Sculpted Physique

[6 word request: Spell Turns Muscle Into Moldable Clay]

Neither of us knew if the spell was going to work, but Johnny had significantly less faith than I did. Johnny was skeptical from the moment I placed my recently constructed enchanted totem--a small, clay man--on the dresser. That didn’t bother me; I had far enough faith to power the magic all by myself.

The gullible man we coerced into coming home with us was more than happy to come home with a couple of complimentary men, each half his size. While Johnny fed him vodka downstairs, I got things ready, taking a strand of his curly blond hair (which I’d plucked while admiring his big biceps at the bar) and wrapping it around the totem. Tracing a sigil in the air, I knew the spell was fully cast--just in time for Johnny to lead the burly man into our bedroom for an evening of fun.

His name was Bret--”,,,with one T,” he had affirmed--and he looked like an avatar of Apollo. He shed his shirt as soon as he crossed the threshold of our bedroom. He lifted it slowly, revealing his torso in a way I knew he’d done enough times to be an expert at it, then tossed the shirt at Johnny, who took a deep huff of the lightly sweaty polo shirt as Bret continued to approach.

Bret’s muscular body was so large it made all the go-go boys at the bar look tiny in comparison. He was 6’5” tall, a full head above everyone else at the club and brimming with confidence as he stared down at the world.

With every step, he swung his thick, rippling arms confidently. He unbuckled his belt and let it, and his jeans, slide to the floor, revealing legs that were each as thick as thick as Johnny’s and my waists. Throwing a hand behind his head, he ruffled his own shaggy blonde mane while flexing his arm. Johnny and I were both enraptured by the thickness of his “guns”--and as our eyes sank down to his lilac-colored boxer briefs, I found my eyes going wide at the prize we saw there. I glanced to my side to see Johnny literally salivating at the gratuitious bulge.

Yes, Bret was a stud. With a glance over at my dresser, I saw the totem starting to twitch and vibrate and knew we had this big, powerful man in our powre.

“This is a nice house,” Bret said, admiring our well-decorated bedroom. “What do you guys do for work?”

“We’re visual artists,” Johnny said. Bret climbed onto the edge of the bed, causing the whole California King-sized mattress to groan and tilt in his direction. Bret approached us on hands and knees, winking as he flexed each long limb during the approach.

“Sculptors,” I said as Bret arrived before us. He rose up on his knees, grabbing my hand and pulling it to his ample pec. Each one was as big as a cantaloupe, and the warm flesh grew rock-hard in my fingers as he flexed, licking his lips gently as I sighed at the incredible tactile sensation.

“Think you could sculpt anything as perfect as me?” Bret said, planting his hands on his waist and flaring out his torso. With his broad shoulders and incredible lats, he was so wide he nearly blotted out the rest of the room.

The totem was bouncing around my dresser on its own now, brimming with power. I knew it was time to put that power to the test.

I reached out and caressed Bret’s abs deeply, running my fingers between the deep crevices and enjoying the rippling, veiny muscle before digging in deep. My hands plunged into his flesh like it was warm clay. Bret was shocked when he noticed me knuckle-deep in his torso, but moaned in spite of himself, his hips bucking. According to the spellbook, being molded like this was incredibly pleasurable for the victim.

My hands scooped out piles of Bret’s abdomen, smoothing and reshaping, until I removed my hands, revealing a copious beer gut. I wiggled my still-clean fingers at Johnny, who seemed almost as shocked as Bret did, and then rubbed the paunchy belly I’d created.

“What do you think?” I said as Bret cradled his own gut, seemingly unwilling to believe it was real. “I love muscleguys who let themselves go.”

“How… how did you do this? Did you drug me?” Bret said, pulling away. As he stood, the belly, complete with hanging sides and a two-tiered rolls, jiggled. He looked like he’d gained 60 pounds of fat in a moment.

“Aw, you don’t like it?” Johnny said, approaching the panicking stud. He pinched the fat belly and gave it a jiggle before grabbing handfuls of the muscleman’s pecs, squeezing and reshaping them into flabby man-boobs.

“Fuck!” Bret said. He grabbed his new, soft chest and tried to reshape it the way Johnny had, to no avail.

“You’re still a stud,” I reassured Bret as he backed against the wall, looking at his body (which resembled a powerlifting trucker far more than the rippling god who had strutted toward us minutes earlier). “But if you’re going to be such a baby about it…” In one quick movement I snatched his mouth from his face.

Bret was shocked at he pawed at the smooth area where his mouth used to be. In my hand, the lips kept twitching, the sound coming from there instead: “Holy shit! How did you do this to me? Oh god, is that my mouth? In your hand? Fuck! Give me my mouth back!”

I turned to my nightstand and dropping the mouth there. It was a little horrifying, watching the lips twitch as his voice came from it, begging and pleading to make it all stop. But this grew tiresome, so I pounded the mouth flat with my fist, then rolled it into a featureless ball before putting it in my top drawer.

“That’s enough out of you,” I said to the big man, who was now snorting angrily (the only way he could convey his frustration). He approached me, fists doubled, and reared back to swing, but I just held up a hand to block. As his fist collided with me, it lost all its density, smashing like warm clay. I giggled; the clay now oozing around my hand tickled a little. “After the hospitality we’ve shown you,” I chided, reaching out and grabbing his big meaty shoulders. With a twist, the arm came right off, leaving a smooth space where it used to be connected.

I tossed it on the bed as Bret’s tried to convey with his eyes how horrified he was at his current situation. Johnny grabbed his other arm, still in its beautiful, muscular shape, and twisted it off as well. With it entirely in his hands, Johnny licked along the veiny biceps, causing the now-husky Bret to moan and twitch.

“Really, you should be grateful,” I said with a patronizing tone. “We’re giving you a unique, one of a kind experience here.” As Bret wobbled around unsteadily, Johnny and I each grabbed a leg, pulling them away from his now-moldable torso. Johnny caressed the incredible quad-muscles, tickling the toes (causing the just-head-and-torso Bret to bang his head against the floor).

I motioned for Johnny to pass me the disembodied limbs and I squeezed them all together until they were a ball. Then I grabbed his head by his beautiful curly locks and yanked it from his body, setting it on my nightstand while I stomped his torso with my foot. Bret continued to wince as I remolded all of his body into one large tan sphere, but I knew he wasn’t in pain. If anything, this was the greatest ecstasy of his life, combined with the horror of losing his own form entirely. This was a man who defined himself by his shape, and I was proving to him that his shape was mutable and meaningless.

Chances are, he was going to emerge from this situation with a brand new fetish.

I was kind enough to form little hands and feet on the big ball of flesh before sticking his head back into it. Johnny gently rolled the man-ball around as he wiggled his digits, completely helpless.

“I’m going to give you a mouth, now,” I said with a cautionary tone, “but if you make me regret it I’ll take it away--along with your eyes. So you’d best behave, understand, stud?”

“Ha! Not much of a stud anymore,” Johnny said, nudging Bret with his foot. The spherical man rolled forward, his forehead bumping on the floor. I rolled him back and crafted him a new mouth, this with with big, luscious lips.

“M-my dick…” He finally said when he opened it, licking his lips as if to recognize they were there once again. “Can I… can I have a dick?”

I winked at Johnny, who knelt down and shaped a three-inch long cock with a pair of tiny balls beneath. He tickled the little head with his pinkie, giggling as Bret moaned and squealed.

“Oh god, I’ve got to cum…” Bret said. “Please, please let me cum…”

“Deep voice like that coming from such a goofy looking man,” I said, rolling him around until his face was at my crotch level. As he rolled, his tiny dick ended up beneath him. He yelped as he rolled over it. I grabbed his thick, muscular neck and massaged it, squeezing and reshaping it in my hands. Finally, my fingers dug in deep and I imagined myself pinching his vocal chords, squashing them down.

“Whoa--” Bret began, his voice high and chirrupy. “What--what did you do to me?”

“He sounds like he just huffed some helium!” Johnny said, clapping his hands.

“What next?” I asked, looking from our mound of living clay to my lover and back.

“Let’s make him a big, long snake,” Johnny said. “Oh! Oh! Let’s make him an alligator with a human head. Or like… a hippo. Let’s make him a complete hippo!”

I shrugged at each of his ideas, another one coming to my mind.

“Whatever we do,” Johnny said, grabbing ahold of one of Bret’s cheeks, “we should remake this pretty face of his. He’s still hot even though he’s just a ball now. Can’t have that!”

“I tell you what,” I said, reaching into the ball of man and starting to work through the warm, tan mass. “I’ll remake his body, you remake his face. How’s that sound?”

“No! Not my face,” he squealed in an irritatingly high-pitch, but we ignored him. As I worked up the body I was envisioning, Johnny’s fingers wriggled through Bret’s face, smooshing his hair flat against his head. Bret squealed as Johnny smoothed out his eyes, then reshaped new ones. The new eyes were much farther apart, and they blinked wildly and darted around as they reopened.

As I finished with the body, I stepped back to admire our handiwork. I’d given Bret back his muscles, but now he was only four feet tall. All that mass had been squashed into a ludicrous-looking body, nearly as wide as he was tall. I’d given him a cock as big as a thermos above two enormous, swinging balls. His unit was so big it was useless--no human alive could take it when it finally got hard! As he stumbled around on his insanely muscular, stumpy little legs, the cock and balls bounced and swung around, throwing off his center of balance entirely.

The head Johnny had sculpted was looked like a bald chimpanzee. That combined with his newly shrieky voice tickled me just right; I had to laugh at the former stud. As he waddled around, become very acquainted with how thick and unwieldy his cartoonishly thick new musclebod was, I walked over to my dresser, snapping the totem in half.

With the magic released, Bret’s form became permanent. The little muscletroll let out a yelp before finally relaxing, looking up at Johnny and eye (now at waist-level to both of us) with a hopeful glance.

“Damn, you guys are… hot!” he said, flexing his pumped up little musclebod and wiggling his hips so his huge donkey-cock could swing around. “I love tall guys, so much…” he squeaked.

Johnny just laughed as he grabbed the pint-sized muscleman’s flexing arms. “Everyone is tall to you, freak!” Johnny said. That last work made Bret’s big cock twitch; apparently the little fireplug really liked to be humiliated! “Jesus, these guns are what… 29 inches?”

“32!” the little musclehead said proudly.

“Get on the bed and present that big ass, you big-dicked little clown,” Johnny ordered. Bret did as he was told.

“I wanted him to remember everything,” Johnny whispered to me before approaching the bed.

“Oh, deep down, he does,” I said. Outside that room, all evidence of the old Bret was gone. His modeling career, his string of heartbroken lovers, all had been erased, replaced with a life of being incredibly powerful but so short in stature everyone always regarded him as a pet. Gone was the muscle top we’d brought home, replaced by this goofy little roidbottom we’d sculpted ourselves.

But as he wiggled his massive, rippling glutes at us, I knew that deep down, he remembered how it used to be. He could never say it out loud, but he’d spend the rest of his life remembering his old life along with his new, unable to tell people who he was supposed to be as they fetishized him and treated him like nothing more than a cumbersome spectacle.

Stumpy little Bret could lift up a car, but he would need help getting things off shelves at the grocery store. It was perfect.

“Damn, there’s not an ounce of fat on him!” Johnny said as he pulled up on the well-muscled, incredibly thick ass and slapped it with a resounding thud. Bret’s short, wide back rippled with so much dense back muscle he would have to turn sideways to get through doors--after standing on his toes to reach the handle.

I started jerking my cock as Johnny went to work on my creation. There was nothing better than being aroused by your own erotic art.