Normally when you'd been talking for this long, your voice would have been getting worn out. It's been a source of embarassment for you in the past, with more than one important discussion getting derailed by your voice cracking partway through. But your throat feels fine. Better than fine, even. You keep pounding down the fruit, the breaths between bites getting deeper and deeper, your chest reverberating with the sheer power of your new lungs. You snort in satisfaction, the taste still satisfying despite the sheer amount you've already eaten.
Your arms continue to bulk out, the lean muscles thickening and building upon themselves. They bulge beneath the skin, enormous without being disproportionate, refined simian strength in full glory. Your hands and fingers spread and grow, large and thick enough that you could crush a melon between your fingers. In fact, you make your way back to the kitchen and do just that, grabbing a huge cantaloupe from the fruit bowl and squeezing it over your open mouth. The rind gives way in your hand with a wet crunch, juices pouring down through your fingers and down into your waiting maw. Once the juices slow, you shove the rest into your mouth, grinding and crushing it in your jaw. Each bite drives new changes in your face, your muscles bulging, canines lengthening and expanding, molars turning massive, all in service of your feast. The muscles and tendons of your neck anchor deeper, harder, grow to contain the growing power of your jaw.
As the juices of the cantaloupe trickle down your face and hands, the skin beneath darkens, the brownish tan of a chimpanzee deepening to the shining black hide of a proper gorilla, glistening juice and sweat. The change pours through your body, like ink soaking into paper, extending and regrouping in flowing tendrils. The fur above turns a shining mixture of deep black and dark grey, a light stripe spreading down your back and over your hips and legs, a silver stripe that proclaims your power. The rest of your fur engulfs every bit of bare flesh besides for your feet, hands, and face, covering your chest, ass and groin in softer layers than the rest.
You grab another cantaloupe, not even bothering to crush this one in your hand. Instead you bite clean through it, cracking it open with one crunch of your mighty jaw, juices splashing all over your body as you greedily chomp on the sweet flesh inside. The droplets soak into your skin, quickening the changes. Your pectorals soak up the juice, darkening and bulging outward, thick and primal and burly. Your neck pops and groans, expanding to make room for the sheer amount you're eating now. Your throat expands within, so open and wide you could swallow an orange whole without even trying. The chunks of melon pour down your gullet, pushing your adam's apple out from behind, your vocal chords growing even faster than the rest of your neck.
Meanwhile the rest of your frame keeps growing. Your shoulders widen with thundering cracks, the bones inside becoming heavier and bulkier to support the sheer amount of muscle you're gaining. Your stomach knits itself tight, into a six-pack that would put any body builder to shame, defined and glistening. Your spine bulges and pops, reshaping to bear the weight of your new body, your ribcage and the organs within bulging outward to fill out your new frame, enormous heart pumping blood and lungs breathing in and out with a deep, masculine rumble. Your arms are enormous, intimidating, long enough you could run on all fours like a gorilla, so strong you can hang from the cabinets with just one hand, though the wood of your cabin protests creakily at the weight. Your legs expand too, almost as thick as your arms, your tight muscular rear sticking out behind you, daring anyone brave enough to touch it.
Meanwhile your stomach starts to feel the effects of the endless feast of fruit, layers of fat flowing around your six-pack to hide it beneath a soft gut that jiggles ever so subtly as you move. The fat flows down to add more mass to your ass, much needed cushioning for whenever you want to sit down and relax. You make your way down from the cabinet, which threatens to give way under your weight, and bring the hand you were hanging from back to your ass, squeezing it between your thick-knuckled hands, soft fat over pert muscle, the sensation making your snort in a mixture of pride in your body and sexual excitement. You make your way over to the full-length mirror in your bathroom, closing the door so you can see your full glory, still munching on the banana bunch cradled in your arms.
The sight of your new body fills you with pride, dark brown eyes staring back out of your new face. It's as if some mad scientist mixed the greatest features of every ape, from gorilla to chimpanzee to human. You're shockingly handsome, with near-black skin that emphasizes the lines of your face and the strange mixture of human and ape you've become. You're so taken with your new appearance that you set the endless banana bunch aside in the sink to get a better look. Your lips are jet back, slightly full without being too obvious, partially hidden by the new more pronounced muzzle you have. You smile back at your reflection to reveal a gleaming set of teeth, huge and menacing but also very charming, the slight quirk of your heavier brows and an upturned corner of your lip turning what could be a threat display into a winning smile for the ages. The fur of your head and neck encroaches ever so slightly into your face, giving the impression of a five o'clock shadown without being bristly or rough like the real thing.
In fact all of your hair is soft, even luxurious, like a fleece blanket stretched tight over a middle-aged body builder in his prime. Your barrel-like chest supports powerful muscles that the fur struggles to hide, skin rippling as your flex your arms and legs to admire yourself. You feel like you could uproot a full-grown tree, or pick up a car and throw it down the street. Yet you still have such fine control over your strength that everything in your cabin is still intact, that you can peel those bananas without accidentally crushing them into pulp. True power, primal might controlled by the finesse and care of a human mind. You smile in approval, and the joy builds within you, the sheer power and freedom you've been given finally hitting home. In a show of utter glee, you start hooting, bellowing, beating your arms against your chest in a stereotypical but deeply satisfying display, the roar and pummeling of your chest mixing to declare your joy, your power, your rule. You are a silverback in your prime, and the world shall bow before you.
And as you finish celebrating and pick up the bunch of bananas again, you realize there's still one change left. And it's going to be a doozy.