Self Improvement

Standing in the shower as hot water was crashing down on his hefty frame, the back of Brock's hand was raised up and in front of his face in examination of the ring he’d been unable to remove. There wasn’t anything all that special-looking about it, truth be told. The ring was just a standard, golden band with the emblem of a small crown of royalty engraved on its center he was seeing.

“Reality kneels to the King’s proclamations…” Brock mumbled to himself, then dropped his arm and looked down at his hairy chest and prominent beer belly before giving it a firm slam with the ringed hand. He smiled like a giddy schoolgirl, half-expecting his next words to have no effect. “I’ve got a six-pack, and I'm completely hairless from the neck down.”

Brock tilted his head in amazed confusion as he watched the thick, curly, brown hairs that were spread across his lumpy chest and bulging stomach instantly vanish without a trace, as if they’d never been there to begin with. Brock’s right hand moved along the surface of his smooth, round stomach, his mouth hanging open as he wondered why it wasn’t hard and chiseled as he said it should be, but was ultimately blown away that he had at least some success with the ring. It was when Brock tried to move his dangling left hand that he realized his subconscious desire had been granted, raising his limb to reveal an ice-cold six-pack of his favorite beer, the thin hoops of plastic holding them together intertwined between his fingertips.

Without a second thought and definitely with a grin on his face, Brock quickly ripped one off and cracked it open using just his free hand, then quickly began gulping down the crisp, bitter goodness of his refreshing and much-needed beverage. Two streams of the golden and foamy liquid leaked from the corners of his mouth as he greedily held the can straight up above him, and before long Brock began to **** as one of those swigs went down the wrong pipe. He threw the mostly empty can down onto the wide shower floor with a sharp clang, taking in deep breaths to crudely cough and hack up the beer that’d slipped into his lungs.

Once that had been settled, Brock fell back hard on his ass, laughing his metaphorical ass off all the while. This was amazing! He thought, holding up the ringed hand in front of his face again. He could have or do anything he wanted now, within reason. The damned thing apparently didn’t work outside for some reason, but that didn’t really concern Brock all that much.

Looking back to hairless stomach and chest, Brock wanted to give the second half of his first alteration another shot.

“I don’t have an ounce of fat on my body. I also have the physique and stamina of an olympic bodybuilder.”

The initial changes didn’t have any sensation along with losing his hair and having nearly one-hundred ounces of beer appear in his hand, but the quick deflation of his stomach and the rapid development of every muscle fiber in his body sent each of his cells into a tingling frenzy of vibration. Brock gazed through his hazy vision at the sight of his once bulbous stomach quickly retract into his abdomen, then having those muscles tighten and form into a long set of shredded eight-pack abs below his expanding and rectangular-shaped pecs. His doughy limbs and lower-half went through a similar transformation; his arms and legs maintained their large form but had become much more chiseled and defined, while the loss in weight from his hips and crotch retracted his flesh inward and gave his seven-inch cock an inch more of visible length in the process.

When the brief but intense moment had passed, Brock sat back against the shower wall in awe of his new, powerful self. He let out a throaty chuckle upon giving his rounded and steely buttcheeks a clench, feeling how their sudden defined shape almost made it seem as if he had a layer of soft padding under him like a seat cushion. Bringing his hands up to push down on his pecs, he admired the rock-hard sturdiness of them, just as he did with his new abs when his calloused palms slid down his body, and especially his old friend, who he hadn’t been able to properly see for at least a decade without having to lift his gut.

Both of Brock’s large hands gripped onto the entirety of his erect, twitching cock, and the complete lack of his daily fatigue coupled with severely heightened virility and vigor coursing through his system almost had the man blowing his load on the spot when he gave his healthy and hard meat an alternating, double-fisted twist-stroke. His toes curled and a groan escaped his lips, his hands continuing their gently firm motions and quickly increasing in frequency as he went on. It wasn’t a full minute later and Brock had crossed over the edge. Thick white goo shot out and globbed up from his rotating upper fist as he bit down hard on his lip, his heart beating a mile-a-minute.

“Fuck…” Brock sighed, releasing his cock as the water crashed down on it and his hands rinsed off the sizable discharge of his seed in a matter of seconds. Brock was surprised to find that he was still as erect as he was at the peak of his climax, but also found his throbbing member to still be quite sensitive, needing a moment to recover. That was, until he realized that it didn’t truly need time to rest, not anymore.

“I can cum as much as I want and not need to take a break in between orgasms…” Just as the words finished escaping the man’s lips, he instantly felt like he was ready to go again, giving his cock a solid jerk with only his ringed hand this time and enjoyed how the warm metal band pressed up against his urethra as it slid up and down.

“In fact, my balls are always full of cum. I can make myself, and anyone else around me cum for as long and as hard as I want, just by thinking about it happening.” He growled, the speed of his strokes and the beating of his heart increasing in speed as the seconds passed. His smooth, hairless jewels swelled up, causing the skin to tighten around the pair of squishy tennis balls that’d developed below his cock and were causing a constant flow of clear, slick precum to leak from the tip of his cock, which lubricated his rapid strokes amidst the constant flow of shower water.

“And I’m hung like a fucking horse, too…” That last bit sent Brock straight over the edge once more, taking the hand that had been pressed against the floor beside him and bringing it in to fondle his sensitive, overflowing sack, all while his expanding cock began to fire off a constant, seemingly endless stream of cum across the length of the shower and wall in front of him.

It was almost like pulling on taffy after the first few strokes, he realized with cum-brained amusement. The increased amount of length and girth being added to the dimensions of his cock was causing it to take on a more rubbery form without really losing any of its solidity. Bigger and bigger his big dick grew, until it looked as though it would reach his knee if he’d been able to line them up through the overwhelming amount of pleasure wracking his body and mind. Soon Brock wasn’t able to keep his fat juicy balls contained in a single hand, and the additional, sensitive surface area for him to rub and gently squeeze only added to the pleasure that was coupled with the long rapid strokes of his other hand along his meaty shaft and electrified cockhead.

Brock couldn’t remember how long he’d sat there, blowing an eternal load as the whole of his six-foot-one, athletic figure trembled on the shower floor. After a time, it became apparent that the thin, bottom layer of liquid on the tiled surface beneath him was no longer water. It was mostly cum. Realizing this was mildly sobering, and he quickly made the slightest mental effort to stop his ejaculation, and the steady rope of his cum flowing from the tip of his mighty cock slowed to a stop, ending the nonstop barrage of pleasure. Finally able to think clearly and breathe properly after quite a few seconds of post-nut bliss, Brock let out a wide-eyed sigh as he gazed down at what he had become, then cracked open the second beer of the six-pack of tall-boys sitting next to him.

This time, he just took a mild sip of the fizzy beverage, staring down the smooth length of his still erect cock as it rested against the front of his torso and towards the constantly-shifting, tight-sacked, and now baseball-sized testicles at the end of its girthy trail. Brock lifted an arm and then a leg, twisted them around in several directions experimentally, and then pulled in his biceps and flexed all sorts of muscles that he didn’t know he could ever have control over; amazed at what having a healthy body felt like at his age. When he was younger and playing college football, and even when he was a young adult working his way up the ranks with several different marketing companies, Brock had always been in pretty good shape up until he and his wife had kids, but never had he felt so… awake, so alive.

Maybe it was just the ring, or just the effect of having it was having on him, sort of like that creepy, goblin thing from that Ring Lords movie, or whatever, Brock thought as he rose to his feet to rinse off and shut down the shower; but something deep down within the pit of his being had changed during that potentially everlasting orgasm. He didn’t just feel powerful, he was powerful. Physically, mentally, and magically, as crazy as it sounds.

Whatever the case was, Brock had a new outlook on how he wanted his home-life to look from then on out, and he planned on starting with the passive broad that was laying down in his bed and reading a book; an item that she won’t have much of any use for in the very near future ever again.