You set down the heavy barbell with a smile of cocky satisfaction. Never would’ve you imagined that you’d be able to lift a hundred pound weight for one hundred reps, but a lot had changed since you first entered the Foundation. You had originally come to me looking for a Transformation to boost confidence, and you were ready to pay the price. Much to my surprise, you disclosed that an old friend of yours had gone to the Foundation for a Transformation earlier this year, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why, despite having the muscles of Hercules, he was dumb as a pile of rocks forever after. You had rationalized that, though every transformation was free, the subject with a request often had to pay a price. It was like making a wish in a fairy tale as there was always an undesirable twist, yet that hadn’t stopped you from coming. You had watched your friend over the past year, and though he’d lost his successful accounting job due to his sudden and alarming loss of intelligence, he still lived a happier life as a muscle god amongst men than he ever did behind an office desk. You wanted that same happiness, and I was intrigued.
Months later, you were surprised to find that you hadn’t yet encountered a downside to your current situation. It had been a bit jarring at first when I wordlessly left you in a gym within the Foundation. At the time you thought it was perhaps a bad joke at your expense, a statement of my lack of sympathy for your lack of trying to improve yourself, but you were fortunate to overcome your ego and begin a clumsy, amateur exercise routine just to try. You lifted a variety of weights and interacted with several machines, though you did need to ask other patrons nearby if you were operating them correctly, and you found that each of them were rather easy to use. Your body still strained at exerting the strength of performing such exercises, yet it felt as though you were struggling to lift styrofoam. There inexplicably was absolutely no pain in the process, and you were skeptical as to how this might help at first. After a few days of returning to the gym though, the results became quite obvious.
When you began you simply weren’t able to lift some weights. All of them feeling light as a feather, this perplexed you. It was like something out of a dream to see your arm failing to heft a seventy pound weight in one hand even though it felt like you were trying to pluck a twig from the ground, but eventually you saw that the weight no longer resisted your grasp as it did before. You slowly found that, as it was with most regular workout regimens, you could lift heavier and heavier weights over time, despite all of them feeling equally light, and your body began to reflect that progression. Your arms began to swell and bulge to become an impressive pair of biceps and forearms. Your legs looked like they could carry you for several triathlons in a row without growing tired. Chiseled abs formed below your scrumptiously plump, hardened pecs. In only a few weeks you became a veritable Adonis of physical perfection, and unlike your friend from a year ago, you could see absolutely no downside to this sudden change.
You had just finished your one hundred, one hundred workout and was packing up your things from the locker that fateful afternoon. It was getting late, and though you knew that you could easily push for another hour at this peculiar painless gym, you still had to head home and prepare for work the following day. You didn’t live at the Foundation as many of its other denizens did after their transformation, but you also hadn’t received some debilitating downside as a fare. Though you’d been invited to share a place by several friends you’d met while working out at the gym, you always refused. It felt as if you had somehow cheated fate by getting such a good deal out of the Foundation, and you didn’t want to jinx the result by staying in a place that was so hazardous to the stability of one’s identity. I also get the feeling that’s why you began avoiding me after the first week of the gym, not even bothering to make eye contact with me as you entered the Foundation. Had you known that I was a fickle creature of mischief you might have treated me with more respect, but as it stood, I had a new transformation to test. You struck me as the perfect subject.
I stopped you outside of the gym and invited you to join me for dinner. You were clearly squeamish at the notion. You stammered out a variety of reasons why you needed to get home soon, but I stopped you short by insisting that you come with me. My tone was polite and cordial, but you caught an undertone of serious adamance in my demand. You didn’t know exactly why I was so dogmatic in having you attend this dinner, but you knew what I was capable of. You’d seen what I’d done with your friend. You’d met some of the other patrons of the gym. Each of them had some defect associated with their muscular appearance, some form of excess or deficiency, and now that you had something to loose in the form of your bombastically strapping looks, you knew better than to get on my bad side. You resigned to follow me as I led you to a place within the Foundation to eat.
The door we arrived at looked fairly new. You’d explored the Foundation’s halls once or twice before after working out, and this one would’ve stood out if you’d seen previously. It was a brilliant green with red trim and an peculiarly oblong, black door knob. I gave the handle a twist, and we found ourselves inside a simple dining room of some sort. From the old wooden fixtures and furniture, you’d guess that it was a room in an old house. Warm air breezed into the room through a few screen windows, and looking out them presented the a scenic view of a bright green and red barn looming over a seemingly endless field of crops, though you couldn’t make out what variety. Thinking aloud, you deduced that we were in some sort of farmhouse, and I spoke up to confirm your hypothesis. The Foundation was aiming to break into the organic restaurant scene, and I told you that I needed a subject to taste our newest dish. Hesitantly, you took a seat at the table, the old, wooden chair creaking beneath your brawny weight.
It wasn’t long before a man entered the room. He was a strapping figure himself, though some years older than you. His hair was a peppered gray with a beard to match. A white undershirt clung to his clearly outlined pectorals, yet the rest of his torso was tragically hidden beneath a rustic pair of overalls. His strong, sinewy arms held a covered, silver serving platter that he set before you with deliberate, calm control. He stepped to the side of the room, eyeing you with measured analysis, and I myself stepped forward to lift the cover of the tray. You were underwhelmed to see that the only thing presented was a bowl of watermelon balls. Your brows furrowed at the dish, confused as to why such a simple snack would be presented as some sort of decorous meal. You picked one up to see that the seeds hadn’t even been removed. I urged you to try it though, and despite your rolling eyes, you popped the morsel into your mouth.
As you had suspected, it was nothing amazing. To please me, you did eat the rest of the pink balls presented, but you didn’t truly have any great love for watermelon to begin with. When you were asked for your opinion, you answered that the watermelon balls were overwhelmingly average. It wasn’t until I asked how you felt that you began to become worried. What did I mean, “How do you feel?” I chuckled at the question and your bewildered stare. I explained that this experiment was meant to break into the organic food business, but we were still the Transformation Foundation after all. We still largely specialized in one thing, and one thing alone. In this case, we chose to channel our transformative specialty into a single fruit, watermelons. We had hundreds upon thousands of them growing out there in the fields, but we hadn’t had a chance to test them yet.
Before you could ask what was supposed to happen, you felt something in the pit of your stomach. You looked down to see that your beautiful body was beginning to change. Specifically, the abs that you had spent months working on to properly refine and grow the muscles began to distend before giving away. You saw all of your hard work in that area of your body, though achieved through painless means, dissipate as a sizable bulge began to swell from you stomach. You were startled to at the sight, instinctively jumping to your feet in shock. In kind, your newly bulging belly prominently bounced to and fro at the sudden inertia of the movement, and it was then that you realized how strange this felt. Your belly, your skin, you yourself were jiggling at the mere motion of getting up from the table, and in the minor moments it took to recognize that oddity, you stomach only continued to swell.
You frantically turned to me, your blubberous belly swinging, asking for me to make it stop. You were clearly scared, though merely at the destruction of your own vain and painless recreation of masculinity. In truth, you were merely startled. The only truly unwelcome aspect of this experience in your eyes was the sudden bulbous addition to your otherwise perfectly chiseled frame. In response, I gestured to the masculine man still standing to the side. You wheeled around to face the man with your hands firmly planted on your distended stomach as to prevent any more jiggling. The older man had a pleased smile on his face when he approached. He came within a foot of your person, nearly belly to belly with your expanded abdomen, before crouching down before you. You could barely see what he was doing from over your humongous paunch, but you could still see his smile. Then you felt it, a single flick on the underside of your stomach that resonated throughout it was a resounding thud. He was thumping on your belly as if it was no more than a watermelon, and you blushed beet red at the notion.
The man rose from before your belly, turned, nodded at me, and began to fiddle with the crotch of his overalls. Perplexed as to what this strange, muscular man was going to do next, you were shocked when the man pulled out his fully erect cock. You gasped at the sight, knowing that you should be insulted and bothered by it, yet another and stranger reaction came over you. You felt a sudden, unbearable hunger. The man held his cock in hand and looked at you expectantly, and though a part of you wanted to walk right out the door you’d just come through, you began to drool at the scrumptious sight of the erection. Following an impulse, you knelt down onto your knees, a task easier said than done given your newfound girth. Once you were down, your copious belly so large as to drape onto the ground with you, you slowly began to ease towards the man’s cock. It looked even better up close. You struggled to think of why, but the only word that came to mind was “juicy.” It was when you smelled the first succulent drop of precum pooling at the tip that the hunger overtook you. You lunged forward onto the cock, eagerly sucking at the appetizing phallus to find that it tasted like the best thing you’d ever tasted.
I watched in bemused enjoyment from the sidelines. I’d kept you in reserve for so long, I was glad to finally have found a use for you, giving you that dreaded downside you were always so afraid of. I hadn’t lied when I said we were aiming to get into organic foods, but we needed some element of transformation to draw people in. You’d sealed your fate the moment you ate, not the watermelon, but the seeds buried within the balls. The watermelons we grow are genetically programmed to have a very unique reaction to the human digestive acid so as to prolifically grow once the combined once the seeds come in contact. Within your belly now grew our own variety of watermelon, meant to carefully and aesthetically stretch the stomach to enormous sizes for the subject’s pleasure, and the subject was sure to feel pleasure. As a byproduct of growing within the stomach, the watermelon often needed sustenance, and thanks to our genetic reprogramming of the melon, it is capable of reserving such nutrients from a specific but easily obtainable source, human semen. Whether received anally or orally, the plant will be fed and continue to grow to unbelievable proportions. In an act of symbiosis, the plant also interacts with the subject’s endocrine system so as to heighten sexual pleasure and create an innate craving for other men’s cum.
I watched you suck the gruff, muscular man’s cock in a similar act of symbiosis. You now needed cum like you needed water, and he received an immense amount of pleasure giving it to you. That’s why I had arranged for the man to take care of you. He was already the farmer of the land. What was one more watermelon to care for in his eyes? I saw to it that he saw you as a possession, his favorite melon that just happened to be a man. I’m sure he’d still allow you to wonder to the gym from time to time to keep up that well built physique that he enjoyed seeing you have. It made it easier for him to feed you your daily load of nutrients, after all, and you’d do anything to make your new owner, your new master, happy.
Image Source: (https://zippy7133.tumblr.com/post/179698619079/quick-update)