Delayed November 2024 Drabbles

Dude, Where's My Project? (Growth/Strongfat/Hairy/Strong/Mini-Macro/Musk)

“Uhhh, Eustace? What was the juice in the fridge?”

“Juice? Carl, I didn’t have juice in the-” Eustace began to ask, wondering why Carl's voice sounded so odd as he came back from the bathroom. Eustace's body and mind ground to a pause once he took in the sight of his friend. The chemist took a tentative step back as he saw how Carl’s body had shifted in the brief time he left the room.

What had once been the fit body of a freshman runner was now a body that can only be described as godlike. The heaving muscles glistened with sweat, causing the stark black body hair to shine more as the now giant behemoth stomped close to the stunned Eustace. The muscle bound Carl walked right up to the tiny Eustace, scraps of clothing clinging to his immense body as his towering form gave the smaller man a view of his swollen cock that was barely contained in the stretched jockstrap. The house shook with every powerful step Carl took, forcing Eustace to cling to the doorframe to keep from falling over both from the earth shaking, but also from the sight of Carl's muscles and fat bouncing with every step he took. Eustace forced himself to look away from the almost obscene cock as he turned back to his friend, watching Carl as he grunted deeply, shifting his titanic form to kneel down before his tiny friend, bringing his dense sweaty pecs and bloated belly right in front of Eustace's blushing face.

“Eustace…” Carl said, his deep voice leaving a dense hot air over Eustace’s face as he pulled the tiny man closer. Strong hands easily overpowering the smaller chemist’s frail form, pressed closer to the titan filling his room, Eustace blushed more when he swore the mass around him seemed to bulge more.

“I want more.”

A Growth Sleep Does the Body Grow (Powerlifter/Growth/Hairy/Musk/Destruction)

”Hey, has anyone seen Mitch?”

The night shift workers packing up all paused once they heard the question. Everyone glanced over each other, questionable looks within the locker room as they all tried to think where they had last seen the usually hard working co-worker.

“Did he leave early and didn’t say anything?” Charlie suggested half-heartedly, though that was thrown out seeing as the group glanced over to where Mitch’s bag was still in its place from when they all came in.

“Mitch’s been taking extra shifts and practically been sleepwalking the past few weeks. Maybe he sat down for a sec and finally caught some sleep?” Derek asked as he shrugged on his jacket. Everyone had clearly seen that Mitch hadn’t been doing well since his boyfriend dumped him, yet none of them had said anything with their coworker practically throwing himself into his work.

Clark sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, the supervisor not looking forward to effectively having to check around for the young coworker. “Okay, before we punch out, let’s check out the loading bay. Hopefully Mitch just slept on some chair or-“

A deafening screech of crushing metal and an earthshaking crash cut off Clark’s words, the three men trying to keep from falling over at the sudden force.

“W-What the fuck was that?” Derek said, coughing out dust from the plaster that had rained down on the trio. The loaders leaving the locker room as another crash shook the foundation, all wondering if there was a crash or an actual earthquake. Rushing out of the building, the three walkers stumbled to a halt as they glanced over to the loading bay doors where one of the company trucks were stationed.

Or rather, where the truck used to be.

Laying atop the crushed and distorted metal of one of the eighteen-wheeler trucks was a gigantic beast of a man the crew recognised as once being the small Mitch. The giant bear’s body bloated with mass and size, scraps of his uniform clinging to the bulging, sweat dripping mass of his body. Mitch’s glistening body bulged as his form shifted in his slight, each movement highlighting every bulging vein and curve of newfound muscle. His arms, once average, were now the size of tree trunks, coated in a dense layer of body hair rivalling a gorilla. His bloated chest expanded with each deep, rhythmic breath, the sound of snoring echoing like thunder in the open remains of the loading bay.

The loader crew caught the smell of diesel fumes mixed together with a potent musk that grew stronger as the men approached. It was an intoxicating scent, a heady mix of power and raw masculinity that seemed to emanate from the towering form of their transformed coworker. His legs, once confined within the bed of the truck, had pushed through the steel and fiberglass of the truck cabin like it was mere paper, leaving behind a gaping hole. The concrete beneath his titanic form cracked, struggling to support his massive weight that had already crushed the ruined truck tires.

Mitch's head, rivalling the size of a prize winning pumpkin, was thrown back in a deep, contented snore. The dense beard covering the once slim and soft face of youth, his bulging neck dense enough that the crew wondered if even the largest belt they had could encircle the bulging mass. Each deep exhale ruffled the musky hair around his neck and face, a swollen paw of a hand reaching up to lazily scratch the dense forest of body hair over his chest. The veins in his neck stood out like cables, pulsing with the lifeblood that fueled his transformation. His nose and mouth had widened, taking on a more animalistic look, yet somehow fitting with the new contours of his face. His eyes were closed, lids twitching with the vividness of his dreams.

“H-How the fuck?” One of the men exclaimed at the sight of their once rail thin coworker, all not so subtly checking the engorged cock Mitch now had, rivalling their own bodies in size as the member pulsed against the bulging bear’s bloated belly.

Clark, already mentally wondering how he’ll have to fill out the incident report, couldn’t help but sigh when he spotted some of the crushed crates that Mitch’s body knocked aside in his growth. The familial logo for M.A.S.S. Inc greeting him back.

The Failure of Recapturing Your Youth (Extreme Weight Gain/Growth/Gas/Musk)

Legends spoke of an elixir that would rejuvenate the body of whoever drank it. The promised eternal youth so many searched for but could never obtain. To strip away the ravages of time that would otherwise scar the user’s body and return the lost strength and vitality. Rumours spoke of how the potion’s effects would even increase the power of the magician, turning their frail forms into imposing goliaths that not even the greatest warrior could fell.

Such an intoxicating potion had been deemed too dangerous by the Council of Elders, resulting in all recipes to craft the potion to be destroyed along with all references to the promised ingredient combinations. Many fearful kingdoms and regions had even brought about laws that any attempt to recreate such a spell would lead to imprisonment, or even death.

And yet, none of these threats deterred Alastor as the mage sat before his work table. The old wizard glanced over his instruments, watching bubbling fluids going through connecting pipes into adjoining beakers, before turning back to his notes. The Council’s attempts at redacting all mention of the rejuvenation potion had been done to ensure no one could make it. However, the effective blank spaces with certain combinations had effectively allowed any mage to use guesswork and figure out the recipe but process of what isn’t the longed for concoction.

With that, Alastor had spent decades working out what ingredients were needed, having lost many assistants getting some of the more volatile components. Now though, Alastor found he had to get the right combination and usage. Each failed attempt resulting in destroyed instruments, wasted ingredients, and unneeded stress. Making matters more dire, Alastor had caught wind that the Council had found out about his attempts, making what limited time Alastor already had much, much shorter than he would like. If he could just perfect the potion, then it wouldn’t matter if the Council came for him. The promised power he could have would ensure the mage would not set foot within any prison or pit the Council would throw him into.

He needed this to work.

Taking a shaking breath as he stood up, hearing his old joints creak from the movement, Alastor looked from his scribbled and worn out notes to study his latest attempt of the potion. Following the various pipes, Alastor looked over the collection vial where the results of his hard work began to fill in.

The glass tube containing the veridian elixir that his research promised him. No smoke or explosions already gave Alastor hope he finally cracked the recipe.

He picked up the potion with trembling hands and brought it closer to his face, inspecting it meticulously. The potion was thick and viscous, with a hint of luminescence dancing within its depths. The smell was faintly sweet, yet an undercurrent of something more earthy mixed into it. A reminder both of the blooming meadows of his youth, and his time working among armies and orders of hardworking men. Alastor took a moment to appreciate his work, raising the vial to the light as he observed the promised elixir.

"At last," The mage said to himself, his work to bring about the long lost vial had come to fruition. No longer would he waste away as his great power diminished with every day. No longer must he deal with young warriors and mages dismissing him solely due to his age and stature. All it would take is one sip. One drop of the mixture and he would be a monument of youth and power that none in the kingdom would ever ignore.

Whilst a rational part of his mind reminded Alastor that he needed to test the serum, lest he had failed again. The mage's ambition threw aside that cautious part of himself. Embracing an impulsiveness only found in the lost youth he more that coveted, Alastor raised the bottle to his lips before chugging back the oddly salty mixture. Each gulp he took filling himself with a warmth his old bones have long since missed.The warmth the potion left him with reminded the mage of being in the warm embrace of an old friend he cherished yet never remembered.

Pulling the now empty vial from his mouth, Alastor paused as a deep belch rumbled out of him. The long worked on potion hitting his stomach with an almost audible thud that echoed through his body. Taking a shaking breath, Alastor’s eyes widened with excitement, taking in the sensations of his body as it began to change and shift. The wizard's skin grew taught as muscles began to swell beneath, stretching his robes until the threads could take it no more. He felt his body growing stronger and more robust, his hands thickening into powerful mitts that could crush rock into dust.

“Yes… YES!” Alastor couldn’t help but exclaim. His voice once gravelly with age coming out strong as the wizard brought his hands to feel the growth spreading over him. Glancing down to his bleached white beard, Alastor couldn’t help but smirk as he saw the colour return to his hair. Dark colour returned to the pale white hair as his youth returned to him. Bringing his arms up in a flex he had seen many a warrior do in showing off, Alastor smiled as the growth continued.

And yet, something was off. The swelling and strength of his new body didn't stop only at his limbs but continued into his midsection. Alastor’s sunken stomach swelled and grew rounder and rounder against his tightening robes, bulging out like a pregnant woman's. The potion was not turning him into a warrior but something else entirely. Alastor brought his hands over to his stomach, shocked as the feeling was not the solid muscle he had seen of one hard working warrior, but more soft and jiggling like that of an overfed King.

Panic set in as the room grew blurry around the edges. His eyesight dimmed and his hearing grew muffled as if he was being submerged in a vat of oil. Alastor stumbled to the mirror in his room, the glass foggy from the heat of his transformation. He watched in horror as his body ballooned, not with muscle but with fat. The potion had made a grim mistake. His body grew bigger and fatter, so large that looking down he could no longer see his feet, past the curvature of his bloated belly and swollen chest. His robes tightening as stitches began to give way, tearing to reveal the bloated fat man he was becoming. A sudden tear pulled Alastor’s attention from his fattened front to look behind him. His fattened shoulder and rolls of back fat almost prevented Alastor from seeing the engorged ass he now possessed. The fattened cheeks were larger than most seats, easily passing sizes that most adventures would struggle to even more.

And yet. The growing mass kept swelling and growing as Alastor found his once spacious tower room shrinking around the bloating mage. The potions effects work more and more to grant him the size he long desired.

And it will deliver it and more.

—--

"By the Gods, is that the Mage?"

The guards stumbled into the clearing, their armor clanking as they took in the sight before them. The once imposing tower of Alastor the Wise was gone. The intricate structure was now reduced to a pile of rubble and destroyed artefacts within the clearing. The surrounding trees were bent and broken against the expansive force that now resided within. The only thing left standing was a mountain of flesh coloured mass, a monstrous figure that filled the space where the tower once was, breaching the height as the mass pushed out.

The battle weary men looked up in shock and awe at the colossal mass of Alastor, his body bloated beyond recognition both in terms of fat and pure size. His former robes were nothing more than tattered remnants, scattered scraps clinging to his sweat dripping, swollen form, his once proud stance gone as the immense giant was forced to a sitting position. The guards followed the hill sized belly up, past the engorged and swollen chest that rivalled many a peasants house in sheer size. His face was lost within folds of fat, his eyes two tiny dots peeking out from the vast expanse of his boulder sized cheeks and dense beard that lesser men could be lost in. The mage's hands, once delicate and skilled, had ballooned into massive flippers, useless for the intricate work of spellcasting. His legs, too, had thickened to the point of immobility, swollen larger than any silo the kingdom had as the guards saw the fattened man’s feet, larger than their own bodies, leaving the giant Alastor a beached whale of a man, trapped by his own folly.

Before the men could wonder how they would even try to move such a colossal man. The ground shook as an explosion of gas erupted out of Alastor’s tectonic ass. The massive ass cheeks rivalling the size of Alastor’s prominent belly.The wobbling boulders of fat slapping together with the force. The rank and musty odor permeating the forest, but also signalling another growth spurt of the immobilised mage.

Swelling more and more