Fake IDs 3

By NCMC Readers
published April 29, 2012
4712 words
Summary

Hank continues to make fake ids

Vince had heard about this one guy by the name of Hank who would make cheap fake ID’s for guys who wanted them. Wanting to go to bars with the rest of his fraternity (he was only 19), he opted it best to get one.

After a bit of searching for it, he finally found the warehouse that one of his friends had told him where he could find this Hank guy. Once he was inside, Vince was disappointed to see no one there. The only thing inside was a desk that had an off computer and a clipboard with a paper attached to it.

Picking up the paper, Vince saw that it was a stat-sheet, asking for his height and weight. “Odd,” he said to himself, but he figured it was for accuracy purposes. He shrugged. “Whatever gets me laid.” He filled out his stats information on the paper. Height: 6’0", Weight: 180.

Once he was done, he heard the warehouse door open, and in walked the biggest bodybuilder he’d ever seen, clad in a tight wifebeater and too short of shorts.

“You here for an ID?” the bodybuilder, who Vince guessed was Hank, asked.

Vince grimaced, finding the overly-muscled man to be a repulsive fag. He shook his head. “No, I don’t want one from a muscle fag.” He threw the clipboard to the floor and walked out of the warehouse.

Hank picked up the clipboard and smiled to himself. He figured he could have a little fun with the homophobic frat boy.

The next morning, Vince woke up with a groan. His alarm clock was beeping loudly, and as he went to turn it off, he heard it break into several pieces with one swing of his hand. “Must’ve swung too hard,” he grumbled, thinking something was off with his ears as his voice sounded a little deeper than usual.

He slid out of the bed, almost falling over. Something felt different, like his center of balance was way off. Plus, when he moved, he felt like his legs weighed a ton, being heavy and hard to move.

Plus he felt cool air pass over his body. Looking at his bed, he saw the shredded remains of his clothes. “Must’ve had one wild dream,” he mumbled, slowly moving over to the dresser. He opened the first drawer and paused in shock.

It was filled to the top with g-strings of all colors. He hesitantly held one in his hand, finding out that it looked like it was meant for someone ten times his size, and with a much larger cock.

He shifted through the rest of his drawers, finding nothing else but g-strings and posers. No shirts, shorts, underwear, nothing but the skimpy material that looked too big for him.

Panicking about this obvious joke that being pulled on him, he looked around his room for something to wear when his eyes spotted a mirror. He gasped at what he saw.

He was still 6’ tall, but he was definitely not 180 any more. His shoulders were twice as broad as they had been yesterday and bulged like someone had stuck cantaloupes to his body, and his traps had practically absorbed his neck, which was now thick and solid with a very pronounced Adam’s apple. His pecs were massive: they were wider than his old shoulders and they were so thick that his nipples were forced to point straight down. Not that he could see his nipples except in the mirror. He went to pinch one of them to wake himself up from this weird faggy dream, but instead of the pain he was expecting, a jolt of pleasure shot through his body. Vince couldn’t stop himself from moaning a little.

Then he noticed his arms. They were almost as big around as his legs had been, probably a good 22" if Vince had to guess. He flexed and couldn’t help but smirk at the way his bicep peaked. His forearms had grown too–now they were rock solid and vascular, like someone had stuffed a marble sculpture of a ham into each of them while he was sleeping.

Vince stopped examining his arms and let them fall to his sides. Well, almost to his sides, since his lats were thicker than his pecs and formed a strong V-taper to his waist without him even having to flex. Beneath his pecs, Vince could see impossibly defined serratus muscles and an 8-pack that looked like a solid brick wall. It might as well have been brick for how hard it was.

Vince’s head was swimming with all the changes that had somehow happened overnight. He was 90% sure he wasn’t dreaming from the way his nipple reacted to being pinched, so it was all just strange to take in.

Stranger still was the monster hanging between his legs. He gulped when his eyes zoned in on it. His cock hung almost to his knees, and he was mostly soft. It was at least as thick as two of his normal cock. Forgetting all dismay at being a muscled freak, Vince started stroking his beastly cock as he continued looking himself over. His waist had somehow stayed the same as it was, a nice tight 31", although it looked smaller than that when compared to his boulder shoulders. Each of his thighs was about as big as his waist, too, and every muscle was defined like it was trying its best to bust out through Vince’s skin. His thighs were so big that there wasn’t room for his huge cock and balls to rest between them, so his package was pushed forward. Below these thunder thighs, he had bulging diamond shaped calves, which he noticed were hairless. And his skin was darker. He looked back up at the rest of his reflection. His had a deep, full-body tan, and apparently he’d been waxed. Everywhere. He didn’t even have armpit or pubic hair. He had always considered his bushy pubes a sign of his masculinity, but somehow it didn’t bother him than he was completely smooth.

He wasn’t sure why, but looking at his body was turning him on, and his cock was fully hard. He grabbed a measuring tape from one of his dresser drawers and measured his massive tool: 13.5". Damn! And it was at least as hard as he had ever been.

Vince lost himself in the pleasure of stroking his meat and it wasn’t long before he shot a huge load on the mirror. It exploded out of his cock and left a section of the mirror covered in his jizz. Panting, Vince composed himself. He needed to get a grip. But then he looked into the mirror again and saw his face and got lost in shock again. It could hardly be called his face. It was all angles.

His jaw was strong and square, leading in sharp lines to a deeply-clefted chin. There was no sign of stubble anywhere, it was so closely shaved. His cheekbones were higher, and with his low body fat his concave cheeks forced his plump, sensuous lips into a permanent model-like pout. “Those are the kind of lips that know how to suck a cock,” he thought.

Where the fuck had that thought come from?! He wasn’t a fag! Vince licked his luscious lips as he continued inspecting his chiseled face. He didn’t notice, but his massive horse cock was starting to get hard again.

Vince thought his nose looked smaller, almost like he’d had a nose job, but he hadn’t. He wasn’t some prissy fag obsessed with his looks. His eyebrows begged to differ with that assertion, though, the way they formed two thin sculpted arches. Beneath those eyebrows were the brightest crystal blue eyes Vince had ever seen, rimmed by thick, seductive lashes. He was smokin-hot! So what if he was prissy and obsessed with his looks?

Vince ran a hand through his hair and noticed that it was thick and wavy, like something out of a salon commercial, only more masculine. It was a deep chestnut brown with reddish highlights-it was such a turn-on getting his hair waved and highlighted. Unconsciously, Vince gave his nipples another tweak and his gorgeous new face moaned. It looked and sounded ridiculously hot, and his cock tingled and surged to attention. He began to stroke up and down its length, with both hands of course, and it always took a while to fill completely.

He felt a bit light-headed when it got to full hardness, as usual. He remembered when this had first happened, two years ago, back when he was 19 and his body started into the “second puberty” and began changing from ordinary, athletic but unremarkable, homophobic frat boy to his current huge, oversexed, incredibly hot self. He had wondered why he got dizzy and the doctor - one of the doctors, actually - told him it wasn’t because all the blood was rushing from his head, but actually the hormone surge, and that it might make it hard for him to concentrate on anything but sex.

That was an understatement. He had ALMOST flunked out, before he got a handle on his changing self, but his Dad’s lawyer intervened, and the “unusual medical condition” got him a “disability waiver” – right, being so sexy it hurts is a disability. At least Mr. Johnson did the work “pro bono” – and that was how Vince learned that his body didn’t care whether it fucked a male or a female, and that a male was sometimes a lot more fun and a lot more durable. At least Johnson was, the man was like a bottomless bottom …

The memory was interrupted, dammit, by a knock on his door. The intruder didn’t even wait for him to answer, either. The door was flung open, and the president of the frat, Richard Vaughan, came in with a basket filled with clothing. Vince’s wallet was on top of it.

“Vince,” Rich said in an exasperated voice, “You gotta stop leaving your laundry in the machines overnight. You’ll end up with nothing to wear for your webcasts, and when you steal clothes from the rest of us you stretch ’em out too much.”

Vince grinned, but didn’t stop stroking, he couldn’t. He moaned, words being just a bit too complicated at the moment. Rich knew that too. Probably timed the whole interruption so he could see Vince blow his first load of the morning. And, yes, Rich closed the door and locked it. He pulled a flip-cam out of his pocket, and started filming.

“Don’t forget, save something for your morning webcast, most of the audience is going to be late-night Asians, you can do the ‘mighty stripping sentai spirit’ routine, and then you have classes from ten until one, then back here for homework and fucking - Jason and Adam are up today - and then you have lecture and practicum from four to six, and you’re working from eight to eleven at the Pole Position, so you might want a nap or something.”

Vince barely noticed Rich’s recitation of his schedule, though he knew he’d remember it later. He was too lost in the sensation of his giant cock, and the tension in his enormous muscles. He lost track of time, but then Rich’s hand under his balls, rolling them around, the slight pain-pleasure pushed him over the edge, and he came, hosing cum over the frat president and himself.

Sometimes Vince wondered why he even still took classes, when the time he spent stripping and fucking was so much more fun; but then again Johnson had worked so hard to keep him from getting the boot. Besides, there were a lot of sexy guys on campus that liked to come to the frat house for a…private session. Yeah, life was good as a hot muscle fag. Maybe Vince would go back to that warehouse and see if that sexy bodybuilder Hank wanted a lap dance.


Hank chuckled as he put away Vince, the massively built nymphomaniac’s file away. He would have to keep tabs on that boy so he could have a little fun with him. As he closed the drawer on the filing cabinet, Hank heard laughter from outside the warehouse. He turned to see four teenage jocks approaching. They were all wearing tight-fitting polos to show off their chiseled bodies, and they all had their collars popped.

Christian was clearly the leader of the group, swaggering into the warehouse ahead of the others. At 18, Christian was already 210 lbs of solid muscle. The 6’1" quarterback knew that he was hot stuff, and with his square jaw, jet black hair, and seductive brown eyes, he had already fucked every girl in school. Well, the hot ones anyway. It was time to move on to college girls, but first he needed an ID so he could get into all the clubs and bag the hotties.

Devin and Drake were twins, and they got their fair share of pussy too. They were the stars of the wrestling team, and together they dominated their weight class, coming in at 195 each. Sometimes they would play the twin card to get girls, flashing their matching sexy dimples and dazzling smiles. They would even unknowingly fuck to the same rhythm as their beds rammed into the wall between their bedrooms, and their dates would moan while running their fingers through the boys’ wavy blond hair. Devin and Drake were grade-A prime beef, and they were ready to up their game.

Will was the smallest of the group, but he was by no means small. The 170 lb, 5’10" lacrosse captain was ripped to shreds from hours in the gym honing his physique, paired with all the running he got on the field. Will had the worst temper of all of them, due to his Irish heritage, which showed itself through his his short, auburn hair.

Hank grinned as he saw the boys approach. They would be a fun group to alter. Hank cleared his throat and greeted the boys.

“Hey guys, how’s it going? I’m going to guess that you guys are running low on bimbos and want a broader pool to pick from, right?”

Will piped up, “That’s right, meathead. We’re real men looking for pussy, not a bunch of cock-obsessed fags like you.”

Christian cut him off with a gesture. “Chillax, man. They say this dude does the best fake ID’s in town. Who cares if he’s a pillow-biting size queen?”

All four burst out laughing, but Hank kept his cool and grabbed three clipboards: one for Christian, one for Will, and one for Devin and Drake to share. They filled in their real stats for most of the fields, although they added a few pounds to their actual weights and made their ages all 21 instead of 18. They all tossed their clipboards onto Hank’s desk and turned to leave, but the bodybuilder stopped them.

“Hold it! That’s only step 1. I have to review them to make sure they’re at least plausible. Come stand over here.”

The boys groaned and moved over to the other side of Hank’s desk. The muscleman sat down and grabbed a clipboard.

“Let’s see…Who’s first? Why don’t we start with Christian? Alright, so you say you’re 6’1”, 220 lbs, with black hair, brown eyes, and a 9" cock."

“What the fuck, man?! I didn’t put my dick size on there!”

Hank smirked. “Sure you did. You all did. But I think you lied about a few things.” Hank began typing new stats into his computer, not even paying attention to Christian’s responses. “For starters, you’re only 5’6” and 120 lbs."

As Hank put the stats into the program, Christian began to shrink. In a matter of seconds he lost 7" in height and 90 lbs (he had given himself an extra 10 lbs on the form). Christian was now short and skinny, although he was still lithely muscular. The jock spluttered, too shocked to react any other way. His friends were similarly awestruck. They tried to scramble away, but found that their feet wouldn’t move. They were all stuck there.

Hank continued. “Let’s see…you said you were the quarterback, but you seem more like a towel boy to me. Yeah, you can barely throw a football ten feet. You’ve never been athletic yourself, which is why you idolize the football stars so much. You are 21 now, but you’ve had the joy of serving the jocks since you were a high school freshman.”

Christian changed again, his physique softening a little and his face aging a couple of years. He still had a tight 6-pack, but his hard-earned musculature was gone, replaced by the body of a scrawny weakling. Then Christian’s memories shifted. He had never been muscular, he only wished he could have been big like the guys on the football team. That’s why he became towel boy–so he could spend time with them. He had even continued as towel boy when he went to college so he could see the jocks up close.

Hank was typing feverishly now. “But you didn’t just idolize the big, strong jocks. No, you lusted after them. Everyone knew from the beginning that you were an effeminate little gay boi, with your limp wrists and the way you swish when you walk. The players always catch you sniffing their used jockstraps, don’t they? And then they make you suck their dicks, but no one is forcing you because you practically beg them for it. You’ve sucked off every football player you’ve ever met, and most of them fuck you too. You’re a total bottom boi, aren’t you Christian? You love getting cum shot on that cute little face of yours, don’t you?”

Christian’s head was swimming from the flood of memories that was hitting him. He could remember getting gangbanged by the football team after they won the homecoming game. He had sucked and been fucked by thirty cocks that night, and each one ended by giving him a facial.

“Like, what are you doing to me? My head hurts!” Christian enunciated in a distinctly less masculine tone of voice. The sound startled him but it also sounded so right. The new/old Christian had never been with a girl, he was as queer as they come. As Christian spoke, his features began to change even further. His square jaw softened into a sleeker, less masculine shape and all trace of stubble disappeared as his face became smooth, just like his body. His straight nose shrank a little and turned up into a cute little button as his lips plumped from all the cocks he had sucked. His hastily styled black hair turned into a bright, sun-bleached blond fauxhawk, which was meticulously styled and gelled-he loved getting his hair done. His polo became a neon pink t-shirt with “I heart hot jocks” dead center. His cargo shorts morphed into skinny jean shorts that had a tight cuff just above the knee. Christian loved the way they showed off his cute, fuckable ass. They also showcased his dick which was a modest 7 inches but had bottomless balls that could cum time and time again and were always full making the new twink cock sucker horny 24/7. Christian licked his dick-sucking lips and swished over to Hank at the computer.

“Like, you’re such a stud!” he lisped, tracing a finder down the cleft in Hank’s pecs and over his abs to the waistband of Hank’s shorts. “Can I suck your cock?”

Hank chuckled and pushed his shorts down to his ankles so Christian could go down on him while he altered the other jocks, who were still frozen in place gaping at their transformed friend. Hank mused to himself, trying to decide who would be next. The twins would definitely be fun to play with, so he’d save them for last. It was Will’s turn, but what to do with him? He seemed to have preconceived notions of cock-obsessed meatheads, so why not turn him into the biggest, most cock-obsessed meathead of them all?

Hank began typing feverishly as Christian, now a pro at sucking cock, deepthroated him to the hilt.

“Let’s see…you should be taller than 5’10”. How about 6’3"? And 170 just won’t cut it, especially not if you plan on competing. You need to be at least 275 in competition shape."

“What the fuck, man?!” Will sputtered. “I don’t want to be some roided-out gymrat!”

As he said it, his muscles began to inflate. For fun Hank decided to start from the top and move down so the first signs of growth were around his neck and shoulders. They grew large and swelled looking comically like he was wearing shoulder pads before the growth went down his arms. Normal slightly toned arms grew and the normal biceps became the seize of softballs hidden under skin while his triceps grew to the size of a football. From his neck veins and arteries started to poke out as his skin became paper thin and ran down to his growing forearms and enlarging hands.

Once Hank had finished he had to laugh at what he saw. A set or arms and shoulders that were huge and swollen to epic proportions on a otherwise normal body looked comical.

“Well now that’s a nice start, but let’s get those tiny pecs up to looking good huh?” Hank started to type again as he face fucked Christian in earnest. Will started to sweat profusely as he felt his chest grow out and develop into large shelf like pecs that blocked his view of the rest of his body. While this was going on his back also started to grow out immensely creating a flared out V-shape that lead down to a tight stomach and legs that were out of proportionally on the now incredibly top heavy young man.

“So now you have the pecs, the arms, and the back of a champion, but so far this isn’t enough for you… Ah I know,” With a few more key strokes Will started to smell something in the air and started to get erect from the smell.

“I’ve given your sweat an aphrodisiac property for men. Any time you sweat the chemicals will be released and men will be attracted to you and want to have sex with you. It will also make you horny when you smell your scent wafting from your bushy pits and no amount of deodorant will be able to block the smell, not that you’ll want to from now as you like the smell of a sweaty man.”

Will started to moan a bit as he felt his erection get harder but was unable to move to satisfy himself.

“please man… Lemme go…”

“In due time, Willy, but I have to finish you up here, don’t worry I’ll be quick about it so we can move on to your twin friends here and maybe give you some pals to play with.”

A few more clicks on the keyboard and Will’s abdominal started to swell out into large bricks layered on top of each other. Next came an enlargement of his buttocks until it looked like half a basketball had been placed under the skin of each cheek. Quickly finishing up with the muscle growth the legs started to grow into an enormous thickness. Calling them tree trunks would be closest thing that anyone could describe them as being with the quads and hamstrings bungling out until they almost touched and calfs that were bulging out with power.

“Hmm… ok so we got the muscles all built in but now for some finer details.”

Will could barely suppress a whimper wondering what else could possibly be done to him when he felt something tight start to envelop his body. He managed to look down and saw that his body was being covered in a leather vest and he also felt leather chaps growing up his body as well as a pair of boots.

Will was horrified as he looked on at all the leather he was wearing. It hugged him like a second skin but didn’t cover up his manhood and his large muscular butt hung out from the chaps.

“I can’t go out looking like THIS!”

“Oh yes quite right,” Hand smiled and let Will have a nice well worn jock that was then covered by a pair of jeans. He had all the makings of a great body building leather daddy bear but there were still a few details left to take care of.

“Oh right.. look at that small bulge in your pants. If you’re going to be a big leather daddy we can’t let that go like that.”

Will gulped again as he felt his groin start to tingle. He looked down and saw the modest bulge that was covered by his jeans swell out in size until it looked like he had half a melon stuffed in his pants. stuffed in his jock and soft it looked like a huge salami at nine inches long and two inches thick and when it would get hard it would be 18 inches long pointing straight out and nearly four inches wide. It had ridges and veins along the shaft that would stimulate any man’s ass it went into. Of course along with this came a set of orange size balls that could produce gallons of cum a day and also made him able to go dozens of times in a day.

“Almost done Will, now we have a good daddy image for you but there’s just a few details… Oh right your age, let’s see how about we first make you a good 31 years old.” Will’s face started to get tougher and a few winkles started to appear around his eyes. A slight beard also grew in that had a few gray hairs in it. Hank also made his hair grow out and get pulled back into a pony tail his auborn hair showing the first signs of grey in the front, but he’d wear it well.

This story was written by readers of the gay fiction website, the Narcissus Cursed Men Collection (the NCMC). It is distributed under the Attribution - Non-Commercial - ShareAlike 2.0 Creative Commons License. You must follow the conditions laid down in that license or else you are forbidden by copyright law to duplicate this story in any form. This message is considered part of this work.

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