With my libido sated for the immediate moment and the mirror now an only somewhat smeary mess, I turned my attention to getting dressed.

Or, that is, I tried anyway. Aside from the foggy feeling in my head which I attributed to orgasm afterglow, every move I made was now a reminder of how much I’d grown. My lats rubbing against my arms, my thighs smashing together, the lessened mobility in my neck even, all of it a testament to this new truth - I was big now.

I found my eyes unsurprisingly drawn to the mirror again. How was that me?

How’d he do it?

I curled an arm into a flex, lifting my shoulder and flaring my lat, crunching my blockier abs instinctively as my other hand rubbed them lovingly. I followed the line of my wrist to my elbow, my thick and vascular forearm jammed up against my navel orange-sized bicep, the thick vein under it practically pulsing in appreciation. My pit hair sat deeper than before, nestled in that quadfecta of muscle where pec meets shoulder meets bicep meets lat.

I flexed harder and my face broke into a lewd grin. “Fuuuck…”

Even my face looked pumped somehow, swollen, reminding me of when I’d done a somewhat heavier cycle and threw a good amount of deca into the mix. That bloated, enhanced look that would raise brows at the gym and lead people to not ask questions they already knew the answer to. The buzzed head and beard added to the amped-up look, stacked on top of a thickened neck that led to an even thicker body oozing masculine energy.

Speaking of oozing, my cock was on full alert again. Granted that was its usual state, but giving away the extra level of appreciation it was feeling by going steel hard and increasing its pre output five fold. Despite having unloaded only moments ago, the strings stretching and dripping from cockhead to floor had picked up pace along with my self reflection, forming a puddle on the carpet I could see was quickly being absorbed.

That snapped me out of it. “Shit… shit shit!”

Cupping my dickhead to stem the flow I waddled over to my suitcase, clumsily unzipping it with one hand while trying not to spill the other. I rifled through a pocket and pulled out a condom, the extra large ones I liked after ordering them online and finding they were the best fit without strangling. Given I had to wear these things pretty much 24/7 I didn’t need them cutting off blood flow and turning me purple!

Strangling indeed.

With my free hand and my teeth I managed to rip the package open, and the few ounces of pre that’d pooled in my palm were quickly wiped on my poor, destroyed jeans. In a few seconds I had the condom over the end of my cock and the crisis was averted. A few tissues from the box on the bedside table took care of the carpet, at least as best it could.

With my focus on not turning the entire floor into a squishy slimefest my cock had calmed a bit, returning to its usual mostly-hard state and dripping lazily into the rubber.

I shook my head, still trying to shake the fogginess as I rubbed my eyes with my palms. It was like my awareness had shifted further into my physical being than it had been before. I was always aware of the feeling of my huge dick, especially if I hadn’t jerked off for a bit or was otherwise horned up. But now I had this big body to contend with too, jostling for space in my brain and making it harder to focus somehow.

“Fuck,” I whispered under my breath, scratching my balls and groping my chest. “Get it together dude, shit…” I stretched my arms overhead, shoulders bumping my ears for the first time, and shook it out to try and get my attention back.

I set my sights on the dresser drawers.

I started at the top, opening each drawer one by one to survey inside. Ankle socks to start, plain white and unexciting. But the remaining drawers…

You know that sound you make when something surprises you, like a little inward gasp, but then you breathe out in an amused huff because you’re also not surprised at the same time? That was what involuntarily left my mouth and lungs as I realized what the entire dresser was filled with.

Spandex. Drawer upon drawer of spandex.

My heart quickened, my dick flexed and burped up some pre. The permanent pump of my new muscular body was suddenly more prevalent in my mind again as I couldn’t help but imagine it wrapped in skin-tight shiny fabric, every curve and muscle popping, fully on display. Even though I wore spandex from time to time prior to gaining 40 lbs., this would be different - this body was meant for it.

There was an array of colours and pieces. Long sleeves, tank tops, tights, shorts, skimpy briefs and thongs, a cornucopia of smooth stretchable goodness waiting to be explored.

I scrunched my face with a grunt. Boss had only said “all white” with no indication of how much skin ought to be showing, though knowing how our interest in spandex aligned I’d guess he’d want more covered than less for our evening out. I began digging methodically through the options, settling on a plain long-sleeved shirt and a pair of tights, both white with the exception of a blue stripe running down the legs. I liked that, hopefully Boss wouldn’t mind.

No underwear though. That, I knew, Boss definitely wouldn’t mind.

“Boy?” he called, as if he’d read my mind.

“Sorry, Boss! Almost ready!”

Hastily I shucked my socks and threw on a new pair from the top drawer, then began working my way into the outfit. Like I said, I wasn’t new to spandex but my body moved differently now and lacked some mobility by comparison. The shirt went over my head, then I struggled to maneuver my meatier arms inside, stretching and pulling the fabric to accommodate. Once I had it mostly on I adjusted here and there before grabbing the tights. I slid them over my engorged calves and to my thick thighs partway on each side, working them over my feet until they were mostly in place above the knee.

I grabbed either side and pulled up to standing as my massive junk naturally got in the way, which wasn’t new. I settled everything in front and behind as best I could while my dick hung out, then once I was ready I pushed it to my left and shoved it into the taut fabric, being careful not to catch or pull my slowly filling preservoir. I tucked my balls in as well, positioning them comfortably in front. I pulled and stretched here and there until everything was smooth as silk.

My dick tensed and burbled again and I couldn’t help but give it a squeeze as I let out a moan.

This felt good. Really, really good.

Every inch of skin had a new sensitivity baked into it, firing off little reminders of the whole shape of my body with every movement. I stepped over to check in the mirror and let out a gutturral, “Oh fuck me…”

Each muscle now carved from white marble, moving and shining in the light, defined and displayed with absolute intention. I lifted into a double biceps and flexed my quads, marveling at myself. My cock had fully hardened again and my bulge in the spandex looked positively massive, etched onto my body in glorious and obscene 3D. This was a body that fully complimented that cock, that deserved that cock.

I flexed harder with a grunt, sticking out my tongue. I was gonna come again, I wanted to come again. I could probably do it without even touching myself. 

Hehehe, that’d be fuckin’ hot.

“Boy!”

I flinched and dropped my arms, blinking and shaking my head. One more glance in the mirror, then I sauntered my way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room.

He was actually in the kitchen when I got there, putting stuff in a blender. My stomach rumbled as I realized I hadn’t eaten since the snacks from the cute flight attendant. Fuck, what’d he think if he saw me now?

Boss regarded me with a raised brow over his shoulder, “Took you long enough.”

I blushed. “Sorry Boss, I uh… I got kinda distracted.”

He chuckled, snapping the lid on, “Oh I heard you.”

I jumped as the blender screamed, then stood silently as we waited for it to finish. I realized my arms were somewhat akimbo, that I was standing like I had muscles. Not just had muscles, but like I knew I had muscles and was a walking work of anatomical art that needed to be shown off.

Dick flex. More pre. Bicep twitch. Fuuuuck.

The blender wound down. “What’s that, Boss?”

“For you, boy, obviously. Thinkin’ like a meathead already, eh? Or maybe not thinkin’...” he teased while he poured the contents into a large, plastic cup. “That body’s gonna need a good dose of calories, protein especially, or you might go into a sort of shock. Your blood sugar’s gonna drop real quick what with having a new metabolism and all.”

He surveyed me up and down as he stepped over to hand me the cup. “Drink up.”

Without hesitation I lifted the cup to my lips and chugged it down. Chocolate, banana, chalky, but not bad. He watched me unmoving so I flexed my arm as I drank, smiling through my slurping. He reached over and wrapped a hand around my bicep, nowhere near encircling my arm, and let out a low whistle.

“Yeah boy, you’re turning out real good. Gonna make your Boss proud.”

My dick responded again, like Pavlov’s dog at this point, drooling all the while. As I finished drinking the shake down he handed me a napkin so I could clean up my moustache. I pounded a fist against my spandex-covered cobblestone stomach and let out a belch, then a chuckle. “Compliments to the chef. Thanks, Boss!”

He said nothing and instead walked thoughtfully around me, looking me up and down. I instinctively tensed everything, happy to be inspected, ready for whatever he planned to throw at me next.

A thread of anxiety, stretching up from my stomach to my chest. My breathing quickened. Wait, next? What about now? This was unreal, how did he…?

A hand on my shoulder and the panic melted.

“It’s alright, boy. You’re safe.”

I breathed out heavily, muscles relaxing a moment. “Yes, Boss. Sorry, I just was thinking...”

He faced me now, a bemused look, a hand on my bulge. “Oh? Thinkin’ about what?”

My breathing quickened again, the horniness flowed up and filled my mind, I groaned and flexed my core and my dick. His touch was electricity with my body wrapped in elasticity, I could barely string a thought. “Fuuuck…”

He nodded. “That sounds about right.”

Stepping back a few steps and leaning with an elbow against the back of a dining chair, “We’re going out tonight, boy, and I expect you to be on your best behaviour. You’ll stay by my side at all times without question, speak only when spoken to, and most importantly you will not cum without my knowledge or permission.”

I tensed back up, chest out, mimicking a bodybuilder’s relaxed pose as best I could. “Yes Boss!”

“Also,” his face darkened slightly, “I said all white.”

I blanched a bit. Shit.

“Yes Boss, I just… I liked the blue stripe.”

He stared daggers and for a moment I was sure I’d royally fucked up.

Suddenly softening he nodded, “Fair enough. I know you’ve only just arrived and it wouldn’t be fair to be too strict with you just yet. Know that in future if I ask somethin’ of you you’re to take my instructions literally unless we otherwise discuss, understood?”

I sighed with relief. “Yes, Boss, of course, Boss!”

It was only then I even realized he’d changed. Now in blue jeans and red flannel shirt, top buttons left open and collar splayed, sleeves rolled up, and a pair of harness boots. Walking toward the front door he fished a pair of leather gloves out of his back pocket and began slipping them on.

“You ready, boy?”

I nodded and grinned. “Yes, Boss!”

He grabbed his keys off a hook by the door while slipping on a pair of mirrored aviators.

“Let’s go then.”

And I followed.