"Bro, are you okay?" Ryan asks Joey.
"Yeah, no, just, feeling lightheaded." Joey responds, as he walked towards his spot.
"Honestly, I feel pretty weird as well. Maybe we shouldn't have drank that..." Ryan tells him. Joey can't help but agree. He can't even imagine how weird they now looked to the hooligans. Suddenly he does feel, something, as if the light head became a different sensation.
“Whoa, that’s… different,” Joey said, licking his lips. He barely had time to process the sensation before a warm pulse spread through his arms and chest. The warmth quickly turned into a tingling sensation, like tiny sparks of energy racing through his veins, reaching every corner of his body. Each breath he took felt fuller, his lungs expanding as though drawing in more than just air—energy itself seemed to fill him, almost as if his cells were waking up and roaring to life.
“Does anyone else feel weird?” asked Dylan, the team’s catcher, as he flexed his fingers. A tingling sensation was building in his hands, spreading up his arms like an electric current. His skin seemed alive, the surface shimmering faintly under the setting sun, as if a barely visible glow emanated from within. The other boys nodded, murmuring similar experiences as the tingling intensified.
Suddenly, Joey’s legs buckled slightly as a surge of heat shot through him, powerful and invigorating. He looked down in shock as his calves swelled, the thin lines of muscle thickening and pressing against his skin. The sensation wasn’t just physical—it was deeply visceral, like a reservoir of untapped strength was bursting free inside him. Every fiber of his being felt like it was coming alive, his legs burning with a pleasurable intensity as his thighs ballooned, the seams of his practice pants straining against his expanding muscles. The sensation was as though molten energy poured through him, igniting each muscle group into explosive growth.
“Guys, look at this!” he exclaimed, pointing to his legs. His teammates stared as his quads grew larger and larger, the fabric groaning in protest. The tingling in his arms peaked, and his biceps and triceps inflated with dense, powerful muscle, their shape sharply defined beneath his skin. Veins snaked along the surface of his forearms, pulsing visibly as his hands grew larger, the fingers themselves thickening and gaining a rough, callused texture as though they had seen years of hard training. The feeling was euphoric, like an unstoppable surge of power was coursing through him, pushing his body to heights he’d never imagined.
Across the dugout, Dylan let out a gasp as his shoulders broadened with an audible creak of expanding bone and sinew. His chest swelled outward, his jersey stretching taut over his pecs, each breath making the fabric groan as it struggled to contain his growth. A series of popping sensations rippled down his abdomen, and he watched in awe as a solid six-pack emerged, his stomach muscles pressing hard against his shirt with every deep, powerful breath. It was as if his body was sculpting itself into perfection, each transformation accompanied by waves of pleasurable heat radiating outward, his entire form glowing with vitality.
The transformation wasn’t confined to just a few. One by one, the boys’ bodies erupted with growth. Liam, the team’s smallest player, watched in awe as his arms thickened, his once-slim frame filling out with rippling muscle. His legs grew so powerful that his cleats dug deep into the turf with every step, the ground giving way beneath his newfound strength. The tightness in his uniform stretched to its limits as every muscle in his body seemed to press outward, demanding more space. He could feel the raw energy thrumming in his veins, his body humming with potential that he had never imagined possible.
“This is insane,” Liam said, his voice deeper and more resonant. He flexed his arms, marveling at the way his biceps peaked with a single motion, the veins crisscrossing like streams of raw power. Even his grip felt unbreakable, his hands gripping the bat like they could snap it in two.
“I feel unstoppable,” Dylan added, punching the air. The force of his movement sent a gust of wind that rustled nearby trees. He balled his fists, marveling at the strength coursing through them, like he could crush a baseball barehanded. Every movement felt effortless yet filled with purpose, his body responding with precision and overwhelming power. His teammates stared as his towering frame radiated confidence, his growth embodying the strength he had always dreamed of.
And those weren't the only stares they got. As they watched this situation play out, the Hooligans suddenly didn't want to play the match anymore.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
