Still lying in bed, Russell tries and fails to keep from scratching his pits again. Every few minutes, it seems to him, he feels a tingle there, as if the hair is growing that fast. Fortunately, the wife-beater Coach had given him meant he had easy access to his itching pits. He lifts one arm catches the strong whiff of his own body odor, a rank smell of sweat that he's coming to expect from himself. Digging into the thatch of hair in his pit, his fingers rub against hair so thick that it takes a few scratches to contact his skin at all. He peers down, twisting his neck a little to survey his dense tuft of damp, dark pit hair. "That ReOdorant really messed me up," he thinks, "how can I even wear deodorant with all that: probably wouldn't go on right."
As he's looking, he feels a muscle in his turned neck twitch for a second. He reaches up to rub his neck, and feels it twitch again. "That's . . . my trapezius" he thinks, realizing it's the first time he's really thought about his own muscles that specifically. It had been some time since Russell had noticed how his old clothes had started to feel tight, but then Coach had given him his new gym clothes, and since then he had become distracted by his swelling feet and his burgeoning pit hair. Now he begins to massage his neck: the twitches were accompanied by a feeling of stiffness, and rubbing his neck and shoulder feels good. His neck feels a little meatier than he's used to, but it feels good and firm in his hands.
As he works his fingers across his shoulder, he feels his chest begin to twitch as well. "My pectoral muscles are . . . my pecs are twitching too." He moves his hand down, and under his wife beater. He brushes his nipple as he does so, which causes it to perk up. Russell's cock responds to even this slight touch, and he feels himself begin to get hard again in his loose mesh shorts. Russell had always been attracted to guys with nice pecs, especially when they were on display through tight t-shirts or loose tank tops. Now, though, as he reaches to feel his nipple again, his mind turns to how much more fun it'd be to cup a girl's full breasts in front of him. How good would it be to hold some good C cups, rub his thumb across a girl's large pink nipple, move his fingers underneath them to feel their full roundness. Maybe even bigger would be more fun...
"Fuck," Russell suddenly snaps out of it, and bites his lip: swearing is feeling so natural now. His cock is at full attention as he'd been rubbing his own pecs. Why did he continue to be so turned on by girls? He glances back at his computer screen, where the supermodel's breasts immediately hold his gaze. "What about guys?" he thinks fleetingly, and then "But, guys' chests wouldn't be nearly as fun. They'd just be flat and boring like me." He reaches up again to rub his pecs as he feels them twitch, and realizes he's beginning to feel different. His pecs have swelled slightly with added muscle. Where before the only thing to demarcate where his pecs ended and his abs began were his small nipples, now his pecs are filled out. He pulls the neck of his wife beater down, and squints down as he kneads his newly muscular upper chest. Even his nipples seem bigger and a little darker than before.
Russell then feels something else, not his muscles but something on the surface of his skin. Brushing his hand over his whole chest, he feels the sensation of the half dozen hairs he'd notice cropping up in the center of his chest after Coach had rubbed ointment there. Now, even though his pecs had swelled, he could actually see the hairs looking thicker and darker against his skin. It feels good to brush them lightly, and he does so again, closing his eyes imagining how much better it would feel if a woman's delicate fingers were doing it instead.
When he opens his eyes, he yanks his hand out from his shirt. Down the wide neck opening, he can see his chest hair is definitely thicker and darker, expanding out from the center of his chest and covering a good portion of his pecs with a dusting of dark hairs. He really should be used to the changes taking place, even though they had stretched over the last few days, but he could never predict what would happen next. His whole chest was looking so much more manly. His lightly hairy pecs would be pretty obvious now through any shirt he wore. He feels a little dizzy, and puts his hand on his stomach, bracing himself. Just a few days ago he was a gay teen, and just wanted to play his video games and occasionally jerk off to images of hot guys online. Damn he wanted his video games back. Maybe if they were sports games his dad would let him play those?
As his hand rests on his stomach, he feels a twitch there too. Unlike his shoulders or pecs though, the twitch returns, faster, repeating. Russell grabs on tighter, digging his fingers into his stomach, and feels as if his small finger, middle finger and thumb sink in a little further. He pulls away and sees his stomach under the white ribbed shirt fabric is no longer flat, but rippled unevenly with newly apparent muscles. He has abs! He'd always been teased at pool parties because his slim, boyish frame meant he'd had no definition at all. Now his abs are clearly visible, forming a six pack. He tries flexing them, a motion he didn't know he could make, and feels them tense up, and then slightly expand. "These feel great!" he thinks, replacing his hand over them and feeling the places where his fingers fit between distinct muscles. He feels a tickle against the fabric, and pulls his shirt up. Looking himself up and down, he can clearly see a trail of hair now connecting his chest hair to his pubes. Thick treasure trails had always been a turn-on for him when he caught glimpses of them on other guys, hair peeking out when they lifted their t-shirts, but he'd never had any himself. "I bet girls will think it's pretty manly too" he mused, his thoughts turning to an ideal girl's body, slender tight smooth stomach below full breasts, round hips ready to gyrate against his own thickening body.
His cock tents his mesh shorts, and he feels a damp spot forming where his precum has started to leak out. It hadn't been long since he'd jerked off, but he can feel himself ready again."No, don't do it," one part of his mind says, "Resist these changes! What have they gotten you? Big stinking feet, sweaty hairy pits. What gay guys would like you now?" "But," another part of him thinks, "these muscles feel fucking good. And chicks dig dudes with muscles. Just jerk it, it'll feel good."
Russell gets up off the bed, feeling his cock bob up and down inside the mesh. "Maybe I could log into my computer and distract myself with some games . . . no! Coach took them all away, fuck. Well, maybe he missed one." Sitting in his desk chair, Russell propped his hairy size 14 feet on the desk and stared at the screen. The blond super model gazes lasciviously back, and he feels his cock pulse, getting even harder. What could he do? Watch sports to take his mind off his weird body changes? Or maybe try to look at his old gay porn sites to get back to the way he used to be?