My other hand grabbed him by the jaw, three leather fingers finding their way into his mouth, forcing it open, running over his teeth, sloppy with his spit. They…wanted him. They wanted him bad, at least as badly as I did, as I always had. Without even noticing it, one glove had opened the fly of my jeans, hauled out my now larger cock, and was giving it a few strokes–and I felt it growing even larger now, nearly eight inches. “What do you think bro? Think your little brother is man enough for you?”
I didn’t give him a chance to answer, and plunged my cock into his mouth, forcing it down his throat, listening to his gag and moan, my gloves tugging at his clothes, ripping at them, hungry for the skin underneath. They knew what I wanted him to be–they knew what he deserved. My brother thought that strength was everything–that if he was bigger than everyone else, that meant that he got to be in charge. Well I was going to show him that size isn’t everything–that just because you’re the most massive, most brutish looking fucker in a room, doesn’t mean shit when I can get my gloves on you.
Both of my hands sweep across his back, and I watch it explode with muscle, his shoulders, neck and delts all swelling in size. He barely notices–his focus is entirely on my cock–right where it should be. From there, my gloves grope his chest, feeling his pecs grow thick and meaty, the nipples like bolts jutting from them. Hands on his arms, and his biceps, triceps–even his forearms swell, his hands doubling in size, easily large, and strong enough, to palm a watermelon. The hair comes next, a thick pelt forming all over his body, but most heavily on his shoulders, arms, back and chest, like a proper brute should have, in my opinion. I shove him over so he falls onto his back, straddle his wide chest, and kiss him, shoving smoke into his mouth, feeding it to him, and push my cigar in there once I’m done–he starts chuffing away at it, like a good little pig. “Alright big boy, bend over. Let me see how that ass is.”
Without even thinking to question it, he struts over to the bed–which is quite a sight, really, given how top heavy he’s become in the last few minutes. He manages to keep himself upright, however, and bends over, my gloves diving right for his ass, swelling both cheeks into thick globes, then down onto his thighs and calves, swelling them larger, the bones thickening and growing longer, pushing him up to a new height of nearly seven feet tall. Then, his feet–rubbing them both until they’re well over size twenty…and then I can’t resist it anymore. I dive in, licking at his ass for a minute, listening to him groan and open up slightly, and then slam my cock in, nice and rough.
While I fuck him, the gloves turn their attention to me–swelling me up in the same fashion as my brother, though not nearly as large. I can see myself aging again as well–a bit more white a grey sprinkled in my chest hair and beard…but I don’t care, and I light myself a second cigar, since my brother is well occupied with my first one. I’m a smoking hot daddy bear at this point, and this muscle pig of a brother is moaning and begging for me to fuck him harder, and harder…but I have one more thing before I cum. I roll him over, throw his legs up in the air, and keep fucking him–but I can see his cock now as well. It was always quite large–one of his best qualities, really. But now, at his new size, it actually looks quite small–but not nearly small enough. I grip it in one gloved hand–both cock and balls, and I squeeze, feeling them contract and shrink as I apply more and more pressure, until there’s barely any left of either–just an inch long micro cock, buried in the massive forest of my brother’s pubic bush, and a tiny, tight sack with two balls smaller than grapes. Looking at him, at this massive fucker with a miniscule cock, moaning for me to fuck him harder, and deeper around my thick cigar–it’s too much. I explode, deep inside him with a shout, but keep fucking until I fall out soft. It’s done, mostly. The physical side, at least. His head is mostly still there–I want him to see what I made him, before I turn him into the man he’s going to be from now on.
He keeps sucking down smoke, and finally sits up, staring down at himself, his hairy body, and his missing cock–he stares at me blankly until he finally puts everything together, and his eyes go wide in terror. “You…Bro, what the fuck…what the fuckin’ hell did you fuckin’ do to me?”
I smile at him, and light a second cigar for myself. “Trust me Kyle, it’s going to be so much better this way, for us both.”
“But I’m…I’m fuckin’ huge, bro! I…and I can’t…fuck, I…I’m so fuckin; horny bro, I’m so…” His hand doesn’t go to his cock, though–it goes to his ass, two fingers sliding inside himself while he groans, eyes wide, trying to understand why he just did that, and why he wants to keep doing it, and hell, if my cock isn’t twitching already, hungry and desperate for another round with him. “I…Fuck, I wanna get fucked again bro, ya turned me into a fuckin’ faggot!” He pulled his hand free, and I could see how much it pained him–he wanted it in there, he needed something in there. His eyes were narrowing–I could see the gears turning, as he went back to his anger, the shock and horror beginning to fade. He knew how big he was–and even if I was larger too, he knew he was still bigger than I was. And if he was bigger than me, then he could take me–or so he thought.
Bracken's Corner 