Description Jeff is starting to feel like his body isn’t quite what it was a little while ago, and he’s at the office with coworkers around everywhere. And the changes are starting to pile up.
|Updated||25 Jul 2013|
Jeff the intern leaned against the wall outside the break room, waiting for the office air conditioning to cool him down. He sipped one of the smart waters he’d grabbed from the break room fridge gratefully, not sure whether it was his brutal lunchtime workout or the ten blocks’ walk in the sticky July Manhattan heat that had him feeling warm and flushed, and decided to loiter here in the corridor near one of the cool-blowing overhead vents before heading back to the string of email requisitions waiting for him in his cube. He suppressed an urge to loosen his tie. At least dress shirt and tie with slacks was all the company uniform that was required—his best buddy Jud who worked upstairs had to wear a suit.
He lounged his tall, rangy frame against the corridor wall, drinking idly, feeling like it was a little strange he wasn’t cooling down today. It had to be the New York summer. He thought about his kid brother back home in San Francisco—where “summer” was always as chilly as fall or spring. It’s not an actual summer, he thought, just months that have summer-sounding names. Wearing a sweater on the beach in July always surprised visitors from the east, and now Jeff knew why at first hand.
On the other hand, he mused, at least in New York the advent of warm weather means the pecs start popping out from where they’ve been hiding all winter. Half-naked hot dudes, he thought to himself with an inward smile, were always good. Here, guys clearly loved to hit the gym during the cold months so they can surprise everyone when the layers come off. Guiltily he realized he’d been trying for that effect himself this last year in New York. His free hand strayed to the pecs he’d been focusing his intent on over the winter… as if force of will could build them up as much as the bench presses and butterflies.
But it was true. He literally loved seeing guys who’d done what he had started doing, hot guys with big, tight, bulked-up bodies swelling against shirt and slacks in all the right places. Pecs and lats plus a tight, narrow waist … big, brawny arms that you can see a block away … thick, thick legs that lead up to beautiful round butts, the kind that look sinful in khaki shorts or snug work trousers. Jeff loved seeing a guy down the block and catching sight of big upper arms, and especially, those lats. Lats and pecs even on a guy with not much else in the way of muscles… but yeah, if there were thick toned legs and a hot ass, too…
Jeff thought about the hot guys he’d been seeing in the city, knowing he wasn’t helping his sense of being flushed and pumped from his own workout. It seemed like there were some exceptional chests all around him all the time, even just now on the street walking back to the office. He wasn’t obsessive about pecs, but they really drew his eye. He usually spotted them first on a guy. Then his gaze quickly did inventory on the rest of him to see if it all matches in development… He loved it when the little alarm went off. Check this guy out. quick. He’s hot. And built!
So he’d try a subtle look….and probably wind up looking like a drooling perv, he thought wryly. Well, guys like that are used to being checked out. Especially the ones who’ve worked all winter to buff themselves up to male perfection. They’ve designed themselves to attract attention… he was just giving them what they wanted, Jeff told himself, half amused and half in conviction.
He realized he’d finished his smart water without noticing, so he leaned around the doorframe to toss the bottle into the recycling bin, then resumed his languid pose against the wall. An exceptionally tall, built-looking cutie from the apps development team, with long raven hair that Jeff loved, hurried by, not neglecting to toss Jeff a heart-stopping smile over his shoulder as he passed, and Jeff smiled back. New York has more than its fair share of studly built dudes, he mused. Everyone works out here. Especially hot straight dudes. They’re all wearing dress shirts and ties and trying to ignore you. But they all crave being checked out by other hot, built guys.
On first moving here he’d thought it was a shame that office dudes all covered up in corporate drag, but he’d gotten good at spotting a built dude in a dress shirt and suit pants—it was actually one of his favorite looks now. He looked down, considering his own look objectively. Especially, he thought, when guys got things tailored to fit them…then grow just a bit or bulk up. And everything gets super snug…and maybe pulls a bit in all the right spots.
And then they grow some more and have to get all new shirts, he added to himself. That would be a while for him. Then again, his shirt was feeling unusually snug today, like he had a huge pump that wasn’t going away…
He kept looking down at himself, thinking about hot buff guys in business wear he’d seen lately. Sometimes it takes a while, too, to get new clothes, so they have to keep wearing the tight ones. That raven-haired guy had looked like he needed to go up a shirt size soon, now that he thought about it.
Jeff took stock of his body. Everything was feeling a little strange, like his whole body had a big pump. He frowned, thinking about his lunch-time workouts. It was like he was doing just his normal sets—but his muscles felt like they were spiking up for no reason. It had been like this all month actually. A weird pump, a weird feeling of heaviness, of some kind of potency. Shirts getting tighter and tighter…dress slacks getting so snug around his ass and thighs. He was suddenly acutely aware of how tight his slacks were. The suit pants were stretching to cover his muscle ass and his firm, hard thighs—but the seams were pulling a bit in a way they weren’t designed to.
Suddenly he was afraid he might not be able to sit down. He almost laughed. He realized he had been standing around a lot at the office, avoiding sitting down. It came to him with a shock that that was what he was doing now.
He straightened up from his pose against the wall, feeling the fabric of his slacks like it was actively grabbing him. His shirt felt the same way. He found himself staring down at his own thick chest, wondering why it felt so big, so heavy—wondering if he might get away with unbuttoning the straining shirt buttons over his pecs. If the tie hides it…surely just opening up one or two buttons wouldn’t be too noticeable. At least it might ease some of the strain. At this point his nipples were so visible—poking right through the fine cotton.
He was not even admitting to himself how much the grip of the tight fabric and the feel of his bulging muscles was arousing him. He couldn’t! He just can’t chub up here in the office—not the way these pants fit now. It would be obscene.
And yet it was so hard not to…
It was inevitable, the way he was feeling—the way the clothes are forcing him to show off his body. Weirdly his mind cast around for explanations along the lines he’d already been thinking. Was it New York, the heat, the relentless workouts? Were there other guys all over the city feeling this, feeling soft, stretched cotton snuggling thickened muscle?
He felt his arousal start as a tingle…nothing too threatening…but it was so cramped down there that even a little extra blood pumping into it…. Just the attention seemed to be making it feel big—and hot. The head pushed against the fabric a bit…searching out an extra bit of room to grow into. Finding a gap, it lengthened—and fattened…and sliiiiiiiiid slowly—very slowly forward.
He felt sudden alarm as the zipper seemed to strain slightly. It never did that before.
His slacks were so tight now. He was aware of his own hard round ass in his slacks. How someone groped it in the elevator this morning. And now his cock was feeling … oversized, somehow. Heavy with portent, like all the muscles of his body. He felt like something wasn’t just happening but was also still happening, and about to happen.
His whole body felt engorged….turgid. Like a solid pump…but somehow tingling and more exciting. Like a cock swelling and thickening to a huge erection.
If anything his clothes felt even tighter now. Shaking his head he told himself that that couldn’t be possible. No one grows out of their clothes in one workday. It just isn’t possible.
He needed to get his mind off his body. He needed to be trying to go on about his business…his work. Trying to keep his mind off of this feeling, and his cock, getting hard. But the thought of ignoring how his clothes were plastered to him now ironically turned him on even more… made his cock stretch and try to harden. Only… it already did that, it already stretched out, Jeff thought, confused.
Yet he could still feel his cock pushing out—against the front of his suit pants…against the zipper which has bared itself through the fabric flap…pulling the seat of his pants even tighter against his glutes.
Uneasy, he knew he needed to head to the men’s room… or to his office… or to an empty conference room or supply closet… just somewhere where he can try to get a grip on what’s happening to him. And even as he thought this he started to realize that getting a grip was what he needed—his cock still trying urgently to get bigger in his straining crotch.
Can he rub one out somewhere at work without anyone knowing?
It’s obscene, he knew. Jerking off at work…who does that? But his cock just felt unreal…literally. Like it was swelling up into the fattest rod he’d ever thrown.
His nips, too, were insistent, begging for a grope as his thickening pecs pushed them out through the shirt. And he never was much of a nip man…but fuck…today they were out of control. Like hot little cocks centered right on his bulging pecs. As he hesitated in the empty corridor he brushed a hand against one of them and gasped as electricity shot through him like he stuck his dick in a socket. The feel of them … big … he panted, realizing his thick expensive dress shirt was not only straining desperately across his huge pecs, but was damp right where his nips were. He must be sweating…after all he was feeling really hot now, more than before, all of a sudden…but he didn’t really feel any sweat at all, just burgeoning warmth expanding from every muscle, every cell. So why was his shirt damp just in those patches over his swollen pecs?
He tried to puzzle that out, but…fuck…when did it get so hard to think clearly?
But the mental haze shredded abruptly as he feels a pop near his ass—the seams of his pants were starting to go! And his pecs felt as swollen as his ass too, like his muscles were boning up. The button popped off the middle of his chest just as he was realizing his glutes were feeling just as big and heavy as his pecs and they were both .. too.. big…..
Everything felt outsized…and heavy…bloated, pregnant with size and density to come. His clothes were suddenly, he realized with dismay close to panic, ridiculously small for his body.
His shock was so great he was frozen in place. What forced him to move was feeling the tines of his zipper slowly starting to wrench apart as his cock muscle stretched… and in a heartbeat the whole zipper was forced completely apart by the relentless mass behind it. He stared in complete amazement as his huge cotton-clad bulge mounded up and out through the growing opening in the front of his trousers.
After taking a few backward steps, gaping for a few heartbeats in amazement, he heard someone walking down a nearby corridor. Quickly he darted the other way toward the nearest men’s room. As he ran he noticed for the first time that his shirt tails were pulling out of his waistband. He quickly checked his pants cuffs and sure enough there a couple inches of sock where his too tight pants were now too short as well. Too late he realized that he must be taller—and whacked his head against the upper doorframe as he ducked into the small one-person bathroom and shut and locked the door behind him.
Before he even turned on the light he stopped to try and catch his breath, leaning his hands on his knees, trying to make sense of what he was sensing, what he was feeling. His body churned with need. His head, smarting from the door frame, was nonetheless still swirling with powerful lust, a torrential lust for what was happening to him.
In the dark he could feel his clothes binding against his growing muscles like a straitjacket—and he knew without looking that his leap into this tiny room cost him at least a couple of torn seams. There is no way he could get out of here looking normal. At least now he felt like he’s safe enough to get out of these too-tight clothes…
Even as his hands reached for his torn-open shirt he felt a spasm of agony from his feet. He realized his feet had been screaming at him and he knew he had to deal with his shoes before anything else. He bent over to reach for his shoes—his arms feeling long somehow… and as he did so his shirt and pants ripped loudly.
Straightening back up suddenly he felt his hair tickling the ceiling of the room, so he quickly leaned back against the thankfully bare wall beside him and slid down to a sitting position on the pleasantly cool tile….and the successive tearing sounds confirmed that he had just reduced his expensive suit pants and custom-tailored shirt to tatters.
Quickly, he fumbled around for his feet and unlaced the dress shoes. his feet nearly springing out from the tight, constricting leather…feeling almost as if they were swelling up as he did so, expanding gladly in the free air.
He pulled off what was left of his clothes and tossed the rags aside. Sitting there in the dark, naked now except for his painted-on boxer briefs and dress socks…he tried to get a handle on his situation. Which would be a relatively easy thing to do if he could think about something other than the throbbing pleasure coming from his crotch and the two spikes of flesh jutting out from his bowling ball pecs.
Hardly able to help himself he reached down to fish his cock out of his straining boxers. It felt enormous in his hands and it still … wasn’t hard? He wanted to touch his nipples too – they were as insistent as his cock and as heavy and full of intense, saturated feeling… he wanted to touch them and his cock really, really badly.
But there was still that tingling feeling in his muscles and feet. He shifted to get a better position in the cramped room. He tried to concentrate on feeling that tingling as he wrapped both his big hands around his thickening meat, and as he did his head swam with the sensation. His cock telegraphed the usual pleasure at being gripped…but times a million.
His mind was racing. For the first time he realized that just cumming wouldn’t make him feel like this was over.
Meanwhile his hands were having trouble getting a solid grip on his meat. He was always a girthy boy…a big two-hander…and proud of it. But now his hands were feeling something incredibly large. It was like gripping …an… arm? A coffee can? A tree trunk?…his mind whirled for a description. It was tall and straight up, pointing at the ceiling as usual, and now so hard it was bending back and actually pressing hard against his massive chest.
Yet his hands were already doing their job…working their way up and down the immense shaft. And it was so heavy—so sensitive—just holding it was like stroking it, and stroking it was like almost cumming.
As he slid his hands slowly up and down it suddenly spurted. He knew he hadn’t cum, but he was shooting precum. Two shots landed on his pecs and as he looked down he realized he were monsterpecs, bigger and harder and more ponderous even than a moment ago. But what he saw sticking out in front of them caused his mind to lock up.
Maybe if he weren’t already bigger than his cock used to be only that morning… but … fuck.
It was insane what he was seeing. Two larger than life sized versions of his own oversized prick right where his nips usually were. Fully boned and each dripping a steady, thick stream of clear jock sap.
He gave a tentative flex of his pecs and watched as the mounds of muscle tensed, causing these two massive boners to stand at full, rigid attention…pointing outward toward the room. He managed to detach a hand from his arm-sized erection and reach toward them, only to have a healthy swipe of dick juice painted his hand as he tensed his pecs again. Unable to help himself—in fact deeply needing to taste—he licked his fingers, and even as he was feeling the shudder of how awesome his salty sweet nipcum tasted he was registering just how long and strong his tongue was now.
The realization alone made him suddenly cum, and cum, and cum, painting his face and pecs and shoulders with quarts of hot, thick spunk, and even as he came, Jeff knew that he’d been right—cumming would only made him more full of lust, and need, and … growth.