"How much longer is this gonna take?" Ethan shifted, pretending to look interested. He had an exam coming up and a hundred places he’d rather be, but the man across from him only grew more animated by the second.
"So we came up with our slogan, 'Be PrEPared.'" The man practically beamed. "The boys in marketing really outdid themselves, don't you think?"
"Yeah..." Ethan caught his mind wandering and forced a smile. "I'm happy to be involved. I think population health is undervalued."
"Preach, babe." The man snapped his fingers.
Ethan grinned internally. The guy was eating out of his hand, and Ethan knew it wasn't just his answers. From the tone to blatantly checking him out, this guy fit every gay stereotype Ethan knew. What could he say? The gays loved him.
"But enough about me," the man laughed, leaning forward. "Tell me about you, hun. Why join our campaign?"
Ethan’s smile widened. He could tell the truth: he didn't give a shit about population health. He wanted a cushy specialty, and residency directors liked well-rounded resumes.
"Well, I think this is a great opportunity to support..." Ethan trailed off as the man raised a skeptical eyebrow. "...support marginalized groups. Happy to help de-stigmatize this stuff."
The man stared, then broke into a grin. "Oh my God, you're adorable."
Ethan let out an awkward chuckle. "That's a first." When the silence stretched into uncomfortable territory, he leaned in. "Look, I'd be good at this. Promise you won't regret bringing me on board."
The man tapped a finger against his chin. "Hmmm..." Really? Had this guy even looked at his résumé? This wasn't exactly a difficult decision, "Who would you prescribe PrEP to?" He finally asked.
"Uh…" Ethan wasn't expecting that. "Guys who sleep around, I guess." He paused, catching himself. "You know what I mean. Gay guys. Men who have sex with men."
"And would you use PrEP?"
"Uh, no." The answer shot out too quickly. The man’s eyebrow climbed, "I mean, I'm not the target demographic," Ethan corrected with a nervous laugh. "Nothing against it, but I'm not looking for sex with other men."
The man studied him for a beat, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, Ethan, I think we're gonna get along just fine."
"So that's a yes?"
"Oh, babe. That's absolutely a yes."
The tension left Ethan's shoulders. Perfect. One more line for the application. "Awesome. I appreciate the opportunity."
"We're excited to have you." The man reached beneath his desk and pulled out a small BePRePared tote bag. "Take this, hun."
"What's in it?"
"Everything you'll need for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
The man's grin somehow widened. "Don't you worry. We'll be in touch."
-----------------
"That took longer than I thought." Ethan returned to his apartment, tossed the BePRePared tote bag onto the couch, and sat at his desk to study, "Fuck, I'm behind."
He stared at his digital flashcards, trying to prepare his best for his upcoming exam. But the text blurred. He blinked and stared at the card.
"What the hell?" He knew the answer to this, or at least he did yesterday. A suffocating brain fog rolled over him, as a dull ache started behind his eyes. His mind went completely blank, "Am I getting sick?"
Shoving himself away from the desk, he ran his hands through his hair. His neat trim felt dense, curling thickly between his fingers. He paused and ran his hand through his hair again, slower this time.
"How...?" Suddenly, the room tilted and sweat broke out across Ethan’s forehead, his joints throbbed, "Shit..." He couldn't afford to get sick, not when he had his first gig with BePrEPared tomorrow. The thought made him stop, "What am I thinking? Must be the fever... fucking with my head... Need water..."
He stumbled toward the kitchen and reached for a glass, barely noticing the fabric of his sleeve straining against his growing bicep. He quickly chugged his water, and froze when he wiped his chin. There was thick, rough stubble there. As if he hadn't shaved in a week.
"Fevers can... cause... hallucinations." He reasoned, although his thoughts were coming slower now, "Need... sleep..."
The room spun and his temperature spiked as he stumbled over towards the couch. He weakly pulled his scrub top off and threw it aside, his palms brushing through the thick, dark mat of body hair sprouting across his chest. But he barely recognized any of this, as his vision blurred and body grew weaker. He grabbed the tote bag on the couch and dropped it to the ground, the contents spilling out.
"What the fuck is this?" Ethan muttered, his voice dropping an octave, settling deeper. He felt a surge of irritation. This was a joke. They couldn't be serious. He was a medical student, for God's sake, not a...
Yet, as he stared at the blue speedo, his mind drifted to thinking about the happy, muscular campaign ambassadors he remembered seeing on the website. No exams. No residency stress. Just having fun and being noticed.
"Must be nice..." He fell onto the couch, and wiped sweat away from his forehead, "Fuck..." He smiled weakly, "I bet I’d look good in that Speedo." he thought.
He blinked, horrified by his own thought. Where had that come from? He shook his head, trying to clear the fog, but the movement only triggered a vicious wave of nausea.
"This isn't… a normal virus," he muttered. The words felt clumsy on his tongue, "Something's... wrong... with me..."
Ethan's hands drifted across his torso, tangling in the growing, dense dark body hair that was spreading now across his stomach. Beneath the coarse mat, his pectorals had swollen into heavy, solid shelves of muscle, hard and burning to the touch. He squeezed his own chest, a delirious, breathless laugh escaping him as his thumb traced over a newly sensitive, hyper-reactive nipple. He pinched it, and a sharp, slutty jolt of pure pleasure shot straight to his groin.
"Fuck," Ethan groaned, "Fuck... fuck... fuck..."
The room was spinning now and he was starting to see things that he knew shouldn't be there. He saw Joshua, sitting and smirking in the corner of the room.
"You're... not here." He slurred, "Leave me... alone..."
He closed his eyes tightly, and the hallucination of Joshua blurred and shifted. He was suddenly surrounded by nameless men crowding over the couch. He could feel them. Their heavy, rugged palms gripping his broadened shoulders, rough fingers digging greedily into his newly full, heavy ass, squeezing his thickening muscles. With a grunt, he flipped onto his stomach, and arched his ass.
"Ah... fuck..." Ethan groaned, drool leaking from his mouth. He whimpered as he felt something press against his exposed hole, "Pl...Please..."
His hand slithered past the tight elastic of his boxers, wrapping around a cock that was longer, thicker, and harder than it had ever been. He began to pump it in a frantic, heavy rhythm, his muscular thighs flexing with every stroke. He didn't care about the exam. He didn't care about residency. He just wanted to be a dumb, hot object. He wanted to be used.
“Would you use PrEP, babe?” Joshua’s voice echoed in his head.
"Wh-why... would... I?" Ethan moaned, "I'm... not... Oh... fuck..." He gagged suddenly as he felt the heavy pressure of a thick cock pushing deep into his throat, stretching his jaw and cutting off his breath, while another massive, rigid shaft slammed brutally up his ass, "Th... this isn't... real..." He thought, even as his jaw ached.
Every thrust of the thick, veiny shaft plugging his throat made his eyes water as he gagged. Simultaneously, he felt his ass being stretched wider as the skin-on-skin pounding drove his lower body forward, burying his face deeper into the cushions with each wet, heavy slap.
“What’s the doctor word for... not breathing?” he tried to ask himself, “Can't... think of it. Mind... fuzzy. So heavy.”
The ambient hum of his laptop fan and the quiet of the night vanished, completely replaced by a deep, thumping electronic base that vibrated directly through the cushions beneath his chest. His brain couldn't quite process the switch. Even the clinical definitions of auditory hallucinations felt too distant, too complicated to grasp.
“Music?” Ethan thought, his cognitive processing slowing to a crawl. “Music... nice... feels good...”
Even the scent of the room was suddenly different. A thick, heavy cloud of cologne, raw male sweat, and latex filled his lungs with every desperate, choking gasp.
“Smells... good,” the simple thought drifted lazily through his mind, “Warm. Thick. Smells like... men. Sex."
He let out a choked gasp as the cock went deeper down his throat. Panicking with what little logical faculty he had left, Ethan whipped his hands upward, fully intending to push away whatever hallucination was blocking his airway and clamping his jaw open.
“Get it out... need to study... am a doctor...”
But instead of empty air, his palms connected firmly with hot, sweaty flesh. The solid, moving hips of a man rhythmically thrusting down his throat.
“No... Wha...? Not a dream? Real. Big. So big. In my mouth. Up my ass.”
He reached out desperately, trying to find leverage, but instead his thicker palms and fingers clamped directly around two pulsing, rigid cocks. His broadened shoulders flexed automatically as his palms wrapped tight, his fingers squeezing the thick shafts as he began to stroke them in a frantic, heavy rhythm. His body knew exactly what to do, even if his brain could no longer define it.
“Stroke them... make them feel good,” his dumbed-down thoughts hummed, completely content to abandon his studies. “Good boy. Do what they want. Just a hot object.”
The thumping music grew louder, accompanied by the rapid, rhythmic click-whir of a professional camera shutter and deep, masculine groans of approval close to his ears.
"Look at him take it," a deep, gravelly voice chuckled right above him. "The new guy's an absolute natural."
Flash. Flash.
An intense, blinding glare of white-hot light penetrated right through his closed eyelids. The searing heat radiating against his skin wasn't a fever spike anymore; it was the burning warmth of professional studio lighting hanging directly overhead.
Ethan’s eyes snapped open.
He wasn't in his apartment. No, he was pinned face-down on a leather sofa in the center of a roaring photography studio. He could see his reflection in a mirror. Bulkier, hairier... sexier... sporting a toy stethoscope over his hair-covered chest and a tiny blue Speedo that was completely soaked through.
"Oh my gawd..." He thought, eyes watering.
A tall, rugged model stood over him, holding Ethan's face up by a tight fist in his thick, curly hair as he slid deep into Ethan’s throat. Behind him, a massive, tatted model was burying himself ruthlessly into Ethan’s expanded, aching glutes, slamming his hips forward with a heavy, wet slap. To his left and right, two more models leaned over the couch, grinning down at him as Ethan’s large, rough hands rapidly pumped them.
"Fuck... where'd you find this guy?"
Ethan's eyes were wide now, but the panic he expected to feel never came. His mind was too beautifully empty, too saturated with testosterone and pleasure. Board scores, residency applications, the endless stress of his old life...
“I’m the PrEP boy,” his thoughts drifted, “Dumb... hot... please... use me.”
"Keep going, hun, you're doing amazing," Joshua called out over the music, gesturing to the lens. "So, let's hear it for the campaign! Would you use PrEP?"
The thick cock down his throat pulled out with a wet pop, a line of drool running down his heavy, stubbled chin. He looked straight into the camera lens, his mind completely wiped of medical terminology. None of that mattered anymore. He was a BePRePared model. He was beautiful, he was being used, and he loved it.
"Y-Yes..." Ethan gasped out, his voice a deep, thoroughly broken baritone. His hips gave a desperate, simple twitch against the man behind him. "Yes... God, yes..."
The photographer grinned, clicking the shutter rapidly. "Perfect! That's the money shot!"
With a final, shattering surge of friction, the man behind him buried himself to the hilt, releasing deep inside him. Simultaneously, the model in front of him painted Ethan's face and thick, hairy chest, while the two men in his hands blew their loads over his fingers. And Ethan's own massive, leaking cock throbbed and fired a heavy stream into his tight, blue speedo.
"So good..." He moaned, falling back onto the couch and looking up at the other models with a dumb, happy grin, "More…?" he slurred, a thick bead of drool tracking down his chin and mixing with the man's seed. "More… please… use me more…"
"Don't you worry." Joshua patted him on the shoulder, while the other models chuckled, "You're our star now, Ethan. We've got plenty of work lined up for you." He nodded over at the photographer.
"Next shoot is in twenty minutes, boys," the photographer called out, adjusting his lens with a grin. "Clean him up just enough to do it all over again."
Deck leaned against the wall, puffing away on his cigarette with a nonchalant air as if the school and its rules were miles away. The morning air was crisp, but he was enveloped in a haze of smoke and indifference. Deck heard firm footsteps approaching, knowing immediately it was Mr. Thompson the school guidance counselor. Deck, barely glancing his way, sighed with annoyance, exhaling another plume of smoke.
“Declan, would you please put that out and come to my office?” Mr. Thompson asked.
Deck rolled his eyes, “It’s Deck. And yeah whatever I’ll swing by later.” He exhaled another puff.
Mr. Thompson made eye contact and stated firmly, “I meant now.”
Deck, for a split second, felt a tingle down his spine. He put out his cigarette and said “Lead the way, dude.”
Mr. Thompson motioned for Deck to sit in the seat across from his desk. Deck slumped down, not wanting to be here any longer than he needed to be. Mr. Thompson took his seat at his neatly organized desk.
“Thank you for joining me Declan,” Mr. Thompson began.
“Not like I had a choice. And it’s Deck.” Deck said curtly.
“Right. ‘Deck.’” Mr. Thompson said hesitantly, “I wanted to talk to you about some things.”
Deck sighed, “Get on with it.”
“You need to stop smoking, Deck. It’s bad for your health. You also need to start dressing better and acting appropriately.” Mr. Thompson replied.
“Fuck that. This is who I am.” Deck said.
Mr. Thompson made direct eye contact with Deck, “Do not curse.”
With another slight shiver down his spine, Deck responded, “Okay.”
Deck felt weird. After Mr. Thompson told him not to curse, it’s like he suddenly was not able to. He couldn’t even think of a curse word. Deck brushed the weird feeling away and asked,
“So what do you want me to do about it?”
Mr. Thompson cracked a small smile. He made direct eye contact with Deck and said, “Start by using your real name. You are not ‘Deck’, you are Declan.”
“... I am Declan,” Declan mumbled. For a split second he could’ve sworn he got another weird feeling...
“You think you can do that Deck?” Mr. Thompson interrupted his thoughts.
“It's Declan, I don’t go by ‘Deck’. And do what?” Declan replied.
Smiling Mr. Thompson, made direct eye contact once again and said, “You need to change your clothes. You hate being unkempt and dirty.”
Before he could process the weird feeling, Declan stood up and looked down at his clothes with disgust.
“What am I wearing?” Declan exclaimed. “Dude, do you have a change of clothes? These are awful!”
Mr. Thompson, making eye contact with him said, “I do. You will wear them. They feel perfectly correct.”
Declan nodded and immediately grabbed the clothes. Not caring for Mr. Thompson’s presence, he immediately stripped to his underwear. He immediately began to put on the pastel polo shirt. He felt the comfort of the collar on his neck and thought, wow this feels great!
Following the polo, he pulled up the khaki shorts and absent mindedly tucked his shirt in. Mr. Thompson also provided new shoes too, boat shoes that he quickly put on.
“These clothes are so much better. Uh, thanks man.” Declan said to Mr. Thompson.
Mr. Thompson looked into his eyes, “You speak respectfully and eloquently.”
Declan paused for a second and responded, “Thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate your generosity.”
“You’re welcome Declan. You are a changed man. Respectable for society.” Mr. Thompson continued looking into his eyes.
“Yeah… respectable…” Declan trailed off.
“Declan. You need a better haircut, one suitable for a preppy like yourself. Allow me to provide it.” Mr. Thompson continued.
Declan let the words register before saying, “Mr. Thompson, would you be so obliged to provide me with a haircut suitable for me?”
Mr. Thompson nodded and pulled out a set of clippers from his desk. He began to make quick work of “Deck’s” hair, crafting a preppy hairstyle for Declan.
Declan stood proudly, now sporting a preppy hairstyle. Mr. Thompson beamed at his work of art. Mr. Thompson enjoyed “guiding” students to become better versions of themselves.
“Declan,” Mr. Thompson made eye contact, “You have always been a good preppy boy. You are respectful and do no wrong. Off to class.”
Declan smiled, “Thank you, Mr. Thompson. Your words are truly meaningful. Have a good day!”
A fun comic made with ChatGPT, in which Sebastian Stan [he is quickly becoming one of my main men lol] is preparing for a photoshoot to promote his new MCU film.
And in true UltraM0th fashion, the photographer has a magical camera that turns Sebastian's normal photoshoot into a hot, muscley one where the new himbo is more interested in showing off his huge muscles rather than talking about his new film.
Another comic based on a story by the awesome @misctf! I gave it a different title and tweaked the ending a little, but it’s still his story. I just brought it over to a different medium.
A somewhat comical transformation idea where a guy listens to Your Idol from Kpop Demon Hunters. He's not a fan of the movie or genre of music in general, but he can't bring himself to turn the song off. As it plays, striped patterns start to form on his arms and spread under his clothing. Reaching his face as his skin turns a pale shade of blue and his eyes turn an inhuman yellow-orange. The tips of his fingers become pointed like claws as his transition into a demon completes as the song finishes.
A bit of a longer read, hope you guys enjoy and happy Pride!
It wasn't always that nice around ███████.
I want that on record before anyone reads what happened next, because I spent thirty-one years being the kind of man who always tried doing the right thing for our town. ███████ was mine. I knew every pipe and breaker in the town because I sold them over the counter six days a week. I knew all the morally questionable crap these people did for the "sake" of God.
I kept it all to myself though.
Why? Because that's the only way someone like me could survive this long in this place.
When the council voted on banning anything related to homosexuality in the town forever, I clapped along. In the same meeting, Pastor Finch scheduled a men's prayer night the following weekend.
I signed up like everybody else. I had to.
I thought maybe if I pretended long enough, I'd start to believe it. I thought that maybe, just maybe, if no one ever found out, I could live a "normal" life, and maybe even be happy.
Of course, I was wrong.
...
It was the night I had signed up for. I sat near the back because I always did. Close enough to belong. Far enough to watch.
Finch prayed loud about guarding our sons and daughters in the name of the Lord.
As you may know, June is used by the world to celebrate sin. But here in ███████, we know better. We know that sin is a lie, a trap, a poison. We know that God made us in His image, and that means we are meant to be pure, to be chaste, to be faithful.
He paused, and looked around the room.
Lucifer was punished for his pride. He wanted to be like God, to be above God. He thought he could do better than the Lord. But he was wrong. He was cast down to the lowest depths of hell, and he will never rise again.
I could see everyone agreeing to his sermon. Finch continued.
So we gather here tonight to crush pride. To crush the lie that we can be anything other than what God made us to be. We gather here to pray for our brothers and sisters who are struggling with temptation, who are fighting against the darkness in their hearts. We gather here to support each other, to hold each other accountable, and to remind each other of the truth...
The lights flickered once.
... That pride is a sin, not a celebration. That we must not let the world corrupt us, but instead we must stand firm in our faith and our values. For that is the only way to be truly free.
Everyone clapped. The room was filled with the sound of every man in the church slapping their hands together, some louder than others, but all in agreement.
Finch smiled like he'd won something. His mouth opened for a benediction.
"A-"
But nothing came out.
Suddenly, the air in the church felt heavier - hotter. The lights flickered again, but this time more violently.
Then, a voice echoed through the room. It wasn't coming from Finch's mouth, nor the speakers. It was like everywhere and nowhere at once. A deep voice, smooth and commanding, that made every man in the room stop breathing.
"Amen", it said.
The pastor's eyes widened. He looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, but it was impossible. He tried asking who said that but no one in front of my view had done it.
"Hello, my dear brothers", the voice proceeded to say. I could hear it like it was right next to even though there was no one there.
Finch's face went pale. "The devil... he's trying to tempt us. He's trying to distract us from our prayers. Don't listen to him!", he said trying to sound brave. "In the name of the Lord, I order you to leave this place demon!"
"It will take more than that to get rid of me, pastor", the voice said. It sounded amused. "You think you can just say a few words and I'll go away? I was just getting started."
"Who are you? What do you want?" Finch asked while visibly shaking.
"Who am I? But you just told them about me, pastor. About how I fell. About how my pride ruined me." The voice said mockingly.
"Lucifer... impossible!" Finch shouted.
Some might call me that, but I prefer to think of myself as a... consultant - a guide if you must. You see, I know all about everyone in this room, pastor. I know your secrets, your sins, your lies. I know the truth about each and every single one of you.
I didn't believe it at first. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't even believe in God, let alone the devil. But what was happening in front of my eyes was undeniable.
I don't usually interfere directly boys, but I couldn't resist tonight. So sorry about that.
"Leave at once demon!" Finch retorted, but the voice just laughed again.
I'm no demon, pastor. If anything, we should be calling ALL of you that. You see, I was so pleased with your sermon, pastor. So proud of you for standing up to the world and preaching the truth. I wanted to reward you for that. So I thought, why not give you a little... demonstration? A little taste of what happens when you let PRIDE take over?
He continued.
ALL of you in this room are sinners. ALL of you have secrets. ALL of you have things you're ashamed of. And ALL of you have been pretending to be something you're not. You think you're better than me, pastor? You're not. You're just as corrupt, just as broken, just as lost as I am.
The voice went on, picking through the men in the room one by one:
"Pastor Finch", the voice said, and I could see the colour drain from his face.
You preach so righteously against sin and pride, yet you’ve been sneaking your secretary into the rectory after hours, spreading her legs and unloading into her like a common sinner. Some man of God you are.
Finch's face went white. "That's a lie."
It isn't, and we both know that.
The atmosphere was getting tenser. I could feel the air getting hotter, it was starting to feel like a men's locker room after practice.
"Jimmy Voss", the voice said.
You bullied Cole in school, didn't you? You made his life miserable. You thought you were better than him. You thought you were the king of the school. If that's not PRIDE, I don't know what is.
"Shut up!" - Jimmy said, but I knew that was true. He made my life miserable in school. He was the one who called me a faggot in the hallways. He was the one that made me feel like I didn't belong back then. And now, here he was, being called out by this entity in front of everyone.
The voice kept going, unhurried, picking through all the men in front of me. Deacon Reyes, who tithed with one hand and skimmed the youth fund with the other. Old man Hargrove, who'd been seeing his neighbour's wife since her husband started working night shift. The Martinez brothers, who shared a woman every other weekend and never told their wives...
Finch tried to speak. "In the name of-"
"No. In my name-" the voice interrupted.
In my name, pastor, I order you to stop living a lie. I order you to live the lives you are so ashamed of. Feel what's like living in other people's shoes for once. I order you to be PROUD of who you are, no matter how sinful you think it is. I order you to embrace yourselves, to stop hiding, to stop pretending. I order you to be honest for once in your lives. I order you to be FREE.
Then, the lights turned off completely and when they came back on, the voice was gone.
...
What the fuck was all that?
No one said anything for a moment. A bit awkward to talk after everyone's deepest secrets had been exposed in front of the whole church. Not like I didn't know most of them already, but still...
Jimmy Voss was the first to break the silence. He looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, but it was impossible. "What the hell was that?" He sounded scared, but also angry. Like he wanted to be mad at someone for what just happened, but didn't know who to blame.
Finch was out of words. Reluctantly, he raised his Bible again.
Brothers. We are not shaken. We are not-
But Jimmy made a sound that cut him off. A loud groan, like he was in pain. He bent over, hands on his knees, and I could see his face go red. His eyes rolled back in his head. He looked up at the ceiling, and then down at his pants. His eyes were black? No, in fact his sunburnt skin was turning a deep brown right before our eyes. He was growing in the middle of the aisle.
"James?" Finch said.
"I..." Jimmy rubbed himself through his pants without shame. "God. This feels good..."
Sit down. Sit down right now. James. In the name of the Lord-
"Don't even try it, pastor.", the same voice from before said, but now coming from Jimmy's mouth.
Jimmy Voss, it's time to be PROUD of yourself, you big, strong, bisexual king.
Two deacons moved to grab him, but as they got close, they both froze. Deacon Reyes's body betrayed him. I could hear his bones cracking as he bent over, groaning and moaning as his body started growing and his brown skin lightened to a golden tan. The second deacon, white as flour, went the other way. Brown flooded his arms, his nose broadened, and his hips thickened. He tore his zip down and exposed himself, nothing like the man he'd been in the mirror that morning.
"What's happening?" Finch shouted.
This is a trick! This is a lie! This is-
But he was interrupted again by the Martinez brothers, sitting in the front right next to him. Though their skin tone did not change, their bodies also thickened fast until they looked like 2 identical Latino studs. They started groping each other, moaning and touching themselves in front of Finch.
The whole church was in chaos now. People were getting up, trying to run, trying to fight, but it was no use. Finch was getting desperate.
In the name of the Lord, I command you to stop! I command you to leave this place! I command you to stop corrupting my flock!
He made the sign of the cross.
I renounce th-
But he couldn't finish.
His voice cracked as his body started betraying him too. Like the others, he started growing, his old age melting away as his biceps torn through his clothes.
...
I had to get out of there.
I couldn't stay and watch whatever the hell this was happening to all these people I knew, so I ran.
Miraculously, my body didn't start changing. I didn't know why, but I wasn't about to question it. I just ran out the back door and into the street, trying to get as far away from the church as possible.
And so, I ended up in the closest place that was still open nearby - the town's only gas station. I needed to talk to someone. Maybe Joe could help me. He was a nice guy, he'd probably believe me.
I entered the gas station, but it was empty. Or so I thought. I heard a noise coming from the back room. I walked in, and there was Joe (well at least I thought that was him, he looked more Asian now), the owner, hunched over, his pants around his ankles, moaning like he was in ecstasy while a man I didn't recognize was fucking him from behind.
Fuck. Not here too. What do I do now?
That was the moment I realized this was bigger than just the church. This was probably happening all over town. I had to get help. I had to call someone who could do something about this.
Too focused on the situation, I didn't notice how the 2 men in front of me were staring at me with hungry eyes. I had to get out of there before they decided I was next. So I ran out of the station without even looking back. The closest place I could think of was my own hardware store. I needed to get my phone and call someone. I needed to get help.
There was this number I had seen on one of those ads on the radio before. AEGIS. They were supposedly some kind of agency that dealt with emergencies, and got famous for their handling of the Asian Flu around the world. I didn't really believe in that stuff, but at this point, I was desperate. I needed to call someone who could help me.
Back at my store, I locked the doors behind me and went to the back office. I grabbed my phone and dialled the number I recalled from the ads: 1-800-AEGIS. Thankfully, they picked up instantly.
Woman: Hello, thank you for calling our support line. What's your emergency?
Me: Please help me. Something's possessing the men in my town. I'm going crazy. I don't know what to do.
Woman: Can you please state your name and location for the record?
Me: My name is Cole. I'm at the hardware store on ███████. Please, you have to help me.
Woman: Give me just a moment, Cole" she said. A tired man's voice with a slight accent came on the line.
Morrow: Cole. This is Agent Morrow. I need you to stay calm and tell me exactly what happened.
I told him everything. From the sermon at the church, to the voice, to the transformations, to the gas station. I was shaking by the end of it, but I needed to get it all out.
Morrow: Understood, Cole. I know this is a lot to take in, but I need you to listen to me very carefully. We are aware of the situation in ███████ and we are sending a team to your location right now. I need you to stay inside and lock your doors. Do not engage with anyone outside. Do you understand me, Cole?
Me: Okay, but what do I do if-
*beep beep beep*
The line went dead. I tried calling back, but it just rang and rang without anyone picking up.
Great. Just what I needed. I was on my own until they got here. I sat in the back office for a while, trying to calm down and think of a plan. I didn't know how long it would take for them to get here, but I knew I couldn't just sit there and wait. I needed to do something.
Owning a hardware store had its perks. I had access to all kinds of tools and supplies that could help me defend myself if I needed to. I started barricading the windows with shelves and tables, and I grabbed a few things that could be used as weapons just in case. I wasn't sure what I was going to do if any of those possessed demons showed up at my door, but I was determined to protect myself and my store.
...
At two in the morning, there was a knock at the door.
I didn't know who it was, but I knew it couldn't be good. I slowly made my way to the door, trying to stay as quiet as possible.
Cole. Cole, open up. I ain't feeling right.
I pressed my eye to the peephole and stopped breathing. I could see Trevor outside, or at least I thought that was him. He was the last person I expected to see, especially in this state. Trevor worked for me during the weekends mostly. He was standing in front of my door in basketball shorts and nothing else. Instead of his usual pale skinny frame, I could see a sweaty mess of muscle, covered in a golden hue.
Please, man. I need your help. I don't know what's happening to me. I can't control it.
No way I was gonna open that door.
Boss... I ain't like th... I never...
He then proceeded to lose himself on my welcome mat. I could smell his musk through the door. I closed my eyes, trying to think of something else besides the sexual image of a latino Trevor jacking off on my porch, but it was hard.
After a while of going at it in front of me, his eyes rolled back and he came, spraying his load all over my welcome mat. Fuck... it was kinda hot to think about it.
When his eyes opened again, they were black. He looked at me through the peephole, and smiled.
You like that, Cole? You like the smell of my cum on your mat? You like knowing that I'm out here, jerking off for you, while you hide inside like a little bitch? Keep pretending, Cole. See how long that lasts.
That was the last thing he said before he walked away. I stood there for a moment, trying to process what just happened. I was shaking. I didn't know what to do. What if the other possessed people were going to come after me next.
I didn't sleep well that night. There was no bed in my store, so I had to improvise. That, and I was also scared to death of someone getting inside the store while I was asleep.
...
Still, I woke up the next morning to silence. Had it all been a nightmare? I turned on the radio, but there was only static.
Outside, ███████ was quiet. Too quiet. I looked out the window and saw that the streets were empty. I checked the front door. Trevor's cum was still there, dried and crusty on floor. So it hadn't been a dream. I stayed inside, trying to keep myself busy. But it was hard. My balls were kinda heavy, it had been a while since I had jacked off and this whole ordeal had made me horny against my will.
Suddenly though, I heard knocking at the door again. This couldn't be good... so I slowly made my way to the door, trying to stay as quiet as possible.
So many of them were outside... Trevor, Voss, Pastor Finch, the Martinez brothers, and a few others I didn't recognize. All standing there, looking at me through the peephole with hungry eyes. I could see their cocks straining against their pants, and I knew they were all hard.
What was I supposed to do now? I couldn't let them in, but I also couldn't just sit here and wait for them to break in. I needed to think of a plan, but my mind was blank. I was too scared to even move.
Then, my radio came to life:
Morning, Cole. Sleep well after you called your new friends?
How do you know that!?
I know everything about you, Cole. I know what you want. I know what you need. And I know that you're going to let them in, aren't you?
"I'm not listening to you." I yanked the radio cord out of the wall. The voice kept talking.
You thought that would work? Bahaha, nice try, but you can't escape me. I'm just trying to help you, Cole. And have some fun while we're at it. You know, I think you might be the best one yet. This town is sure lucky to have you.
Shut up! I don't want to hear from you any more! Leave me alone! I just want to be normal! I just want things to go back to normal! Why are you doing this!?
Normal? But Cole, you were never normal around here, were you? You think I don't know your secret? You were always the one who was different. And now, I'm giving you the chance to just be yourself. To embrace who you really are. You should be PROUD of yourself, Cole.
"WHO ARE YOU!?" I shouted, my voice echoing through the empty store. "What do you want from me?"
Maybe I owe you an explanation. You see, Cole, I'm not really the devil or whatever you folks believe in. It would be too hard to explain, but let's just say that the energy coming from this place was just too much for me to resist. I couldn't help myself. I had to get involved. And now, here we are. Just you and me, Cole.
Please, just leave me alone... I don't want to be a part of this. I don't want to be a part of any of this. I'm not a bad person like most of them. I'm not like them... Just leave me alone!
"Not like them?" it said, almost gentle. "Baby, you're the only one who was ever like them at all."
I still had no idea what the voice was talking about.
What was I supposed to do? I was just trying to survive! I just wanted to be like everyone else! I didn't want to be different! I didn't want to be a target!
You're the biggest sinner in this town, you know that? All these men you see - they cheated, they stole, they fucked around. But you? You sat there nodding while they condemned people like you. You never disagreed. You just sat there, pretending to be one of them. Look at them now, Cole. You don't have to pretend anymore. You can finally be yourself. You can finally be FREE.
I pressed my eye to the peephole again. Jimmy stood at the front of the pack, his cock still hard in his pants. He wasn't trying to break the door down. Well, none of them were. They were just waiting.
Then, in the back of my sight, I saw movement. Black SUVs rolled down the street, and stopped in front of my store. I thought I was saved. But then I saw them setting up shop and standing back, just watching.
"They're not here for you", the voice said. "They couldn't care less about a random closeted man in the middle of nowhere, you know. Let's hurry up then, we don't have much time left 😈"
As the voice said that, heat hit my chest. My shirt pulled tight across pecs that hadn't been there 5 minutes ago. I looked down and watched my nipples push hard against the cotton. My arms felt heavy...
No... Not me. I'm not like them. I don't agree with-
Just admit it, Cole. You are the biggest hypocrite in this town. Living a lie for more than 30 years.
My khakis were tented bad. The head of my cock pushed against the zip, thicker than it had any right to be. I slapped a hand over it, but it throbbed back and a wet spot spread fast.
Through the peephole, Jimmy stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell his musk through the door.
"Come out, bro" - he said.
My thighs swelled inside the pants. My ass felt heavier, rounder, like it had been waiting years for someone to grab it. I stumbled back from the door and hit the counter, breathing hard.
"Just say the truth, Cole. Say it and I promise I'll let you keep some of your personality", the voice said again.
"I'm not-" But my hand went down my pants without permission, stroking slow. Every pump made my head fuzzier. "I'm not... I go to church. I'm normal."
My shirt ripped at the shoulders. I looked down at a chest splitting with muscle, abs carving in under my skin. I still looked like me. Just bigger. Sweatier. Dumber. My cock hung fat and veiny past the open fly, leaking down my thigh like a faucet I couldn't shut off.
"I'm gay..." I said so low I barely heard myself.
"Finally coming out of the closet, huh?" the voice said.
Jimmy's fist hit the door three times. "Louder."
I was crying now. I didn't want to say it. I didn't want to admit it. But I couldn't stop myself. The voice was right. I was a hypocrite. I had been living a lie for so long, and now it was all coming out at once.
My hand was still down my pants, stroking my now big fat white cock like it was the only thing keeping me sane. I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop. It felt too good. It felt like I was finally being honest with myself for the first time in my life.
And so, with one last pump, I shouted it...
I'M GAY!
My cock exploded as I said it. The heat and pleasure went through my whole body. I felt like I was on fire, but in the best way possible. My biceps doubled in size, while my pecs grew into 2 slabs of perfect round squishy muscle. My cock thickened another inch, heavy and proud, and my brain went quiet in the best way. No more worrying what other people thought. No more pretending to be something I wasn't. Time to be PROUD of who I am.
"Fuck yeah. I'm gay." I said dumbly.
Finally cumming to your senses, huh? I must say, I enjoyed this little show, but I must leave you now, lest I let these lower-dimensional beings get too close to me. Be PROUD of yourself, just like everyone else is now.
And with that, the voice was gone. The heat started to fade, but the changes stayed. I was still dripping with cum. I looked at myself in the mirror behind the counter and barely recognized the person staring back at me.
A dopey grin spread across my face without me choosing it. I walked to the door barefoot ass naked and unlocked it. The morning air hit my skin and I laughed. It felt... good.
They all looked at me when I stepped out.
Jimmy Jamal first, with his now dark skin and thick arms. "Took you long enough, bro. I was starting to think you were gonna be the only one left out."
At that moment, I didn't think. I didn't hesitate walking straight into him. I didn't care that he used to bully me for being gay. All I cared about was that I was finally free. That I could be myself without fear of judgement. That I could finally be proud of who I am.
He grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me hard, tongue shoving in while his thick fingers found my ass and pushed two inside without asking. I moaned into his mouth like a bitch in heat. My fat cock rubbed against his abs, leaking all over both of us.
"Fuck... you're tight", he growled.
He spun me around and bent me over the hood of my own truck. I caught a glimpse of the black SUVs packing up and driving away, but I didn't care. I was proud of who I was now.
Jamal shoved in one long thrust and I saw stars. My white ass stretched around his dark meat while other men watched. Every pound made my head emptier and happier.
"Fuck me", I slurred. "Please... fuck me harder."
Jamal laughed against my neck and gave me what I asked for. My cock swung untouched beneath me, smearing pre on the bumper. I was proud of being a dumb, cock-hungry white faggot in this town, and I wanted to show it off.
He came fast inside me, filling me up with his hot, thick load. It filled me up so much that it leaked around his shaft and ran down my thighs. I was so full that I couldn't even move, just standing there bent over the hood, moaning and panting like a dog in heat.
Fuckin'... best day ever
Jamal slapped my ass and pulled out slow.
You like that, bro? You like being filled up with my cum and being my little bitch?
I stood up on shaky legs and wiped some cum off my cheek with two fingers. Sucked them clean without shame. Best day ever indeed...
...
The black SUVs never came back. Many changes happened in the town over the next few days.
I don't remember if there had been any women in the town before, but ███████ was proudly a town of only men now. Pride month became a month-long yearly tradition for us. The local church was turned into a gym, and Pastor Finch became the town's personal trainer. Men frequent that gym religiously now.
Me? I still own the hardware store, but lately I've been having a lot of success fixing people's pipes. Guys around here have been having a lot of problems with their plumbing lately, and I guess they just trust me to get the job done. I don't know if it's because I'm the only one who can do it, or if it's because they love to look at me before laying pipe. Anyway, business has been booming and I couldn't be happier.
It’s far from perfect. There are continuity issues, a few mistakes here and there, and plenty of AI shenanigans. But I had a blast making it and I think it’s worth sharing anyway.
All the credit in the world goes to the amazing @misctf for writing the original story and for letting me share this. 👊🏽
Appreciate you and glad you enjoyed the story! Love seeing an actual animation/sequence of these transformations- writing is great, but actually seeing it is so much better!
The heat of the late summer evening pressed down on Marcus like a heavy blanket. The air in his cramped apartment was still and humid. He lay across his bed, stripped down to nothing but a pair of faded yellow briefs. They were loose, standard cotton things, typical of the plain, unnoticeable life he led. Sweat pooled in the shallow hollows of his collarbone. He was scrawny, a constellation of sharp joints and pale skin, his arms thin rods holding his smartphone. He was just mindlessly scrolling through social media, a digital life that mirrored his empty social life. Girls didn't notice him, and he’d resigned himself to a life of digital voyeurism.
An ad for 'WishApp' flashed on the screen. His thumb hovered, then pressed. Why not? he thought, a flicker of curiosity momentarily cutting through the heat-induced lethargy. He downloaded it.
The interface was minimal, almost clinical. A simple text box appeared with a direct question: What is your desire?
Marcus let out a self-deprecating snort. He knew exactly what he didn’t have. Confidence. A presence. He stared at the box.
“What do I want?” he said to empty room. He was a skinny, shy straight guy. He wanted a relationship. He wanted to be able to just be with someone. And he wanted a body that meant something, a body that people would respect. He started typing rapidly. He wanted a relationship so he could have sex every time he wanted it. And also, be a proper big muscle guy. He hit send, not even noticing the tiny, fateful typo in the word ‘guy’.
We appreciate your request. Processing will take some time, the app replied.
He stared at the blank screen, expecting… something. More options? A confirmation code? Nothing. He sighed, disappointed. Thinking it was just a silly gimmick, and he closed the app. Tossing the phone away, Marcus rolled onto his back, closed his eyes, and quickly drifted off to sleep. He had no idea that as soon as his consciousness faded, his body and mind would begin a profound, unstoppable transformation.
His dreams, once filled with vague images of unapproachable girls, began to change. Instead, his subconscious was invaded by images of beautiful, powerful, muscular men. The shapes were defined, the lines confident. He was surrounded by them, not as threatening figures, but as icons of adoration. The dreams felt different—heavier, thicker, filled with a desire he couldn't quite articulate.
The first physical changes were subtle. His skin tightened. A faint rasp of stubble began to push through on his previously smooth jaw. On his chest, where there had been only pale skin, fine, soft hair began to sprout. He writhed in his sleep, the clean sheets now sticking to a body that was growing in density, in volume.
The process accelerated. A deep, resonant hum seemed to vibration through his bones. The app’s 'processing' was intense. His skeletal structure didn't expand dramatically, but his muscle fibers hyper-growth. His deltoids broadened, becoming wide, powerful shelves. The biceps and triceps definition sharpened, his forearms hardening. His chest, once a flat expanse, became wide and massive, the new hair becoming dense and curly, spreading down his sternum. His core tightened into hard, visible blocks of muscle, a six-pack etching itself above a wider, stronger abdomen. Thick, natural hair now covered his chest, abs, and legs.
As the first faint hues of dawn began to bleed through the open window, painting the room in a warm light, the violent crescendo of the transformation finally reached its peak. The frantic shifting and tossing in the bed subsided into a heavy, rhythmic breathing. The skin-and-bones Marcus was completely gone.
In his place lay a magnificent specimen of pure, raw masculinity. His shoulders had expanded into a massive, heroic V-shape, his traps sloped steeply down into wide, boulder-like deltoids that seemed to strain against the very fabric of the mattress. His biceps and triceps muscles were now thick and full, carved with deep, branching veins that pulsed with a newfound, powerful circulation.
His chest had risen into two massive, heavy slabs of muscle, so broad and deep that they shook slightly with each deep breath he took. A thick, masculine carpet of dark, curly hair now completely blanketed his torso, running in a dense line down his defined, rock-hard abdominal wall and disappearing into his waistband.
The change was so absolute that his yellow briefs, which just hours before had hung loosely on his boyish hips, were now stretched to their absolute limit. The cotton fabric was pulled over his heavily thighs and wide hips. Up front, the pouch of the underwear was incredibly tight, straining against a noticeably larger, heavy bulge that pulsed with the intense morning heat. His legs had transformed into thick, powerful pillars,
The transformation was absolute, leaving no trace of the fragile youth who had fallen asleep the night before.
When he woke up, he sat up with a groan. The first rays of morning light illuminating the messy sheets. He didn't immediately notice his change. His mind was still tangled in the powerful, intimate images of his dream.
“Why do I have morning wood after this strange dream?” he muttered. The sound of his voice shocked him. It was a deep, gravelly baritone, completely unlike his usual tenor.
He tried to clear his throat, but the deep pitch remained. He finally looked down.
"What!" he roared, the deep voice echoing in the small room.
He ran for the mirror in his bathroom, his now powerful legs nearly knocking him off balance. He stared at his reflection, his eyes wide in absolute disbelief. The face staring back had sharp, chiseled features. A full, well-maintained beard, short-cropped and styled, covered his jaw, matching the neat, styled hair on his head. He looked like an immaculate, well-defined muscle bear. His eyes were wide, taking in the massive chest covered in hair, the sculpted abs, the thick arms, and the deep muscle strength. He ran his hand over his new body, his fingers pressing into hard muscles. He noticed his yellow briefs, now extremely tight, with a very prominent, powerful bulge. His initial panic began to morph into something else—a strange, thrilling sense of self-awareness.
Suddenly, he heard sounds from the kitchen. The sizzling of eggs, the clatter of a pan.
Marcus slowly pushed open the bathroom door and walked into the hallway. The kitchen door was slightly ajar. He peeked inside. Standing by the stove, his back mostly to Marcus, was another man. The man was massive, a fellow muscle bear with incredibly well-developed muscles. His deltoids were wide, and his biceps bulged as he expertly flipped an egg in a frying pan. His chest was covered in dense hair, matching the hair on his arms and legs. Marcus froze, the sheer, imposing presence of the other man dominating the space.
Marcus watched him. What a man, he thought. Wait, why am I thinking that? I’m not gay. Or am I? The realization of his typo on the app hit him simultaneously with the new, powerful feelings swirling in his core. The dreams had prepared him.
The other man turned around, a friendly expression on his face. He was bearded, with neat, light-colored hair, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of tight red briefs with a nice, round bulge.
"Good morning, sleepy head," the man said, his voice a deep, comforting rumble. "I just made breakfast. I hope you want some."
Marcus took a step forward, the unfamiliar sensations in his transformed body now commanding his actions. His desire for this stranger, this fellow icon of power and beauty, was primal.
"There is one thing I want," Marcus said, his deep voice thick with newfound intent.
He crossed the kitchen, closing the distance between them. The man smiled as Marcus approached. Without a word, Marcus took the other man's body in his powerful hands and kissed him passionately. The man immediately dropped the spatula, his arms wrapping around Marcus's broad shoulders. They pulled each other tight, their muscular bodies pressing together, hair on hair, muscle on muscle, in a sudden, intense embrace.
"Let’s get back to bed…" Marcus whispered against his lips. The other man simply nodded and pulled him along.
As they left the kitchen, Marcus’s phone buzzed. A new notification appeared on the WishApp: Enjoy your wish!
Hey everyone. As we know, these AI chatbots can be such temperamental little bitches with their policies and shit, and I attempted to recreate previous hypno themed tfs but ChatGPT decided it was now suddenly for no good reason against their policies, just like everything! So I decided I'm gonna take a bit of a break from making ChatGPT TFs for a little while, but I want to share you this as I go on this break. The sandy hands that tickled Link and turned him into a moblin are back, tickling and transforming their victims. Enjoy the TF
hey dude, love your tf work! would you ever consider doing more of the Conservative Candidate Conversion Programme series? Loved seeing this take on european politics (super hot!!!)
Thank you. I’m so glad you are enjoying it. I hadn’t thought of doing a sequel just yet. Maybe in the future someday but until then, we can see an ordinary man become Tory prime minister for a little while longer
Hot and Horny Transformations @anonymous1233211 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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