Paul came home all fussy, after a long and arduous campaign he still couldn't convince the school to allow gay couples to go to prom. Being the head of the school's Gay Straight Alliance (and one of the three only members) Paul did his best to fight the good fight and get his voice out there. The principal had only recently opened the GSA and made him head to shut the brazen 18 year old up in the first place. But allowing abominable couples into prom was where the old-fashioned old man drew the line. Throwing his papers to the ground Paul huffed all the way up to his lonely bedroom. Sometimes he wished he was just a boring, girl fucking jock. It was hard being a small, somewhat nerdy and effeminate gay teen in a small Texas town. He lived in a righteous land of Bibles, guns and American flags, usually all in the same sentence somehow. He had endured bullying, pain and suffering but he thought himself a better person because of it. Rather than blend in or quiet down he wanted to do his best to improve his town for others like him. If only anyone cared to listen. Part of it was his size, especially compared to the roided up football team his slender 5'6 frame was downright puny, replete with swept up red hair and freckles. Not that he did much to help, with his cargo shorts, pink polos and myriad of bracelets Paul couldn't have better said that he prefers hot dogs to fish tacos. He was in every way, the right guy in the wrong town. His one blessing was his parents supported him, in the sense that they didn't send him to straight camp or disown him like most local adults would, they more or less left him alone. Something they were really good at.
Paul plopped down at his desk and patiently waited for his old computer to boot up. He browsed local headlines, amazed at the dichotomy of the modern world. All over gay marriage was being legalized, hate crime legislation was being passed across multiple states, but the world only seemed to be more polarized for it. With every advance in acceptance, the hold outs simply became more bigoted. No example more prominent than the video currently circling his Facebook stream of a creepy old basement dweller bashing all faggots. Paul opened the video just to watch how dumb and ridiculous it was, he would love to sit down and have a few words with these kind of people! If most of them couldn't beat him up.
“Goddamn faggots think they own the world now that the hippie liberal government is on their side. They’re nothing but a bunch of cocksuckers. If you’re one of those homo queers, feel free to go die in a hole. Thank you, good night.”
Liberal government indeed. Ignoring the strange sensation that passed through him, Paul quickly closed out the video and fed his bitterness with a few more articles. When his worldly scorns reached critical mass, he decided it was time to wind down. As part of a long perfected ritual - Paul double checked his parents were gone, locked his door, closed his curtains and entered safe browsing mode. The time had come for his guilty pleasure.
Paul loaded an 18+ website from memory, daring not to favorite or write it down. It was a cam site where bored and or broke college jocks posted webs or live cams of themselves jerking off or feeling up their pecs for the amusement of others. It was the only 'gun show' Paul liked. To his shame, he would drool over the hulking straight jocks and get off watching their powerful bodies flex, sweat and ejaculate. He loved the glistening skin, stretched over perfect muscle, moving and pumping. He would stare hungrily like a starving man at a BBQ, gazing upon all the slabs of meat for his choice cut. They were just dumb, pretty faces to him, objects of admiration for him to get off too.
Slowing undoing his rainbow belt and pulling down his pants, Paul gripped his average sized dick and began to stroke in time with a brown-haired hunk who had just uploaded a video. The man was in his early twenties and with every small movement his golden-tanned muscles flexed and popped. Unknown to Paul, his previously unused webcam beeped on and began filming. As Paul slid his finger in rhythm across the slick surface something felt different, better, much much better. His entire body quivered in a rising sensation of pleasure that suddenly plummeted down into pain. Terrible agony slithered through his vein, but he couldn't stop, something kept him going. With each furious flick across his dick small muscles began to blossom across his body. In a movement not unlike a tremor, his skin shook and rose, being stretched painfully by the swelling ligaments. Proteins built and bonded beneath the surface as his shirt became tight, constricting his airflow. The pecs beneath shooting up in a ridge of pure beef. Quickly Paul ripped the shirt over his head before religiously resuming his attention to his dick, trapped in a trance. Now freed, his pecs continued their ascent into meaty mounts, his nipples growing in circumference and popping out, hanging down slightly as his pecs bounced on their own.
"Wh what the Hell is happening?" He gasped in orgasmic joy and tragic pain as agonizing expansion continued across his body. He rid himself of all the clothing he could, what was left was destroyed. One by one the little bangles across his arms popped off, flying across the room as his arms became swollen with meaty muscle and dark, curly hair. The busted bracelets knocked the posters of Lady Gaga and Neil Patrick Harris off his walls, where they fell away and disintegrated to be replaced by athletes and cheerleaders. His organized desk seemed to erupt, papers, pens even dirty socks strewed themselves everywhere. His floor was buried beneath clothes and god knows what else. His bed became older and worn looking and another bed appeared at its side. Still, Paul remained engulfed in his activity, helpless but to watch as his veins engorged themselves and his arms continued to grow and tan as they never could before, the dark hairs growing thicker of his golden brown arms. His shoulders cracked and grew further apart, becoming broader and stronger and muscle filled in between across his back.
A tearing sound brought his attention downwards as his socks were destroyed by his feet which swelled in both directions, his toes becoming longer and fatter and dark hairs popping out the ends and sprinkling their way up. He began thrusting the air in pleasure and desperation as his legs grew tremendously, widening out and broadening his stride drastically. They too were coated in a beautiful tan and black hairs, becoming trunks of hardened gym time. Kicking his big feet up on the desk and falling back, Paul began howling from the sensations. His voice deepening with each moment, losing its flamboyant edge and gaining a commanding and sexy masculinity with a more prominent southern drawl. His room seemed to shrink in size as he watched, now not half of what it was and dominated by the desk and two small beds which only made its messiness more prominent. Confusion and fear set in, but his chemical soaked brain couldn't process why this was wrong. His memories and identity were rapidly melting away into swelling dick. It grew along with him, inch by inch til it was nearly 10 inchs long and three times as thick, with swollen balls that seemed to be sucking the old him out as they inflated.
Paul struggled to hold on to his memories of being proud but bullied, his accomplishments, the GSA, but they all were swept into the fog of his shrinking mind and lost. He wouldn't be gay, he couldn't be gay. He was not a pansy ass faggot. He was powerful. A new confidence seethed back into him, crawling into the gaps where his pride once lay. But it was a toxic, sickening cockiness that required endless affirmation to maintain, his identity hungered like a rabid animal. It needed to strike down others and reveal itself to be sustained. Paul's eyes went out like the last glows of a fire, consumed by his dark ego. They turned a dull, abyssal brown and narrowed as his face sharpened into one that reflected his new overt masculinity and sexuality. His red hair deepening into a dark brown that receded into a short, raised jock cut. He swept a big meaty hand through it, making sure it stayed up, it made his already intimidating 6'4 height seem all the more impressive. The hollowed man grinned a full, white grin, greedily slapping his dick harder, squeezing it in pleasure as if to wring out his insecurities and past self. The leaking precum carried with it Paul's sensitivity and pride, it flowed out from him as gruff stubble grew across his face and a dark, course trail crawled up his stomach. Black hair also spiraling out from around his nipples and across his chest. His vacant stare to the heavens grew lighter, unburdened as he let go. With a final thrust, rich cream spewed from him, ejecting every last memory across his stomach and desk as he smiled for the camera. This last video was great, and with his check this month he was good for another semester at least.
The new Paul signed off and closed the webcam before popping open a beer. If only he hadn't lost his football scholarship over some confusion about the definition of consent with a drunken girl at a party. Too bad he barely had the brains to pass his classes, much less get an academic scholarship so this was all he had. Luckily God blessed with his damn good southern looks, his tan, hairy body, caressing his bulging muscles for all those wet damsels and stupid fags, whatever made him money. Paul signed in post orgasmic bliss with only one stray thought in his brain, what would it be like to be one of those weird guys who watches his videos? He briefly wondered what it was like on the other side of the camera, but he caught himself and laughed. Sure as Hell couldn't be near as good as the life on this side.