As Minho emerged from the taxi, the metamorphosis of his body was undeniable, each feature a testament to the raw power that now coursed through his veins. His white V-neck shirt strained against the expanse of his broad chest, the fabric unable to contain the sheer mass of his newly developed pecs. Thick tufts of dark hair sprouted from his chest, cascading down in a rugged terrain of masculinity that seemed to demand attention with every beat of his heart.
His nipples, once small and delicate, now stood proudly erect atop his pecs, surrounded by a ring of coarse hair that seemed to accentuate their prominence. As he moved, the fabric of his shirt brushed against them, sending tingles of sensation racing through his body and eliciting a low growl of pleasure from deep within his chest.
His armpits, previoisly maintained to be smoothly shaved, now bore the mark of his transformation, thick tufts of hair sprouting from their depths like a forest of virility. With the raise of his arms to wave to his fans his hairy armpits peeked out from his tight sleeves.
His biceps, once slender and delicate, now bulged with the promise of raw strength, the sinewy muscles rippling beneath the surface like coiled serpents waiting to strike. Veins stood out in stark relief against his taut skin, pulsing with the rhythm of his heartbeat as he flexed his arms in a display of power.
Even his face bore the mark of his transformation, a shadow of stubble clinging to his jawline like a badge of honor. Gone was the smooth, boyish charm of his youth, replaced now by the rugged allure of a true man.
And beneath it all, there lingered the undeniable presence of his arousal, a bulge that strained against the fabric of his jeans with every step he took, a physical manifestation of the desire and excitement that burned within him like a raging inferno. He was still highly aroused by his new masculinity and his new length and girth begged to be touched and stroked.
As he made his way towards the entrance, the whispers of admiration followed in his wake, mingling with the clicking of cameras as the paparazzi sought to capture every angle of his imposing figure for the world to see.
"Is that really Minho?" one fan whispered to another, her eyes wide with astonishment. "He looks like a completely different person!"
"He's so... masculine," another fan murmured, her voice tinged with a mixture of awe and desire. "I never knew he had it in him."
Even the men in the crowd were allured by his newfound appearance, making them jealous with his godly physique.
And yet, amidst the chaos of flashing lights and murmured admiration, Minho remained unfazed, his gaze fixed firmly ahead as he stepped into the dressing room, ready to embrace the man he had become and the journey that lay ahead. His group mates were yet to see his transformation.