Arshi Ascends (With Captions) (Patreon)

Arshi caught himself in the mirror and raised an arm, flexing slowly. The bicep wasn't huge, but it was there—a curve he hadn't noticed before. He pulled the neckline of his singlet with 2 fingers, surprised. Right there, just in the center, a small cluster of dark hair had appeared, curled like a question mark. That tiny dark cluster right over his sternum. He touched it again, stroking the coarse little patch. It hadn't been there last week. He liked it.

Arshi burst through the front door, still buzzing from the best practice of his life. He'd drained the whole team and was still hungry for more...Now, alone in his room, he peeled off his sweat-soaked hoodie and stopped.

The mirror didn't make sense at first.

His Singlet—once snug but comfortable—was now stretched to a screaming thread. His pecs had swelled into thick, rounded slabs, and across them spread a generous, dark mat of chest hair, dense and curling. He blinked. That wasn't there this morning. Then he saw the strap. With a soft pop, the right shoulder seam gave way, the nylon snapping cleanly as his bulging deltoid pushed through. His arm alone looked like a heavyweight's. His thighs, too, pressed against the leg bands like they were fighting to escape.

But it was his face that froze him.

A thick, bristly beard was pushing through his jaw and chin—not a light scruff, but a full, dark pelt that had somehow grown in a single afternoon. He touched it, rough and real under his fingers.

And then he felt it.

A dense, heavy weight settling low in the crotch of the straining singlet. Not just muscle. Something thicker, fuller, pressing against the fabric with an almost writhing presence. He looked down. The front of the uniform bulged obscenely, the material struggling to contain what had unmistakably—impossibly—grown there too.

The fabric between his legs, already strained past reason, gave a low, threatening rrrrip.

Before he could move, the weight simply... dropped.

A heavy, thick length fell free through the opened seam at the bottom of his leotard, swinging into the open air with a soft, meaty thump against his inner thigh. Arshi looked down. His mouth opened. No sound came out.

It was unbelievable.... and he loved every inch of it as it bobs against his thigh.3. Arshi tore through the neighborhood his stamina and hunger seemed endless of the men who had ably sated him night after night before, the hottest dilfs and hunks around. Now each encounter left them trembling, breathless, and strangely grateful, but none of them could hold him. Not anymore. His new body, thick with muscle and dusted with dark hair, seemed to hum with a power that made doorframes feel narrow and ceilings feel low, and his stride ate up the sidewalk until he found himself at the familiar cracked stoop of his boyfriend, Luca's place. The last time Arshi had stood here, he had been the smaller one, the leaner one, the one who looked up. Now, when the door swung open and his boyfriend’s eyes widened—first in shock, then in something deeper, rawer, a naked hunger that matched Arshi’s own.

The hunger surged again, deeper this time, coiling low in Arshi's core, his abs clench. Without a word, without a breath between them, Arshi's length rose—heavy, veiny and throbbing. Lucas...Smiled.