“You still expect me to believe this little thing is going to make me look like all those guys we saw on the way in?” Tom still couldn’t wrap his head around the concept.
“Well, maybe not like all of them. You could be a daddy, big, grey and dominant,” Bryan offered, unpacking his bags.
“I do NOT want to be fat, hairy, and old!” Tom made a face as if he’d eaten a bug. “All the hair on those guys, it’s so gross!”
“I know, right? Permanent sweater is such a turn-off. Ooo you might be a muscle bear?” Bryan grinned wide, eyes almost twinkling, “you know, big offseason bodybuilder type. With a roid gut,” Bryan chuckled as he slipped into the bathroom to unpack his toothbrush.
Tom chuckled a little too, picturing himself as a huge bodybuilder, roid gut sticking out in front of him, completely opposite of his real body. He looked down at his thin, lithe twinkish almost hairless torso. Very similar to Bryan. He often thought that shared body type might be a factor in their friendship. “At least I wouldn’t have the hair,” he called to his friend.
“Well, to be a muscle _bear_, you’d still get the hair,” he response came back.
“Ew,” was all Tom could muster as he saw his mental caricature bodybuilder ‘Tom’ ape out with gross hair from head to toe.
“Come on, you’d still have all that awesome muscle. ... And a pelt over it. Sometimes the hair can accentuate the muscles, make them look more masculine. That’d be hot.”
Tom thought that last sentence seemed more like an afterthought, a little lower. “I thought you didn’t go for meatheads?”
“Well...muscles are universal. And all that hair. ... You can rub yer hands through it.”
“Again, Ew,” came Tom’s response. He could swear Bryan’s voice sounded different.
“Whatcha mean, ‘ewww’? Hair’s what makes a man a man.”
Tom wasn’t imagining things Bryan’s voice was definitely lower than it had been.
“That glorious hair is what separates the boys from the true Men. Add in that there muscle, and a dick as thick as a beer can and you got yerself a grade-A purebred muscle bear. .. ung... ahhhh” the moans continued, “Holy fuck that’s hot.”
“Um, Bryan are you ok?” Tom sat up on the bed, looking toward the bathroom.
“‘Course I’m ok,” the owner of the voice stepped out of the bathroom.
Tom’s jaw dropped to the floor, the man standing before him had to have been some sort of professional powerlifter. He looked in his mid thirties and stood about 6 feet tall. He had to have weighed no less than 320 pounds. A lot of muscle, but a decent amount of fat as well. He was covered in a thick layer of dense, curly black hair that didn’t seem to break anywhere except on his hands and head, where he was completely bald. His beard reached just below his collar bone, full, thick and long. Tattoos wound their way up both huge muscular arms, and on to his massively wide bowling ball shoulders, though Tom could barely make out what they were due to the guy’s pelt. Buried in that pelt on the monsters barrel chest were two nips that had to be an inch long, and each pierced with a barbell.
“B- Bryan?” Tom was beyond confused at what this behemoth of a man had done with his friend.
Oozing testosterone, the man locked his steel blue eyes with Tom and smoothed out his chest pelt with his thick hands, moving down his hairy gut, finally grabbing onto his freakish baseball bat of an uncut dick, still leaking with the pulse of the transformation. His deep gravely voice rumbled “Woof. Little Guy.”
“Bryan is that you? When did-” Tom’s throat was dry and he surprised himself that any part of his voice made it out.
“Who else would I be, small fry?” He smiled, “I guess I couldn’t wait to get started, I mean this,” he gestured at what was now his body, “feels...amazing.” He looked at Tom quizzically, “You know, I remember when we got here, you being my type.” He eyed Tom up and down, appraising him, “but, ahhh, you ain’t now,” he absent mindedly rolled his sausage-like fingers through his chest hair, causing them to disappear into the forest. “Need more beef on ya. Definitely more hair. Kid, you ain’t doin a thing for me right now. You need to man-up, boy,” he nodded to the pill on the table, “you’ll have a much better time.”
Tom eyed the pill, terrified it might make him like this guy. Looking at the guy, though, how completely different he was from Bryan, and how he liked it, the way he kept feeling himself up, stroking his beard and muscles, there was an allure to it.
“You get some meat on ya, become a muscle bear, I might even let ya taste this,” he hefted up his heavy meat with one massive paw while he handed the pill to Tom with the other.