The wishing machine

by Anonymous

You gotta watch out for those cheap bar wishing machines.

The machine stood next to the entrance of a bar. I was on my way home and it was getting a bit late, but I felt strangely fascinated by the oddly shaped, blinking machine. The instructions on it seemed simple enough:

"Enter one wish only. Machine does not grant wishes intended to hurt others. Machine does not grant magic powers or unlimited wishes. Machine does not grant wishes affecting more than one person."

A wishing machine. I remembered how, as a kid, I had really believed that they my wishes would become true, and how disappointed I always was when, the next day, the desired changes hadn't occurred. Yes, the desired changes. Which were still the same after all those years, while my belief in wishing machines had suffered considerably with the passage of time. I had been a scrawny, awkward kid, and I had grown into a scrawny, awkward adult. I wasn't ugly. But I had the kind of face people tended not to recognize even after several meetings, and, weighing only 130 lbs despite the fact that I was, at 6'1'', quite tall, I could not count on a memorable physique either.

My belief in wishing machines had vanished, but my wish, the burning desire to be remarkable, to impress the people around me with my good looks, had remained. I knew I was a nice guy. I knew that good looks were not everything. But they were something, weren't they?

I checked whether anybody was watching me because I felt kind of childish standing in front of the wishing machine, but there was no one around. When I entered my wish, I even felt a little flicker of hope that, this time, my wish would come true, that despite everything I knew and believed in, there was magic in the world, and that it would now change my life forever:

"After midnight, I want to become much more handsome, and I want my muscles to grow until I weigh twice as much as before."

The machine made some strange noises, and a light at the top started blinking. After a few seconds, a the machine printed out a little slip of paper which read: "Wish granted." I sighed, put the slip into my pocket and went home.

I had just finished brushing my teeth and was ready to go to bed, but decided to have a look in the mirror first. What I saw once again failed to impress me. I thought of my wish, of the slip of paper in the pocket of my jeans, and once again a deep sigh escaped my lips. I left the bathroom, stopped in the living room to pick up the book I was reading, which was lying on the sofa, when I heard the clock of the nearby church strike twelve.

Suddenly, I felt giddy, and a strange kind of pressure began to build up inside of me. I could hear a funny little sound, almost like heavy breathing, or like someone blowing up a balloon. I shook my head to get rid of these crazy impressions, but they did not seem to go away.

I suspected that I might be getting ill and decided to go back to the bathroom to have another look in the mirror. When I got there, I noticed immediately that something about me was different, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I didn't look sick, though, I even wondered whether, perhaps, I wasn't as hopelessly unattractive as I had thought. There would always be more handsome men than me on the planet, but the shape of my lips did have a certain sensual quality, and my nose was strong and neither too bit nor too small. I traced my eyebrows with my fingers and decided that they contributed to the overall expressiveness of my face, just as did my deep, dark brown eyes. My healthy tan completed the picture, and I admit that I was surprised, when I stroked my cheeks with my right hand, by the contradictory feel of my skin, both smooth and rough, both pleasantly cool and teasingly hot.

Snapping out of my reverie, I took a step back and realized that staring at me from the mirror was a strikingly handsome guy who bore only a remote resemblance to myself. For a second, I failed to understand what was happening, turning around and expecting to find somebody standing behind me, but then the truth began to sink in. I looked back at the mirror, at the face which was still changing, becoming even more handsome than it had been just a few moments ago. I reached out with one hand and traced the outlines of the face in the mirror. A gasp escaped my mouth, and I could see how at precisely the same time the lips of the face in the mirror parted, as if to receive a passionate kiss from an invisible and equally beautiful lover. But there was only me.

"Wish granted."

Remembering the second part of my wish, I closed my eyes, lifted my shirt and put my right hand on my stomach. Flat. Hard. Six deliciously shaped abs brushing against my palm. Pushing outwards. Becoming more defined.

I opened my eyes and watched the small mounds of muscle increase in size, feeling them grow against my skin. I lifted my shirt further, taking in the sight of my tight pecs, of my nipples erect on the two firm and growing slabs of muscle on my chest. Swelling. Growing.

Unconsciously, I had started to stroke my crotch with my left hand, and I realized now that the growth was truly taking place all over my body. I felt my dick become harder, felt it growing under my stroking hand, felt it grow and grow, felt it becoming larger and thicker, harder and harder. I felt my balls increasing in size, brushing against my quads, which were swelling as well, felt my jeans become tighter and tighter, struggling with the size of my ballooning calves, with the growing amount of muscle and with my incredible, my raging hard-on.

My excitement grew even more when I looked again at my image in the mirror, at my amazingly handsome face, at the way my muscles were growing, filling up my shirt. I saw my pecs pushing against the fabric, stretching it more and more tightly across my chest. I could feel how my growing, broadening shoulders strained the seams of my shirt, and I couldn't resist flexing my ballooning biceps, showing of my thickening forearms, marveling at the increasing bulge of my triceps. I spread my wing-like traps, an angel of beauty, growing more muscular with each passing second, filled with desire and strength. I flexed my arms, my muscles bulged and pulsed with growth, my back became wider and wider, I heard a ripping sound as the fabric of my jeans gave way, as my quads tore my pants apart. I felt the heaviness and lightness of my new body, the increasing weight and strength of my muscles, felt myself growing, my skin stretching across the ballooning mounds of muscle on my body. My hard-on ripped through my pants, still growing, lengthening slowly, thickening, pulsing with excitement under my stroking fingers. As my muscles exploded through my shirt, my dick exploded in a mind-blowing orgasm, cumming and cumming for several minutes, and then the world turned black.

I woke up the next day, around two o'clock in the afternoon, and for a second I thought that the whole experience must have been a dream. But then I felt the size of my muscles, felt my incredible strength and I knew even before I looked down at myself that it was true. I got up from the floor, feeling myself getting hard again as my quads brushed against each other, feeling the weight of my cock and my balls. I decided to take a shower, and my excitement only grew when I rubbed myself all over, my bulging biceps and the firm curves of my fantastic muscle-butt. I managed to rub the cum off myself but got so excited by my new body that I came once more, another seemingly endless orgasm washing over me and forcing me to start all over again. I was more careful this time around, and though I was hard throughout the rest of my shower, I managed… well, to come clean.

After eating something to feed my bodybuilder-sized muscles, loving the idea that I now weighed something like 260 lbs and was easily the hottest guy in town.

I called in sick so that I would have the rest of the day to explore my new body. First, I tried my strength, lifting my couch off the floor, balancing my dinner table on one hand or curling my bed. Of course, I my muscles got all pumped up because of the workout I was giving them, which in turn made my dick throb even more than the thought of so much strength did anyway. I then decided to take another shower just in order to feel the water rolling down my incredible body, and again rubbing my swollen muscles did the trick. After washing cum off my body for the third time in one day, I had dinner, enjoying the fact that the clothes I was wearing, which had been the loosest I owned, were now stretched tightly across my bulging frame.

I passed the rest of the evening in much the same way, needing another shower after losing it when I managed to lift the fridge single-handedly. When I got out of the shower, I stood naked in front of the mirror for a while, admiring my perfectly shaped butt, my clear-cut eight-pack, my whole, incredibly hot body and my devastatingly handsome face.

I put on my clothes again and went back to the living room. Just as I was sitting down on the sofa I heard the church bells ring, and I realized that exactly twenty-four hours had passed since my change had begun last midnight.

I decided that it was time to go to bed, but when I got up I almost fell, feeling a familiar dizziness in my head. The thought crossed my mind that maybe the change wasn't permanent, and that now I would turn back into the unimpressive, average scrawny guy I had always been. I hurriedly stumbled towards the bathroom. I checked in the mirror to see what was happening to me, and I immediately got hard.

My face was changing once again, but I was not turning back into my old self. My lips, which had seemed so perfect before, became even fuller and more sensual now. If I had looked more handsome and masculine than most other guys, I was now quickly leaving any competition behind. My chin, my cheekbones, my nose all became both finer and stronger, giving me an achingly tender and an incredibly strong look, impossible but real, more than a dream come true, a living fantasy beyond any kind of beauty which I had before been able to imagine. Both men and women would drown in the depth of my intelligent, loving, soulful eyes, they would be unable to resist the teasing, shy, bold, cautious, daring look of my face in which all contradictions suddenly seemed to make sense.

Slowly, I realized that my muscles, too, had started to grow again. My already huge chest blew up even more, and my lats pushed my swelling arms further away from my body. I had to adjust my stance as pound after pound of muscle was being pushed into my quads, I moaned as I felt my strength increase with the size of my muscles. My pecs stood out more than one foot already, and still they kept ballooning outwards, pushing against each other, struggling for room with my growing shoulders. My biceps rose higher and higher, and my forearms thickened together with my lengthening hard-on, the head of which had passed the brick wall of my eight-pack and was starting to push against my pecs. I grabbed my dick with my hands, moving it away from my body so that it could grow past the two inflating slabs of muscle on my chest. I tried to imagine what 520 lbs of pure muscular power would look and feel like but could not even grasp fully how huge I was now, while I was still growing, still becoming more and more handsome, overwhelmed by the feeling of power and strength.

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