be hung like that.
His body was becoming like a huge sex organ, feeling and emanating strong sexual arousal. Even his pecs seemed to shift into a higher position, soaring straight out of his clavicle and floating above his washboard stomach. Brian swore that he saw his muscles get just a little bigger, and his face define itself just a little more, and his grapefruit was becoming a watermelon.
Russell, the manager, began going totally gaga over Brian’s body. Being so turned on from the transformation, they both needed sexual release. As it continued, Brian’s bulge was bordering on the obscene; he left absolutely nothing to the imagination in that department, which frankly, was an okay problem to have. Still, the size of his genitals skated passed obscene into unmanageable and headed for absolutely outrageous.
Russell told Brian about the cot in the back, usually used by cashiers doing a triple shift. Looking at Russell’s skinny twink body, Brian removed his briefs and locked heads with the other man. Brian got hard quickly, stayed powerfully hard for the entire encounter, and fucked the man so thoroughly he was screaming both in pleasure and for more penetration, more sex, more lust.
Every time he came inside of Russell, over and over, he seemed to squirm with orgasmic passion. Though neither men realized, Russell was getting more and more ripped and hung with every ounce of cum that entered him. After the four-and-a-half hours of blissful anal, oral and anal-oral sex, performed primarily by Brian, Russell was exhausted, and he would have tired out much sooner had he not been gaining some of the effects of the backpack from Brian’s ejaculation.
With one last kiss, a lusty tongue-fuck of a kiss, the men parted, pumped, pert preening pecs pressed up against each other. Russell said, “Fuck me again, and I’ll give you the employee discount.”
Brian had slept off the hours of sex at Russell’s apartment and made sure to get his number. Walking around town, Brian was coming to realize that his newly-huge cock was making him insatiably horny. It was hard most of the time and made it very difficult for him to concentrate.
After breakfast, Brian went down to the corner newsstand and fed the bag the current issues of the magazines Tall, Rolling Stone, and Food & Wine, making him taller and giving him a better, more refined, or at least more mainstream taste in food, wine, and music. After putting the backpack on, Brian went past his reflection in a restaurant’s window and saw his walk had modified itself, his shoulders rolling more, his ass bouncing up and down. Now, his manly swagger was serving as an enhancement of his explosive virility.
He looked at himself. His new haircut was attractive, but his face wasn’t neither particularly beautiful nor impressively rugged. People Magazine‘s “Sexiest Man Alive” annuals would do the trick. A few selected issues would go a long way in this case. He put on the bag eager to see his new face.
Brian fed the bag the magazines, and suddenly, Brian’s nose appeared to collapse in on itself in a three-second rhinoplasty. His face was becoming beautiful and rugged, high cheekbones and tanned to a golden hue. The ledge of his brow jutted outward and downwards, connecting with the bridge of his nose in a perfect curve. As the round tip of his nose chiseled itself into a square, turning upward slightly, his nostrils shrank in size. It was a beautiful nose and a prominent brow, his eyebrows straight and low over his bright blue eyes. His face tingled in a subtle but mistakable way. He removed his shirt admiring himself, and then he lowered his low risers to see his full torso.
Brian’s body was subtly adjusting itself to be better looking instead of the sheer mass the muscle mags had given him. He grinned, knowing what would soon happen: he’d be so gorgeous that men would cum just looking at him, and his own spunk would make others good-looking.
His face changed further: one eyebrow had a slight arch while the other was perfectly straight. This combined with the natural pout of his masculine and red lips to give Brian the look of a perpetually smoldering gaze. Not sticking out anymore, his ears had folded against the sides of his head while his forehead was flatter and a heavier ledge over his eyes. Most dramatically, his angular jaw line was now capped by a wide square, dimpled chin, scruff-free except for a soul patch.
Andre, a back waiter, noticed Brian from the hotel restaurant window into which Brian’s physique was explicitly displayed, and Andre risked his dismissal by walking out to the sidewalk to ogle him and his magnetic good looks. Andre dangled an electronic key on his lanyard in front of Brian and said, “Come with me, big boy.” Brian responded by kissing Andre on the lips with salacious tongue. Andre’s little frame quivered with desire.
Brian fucked Andre over and over, at times, with painfully slow pumps and deep penetration. Like Brian’s encounter with Russell, Andre was becoming more buff, more sexually experienced, and more well hung. But unlike Russell, Andre was also getting hotter facially, slowly turning him into a real pretty boy.
Furthermore, Andre’s ass seemed to get more sensitive, more defined, and more muscular. Even the snugness of the hole gripped Brian’s dick only to increase the power of his sexual peak. After the amazing sex with growingly gorgeous Andre, Brian skipped out, getting his number.
He decided to buy and feed the pack a few magazines that he suspected would change his life in a very substantial way. The three magazines he fed the bag were GQ, Forbes, and Money. He pulled out his wallet. There was eight hundred dollars and three ultra-platinum credit cards inside. Then he noticed that he was wearing a Rolex. Finally, his car keys were now for a Lexus.
The clerk, from who Brian had been neurotically purchasing magazine three at a time and shoving them into his backpack with varying results, approached Brian and said, “I have to say your ass is quite perfect. I’d love to fuck it sometime.” Normally, Brian would be turned off by such a direct and haughty come-on, but he found it refreshing. “I love power bottoms and guarantee I can satisfy you,” said the clerk.
Brian looked down at the clerk’s name tag which read “Calvin.” Then he looked a little further down and looked back up quite interested. He whispered into Cal’s ear, “Fuck me. Fuck me hard.” Luckily, Cal had apartment in the upper floors above the bookstore.
The lovemaking was passionate, rough and fierce, even brutal. Cal fucked Brian so thoroughly that every time he thought he was at Cloud Nine, he broke through to whole new Cloud Ten. Brian just kept on cumming, one of the better effects of the porn mags, until he realized Cal should be absorbing the cum, taking it in to become hotter. He didn’t want to come away from this encounter without having give anything to Cal in return.
“Suck me,” said Brian. “Suck my big, fat schlong.”
“But you’re even bigger than me,” said Cal, nervous.
“Trust me, Cal.” Brian said, flouncing by looking at the time on his phone, “You’ll wanna try.”
“I’ll try,” said Cal.
Brian’s dick emanated a distinct sexual resonance. Furthermore, though any normal ass would be raw, chaffed, and painful from the reaming it had just received, Brian’s butthole only burned with a pleasure, an echo of the fuck. And now he was trying to suck Brian’s cock. Though his cock has shrank a bit in length and width, it was now more shapely and more orally manageable, closer to what you see next to the definition of the word “cock” in the dictionary, a cock so inherently singular that it was chosen to represent all cocks. As Cal sucked away on Brian’s beautiful prick, swallowing more and more of his sweet spunk, Cal’s body began to change his twink body, started getting more muscular, slowly but surely.
Luckily, expediting the process was the marked increase in Cal’s sexual prowess due to the power of the bag, making Brian cum and cum and in turn, making Cal more experienced at pleasing a man. “Your ass. It’s so hot,” said Brian. “Hot and getting hotter.”
“Your ass ain’t half bad itself.” As Cal spoke, Brian reached around to jack Cal’s cock. “Aw, hell. Who am I kidding?” He admitted, “Your ass is perfect: just tight enough for fucking but not tight enough to be painful. A round, real wet dream of a power bottom’s ass.” Cal came again and then again in quick succession. Brian knew exactly how to please a man thanks to nine porno magazines and that backpack.
After they had finished cleaning up, Brian realized that he had no change of clothes. “Put this on,” said Cal as he handed Brian a hooded jacket. “Do your pants still fit?” Cal asked.
Trying them on, Brian said, “Luckily.” He grimaced, “But not in the crotch.”
Cal put on a shirt of his own but was a tight fit. Brian couldn’t zipper the jacket, so he left it open, displaying his muscular torso.
Cal said, “I know the best place to pick up really hot guys.”
“Where’s that?” asked Brian.
The open August air was hot and humid.
“Are you sure about this?” Brian asked.
Cal nodded. The two hunks skipped over the barrier and strutted across the Major-League Baseball field like they owned the place. As they passed the dugout, one player stared at them with a crooked smile. In response, Cal lifted his shirt to show his newly ripped abs to the player.
The player exited the dugout and trailed after Cal and Brian. As they reached the other side of the field, Cal and Brian hopped the wall. And the player did likewise. They walked to his loft.
On the way, when Brian saw that his uniform said: GRIDLEY. “What’s your first name?” asked Brian.
“Does it matter?” asked the player.
“It will when I need a name to scream amidst orgasmic bliss,” said Brian.
The player said, “My name is Andrew Gridley.”
“Fuck!” Cal exclaimed, who hadn’t noticed the jersey. “You’re the Suns’ star pitcher. Your ranked second in the league.”
“Third this season, unfortunately.” He said, “They call me Grid.”
Grid’s loft was actually a penthouse, sprawling and filled with every luxury and refinement.
Brian started kissing his neck, wanting to get him out of his clothes and into the bed.
Grid removed his shirt, revealing his clearly visible abs. Brain said, “Nice griddle.” Then Grid removed his pants, showing a powerfully sizeable bulge in his whiteys. He looked at himself in the full-length mirror. His briefs were stacked in the front by his long cock and ample balls and in the back by a sculpted tight ass. Brian snuggled up to Grid, saying, “I want to fuck you,” without words.
Needless to say, Grid was already hot, and accepting Brian’s cum into to him would only make him more so. As a sex symbol, Grid was desired by millions. His ass alone was legendary, squeezed into those tight uniform pants, the logo stretched taut across the chest, enough that his pecs left very little to the imagination.
Also needless to say, the sex was better than could possibly be imagined. Cal and Grid sandwiched Brian, Grid’s butt giving him sustained pleasure as his cheeks throbbed while Cal was in and out like a jackhammer and just as pneumatic. Both of their sexual dynamism seemed even greater now that he had fucked them and released his spunk into them. Their musculature became more defined, their looks hunkier, their sexual prowess more amazing, their dicks more prodigious, and their asses like bread rising to meet Brian’s fuck pole.
With the heat and passion slowly burned away, Brian rolled over and wiped off his lips.
Brian pulled on his boxer-briefs and put on his backpack, but being sure to get phone numbers from Cal and Grid, who were both sad to see Brian and his 48-inch chest and his 19-inch biceps go, but at least they could watch his incredibly sculpted ass walk out the door.
Walking past the graphic novels and comic books, he stopped one last time at the magazine rack, purchasing more and more ammo for his backpack. Back on the street, with the backpack full of condoms, lube, and a now very redundant extra-large dildo. His sexy, rockin’ body could seduce anyone. Months went by, and he only noticed because it started getting cold again.
He eventually ran across Russell, the video store manager, at a porno theater showing of a new indie movie. Russell looked even more buff and good-looking than he had the last time Brian had seen him. “Actually, it’s the premiere,” he said.
“Oh, really?” Brian asked, “Are you an usher?”
“I’m the star.” Russell motioned toward the screen.
Brian turned and saw the sex romp of two gorgeous men, one of which was Russell. It was an insanely hot porno about men who had salacious intercourse of all varieties. During the final credits, Brian and Russell kissed deeply. Brian brought him to a nearby hotel, where he ran into Andre, the back waiter, in the lobby.
“Hey, Andre.” Brian smiled. “Good to see you.”
“I’m an escort now.” Andre’s wildly handsome face, toned body and well-hung cock must have made him greatly seductive.
“You look different.”
Andre said, “I don’t know why but... Ever since that time we fucked, I’ve...”
“It’s contagious!” Brian gasped. “You’re all getting hotter every time you fuck!” He stepped to the side to reason it all out, and Russell and Andre had a chance to check each other out. Brian thought for a moment, and now he determined to seek out the hundreds of men he had slept with and evaluate what effects the bag has had on them because... because... they are even hotter now, and Brian didn’t want to give up fucking attractive men who were now even more smokin’. Brian smiled a half grin.
In a room, Russell and Andre fucked and then perspired by the light of the moon, their bodies growing and changing to be even more sexy. As they slept, Brian watched some TV, seeing a special on Grid, who had made a career change from baseball to bodybuilding, the first man to ever be on the cover of Men’s Health five months in a row.
Brian sought out Cal, the book store clerk, who he came across while he was signing books at a local library. His book, Real Life Sex, was a smash. “Early on,” Cal spoke to the people gathered, “I realized that even the craziest work of fiction couldn’t match the hyperbole of actual real life amorous situations.”
Brian didn’t stay to talk to Cal, but instead went back to the bookstore to reinvigorate with a few fresh mags. He stocked up on back issues of every men’s magazine.
Waiting yet again behind a couple nerds, each buying a stack of comic books, Brian mind began to wander. After a few seconds, he tuned into their conversations. The one nerd said, “Yeah, I prefer graphic novels, but this issue of the Graphic Story Magazine is worth, like, fifty bucks online.”
The other guy said, “It looks so much like a comic book, I could get them confused.”
Brian’s jaw dropped, and he screamed, “Comic books!”