Wrong Number

"Goddamnit, not another one," Steve grumbled, his phone vibrating on his desk. He'd been on the receiving end of a barrage of strange, harassing text messages for the past two days. They came at all hours, to the point where he'd had to silence his phone and put it face down in order to get some sleep the night before.

At first he thought it was just one of his friends messing with him. He'd written it off as a wrong number, but as the messages came in it was obvious the person clearly knew a lot about him. He didn't think any of his friends were dedicated enough to keep the ruse up this long, and the tone of the messages was starting to make him doubt that it was one of the guys after all. The person sounded angry, and what began as simple taunts were turning into increasingly degrading commands. Steve had replied at first, but once the messages took a turn into demanding pics of him in compromising positions he'd been ignoring them.

He was starting to wonder if it was a jilted ex, or maybe a spurned hook up, but as far as he knew none of his breakups or one night stands had ended horribly enough to warrant something like this. He'd never ghosted or cheated on anyone, nor had he ever acted abusive in any way. Sure, there had been hurt feelings, but he didn't do it on purpose. He couldn't help it if more people fell for him than the other way around.

Steve had inherited his family's looks, and ever since hitting puberty the handsome twenty four year old had people throwing themselves at him. His hearty, eastern European lineage had gifted the him with high, prominent cheekbones, full, pouty lips, a strong jaw, and a thick head of dark, wavy hair. Athletics had come naturally from an early age, and though he was no longer in school, constant rec league sports and a regimented workout routine ensured his 5'10" frame was covered in lean, ample muscle. Coupled with a long, thick cock and a solid, perky rear, it was no wonder the young stud had people hitting on him constantly.

"Last chance to do this the easy way," the message read.

"Who the fuck is this?!" Steve replied.

"Is that a no?" The stranger asked.

"Go fuck yourself." Steve dropped his phone in frustration as soon as he hit send. He didn't have time for the person's games. There was a presentation he needed to finish for that afternoon and he couldn't afford to be distracted by whatever it was they were trying to do. If he nailed it, he was basically guaranteed a promotion.

He managed to forget about the stalker for the rest of the morning as he put the finishing touches on his project and his appearance. He made a pitstop on the way to the conference room to give himself a final once-over in the bathroom mirror, adjusting the tie that sat perfectly between the pecs straining against the tight button down and gave his firm bubble a quick flex. He'd mastered the art of wearing clothes just tight enough to show off his athletic body without coming across as desperate or unprofessional. Steve wasn't above using his looks when he needed to, and he knew there would be more than a few people watching his ass just as much as his presentation. One older VP in particular, Paul, had been less than subtle while watching Steve change in the locker room at the company gym in the mornings. As soon as the young jock would step out of the shower, the middle-aged man's eyes would be glued to him. Steve was well aware, but you'd never have known from the way he casually tossed his towel aside and lingered naked for the other man to see. He made it a point to go through his routine in nothing but his tiny red boxer briefs, standing at the counter fixing his hair and shaving with his stuffed bulge and tight bubble on display. He would never actually cross a line with another guy, but Steve was content to let them look if it meant a raise.

"Thank you all for coming," he said as the last of the executives filed in and took their seats. He puffed his chest out and flexed his abs while he spoke, keeping his voice steady. He was nothing but confident running through the facts and figures. He'd worked on the presentation for weeks and knew it all by heart, and based on the impressed looks he saw around the room he figured his promotion was in the bag.

So when it hit, Steve was even more caught off guard. He'd just turned around to face the room again, pointing over his shoulder to a projected slide behind him, a smug grin on his face. "The projections for quarter three are particularly exceptional. They point to a forty percent growth over last yeeaaauuuuuuggggnnnn..."

His eyes went wide, time seeming to slow as he felt his body betraying him. Without warning his sculpted frame tensed, his cock rocketing to attention and spurting like a hose in rapid fire succession. He stared down at the obvious outline of his thick club snaking down his pant leg, a large damp spot spreading as his whimpering groan seemed to echo endlessly around the stunned, silent room.

The would-be executive paled as he looked at the table full of shocked faces that just watched him cum excessively in his pants. Steve's mouth opened and closed several times before he could force out a hoarse whisper, the damp warmth spreading across his thigh. "I...uh...I'm sorry, excuse me," he stammered, practically running from the room as the murmurs started.

He bolted for the nearest bathroom, darting into a stall and slamming the door behind him. "What the fuck...what the fuck...what the fuck..." Steve tore his pants open and stared, dumbfounded, at his sopping boxer briefs and softening snake. For the first time in his life he regretted the thick hose, the color rushing back to his face and then some as he thought about what he must have looked like orgasming in front of everyone. He wiped himself up as best as he could, but there was nothing he could do about the wet pants.

His stomach dropped when he felt the phone in his pocket start vibrating. The last thing he wanted to do at the moment was talk to anyone, especially if it could be his boss. He flushed a deeper shade of red when he thought how word of what happened was probably already spreading.

He took a deep breath and pulled the phone out. "That looked embarrassing," the taunting message read. "But I gave you a chance."

Steve cycled from humiliated, to surprised, to furious in the blink of an eye. He gripped his phone so tight the screen almost cracked. "So you work with me? Were you in the room?"

"That's really your question? Not 'how are you doing this', or even 'why are you doing this'?"

In his anger, it hadn't even occurred to Steve that the stranger could have been responsible for his unexpected release. He didn't know how it would have even been possible. "What? You're saying YOU did that? Nice try."

"Maybe this will convince you."

As soon as he read the message, Steve felt a familiar pulse surge through him. "GGGuuuuuhhhh!" He still had his pants down from wiping himself up, which let his exposed cock rocket to attention and shotgun all over the side of the stall. The stunned young man just froze, his eyes darting between his thick, dripping cock and the phone in his hand.

"Convinced yet?"

"How are you doing this?" Steve whispered it into the microphone, his trembling hands making typing impossible.

"For the moment, all you need to know is that you're my puppet. You do what I say, when I say, or cumming in front of people will be the least of your concerns. Are we clear?"

Steve's mind raced, trying to think of some way out of his current predicament, but he still didn't even know exactly what was happening, or how.

"I asked if we're clear."

"Yes," Steve replied, hoping to buy time.

"Good! Clean up and get dressed. It's up to you if you want to stay at work for the rest of the day."

That was the last thing Steve wanted. Expecting another spontaneous eruption at any moment, the young jock slinked through the sea of cubicles, trying his best to avoid everyone as he made his way for the door. His face burned when he saw the coworkers who noticed him pointing and whispering already, his promising future with the firm spiraling down the drain. Even if he didn't get fired, Steve had no idea how he'd ever show his face at the office again. He sent his boss a text about going to the doctor and ran for his car once he reached the parking deck.

"This can't be happening," he whispered to himself, slumping in his seat. "It's just not possible. Even if someone drugged me it wouldn't..."

He trailed off when his phone buzzed again. "Turning tail and running? Probably not a bad idea," the message read. Steve could feel the smug satisfaction even through the phone. "There's a package waiting for you at home."

Steve's only response was to let his phone drop to the passenger seat. He pulled out of the garage and began the trek back to his condo, wondering what he could have done to wind up in such a nightmarish scenario. His mind pored over every person he could have possibly wronged over the years, but none of the few enemies he had were capable of something like this. He still didn't know how ANYONE was capable of this.

As the message promised, Steve saw a large box waiting for him by his front door when he pulled in the driveway. It was surprisingly light for its size, and the worried man knew nothing good would come of it. As soon as he was inside, the messages started up again.

"Good. You got the package. Now take your clothes off."

Steve's eyes darted around the room for some evidence of how he was being observed. "How are you watching me? Did you break in and hide cameras or something?"

"I'm not going to tell you again."

"Okay, okay," Steve quickly replied. He loosened his tie and undid his shirt, pulling it free to expose his ripped torso, but he hesitated at his pants. He'd just popped the button when the anger hit him again. "Actually, no. Fuck this. I don't know how you pulled that shit at the office, but I'm not going to play your games. How about I just go to the cops?"

"Do you think you're my first? I've done this many, many times, Steve. Remember when I said the orgasm was the least of what I could do? Want to see how well resisting worked for the last young man?"

Steve actually laughed when the picture came through. It was of a fit, athletic young blonde who was looking over his shoulder to face the camera with terror in his eyes. He was naked, and Steve could only guess that the source of his fear was the man's impossibly inflated lower half. From the waist up he was well built and leanly muscled, with broad shoulders and a tapering waist that weren't all that different than Steve's, but from the waist down he was a different story entirely. His ass was so large it looked like two watermelons had been strapped to his lower back, and each of his thighs was nearly as wide as his waist.

"Is a photoshopped picture supposed to scare me?" Moments after hitting send, Steve felt a strange tingling sensation wash over him. It spread from head to toe before centering in on his backside as a dull ache. His heart started racing as he stared at his reflection in the TV, desperately telling himself nothing had gotten any bigger.

"Keep watching."

Steve only looked away long enough to read the message, and when he looked back it was just in time to actually see his perky bubble shift and expand. He could feel the tightness in his pants now as each cheek pressed outwards and his thighs widened ever so slightly. "No! Stop! I'm getting naked," he frantically responded, stripping his pants off as if they were on fire. There was another focused tingling as he kicked them free, and Steve could feel a foreign shifting and bouncing that he hadn't before.

The young jock felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach when he reached around behind and palmed his new globes, feeling his fingers bite into flesh that should have been rock solid. Looking at his reflection he saw they were nowhere near the monstrous cakes the man in the picture had, but they were significantly larger than his pert mounds had been just moments before. They weren't excessive yet, though it wouldn't take much.

"If you're still not convinced, why don't you take a look at Daniel?"

Steve didn't laugh at the pictures that followed. The first showed a hulking wall of muscle with buzzed hair wearing nothing but a tank-top that left his meaty cock and powerful thighs entirely exposed. He wore a defiant glare on his wolfish features that seemed to dare the viewer. The next picture showed the same wall of muscle, but he was noticeably less hulking. The tank-top rode lower, stopping just at the base of a smaller looking package, and the man's expression was less angry and more surprised. The third picture showed a man who was built, but nowhere near the muscled meathead in the first two. The tank-top now hung loose on his torso and rode low enough to cover everything but his dangling tip, his face looking terrified as his features seemed to soften. The fourth picture showed a lean man with some slight definition swimming in a baggy tank-top that fit him like a gown, his wide-eyed expression showing off his increasingly button nose and pouty lips. The fifth and final picture was of a small, lithe man, the tank-top barely hanging on as it slipped over one slender shoulder and showed off his soft, featureless chest. The man's rugged face had become androgynous, with big, doe eyes that sparkled with fear.

"I'm convinced! I'm convinced!" Steve yelled into the microphone as the tingling settled over his body again. He braced himself for the worst, but it stopped without leaving any further changes that he could see.

"Good. Now open your package."

Steve didn't know what he was expecting when he sliced through the tape and peeled back the flaps of the cardboard box, but it certainly wasn't the bright wads of fabric he found inside. He pulled out a neon purple thong, his naked body going red with embarrassment at the thought of putting it on. "What is this?"

"The start of your new wardrobe. Put it on."

Steve couldn't believe he was going through with it as he slid the small underwear up his solid thighs. He winced when the string slipped between his inflated cheeks and he looked down to see just how ill-fitting the unwanted garment actually was. It wasn't just revealing, it was too small, leaving the base of his cock on display and his heavy balls spilling out the sides. "It doesn't fit..."

"It fits perfectly. Why don't you show everyone? Take a video of yourself twerking in it and post it on your page. Make it convincing."

Steve froze. He looked down at his barely covered body and thought about all the old college friends, exes, coworkers and family members who would see the video of him shaking his barely covered junk and bare, enlarged bottom. "Look, there's gotta be something else I can..." before Steve even finished typing, he felt the tingling at his rear again. It was stronger this time, and images of himself with a set of watermelon sized cheeks flashed before his eyes. "Fuck! Fine! Okay!" he yelled to the empty room.

He scampered over to the table and set his phone up, gradually backing away and flexing his washboard abs in frame. He did a slow turn, letting everyone get a good look at his curvy new profile with his trim, tapering waist, meatier bubble and barely contained bulge, before getting to work. He folded his sculpted arms behind his head and started popping his hips, grateful that the camera couldn't see the horrified expression on his face. It wasn't just his actions; the way he could feel his fleshy bottom shaking and jiggling told him the last round of growth hadn't just been a warning. The vigorous shaking caused his girthy package to flop free and he hoped the phone wouldn't pick up the sound of it slapping around.

He tucked himself away after a few torturous minutes and tried to steel himself for what he had to do. As humiliating as filming the video had been, the hard part was actually posting it. He wrestled with whether or not he should put a caption on it to make it seem like he'd lost a bet or it was all a dare, but decided not to risk it. He took a deep breath and hit post, surprised that after cumming in front of everyone at the office he could still experience something more embarrassing.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" When Steve didn't respond, the stranger sent another picture of the shrunken Daniel, this time naked on his knees in front of someone with the kind of body he used to have. "I asked you a question."

"It was awful!"

"Look at the bright side. You're going to find out who your interesting friends are."

Steve resisted the urge to throw his phone across the room. "What now?"

"Right to the point, then. First, throw away all your old underwear. All of it. From now on you only wear what I tell you to. If I don't tell you, you ask permission. More will come, but we'll start there."

Steve grabbed the box and dumped it on the floor to see what else it held, horrified to find a pile of small thongs like the one he wore, a few garish jockstraps, and a smattering of revealing bikini briefs that were actually modest compared to the rest. There were a few pairs of what looked to be small gym shorts and a couple tank-tops present, but nothing else. It was all a far cry from his usual boxers or boxer briefs and he dreaded the thought of parading around in any of it.

But he knew he didn't have much say at the moment. He grabbed a garbage bag and got to work, raiding his hamper and dresser until the only underwear left were the bright, skimpy wads of fabric on his floor. He tossed the bag by his back door, feeling surprisingly violated, and found a message waiting for him on his phone.

"Take it out to the trash. Don't put anything else on."

Steve's heart started racing as he opened the door. He knew there likely wouldn't be many neighbors out to see him at the moment, but the thought that there could even be one was bad enough. The irony that he'd just been thinking about how he had no problem parading around naked on purpose to manipulate someone wasn't lost on him. But that was different, he told himself. He'd been in control then. Now, he was anything but.

He hurried out to the trash can, blushing as he felt his inflated cheeks bounce more than was normal from his quick steps, and the warm air on the exposed bits of his package. The older gentleman who lived in the condo next door was out in his yard and gave him a look like he'd been slapped in the face when he saw the naked young jock, but Steve just nodded and waved with a forced smile. He was mortified, but he knew it was a feeling he should get used to considering the video he'd just posted for his five hundred plus friends online.

"Now put the shorts and a tank-top on and go to the gym at this address. When you get there, ask for Mack and do whatever he says. I'll know if you don't."

Much to his embarrassment, Steve discovered that things actually could keep getting worse. The shorts were a thin, white nylon that stretched like a second skin around his meaty rear and widened thighs, stopping only a third of the way down his hairy legs. Not only did they make his boxer briefs look big, they were nearly see through, doing nothing to conceal the bright purple thong or his tanned, olive skin underneath. The tank-top was no help as it stopped just above his navel, giving everyone a view of the dark, hairy trail leading to his prominent bulge a few inches south.

Steve tried to avoid his reflection as he walked out to his car, feeling like he was dressed more for a street corner than a gym. His brain was still trying to wrap itself around how any of this was possible. The fact that he had direct orders to follow, regardless of how humiliating, was the only thing keeping the shock at bay. He pushed the thoughts down whenever he started to think about how his body had been altered against his will. He knew if he went down that road he'd end up a panicked, useless mess and he couldn't afford that right now. It was hard enough to ignore the flood of messages he was already getting in response to his video.