Anyone & Everything

Want to be made into something else at all times

[cupsnjocks]

[coachs-kit-bag]

Calls out to you for a reason, jockboy

[enhancedtranced]

Leather statue

He was just following a few blogs when he found a man he could connect to he like the idea of leather, that grew over time, He found bound to the leather as if bound to a voice that made he feel manly . Leather the heart of his manhood. 

He was ready for more, he was bound to wait for more leather, he stood there

ready  and waiting

[beefybuckeye]

[markyw1971]

Woof 🍆 💦

[king-craftsman]

Reap What You Sow (Hypnosis/Gabriel Reyes TF)

When Oliver Queen declared he would protect his city, he meant it. He just didn’t realise that it would take over his life in more ways than one. There was Green Arrow, the vigilante, the side of him that he could compartmentalise. As long as he donned his costume and went out in the dead of night, then it was like that side of himself was something tucked away. Hidden. He could imagine both sides and keep it from interfering in his daily life, if not that, then who he was as a person. He had failed at both of those numerous times, but yet it still helped. It helped that he could separate the two.

But the Green Arrow wasn’t enough. Ever since a new organisation, Blackwatch, had reared its head, he had to take matters into his own hand. So that was how Oliver Queen found himself waiting patiently in his office—the Mayor’s Office. He had traded the boardroom for the city council, hoping that with this new organisation he could take on a two pronged front.

At night, he was Green Arrow, stopping shipments, dropping drug dealers and making sure anyone and everyone who failed Star City wouldn’t get another chance to do it again. He had been pushing himself, making more arrests and captures and intelligence than ever before. All the while in the position where he wasn’t ‘recovering from the island’ or running a company that ‘practically ran itself’. He had been stressed about keeping his daily life separate and yet now more than ever when he had the most important and busy position in his life, he found the lines blurring until there were moments where he could no longer tell where Oliver Queen ended and Green Arrow began.

If the mission was to save the city (a nice slogan by Felicity he had to admit), then what was the difference whether he was doing it as mayor or vigilante? There was no difference besides the method and that was exactly what tonight’s upcoming meeting was about. He had given up patrol for the night, both too tired and too tense to focus on anything else but what was tonight.

Oliver didn’t even let himself show it by pacing in his office, thinking of a plan of what to do. This new organisation was like a hydra, they had a limb spread everywhere and he wasn’t even sure if he could trust the city council. 

Oliver checked the time. Almost midnight. His office wasn’t bugged, he knew that for certain. They would need total privacy. The office was built for it. It was an old place in an even older building, its walls were thick enough that sound did not travel and the wiring had been replaced twice over during his first months as Mayor because he knew it needed to be secure. There were countermeasures hidden beneath the desk and inside the walls.

Devices that scrambled frequencies and rendered microphones useless. If there were going to be any surprises tonight, then he already cut the head off that snake. And yet there was something in his head that told him he couldn’t be so sure. He told himself that there was still some way they could see inside his office, could detect his behaviour, could see any hint of nervousness. Blackwatch was quietly winning the war, consuming gangs, taking over the city like a rot. Oliver had to play chess and make sure they didn’t see any weakness.

When the door opened two minutes after midnight, Oliver Queen was staring outside the window at the skyline of Star City. The city was like a jungle, wild and untameable in essence but also in how it looked. Maybe it was his time on the island but he just saw everything as some extension of nature and in the dead of night, Oliver Queen could only see the buildings as tall trees, made of steel and illuminated by a thousand different campfires burning away in the windows. It also meant that as he turned to look at Cole Cassidy stepping into his office, he didn’t see a man. He saw a wild thing, not quite a beast but not human either, but still the same thing—predatory. 

Cole Cassidy sauntered in like a cowboy stepping into a saloon, with Oliver supposedly playing one of the stunned men in his mind. He was dressed like he came for war, adorned in black from throat to boot. A tactical vest sat across his chest over a dark shirt rolled to the elbows, whilst the man wore a duster above, slightly lighter yet rain dark at the shoulders. Oliver could instantly see the plates that shifted beneath the vest, armour most likely, more than enough to stop a bullet. The man was unfortunately handsome, Oliver wasn’t going to hide facts. His square jaw was made sharper from the sharp facial hair that adorned it, merging with the thick moustache across his lip. His brown narrow eyes instantly fell on Oliver, raising one of his thick brown brows so high that it nearly touched the black cowboy hat atop his shaggy head. His nostrils flared, like the smell of detergent and cologne was offensive to him and without saying another word, he reached into his holster and pulled out a cigar.

Better than a gun I suppose, Oliver thought to himself.

“I’d rather you not smoke here,” said Oliver with a warning tone that translated his words to you better not smoke here. Cassidy tilted his head up, cigar in mouth, lighter in hand inches away as if calculating how angry Oliver would be if he lit up anyway. He took the cigar out of his mouth and returned both it and the lighter to his holster. Oliver nodded, satisfied, and then gestured to the chair in front of his desk. Cole grabbed the chair with his mechanical arm and pulled it closer to the desk before he sat down. 

“So…here we are.”

“Here. We. Are.” Oliver punctuated every word, trying his best to hide how excited he was for the meeting. If it were true and he could strike up a deal with Cole, then he would be in with one of Blackwatch’s commanders and stop them before it was too late. He knew what Cole would want, to sell out the commander of Blackwatch so that Oliver could take him down and then Cole would swoop in and take leadership himself. All these criminals were always so shortsighted. The one advantage this supposed ‘Reaper’ had that Cole didn’t was the fact that Oliver didn’t know who he was. He had searched everywhere, used every resource, called on every ally and still, nothing. It was almost like Reaper wasn’t real. A man who could supposedly turn to smoke was just as elusive as his abilities. Tonight that would all change, Oliver thought that and he was sure Cassidy did too. “I heard you’re the man who is ‘always right’, so let me ask simply. Do you really have information on Blackwatch’s leader?” 

“I do. And you’re right…I am the man who's always right.” Cole declared as he leaned back, opening his legs as Oliver could see the man’s bulge. The dark jeans that wrapped around Cassidy’s thighs pressed inward, outlining the man’s cock. Oliver pretended not to notice. Cole smiled. “The leader is…how do I put it…” He tapped his finger animatedly on his chin, each tap stirring an impatience within Oliver. Why could the man not just hurry up and say what he meant? Does he think this is some kind of game? Oliver cleared his throat after a moment. “Oh. Sorry.” The cowboy smiled at Oliver, as if only just realising he was there. “Lost mah train’o’thought.” The words came so quick it was either a rehearsed lie or embarrassment. Oliver didn’t think the cowboy let himself be embarrassed by anything. “Funny how that kinda thing can happen.” At that, Cole stared at Oliver, enough to make the mayor realise the man hadn’t really been looking at him. The brown pools had been focused off to the side, raking up and down the mayor’s form, sometimes looking at his face but not directly at him. Not with his own eyes locked onto Oliver’s. When he did, a pale pink glow emanated from nowhere. The brown edges of the eyes suddenly darkened pitch black in contrast. As if the iris itself was injected with new colour, pink bloomed from within. Oliver did a double take. At first confused why the man’s eyes were glowing, then confused why he couldn’t look away when he tried to. His eyes felt magnetized, shaking, tearing his eyes away was the equivalent of rebelling against gravity. 

“What…can…” Oliver blinked. Why had he suddenly sounded so quiet? He was the mayor, he told himself. He should have been focused, ready, this was important information. And yet all he could do was stare helplessly as the eyes drew him in. Much like how the outer edges of Cole’s brown looked pitch black in comparison, the rest of the world felt the same. The windows to the city darkened as if night could get blacker. The door to his office melted from mahogany to murkiness. Anything and everything that was not the cowboy’s face, his eyes, simply blurred, like he could only see the entire world as if it was out of the corner of his eyes. Oliver’s mind smudged like his vision. Thoughts were there, taking up space, but he couldn’t differentiate what they were or what he even wanted to say. All he could do was stare and comprehend that he was staring too long. 

“Our leader’s a lot like you actually. Reaper. Grumpy and cocky sonofabitch,” Cole smirked wider and carried on as if nothing was wrong. Oliver blinked heavily, the only relief from staring at the eyes. 

“Like…me?” The mayor shifted or at least tried to. But his body didn’t even risk movement. Completely focused on just staring. The words took a moment for him to understand. Like me? Does he know about The Arrow? He couldn’t…Could he? Even if he did, Oliver knew that The Arrow and the leader of some criminal empire were far from the same. “That…That’s impossible.” 

“You sure?” Cole questioned quickly, surprising Oliver. Compared to him, it felt as if the Blackwatch agent was thinking twice as fast. “You sure you ain’t that kind of person?” Oliver blinked. He wasn’t sure why but he felt the same as if he had been asked something he didn’t know the answer to. All certainty slipped like the rest of the world into a blur, vague shapes and colours and ideas of what it could have been with none of the definitive definition. The uncertainty suddenly gave way to memories, short and clipped and few and far in between. Moments where he had to make the hard call. Times when he brutalised some thug as The Arrow. Days where the press pushed his buttons and had him snap at an intern. It was hard to think of the times when he showed criminals mercy or would apologise moments later to his staff. It was so hard to think at all. Oliver had no clue that his eyes began to slowly grow pink.

I…I…I don’t act like that. I do my best for the city, I help people.

“Well I…I do act like that, but only because my staff can be so incompetent when I try to do what I think is best,” Oliver’s words felt foreign to him, as if speaking another language. They sounded so close and so far away from what he actually wanted to say. But as if the conversation was a chess game, he felt like speaking was making a move. And he couldn’t take it back. He tried to speak, to correct, to explain, but he suddenly felt the urge to wait for his turn. 

“Ah see that’s what I’m talkin’ about-” 

No! No. That’s not…

“I’m…No I’m sorry I…” Oliver shut his eyes. Cole raised a brow as if that wasn’t what he anticipated. The moment the mayor did, his mind felt like it was at a standstill, on the edge of some unknown precipice, barely saved from falling. Oliver tried to focus, to think and could feel the words coming back. “Sorry I…” “You okay?” The smile in Cole’s voice wasn’t hidden at all. “Here, why don’t you put yer feet up.” 

At once Oliver did so, moving to lean back in his chair and putting his feet up on the table. He did it without thought, an urge that he completely gave into. The moment the feet were crossed and on his desk, he blinked hard again. What was he doing? He thought to himself. He never sat like this before. Why would he? He wasn’t some cocky mayor that would be the type to have their feet up on their desk as they go ahead with their work? Especially not with a meeting as serious as this. Yet he couldn’t help himself. Somehow it felt right to do so as his mind warred with itself if that was even true. 

“I-” “Here partner, lemme help you get comfortable,” Cole came closer, one hand wrapped around one of his shoes. Before he knew it both shoes were suddenly off, revealing his bare pale feet. Oliver wanted to say something, how obviously wrong and inappropriate this was. But he thought about the pink glow and everything turned into a dream, where he could think about how wrong things were and yet they happened anyway. What’s he…What…doing? My feet… 

The man suddenly wrapped a gloved hand over a foot. At once, some of the darkness spread from the gloves as a tan spread over the paleness. The toes slowly thickened. All the while the arches of the feet stretched longer, lengthening as they writhed beneath the leather coated fingers. As the tendons clicked into their new place, the cartilage and muscles of the feet expanded, stretching out so much that it was almost comical they even managed to fit inside the shoes they slipped out of, moments ago. There was a cartoonish growth that made Oliver unable to comprehend what he was seeing. The same way he knew Hulk movies weren’t really an actor growing gargantuan green feet to burst out of footwear, he couldn’t conceive what was happening to his own feet. The toes twitched and he could feel it, the way the big toe brushed against the skin of the others. They were his feet and yet he still couldn’t understand. 

All the while the arches spread out, growing both wider and longer as if trying to outrun the tanned complexion that bloomed across them. It looked like coffee poured into water, spreading to all the skin over his feet. As they did, both feet grew warmer, a sweat forming a sheen as they itched with hairs that bloomed through the skin. Each hair felt like a pinprick where instead of pain, there was just pleasure.  The more that they were underneath Cole’s touch, the more that the feet began to be kneaded, not just massaged but suddenly stretched. Oliver could only stare the same way he did when the man’s eyes glowed pink. 

My feet…What…Why are my feet…

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Yet he couldn’t deny that the feet were also feeling good. More than that, they felt orgasmic. As his feet were being rubbed, a scent wafted from the toes, so thick that Oliver swore he could almost see it curdling. Then it hit him, the tangy thick scent of musk and suddenly his cock wasn’t just something vaguely stirring. It shot up. Hard. Outlined in his own suit pants as much as Cole’s was. He was entirely unaware that it was slowly growing thicker, pooling mass, like there was so much pleasure to be concentrated through his thick cock that it just simply needed the added space to keep growing. 

“Wooowee,” Cole whistled. “And look at these big manly things huh? You got a nice big pair of manly feet.” As he spoke, Oliver blinked. 

Big? Manly? He looked down at his feet to argue that he would never exactly call the pale and lean things large or manly. They were supposed to be size ten, lithe, with the skin having been drawn back so that the toes looked almost sharp and cutting. But instead he saw large thick feet, wide and hairy, reflecting his office light with a sheen of sweat and he blinked. Much like it was a dream, his mind accepted the way things were. Even though there was a voice in the back of his mind telling him otherwise. 

“Yeah I got big manly feet,” repeated Oliver, unaware his voice came out in a monotone. He blinked. Stop…I think something’s wrong. “Keep on rubbing em.” Oliver didn’t recognise the words or voice that came out of him when he gave the command. Cole wasn’t exactly someone he respected but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go around not treating him with some level of respect. Yet there was a sudden excitement in being able to tell the man he wanted to get his feet rubbed and watching him do it. The seduction of suddenly being commanding. 

“Cocky huh? Well as you wish Commander…” 

Commander?!

Before he could do anything, Oliver moaned and thrust his feet forward even more into Cole’s grip. He suddenly could feel that pleasure racing through his feet and wanting to go down his calves. Then he could imagine it going down to his cock. One more whiff of the musk and the tan began to spread as Cole took charge even as he did what his ‘commander’ told him. He began rubbing Oliver’s feet. The tan squeezed out of the feet and spread down towards the calves with each deep knead. 

At the same time Oliver’s cock was suddenly growing, throbbing and thickening without even touch. He didn't even realise that he had slipped down his boxers as if wanting to get more of a feel for it. Whilst the cock was growing larger, it started to darken itself.

A vein in the shaft became more pronounced especially as the dick widened in its girth. Foreskin grew back over the once circumcised head, just to be peeled back as the cock head itself was wet. Oliver started to imagine the musk as some kind of smog, travelling up his body. He was never the kind of guy who liked that scent, something he had to suffer on the island and another thing he wanted to get rid of after the gym (along with sweat). Yet now he couldn’t get enough of it as he kept taking deep huffs of the musk. All the while his body reacted in kind. 

If you want musk? I’ll give you musk.

Oliver wasn’t quite sure if that was some deep gravelly voice in the back of his mind or some interpretation of what his body was doing. Perhaps both. But suddenly his chest grew even more hairy beneath his shirt and tie. A meaty and growing hand reached up to loosen the tie whilst the pits themselves grew dark and hairy, bushy with the amount that threaded on top of one another.

As they bloomed, heat collected within the pits and caused more sweat to drool down, just adding to the musk in a continuous cycle. The more of the musk he took in and sniffed, the more that Oliver was starting to feel that resistance in the back of his mind crumble. The island that he survived on started to turn into an island that he did missions on. His time with the bow was shifting as his hands did the same, the fingers not remembering the correct positions to pull back the drawstring and fire. But instead their aim was something more calculated, on the mechanical shotguns that fit in either hand. More of the smog travelled up his body as it thickened and grew. His already muscular chest started to barrel out as Oliver writhed.

What the…What…happening…

“Shhh don’t worry Commander. I’m here to help,” Cole purred and the voice was like honey poured into his ears, thick and delectable. Oliver’s eyes fluttered as he forgot more and more, just huffing in that musk whilst one gloved hand wrapped around his cock. The moment the cool leather touched the warm brown skin, it was all over. His penis throbbed in the hand, already being pumped. If kneading the feet alone was enough to spread the tan, like it was something to be injected into the rest of his skin, then being pumped only did so faster. Oliver’s complexion turned tawny. “My, my Commander, look how hard you are.” The words slithered into his mind and the more that Cole called him Commander, the more he believed it.

Oliver’s chest continued to barrel out, not simply more muscular but belonging to a taller and more hefty body. As if his lean and tightly coiled self wasn’t so much built for survival and agility but for brute strength. His pecs widened slightly, being dragged across the chest whilst his ribcage pushed from within, expanding with every breath and every stroke and every moan.

The abs followed suit, losing some of their definition in favour of being more spacious, as even Oliver’s appetite changed, becoming something that was like his new self, more hungry. Cole continued to stroke, the next few pumps feeling like they were pumping up his ass which inflated. The bulbous cheeks finally tore off his boxers. Hairs grew on both of the cheeks as Oliver let out another groan, deeper and more guttural, as if belonging to a different voice entirely. 

“Yes, keep doing that…keep serving your Commander,” Oliver grimaced as there was still a resistance, an unfamiliarity with what he was doing. Even still the results were undeniable as more pleasure pulsed through his arms. He hadn’t noticed that with Cole’s touch his suit was already morphing. Instead of being torn apart by his developing muscles and stretching body, the suit was merging together. The jacket and shirt formed the thick outer layer of a camo green hoodie, whilst his pants were left to be torn apart by thicker thighs. The more that they ripped, the more Oliver could feel the same happening to his resistance, his old life as The…The…

I…I can’t remember…

What was he even trying to say? His vigilante name or his job? All that came to mind was Reaper and Commander. Neither of those could be right. Could they?

Yet they were the only answers he could find and they felt more right, the more that his thickening thighs tore through the threads of his suit pants and his ass finally ballooned out to rip down the middle. 

“M-My pants-” Oliver surfaced again, getting out of the sea of new thoughts about Blackwatch and unfamiliar faces, people behind the codenames Sombra and Doomfist and reports he read. He quickly looked down, panting just in time to see his visage in the polished reflection of his desk. The pursed lips and smooth nose were shifting. The lips were growing wider, the nose sharper, the tanned cheekbones higher. The very shape of his face was morphing with each stroke. “W-What the?! What is happening to me?!” Cole merely chuckled instead of indulging in panic. 

“Calm down Commander, just let your subordinate here do his job,” Cole said slowly and something in his voice made Oliver throb. A thick glob of pre-cum spilled out the tip of his cock and suddenly wrinkles appeared over Oliver’s brow as his birthday year was suddenly older. In fact he remembered his birthday on a different date.

“N-No s-stop you’re…you can’t…I…”

“Relax Commander…You’re Commander Gabriel Reyes…” Stroke. Leak. Another forgotten memory. 

“N-no I’m…I’m not! I…I…” Oliver panted, trying to argue but his mind was coming up blank. 

“Relax. After all Commander…You know I’m always right.” Something about those words made Oliver moan and throb and leak some more. He knew the man was always right. He was his subordinate. Of course he would hire a good subordinate that was always right. It was just like him. There was no way that he was going to waste time getting someone so incompetent, he thought. And the more that he thought, the more he realised how little there was to think about as his cock continued to be stroked. 

“I…I’m…I’m…” His cock was so close, so ready to let go, if only he wasn’t holding back. But there was absolutely no chance that he could stop himself. All he had to do was let go. All he had to do was let the new memories surface. And like a strained rope that finally snapped, he let go. “I’m Gabriellllllll-” 

The last of Oliver’s face shifted, a goatee quickly sprouting around his lips as a beard formed over his jawline. His hair darkened completely. 

Seed spilled out of Gabriel’s thick musky cock, pearlescent ropes that shot out one after another as euphoria exploded within him like fireworks. His entire body was alight with desire and the orgasmic bliss that came from the expert hands of his subordinates as Oliver Queen let out one last yelp and then quickly faded into the cum that shot out of his cock, completely gone.

As cum continued to shoot out of the throbbing rod again and again and again, all that was left in Gabriel’s mind was space and with each wave of pleasure, he could fill that space with new memories.

He could remember the experiment, Soldier 76, Blackwatch. All of it surfaced together like the smog that he was made of and filled his mind, stretching to all corners of his brain and filling them with nothing more than Gabriel Reyes. Finally, after what felt like the fifth or sixth time he had shot his load all over his desk, Gabriel smirked down at himself and looked at his own gloved hands. He hadn’t even realised he had any other clothes on besides the green hoodie. 

All Gabriel could do was laugh as he tensed the fingers and realised he was now in control of the body. 

“Good job Cole,” Gabriel purred as he felt his arms, checking that he was all there. His smile widened in confirmation. “Looks like our next mission will be easy. Now…what do you want as a reward? More money?” “No sir, you know what I want,” said Cole as he admired the sweaty and hairy muscle. “I want you sir.” Gabriel nodded.

“Lean against the desk and you better get ready. Let’s see if your hole is made for this cock,” replied Gabriel as he didn’t even wait for Cole to finish. He pushed the man against the desk and helped the cowboy pull down his pants and boxers, already satisfied to see his hole clenching. “Looks like you’re practically begging for me. Hold still.” “S-Sir-” Cole spoke with an uneasiness of how fast it was going. And then he forgot about that and everything else when he felt how Gabriel’s thick meaty cock easily slid right into his cheeks, plunged there like a key to a lock. “Sirrrrrrr~” “Fucking look at that. Fits perfect doesn’t it? Yeah and your tight hole feels fucking good,” Gabriel began to thrust. Hard. “Moan for me Cole.” That was a command Cole didn’t need as he was already a groaning and grunting mess with each thrust as Gabriel’s member already met prostate. 

“S-Sir, oh fuck you’re so…so…” “So what Cole?” Gabriel already knew the answer. “Say it.” “So…dominant…Oh fuck…” Cole’s legs were already shaking as it was his turn to get wet, eyes threatening to roll into the back of the cowboy’s head. His hat threatened to fall off his head from how fast and hard Gabriel was thrusting into him, each throb expanding the walls of the cowboy’s anus. 

“Damn right I am. I’m your Commander after all, now take it.” And Cole obeyed because he was no longer meeting with the Mayor. He was enjoying a private rendezvous with his Commander, the one and only Gabriel Reyes and there was nothing either of the men enjoyed more. 

Thanks for reading! You can check out more stories like this on my Patreon!

[boooradleysatx]

[obeymfsaalphas-deactivated20260]

Elastagion: The Gym

Elastagion (noun): the transmission or spread of spandex fetishism through direct or indirect contact.

—

Nothing from its exterior particularly stood out. The gym was the typical gray box that had been springing up everywhere over the past decade. The parking lot was completely stuffed with cars, even though it was an early Thursday afternoon. Matthew grabbed his notepad and camera before shuffling out of his car. He took note of the other patrons filing in and out the main entrance, mentally establishing their excitement and their clothes.

“Hi there.” Matthew tried to grab the attention of the front desk worker. When the buff employee turned around to face him, Matthew did his best not to blush. He found the attendant’s overeager smile intimidating and tried not to let his eyes wander.

“Interested in a membership? We have a great offer for newbies.” The young attendant was strangely polite, as if men of Matthew’s shape were common here. 

“Ah, no sorry. I’m a journalist from the Gazette. I had emailed last week asking if I could stop by and write about the gym.”

The attendant appeared unphased. 

“I was hoping to advertise its successes,” Matthew continued. “Spotlight how it has become so popular.”

This made the young attendant smile. “Oh really, that’s great! We are always wanting more people to join! It’s our mission to introduce everyone to the joy of-”

Matthew tuned out, receding away in his mind to observe his surroundings. Lots of men in the building, all similarly muscled up. Some were actively engaged in their exercises, others socializing and flexing their progress. It was like every other gym, but one thing set it apart. One neon-colored thing.

“Let me grab one of our trainers to speak with you,” the attendant said, returning to his computer. “Hmmm…oh! Jamie is free for the next half hour. He’s one of our newer employees; he started a few weeks ago as a member and after a couple of days applied to become a trainer. He’s great with newbies–I’ll go fetch him!”

The attendant swiftly ran off, allowing Matthew to sketch down the notes he had gathered so far. He also flipped to a new page, writing out Jamie on the top, followed by fresh convert. It did not take long for the attendant to return, and with the presumed trainer trailing behind, mirroring the large smile.

“Hey dude, it’s greet to meet you.” Jamie extended a hand. It was larger than Matthew’s, but surprisingly soft. “Aaron here told me you’re a reporter.”

“Matthew, Matthew Goodman. And yes, I’m hoping to learn a little bit more about the gym.”

“Of course!” Jamie nodded to Aaron, the attendant, before leading the way past the front desk. Matthew followed, doing his best not to stare at the trainer’s gigantic frame. He assumed Jamie was at least 6’4” and had been in some kind of collegiate football program before joining this gym. Thanks to the apparel Jamie wore, Matthew was able to notice each of the man’s curves and valleys, even if this knowledge was unwelcome.

Matthew expected to be brought to a back room where they could hold a private discussion, but instead, Jamie brought them to a row of racks near the corner of the main floor. The inner walls of the gym held a mismatched palette of black, gray, and a peachy orange. The vibes shifted between a desolate void and a closed down 80s Miami nightclub. Jamie perched himself on a bench, hiking one leg up and putting his whole masculinity on display. Matthew took a seat on a machine he did not know the name of, desperately maintaining his eye contact.

“In case no one has said it yet, welcome to Elastix!” Jamie cheerily started. “We are proud to be the first gym encouraging our members to exclusively appreciate spandex. Some call it therapeutic, others call it salvation, but here at Elastix, we like to think of our gym as a safe space for all to discover true happiness.”

Matthew jotted down some notes, translating the corporate speech that had just been hurled at him. First gym forcing members…are they brainwashed?...safe space because everyone has to follow the rules? Matthew wanted to know how in this day and age, a business not only got away with getting people to freely wear spandex, but require it. When he had heard the rumors about Elastix, he had not believed them, but here he was, doggy-paddling in a sea of tight plastic.

“The attendant at the front desk, Aaron, noted that you just started a little bit ago,” Matthew pointed out. “What drew you to working here?”

Jamie chuckled to himself lightly, the white elastic material of his shirt accentuating every ripple of his abdominals. “It was my roommate who got me to come here in the first place. I did not really understand the whole spandex thing at first, I thought it was some kind of cult by the way he talked about it. One day he was wearing boring everyday clothes and the next his closet was colorful and bright, like it had been dropped in some toxic fluid. But after I finally caved and came, I saw how incredible this place was…”

Cult…brainwashed theory again…or pyramid scheme?

“Getting a job though was super easy. I mean, I hadn’t ever worked out before joining Elastix, but I guess my commitment to the craft and my appreciation for spandex just naturally got me the job.”

Matthew’s ear perked up, “You hadn’t worked out before this gym?”

“No dude, I used to look like you.” Matthew held his breath, a bit insulted. “But once I got in the spandex, it was like everything changed for me. There’s nothing better than that silky smooth touch to motivate you. The feeling of the tights caressing your body with every lift and squat is incredible.”

“Yeah, uh huh…” Matthew muttered, unable to discern if the lively trainer was messing with him. Eventually, he decided to switch topics, “Can you tell me a little bit more about the gym itself? How did Elastix come to be?”

“Now that’s one of my favorite questions!” Jamie replied readily. Without pausing to take a breath, the trainer jumped into his next monologue, as if he had repeated these same words over and over until memorized. Matthew’s pencil had to move hastily to catch up. Funded by a kickstarter of “enthusiasts”...membership numbers have grown exponentially…inside joke that “one touch is all it takes”...what are they touching, is this the catalyst?...are there outside donors influencing this idolization?

“I just think we should all wear spandex all the time!” Jamie had merrily returned to his apparent favorite topic. “Have you ever tried it before, dude?”

“What, spandex?”

“My life has changed for the better because of it.”

“That’s good.”

Matthew’s response was unenthusiastic, but Jamie did not seem to register it. “I know, right?”

“But no, I’ve never really worn spandex. I find it kind of itchy.”

For the first time, Jamie’s smile faltered slightly. It still held strong, but there was a new energy behind it. “You must be mistaken. Spandex is always smooth and silky.”

Matthew turned to his notes. Agitated at comment slightly against complex. “Yeah I don’t know, I just didn’t care for it. Plus I just don’t think it would be flattering on me.”

With his gaze lowered, Matthew had not realized that the trainer had stepped directly in front of him. Once he did lift his head, Matthew became a bit unsettled, finding himself at eye level with Jamie’s manhood. The journalist did his best to retain his composure despite the thick sausage and balls contained in tight, white lining being mere inches from his face.

“You must be mistaken,” Jamie repeated. “Spandex is flattering on everyone. You must touch my spandex.”

“I’m sorry?” Matthew was startled. “I don’t think that would be very professional of me.”

“Touch my spandex.” Despite the shining grin, Matthew noticed a twitch in Jamie’s eye. If he could, he would have written down malfunctioning, but he did not want the situation to grow any more hostile. Especially in such a public setting. 

Jamie shifted his argument, “If you do, then we will be able to discern the truth. It’s journalistic integrity: I do not want your writing to be swayed whatsoever.”

Matthew considered this, not necessarily disagreeing with the trainer. In addition, something in the back of his mind told him that if he did not follow Jamie’s instructions, there would be consequences. 

“Where do you…” Matthew could not believe he was asking this, especially of another man. “Where do you want me to touch?”

Jamie’s glee was blinding. Instead of answering, he took Matthew’s free hand and put it directly onto his pouch. Matthew’s face immediately began to burn, feeling both tricked and compromised. How many other people were watching this? How many cameras were recording this exact moment? How many days until this moment went viral and he was fired, sued, and blacklisted?

But despite all these questions, Matthew did not move his hand. The elastic fabric was warm, pleasantly warm. Its glossy exterior eased the journalist’s mind. To touch the spandex felt so good. How could something so delicate, so smooth be bad? How could this tight, polished elastane be wrong? It quieted Matthew’s thoughts, eased his disposition and let him relax. Slowly, his shocked face began to soften, pulling horizontally into a bright, silly smile.

“As I said, you were mistaken.” Jamie leaned over slowly, doing his best not to disrupt Matthew as he grabbed the notepad and ripped out the current page. He then handed the item back to its owner. “Now that you know the truth, I think you should write it down.”

With one hand still on Jamie, Matthew’s other slowly began to transcribe. There was a current guiding the pen, flowing from the spandex into his fingers, through his arm and across his chest, down his other arm and into his other fingers. Spandex is smooth…spandex is silky… The lines began to repeat themselves after a while.

“And would you agree that spandex is flattering on everyone?”

Spandex is flattering on everyone…Everyone should wear spandex…

“Exactly,” Jamie followed along with the notes as quickly as they were written. “So let me ask you, Matthew Goodman, why aren’t you wearing any spandex?”

At that moment, Matthew’s pen froze inside of his hand. He felt himself shaking, the only part of his body remaining still were the fingers groping the trainer and his elastane-covered pouch.

Suddenly, the front desk attendant rushed into the scene, bouncing with puppydog-like eagerness.

“Yellow, as requested!” Aaron eagerly handed over a pair of running tights, unphased by the scene. Jamie provided him with a nod of gratitude before sending him back to the front. Matthew remained silent, his mind refusing to allow any other thoughts outside of the spandex.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes and into your new uniform, Matthew.” 

Matthew felt no shame as he stripped himself down on the open floor of the gym. His jacket was removed first, followed by his shirt. The shoes popped off easily, as did the socks. Once they were put aside, he thoughtlessly dropped his slacks and loose boxers. Matthew was naked, his entire unimpressive body on full display, but he did not register any embarrassment. In fact, the only sensations he could register are those that the spandex allowed. And they were incredible, indescribable, and somehow, transformative.

“A perfect fit,” Jamie noted, helping Matthew sit back onto the bench, the yellow leggings hugging his lower body. Jamie then picked up the notepad and handed it back to the journalist with instructions. “Write down how it feels to finally live in the truth, Matthew.”

Glorious…unsurmountable…masculine. There were not enough words in the English dictionary to describe how Matthew felt. Every move of his body, every twitch of a muscle was ecstasy. And it was only made better by the fact that Matthew’s lower body was expanding inside of his new tights. His thighs blossomed with mass, testing the limits of the neon seams. His calves plumped into diamonds meant to exude power and dominance. His bare feet bloated onto the cool black floor while his midsection sharpened inward, creating a desirable path leading directly to his fattening manhood.

Freeing…truth-bearing…born-again. The sensations fluttered up and into Matthew’s chest. The fat melted away to reveal a cobblestone trail between his belly button and silver dollar-sized nipples. Flauntable pectorals perched themselves underneath the strengthening shoulders, which held traceable veins traversing across Matthew’s bulging arms. But as the magic began crawling up his neck, a new tingling emerged from underneath the spandex. 

“At Elastix, we like to represent how every human body looks good in spandex,” Jamie said. “Of course, that means we have a diversity quota to fill.”

Melanin shot out across Matthew’s body, tanning everything within its radius. The caramel color coated his chest and limbs, quickly catching up with the rest of the changes. By the time the sensations reached the journalist’s head, there was not much that remained of Matthew’s former physical appearance. But Matthew did not protest as his face was perfected. Sharper cheekbones, poutier lips, an intentional stubble and shaved sides. His hair fluffed and darkened dramatically, it and the rest of his rapidly changing features suggesting a new heritage.

Slowly, other evidence of a different background began to appear. Matthew realized the cooling smoothness of the spandex countered perfectly with the emerging memories of arid desert heat from his childhood. Matthew also realized the bright yellow shade of his tights reminded him of a fresh egg yolk on top of his mama's huevos rancheros. And slowly, Matthew began to recognize how Jamie’s spandex really highlighted the trainer’s dedication, and handsomeness. Muy caliente.

Jamie watched as the glow began to fade from his newest convert. The changes had cemented, leaving behind a golden tan and an invigorating devotion to spandex.

“Mi hermano,” the journalist’s voice now held a bit of heat. “I cannot thank you enough for showing me this place. I can see why it is so popular, and I cannot wait to write about it.”

Jamie chuckled, enjoying the accented English. “Of course, Mister…”

“González, Mateo González.” The journalist extended a hand, which Jamie accepted. Their grip held longer than the usual amount of time.

“So Mateo,” Jamie said, a smile once again dominating his face. “Is there anything else you would like to know about Elastix?”

Mateo considered this, the thought taking considerable effort. Then, picking up his camera, he fiddled with the buttons before pointing it at the mirror. With a classic smolder, he took the shot and handed the camera over to the trainer.

“First,” Mateo asked. “Do you think that is a good picture for the paper?”

Jamie’s smile held strong. “I think it perfectly displays our mission.”

Mateo’s face broke into a similarly goofy grin. “And second,” Mateo grabbed his notepad and clumsily scrawled something down before handing it over. Jamie accepted the pen and paper, the written prompt simple. Number for guapo spandex gringo.

[obeymfsaalphas-deactivated20260]

Elastagion: The Gym

Elastagion (noun): the transmission or spread of spandex fetishism through direct or indirect contact.

—

Nothing from its exterior particularly stood out. The gym was the typical gray box that had been springing up everywhere over the past decade. The parking lot was completely stuffed with cars, even though it was an early Thursday afternoon. Matthew grabbed his notepad and camera before shuffling out of his car. He took note of the other patrons filing in and out the main entrance, mentally establishing their excitement and their clothes.

“Hi there.” Matthew tried to grab the attention of the front desk worker. When the buff employee turned around to face him, Matthew did his best not to blush. He found the attendant’s overeager smile intimidating and tried not to let his eyes wander.

“Interested in a membership? We have a great offer for newbies.” The young attendant was strangely polite, as if men of Matthew’s shape were common here. 

“Ah, no sorry. I’m a journalist from the Gazette. I had emailed last week asking if I could stop by and write about the gym.”

The attendant appeared unphased. 

“I was hoping to advertise its successes,” Matthew continued. “Spotlight how it has become so popular.”

This made the young attendant smile. “Oh really, that’s great! We are always wanting more people to join! It’s our mission to introduce everyone to the joy of-”

Matthew tuned out, receding away in his mind to observe his surroundings. Lots of men in the building, all similarly muscled up. Some were actively engaged in their exercises, others socializing and flexing their progress. It was like every other gym, but one thing set it apart. One neon-colored thing.

“Let me grab one of our trainers to speak with you,” the attendant said, returning to his computer. “Hmmm…oh! Jamie is free for the next half hour. He’s one of our newer employees; he started a few weeks ago as a member and after a couple of days applied to become a trainer. He’s great with newbies–I’ll go fetch him!”

The attendant swiftly ran off, allowing Matthew to sketch down the notes he had gathered so far. He also flipped to a new page, writing out Jamie on the top, followed by fresh convert. It did not take long for the attendant to return, and with the presumed trainer trailing behind, mirroring the large smile.

“Hey dude, it’s greet to meet you.” Jamie extended a hand. It was larger than Matthew’s, but surprisingly soft. “Aaron here told me you’re a reporter.”

“Matthew, Matthew Goodman. And yes, I’m hoping to learn a little bit more about the gym.”

“Of course!” Jamie nodded to Aaron, the attendant, before leading the way past the front desk. Matthew followed, doing his best not to stare at the trainer’s gigantic frame. He assumed Jamie was at least 6’4” and had been in some kind of collegiate football program before joining this gym. Thanks to the apparel Jamie wore, Matthew was able to notice each of the man’s curves and valleys, even if this knowledge was unwelcome.

Matthew expected to be brought to a back room where they could hold a private discussion, but instead, Jamie brought them to a row of racks near the corner of the main floor. The inner walls of the gym held a mismatched palette of black, gray, and a peachy orange. The vibes shifted between a desolate void and a closed down 80s Miami nightclub. Jamie perched himself on a bench, hiking one leg up and putting his whole masculinity on display. Matthew took a seat on a machine he did not know the name of, desperately maintaining his eye contact.

“In case no one has said it yet, welcome to Elastix!” Jamie cheerily started. “We are proud to be the first gym encouraging our members to exclusively appreciate spandex. Some call it therapeutic, others call it salvation, but here at Elastix, we like to think of our gym as a safe space for all to discover true happiness.”

Matthew jotted down some notes, translating the corporate speech that had just been hurled at him. First gym forcing members…are they brainwashed?...safe space because everyone has to follow the rules? Matthew wanted to know how in this day and age, a business not only got away with getting people to freely wear spandex, but require it. When he had heard the rumors about Elastix, he had not believed them, but here he was, doggy-paddling in a sea of tight plastic.

“The attendant at the front desk, Aaron, noted that you just started a little bit ago,” Matthew pointed out. “What drew you to working here?”

Jamie chuckled to himself lightly, the white elastic material of his shirt accentuating every ripple of his abdominals. “It was my roommate who got me to come here in the first place. I did not really understand the whole spandex thing at first, I thought it was some kind of cult by the way he talked about it. One day he was wearing boring everyday clothes and the next his closet was colorful and bright, like it had been dropped in some toxic fluid. But after I finally caved and came, I saw how incredible this place was…”

Cult…brainwashed theory again…or pyramid scheme?

“Getting a job though was super easy. I mean, I hadn’t ever worked out before joining Elastix, but I guess my commitment to the craft and my appreciation for spandex just naturally got me the job.”

Matthew’s ear perked up, “You hadn’t worked out before this gym?”

“No dude, I used to look like you.” Matthew held his breath, a bit insulted. “But once I got in the spandex, it was like everything changed for me. There’s nothing better than that silky smooth touch to motivate you. The feeling of the tights caressing your body with every lift and squat is incredible.”

“Yeah, uh huh…” Matthew muttered, unable to discern if the lively trainer was messing with him. Eventually, he decided to switch topics, “Can you tell me a little bit more about the gym itself? How did Elastix come to be?”

“Now that’s one of my favorite questions!” Jamie replied readily. Without pausing to take a breath, the trainer jumped into his next monologue, as if he had repeated these same words over and over until memorized. Matthew’s pencil had to move hastily to catch up. Funded by a kickstarter of “enthusiasts”...membership numbers have grown exponentially…inside joke that “one touch is all it takes”...what are they touching, is this the catalyst?...are there outside donors influencing this idolization?

“I just think we should all wear spandex all the time!” Jamie had merrily returned to his apparent favorite topic. “Have you ever tried it before, dude?”

“What, spandex?”

“My life has changed for the better because of it.”

“That’s good.”

Matthew’s response was unenthusiastic, but Jamie did not seem to register it. “I know, right?”

“But no, I’ve never really worn spandex. I find it kind of itchy.”

For the first time, Jamie’s smile faltered slightly. It still held strong, but there was a new energy behind it. “You must be mistaken. Spandex is always smooth and silky.”

Matthew turned to his notes. Agitated at comment slightly against complex. “Yeah I don’t know, I just didn’t care for it. Plus I just don’t think it would be flattering on me.”

With his gaze lowered, Matthew had not realized that the trainer had stepped directly in front of him. Once he did lift his head, Matthew became a bit unsettled, finding himself at eye level with Jamie’s manhood. The journalist did his best to retain his composure despite the thick sausage and balls contained in tight, white lining being mere inches from his face.

“You must be mistaken,” Jamie repeated. “Spandex is flattering on everyone. You must touch my spandex.”

“I’m sorry?” Matthew was startled. “I don’t think that would be very professional of me.”

“Touch my spandex.” Despite the shining grin, Matthew noticed a twitch in Jamie’s eye. If he could, he would have written down malfunctioning, but he did not want the situation to grow any more hostile. Especially in such a public setting. 

Jamie shifted his argument, “If you do, then we will be able to discern the truth. It’s journalistic integrity: I do not want your writing to be swayed whatsoever.”

Matthew considered this, not necessarily disagreeing with the trainer. In addition, something in the back of his mind told him that if he did not follow Jamie’s instructions, there would be consequences. 

“Where do you…” Matthew could not believe he was asking this, especially of another man. “Where do you want me to touch?”

Jamie’s glee was blinding. Instead of answering, he took Matthew’s free hand and put it directly onto his pouch. Matthew’s face immediately began to burn, feeling both tricked and compromised. How many other people were watching this? How many cameras were recording this exact moment? How many days until this moment went viral and he was fired, sued, and blacklisted?

But despite all these questions, Matthew did not move his hand. The elastic fabric was warm, pleasantly warm. Its glossy exterior eased the journalist’s mind. To touch the spandex felt so good. How could something so delicate, so smooth be bad? How could this tight, polished elastane be wrong? It quieted Matthew’s thoughts, eased his disposition and let him relax. Slowly, his shocked face began to soften, pulling horizontally into a bright, silly smile.

“As I said, you were mistaken.” Jamie leaned over slowly, doing his best not to disrupt Matthew as he grabbed the notepad and ripped out the current page. He then handed the item back to its owner. “Now that you know the truth, I think you should write it down.”

With one hand still on Jamie, Matthew’s other slowly began to transcribe. There was a current guiding the pen, flowing from the spandex into his fingers, through his arm and across his chest, down his other arm and into his other fingers. Spandex is smooth…spandex is silky… The lines began to repeat themselves after a while.

“And would you agree that spandex is flattering on everyone?”

Spandex is flattering on everyone…Everyone should wear spandex…

“Exactly,” Jamie followed along with the notes as quickly as they were written. “So let me ask you, Matthew Goodman, why aren’t you wearing any spandex?”

At that moment, Matthew’s pen froze inside of his hand. He felt himself shaking, the only part of his body remaining still were the fingers groping the trainer and his elastane-covered pouch.

Suddenly, the front desk attendant rushed into the scene, bouncing with puppydog-like eagerness.

“Yellow, as requested!” Aaron eagerly handed over a pair of running tights, unphased by the scene. Jamie provided him with a nod of gratitude before sending him back to the front. Matthew remained silent, his mind refusing to allow any other thoughts outside of the spandex.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes and into your new uniform, Matthew.” 

Matthew felt no shame as he stripped himself down on the open floor of the gym. His jacket was removed first, followed by his shirt. The shoes popped off easily, as did the socks. Once they were put aside, he thoughtlessly dropped his slacks and loose boxers. Matthew was naked, his entire unimpressive body on full display, but he did not register any embarrassment. In fact, the only sensations he could register are those that the spandex allowed. And they were incredible, indescribable, and somehow, transformative.

“A perfect fit,” Jamie noted, helping Matthew sit back onto the bench, the yellow leggings hugging his lower body. Jamie then picked up the notepad and handed it back to the journalist with instructions. “Write down how it feels to finally live in the truth, Matthew.”

Glorious…unsurmountable…masculine. There were not enough words in the English dictionary to describe how Matthew felt. Every move of his body, every twitch of a muscle was ecstasy. And it was only made better by the fact that Matthew’s lower body was expanding inside of his new tights. His thighs blossomed with mass, testing the limits of the neon seams. His calves plumped into diamonds meant to exude power and dominance. His bare feet bloated onto the cool black floor while his midsection sharpened inward, creating a desirable path leading directly to his fattening manhood.

Freeing…truth-bearing…born-again. The sensations fluttered up and into Matthew’s chest. The fat melted away to reveal a cobblestone trail between his belly button and silver dollar-sized nipples. Flauntable pectorals perched themselves underneath the strengthening shoulders, which held traceable veins traversing across Matthew’s bulging arms. But as the magic began crawling up his neck, a new tingling emerged from underneath the spandex. 

“At Elastix, we like to represent how every human body looks good in spandex,” Jamie said. “Of course, that means we have a diversity quota to fill.”

Melanin shot out across Matthew’s body, tanning everything within its radius. The caramel color coated his chest and limbs, quickly catching up with the rest of the changes. By the time the sensations reached the journalist’s head, there was not much that remained of Matthew’s former physical appearance. But Matthew did not protest as his face was perfected. Sharper cheekbones, poutier lips, an intentional stubble and shaved sides. His hair fluffed and darkened dramatically, it and the rest of his rapidly changing features suggesting a new heritage.

Slowly, other evidence of a different background began to appear. Matthew realized the cooling smoothness of the spandex countered perfectly with the emerging memories of arid desert heat from his childhood. Matthew also realized the bright yellow shade of his tights reminded him of a fresh egg yolk on top of his mama's huevos rancheros. And slowly, Matthew began to recognize how Jamie’s spandex really highlighted the trainer’s dedication, and handsomeness. Muy caliente.

Jamie watched as the glow began to fade from his newest convert. The changes had cemented, leaving behind a golden tan and an invigorating devotion to spandex.

“Mi hermano,” the journalist’s voice now held a bit of heat. “I cannot thank you enough for showing me this place. I can see why it is so popular, and I cannot wait to write about it.”

Jamie chuckled, enjoying the accented English. “Of course, Mister…”

“González, Mateo González.” The journalist extended a hand, which Jamie accepted. Their grip held longer than the usual amount of time.

“So Mateo,” Jamie said, a smile once again dominating his face. “Is there anything else you would like to know about Elastix?”

Mateo considered this, the thought taking considerable effort. Then, picking up his camera, he fiddled with the buttons before pointing it at the mirror. With a classic smolder, he took the shot and handed the camera over to the trainer.

“First,” Mateo asked. “Do you think that is a good picture for the paper?”

Jamie’s smile held strong. “I think it perfectly displays our mission.”

Mateo’s face broke into a similarly goofy grin. “And second,” Mateo grabbed his notepad and clumsily scrawled something down before handing it over. Jamie accepted the pen and paper, the written prompt simple. Number for guapo spandex gringo.

[masterofsissysluts]

Good boys don’t think;

Good boys just Obey.

[uw2025-deactivated20260719]

[kink-override]

Come over and watch him play.

Sit patiently and have the pleasure of being around him.

Longer you wait. The longer it makes sense

Sit for your master.

Be a good boy

[coachs-locker-room]

Any chance… uh… the team needs a mascot of the pup variety? I hear there’s lots of balls 🐶

The team used to have a mascot a while back, now that I think about it. How about you take a look and see what the previous guy left in his locker at the end of the row?

Opening up the red door, your eyes landed on the unexpected: a black, white and red mask hanging on a hook. The neoprene surface was softly illuminated under the fluorescent lights. While the inside of the door is labelled " TEAM MASCOT" you hesitated for a moment as your heart started to race.

Isn't this all familiar to something you've seen before? What if you wore it? What if it changed everything? Curiosity began to tingle in your chest as your hand approached it, fingers brushing over the smooth material and, with a deep breath, decided to pull the mask over your head.

The moment the snug mask enveloped your face, your reality began to blur. A wave of exhilaration instantly washed over you: the soft texture caressed your skin and coaxed your insecurities to fade. In their place, a rush of primal energy warped your mind into that of the former owner. With each heartbeat, you felt stronger and stronger. You glanced in the mirror and watched in awe as your body had shifted as well. Muscles you never knew started to inflate beneath your skin and fill out your previously average frame.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you found your new anonymity captivating, combined with your new broad shoulders, thighs and defined arms, of course.

Breaking the silence of the locker room, the door swung open and the familiar burly Coach strode in. His eyes narrowed at the sight of you, a smirk spreading across his face. He sneered -

“Looks like you're already picking up exactly where the last guy left, aren't you? How about you be a good boy and flex those muscles of yours and inspire the team properly, eh?”

Lost in the euphoric headspace, you stepped forward, puffed out your chest and flexed your arms on command. Intoxicated from the power radiating from your transformed body, you didn't care that your towl dropped - now revealing a team-appropriate red jockstrap.

"Attaboy. Just how it should be."

You began playfully wagging your imaginary tail as you revelled in the way your new biceps and pecs continued to bulge and swell. Coach continued to hand you your new uniform from the locker - with a mixture of admiration and lust in his gaze. First, the knee-high socks and boots, and then a matching red singlet with a strangely familiar 'mascot' on the front.

To showcase your exhilarating new enthusiasm to the rest of the team, Coach had a few ideas of how he could utilise your skillet the most effectively. Motivation, inspiration, or even a bit of playing rough.

As time went on, you started to wonder: why would the previous mascot ever give this role up…?

-

Photo credit: kinktr.ee/musclepuprocky Long overdue request for @PupAmp / https://linktr.ee/pupamp

More TF posts on @coachs-locker-room If you enjoyed this post, buy me a Ko-Fi: Here

[jockboyaj]

Ryder wasn’t sure why he was standing in the shower with just his jock on but he felt too relaxed to think about it. It just felt so good to stand there and let the water reveal his cock. He was after all just a hypnotized jock toy programmed to put on a show after every workout.

[jockdumboy]

TOTAL MINDFUCKKKKKK

[nyx-prince]

Brainwashing report

For today's session — looping one track for an hour, watching some gifs I made + writing a mantra for about one page (I should have included affirmations also but I don't have enough time🥲)

Main audio link:

I also listen to this on and off:

And the classic that I'm integrating as a white noise to sleep to:

Wash your brain regularly guys! Hygiene is key

[strongbois]

[coachs-kit-bag]

Sorry, kid. We’ve got you put down for a different sport, now.

[jockboyaj]

Ryder wasn’t sure why he was standing in the shower with just his jock on but he felt too relaxed to think about it. It just felt so good to stand there and let the water reveal his cock. He was after all just a hypnotized jock toy programmed to put on a show after every workout.

[jerkingnerds2jock]

Otter On The Loose

Hey Folks here is the commission story continuation from Brad and Topher- Following the Twink they BRIEFLY started transforming at pride- if you would like to Commission me for stories- DMS are open

That was the hottest thing I had ever experienced and I swear I can still smell and feel them on me!

Maybe I'm just in my own head, I mean after dealing with some religious nut job heckling me while I’m just getting ready to start a threesome out in the middle of my college campus pride event. I mean who wouldn’t be right, it's absolutely insane to think about how hot those two were. Brad and Topher's muscles were so hot, the idea of getting absolutely railed, double teamed, stuffed whatever literally has my cock throbbing through my short shorts. I felt uncomfortable in my clothes like everything was tighter than usual, my steps felt heavier and longer in stride. I was sweaty which I just blamed on the hot humid air and I felt itchy and smelly. I needed to get home and get clean.

I fucking hated that bigoted asshole, probably ruining one of the hottest things I could have experienced. Like sure I still got to be in between that man meat sandwich but I wanted more. My heart was pounding in my chest just thinking about what those two pieces of meat would have done to me. The feeling of their hands still tracing across my body sending thrills down my body. Why did people like that have to pick up megaphones or microphones and shove their own lack of self worth and insecurities down our throat.

It was too late to cry about it now, and maybe I would see them again. Lord knows I would in my dreams, my rock hard cock made it hard to run in these shorts, the feeling of it leaking pre into my jockstrap, caressing itself against the fabric almost like it had a life of itself, made my cheeks red and me flustered. The smell wafting from my pits, THIS MUSK was unknowingly making me hornier, dumber, erasing my awareness and clawing away at my reality. Feeding magically off of me, who I am, who I would cease to be. 

Each step to my student living was a step towards escape, freedom and rest. Maybe even jerking it, god I never really wanted to play with my dick this much. I just wanted to be back with my cute nerdy golden retriever roommate and watch some stupid comic book movie while I ate a whole bag of chips to lick my wounds. If I was focused on anything going on outside my feelings I would have heard the seams in my shorts strain, the extra weight that was bouncing around behind me with each step, how the overbearing heat from before seemed to centralize there as the fabric was stretched beyond belief. Cheeks going up and down as I reached the stairs. My sweat poured off me, soaking my clothes, hairs that started to itch under my arms, around my bulge and circling my ass.

The AC of the apartment was a welcome change, I was hotter than I should have been. The sun couldn’t be doing this, was I sick, dehydrated, what was going on? The sweat dripping from every pore, I was pulling off my shirt and throwing it to the side, normally a neat freak, not caring that it was on the floor. My steps were heavier, shoes feeling tight I struggled them off, socks pungent with odor, legs getting hairier. I needed to relieve myself, get these shorts off, and shower. I was gross SMELLED GREAT. Fuck that was weird, i shook it off, maybe Topher and Brad had RUBBED off on me. They did SMELL LIKE MEN, and I liked that maybe that's what I was thinking?

The bathroom was when I realized something was wrong, I could shake the odd feeling, the heat PULSING through me, the sweat, THE MUSK. But seeing my hairless, clean shaven face have a five o’clock shadow woke me up. The horror at seeing hairs dot across my face, clashing my aesthetic set me a light, and everything was hitting em all at once, something was definitely wrong and I NEEDED IT TO STOP KEEP IT UP BRO! There it is again, fuck this voice ringing in my head, shouting like some dumb ass muscle bro. 

I grabbed my razor, maybe this was a psychotic break, maybe I was going crazy but things weren’t adding up. And while I may not be a fucking math gay but I was smart enough to notice it all now. I took a deep WHIFF, my brain rattling as more of my own NEW MUSK infiltrated my mind, trying to distract me and it was going to work. Looking myself dead in the eye it wasn’t just some facial hair, my jaw sat different, more muscular and wide like some lantern jawed superhero, my nose stronger. My lips more plump. My neck was wider and shoulders broader. That's when the smatterings of hair started, my chest was expanding slowly, but across it I had a pelt forming, my stomach had abs where there used to be some weight. My GOD my waist was trimmed and MY GOD MY ASS. I wasn’t imagining that bouncing in my shorts earlier, the straining fabric ringing in my ears, no this was all muscle fat and curves.

I shook my head- fuck it was getting to me NO BRO KEEP LOOKIN. Fuck this, i took the razor and brought it closer to my face we were gonna clean this up. But as I lifted my arm up to do it, another blast of musk hits me, i try and fight it off but I took in this deep inhale, that fuzzy fried feeling tingling my brain as my eyes rapidly blinked and my hands grip on the razor loose. I try to regain composure but I watch my lips go into this dumb grin, my eyes looking more dull in the mirror. I drop the razor the sound of it as it clicks against the floor echoes.

I back up, looking at my reflection in fear, not sure who or what i’m staring at this image of me is so distorted. I finally break eye contact, enough to turn to open the door. My hand reaches for the knob but instead of turning it I watch it lock it.

My eyes go wide and I try to scream but all i end up doing is opening my mouth and INHALING the MUSK. My chest rising but never falling as everything PULSES, that same tingling overwhelms my brain, killing brain cells faster than any drug as it makes me inhale more, my once non-existent chest now a set of pecs that expand further. My scream turns into this dumb low chuckle as my hands, which are getting thicker while my forearms gain muscle and hair, begin to feel up my sweaty chest smearing more sweat into the hairs and pores creating an endless loop of SWEAT, MUSK and MAGIC.

No…No..Whatever the fuck is going on stop, please I know this doesn’t end with me being…FUCKKKk BRooO my nipples feels so sensitive. It’s like they are fucking eletric as my hands tease them, tweaking them perfectly in rhythm. Eventually as my hips begin to gyrate in pleasure my shorts and underwear give way to my bouncing cheeks- the fabric disintegrating into magical green mist feeding into whatever demented spell was placed on me. This is where I see the one change I hadn’t noticed, I thought I was just horny but looking down as a MUCH LARGER COCK Swung and slapped against my new washboard abs smearing pre against my skin I knew that had changed as well. My new bull balls were hanging low as everything was finally out in the open.

“WHY ARE WE CRYING OVER THAT OLD DICKLET?! You have a Real Piece of MEAT to play with now BRO!” My own body says looking into the mirror with this fuckboi smirk, eyes fully glazed over as my body raises one of my arms up to take a DEEP sniff of my pits. The smell pushed me further and further back into my mind. Making me smaller and smaller harder to fight back as my hands moved on their own again, no longer just playing with my new HAIRTY MUSCLE TITS which were quickly becoming pillows, but now feeling up and down my abs, one hand caressing my new THICCER ass, gliding easily across my sweaty skin while the other toyed with my new cock.

One hand barely held its new girth, fingers not fully touching as my hand closed around it. My breath hitched as it slowly moved up and down the shaft. “Like how this FEELS TWINK, wanna give in, wanna let go, let a REAL MAN drive this bad boy!” My body moans, the words emphasized as both hands stop exploring and purely focus on my cock. Stroking it up and down, pre starting to drip down, slicking it up allowing my hands to glide faster. With each stroke my body bounces up and down, muscle tits and bubble butts jiggling as I start thrusting into my own hands.

He was right, FELT SO GOOD, to GIVE IN. OBEY. I breathed in the musk deeper, letting it take over me more, no longer biting back moans. I let it all out. Stroking faster as my moans get deeper, adams apple bobbing, growing bigger as I watch myself grow just the tiniest bit taller.

“Yeah… YEAH lets stroke this cock, baby, fuck look at these muscles bitch feel so big, so strong. Take another whiff BRO, lets make this OUR NEW REALITY!” One of my hands drops OUR cock and does a quick flex of OUR biceps. I feel this vanity worm its way permanently into my mind as more MUSK permeates it. Breathing deeper and deeper as I kiss my muscles, worshiping myself as I give into this TOP masculine energy, not even trying to play with my beautiful ass as I keep moaning my life away.

I should be fingering myself, fucking myself stupid, I was a horny strict SLUTTY bottom. But with each PULSE, with each thrust into my hands like I was fucking some HOT SLUTTY TWINK I felt my hole get TIGHTER. With each PULSE my cheeks got BIGGER, FATTER, clenching with each pump of my cock as memories of riding my exes cock start to swirl in my mind and TWIST. The ideas of servicing men being ripped apart as fantasies of men MUSCLE WORSHIPPING ME take their place. Starting to root themselves in. My kinks for being degraded and talk down to inverse and I feel myself becoming more dominant. The insatiable slutty bottom was becoming an endlessly horny muscle top. I became Steve, not Stephen.

Unknown to me, the magic that was casted on me by the two muscle hunks had no one to command it. No one to usher in its fantasy, so it fed on the only fantasy it could find, the only fantasy it could latch onto. My desire for Brad and Topher. The two men were my horny fantasy come to life and my mind was making a caricature of what I thought they were. Creating this amalgam of what I assumed to be the epitome of masculinity and he was moaning, groaning and telling the invisible slut taking his dick how much he NEEDED to suck it. I should have been scared, worried maybe only slightly aroused but as my eyes met the reflection all i could do was let myself fall into the throws of passion, take on a cocked grin and moan as my first orgasm shot out of a ten inch dick i didn’t have 2 hours ago. It fires load after load, shooting right onto the mirror coating it in white gooey mess, dripping down it, framing me in my sweaty muscled  form perfectly. It was at least four or five before I stopped. Its like I was cumming my brains out.

The room was swamped with my musk, creating this miasma of smells and fog. My sweat, BO and sex sticking through the walls as I kept stroking and moaning brain cells burning up for fuel. Drool leaking from my lips as fantasies of dominating other men kept flashing before my glazed over eyes. I was a sweaty, hairy hunk ready to top the world. Until my world would come crashing down again. The tip of my dick was electric, every time one of fingers made the slightest touch around it sent shivers down my spine. Eyes going wider, more glazed as I chased this feeling, gooning myself into oblivion as my cock grew even more reaching 11 inches long, big enough to make any size queen cum from just the sight. Voice and moans deeper, more guttural, so much so anyone could mistake it for pain.

Through the thin walls and cheap door my Golden Retriever heard the deep masculine groaning and moans. He was worried, as Brayden always was, he dropped the groceries he was carrying in and knocked on the door. When  he got no answer and only heard more noises that he ASSUMED was pain, he said fuck the lease fuck all of that his friend was possibly in trouble. 

Brayden had known me for years, we met at the end of high school, both somewhat outcasts in a small town, he was tall and lanky with a big nerdy streak and I WAS an effeminate gay twink who was a bit vain. Brayden was the perfect balance of funny, smart and sweet with the fluffiest golden hair. For his 20th birthday I remember us getting tattoos and him getting one on his arm of the tardis, god I even loved when he wore those stupid glasses. Even though he was straight I loved him and he was there for me, I just wish in hindsight that that wouldn’t be his undoing.

So within his straight, skinny boy bones he mustered up all his strength and BROKE IT DOWN. The loud noise was enough to snap my mind out this reverie, the dom top mindset wiped away in a moment, my body stick acting on its own as it thrusted into itself fucking my hands as my face turned to look at the boy who would do anything for me. His eyes wide at my transformation, taking in my huge, MUSCULAR, SWEATY, SMELLY FORM STROKING MY FUCKSTICK. Mouth agape as the WAVE of MUSK that had built up in this room saw its next victim and host. 

Like a living organism the MIASMA OF MUSK sought out Brayden, funneling itself into his mouth and nose, the rest circling his body hiding it behind a wall of green fog. The smell of CUM rotting his brain as the scent of SWEAT coats his body and seeps into his pores, eviscerating his clothes leaving him naked.  His average BULGE hangs free as it PULSES with PUNGENT WARMTH. The very center of his being CORRUPTING as with each inhale all his muscles start EXPANDING, RISING, GROWING but don’t fall when he exhales.

Maybe he was screaming and begging for help. Telling it to stop or maybe he was writhing in pleasure with moans that could only get deeper as it went. All I knew in that moment even if I wouldn’t admit, is the thought of the same thing happening to him happening to me only made my hands move faster.

His voice CRACKS as he lets out a long, breathy moan, the sound coming out deeper than it should. His back and legs cracked as he stood taller, broader and wider while the rest of him caught up. Mass Piling onto him till he was everything the MUSK had to go off of. The idea of BRAD and TOPHER that the former twink had, what a REAL MAN was, what they SMELLED like, and just how HARD they would fuck him. 

One of my hands continued to stroke my cock, while the other started gravitating towards my ass, eyes wide in pleasure and horror as I watched my friend be transformed. The pretense of who this DOM TOP STEVE was being removed as I came more into focus, I tried to call out to Brayden but it was no use. My voice was more moans then syllables as my hand grabbed at my meaty cheeks, and voice begged for something to fill them

His Silhouette continues to expand, becoming something beyond a simple Muscle Bro, A STUD. I can hear my own brain frying as I look at the shadows shift within the FOGCLOUD of scent and man. His bulge, the shaft of his cock lengthening as it hangs lower, gaining more girth as his balls start filling with virile cum, sloshing around waiting for his next conquest while his bull balls swung in a rhythm that was almost hypnotic like a pendulum swing. Leaking pre as he enters a constant state of arousal that will thrum through him forever. His ass is the last thing to change, looking at it through the mirror I watch it grow becoming a perfect bubble butt, a mix of fat and muscle that you could SWAT and watch ripple or even bounce a quarter off of.

I could feel it from here, this constant thrum of PULSING. It was coming in waves off of my roommate, the musk cloud circling him echoing ancient horny magics beyond my comprehension as he was irrevocably changed and reality with him.

PULSE

PULSE

PULSE

I felt his cum splatter against me, his past self, body and libido, even sexuality gone as it was smeared against my skin marking me. Targeting me to be the center of his domination dreams. I felt its pool around my cleavage and abs before sinking beneath the flesh.  In the second as he stepped out of the transformation I felt the magic disperse, firmly cementing itself in both our pores and bodies to be forever embedded as sweaty, musky, transformation agents we couldn’t control.

My mind was free from the Steve persona so I, myself, the mentally, twinky, submissive now incredibly horned up slut was in control. Or as in control as I could be as my body was flooded with hormones and CRAVINGS for sex, muscles and sweat. My hand was moving faster around my cock, my fingers were desperately reaching for my hole as I stared in lust at what walked out of the mist. Mouth agape as drool poured out with heavy moans instead of words, begging that my roommate, my best friend, was still in there, that when it cleared id still see that worried face but all that looked at me was a sex crazed, cocky grin. As what was gay sex come to life approached 

“There’s MY MOANING SLUT!” he say, voice growling and booming through the tiled room before LATCHING onto me with another PULSE his words distorting me.

“Fuck…Brayuden…mmm no… YES… brayden this isn’t you we..we..we need to…” I feel his hand grab me by the neck- PULSE - This pressure applied as my eyes are forced to focus on him, my moaning, half hearted pleas silenced as he gets so close to my face.

“Its SIR when your this DESPERATE SLUT, and the only thing we NEED is you down on the ground on your knees.” What he says becomes my truth, he was SIR,  I was desperate, and I NEEDED to be on the ground. NO, No this was wrong. I can’t just fall..fall to my knees… it would be…so easy… I have to save us.

“No…SIR, Bray..Sir we have to get you- you NEED to get Ouuuuuut!” i tried to push him back, my hand shoving his off my throat, our muscles and height were almost even, sure I was a DESPERATE SLUT but I could hold my own. But as I moved forward and shoved him back almost out of the room, my foot hit the pools of cum left on the ground. My balance was thrown off and i fell, face forward, right onto his DELICIOUS COCK.

My mouth and throat glided all the way down his over ten incher, lodging it deep in the back as it PULSES this rush of pleasure ERADICATING my gag reflex as I instinctively moan around this cock. My nose BURIED deep into his beautiful MUSKY pubes, brain blanking as I couldn’t help but submit to wha I was. A DESPERATE SLUT, my hands going wild as they went to caress and feel up his leg muscles. I feel SIR’s hands on the back of my head going through my hair.

“Mmm thats a good SLUT, that’ll teach you for trying to tell SIR what to do!” His hands grab me by the sides of my head and pull me SLOWLY, painfully slowly from the base of his cock till just the tip was still inside me. His Cockhead leaking pre onto my tongue, the way I tried to swirl it around, feel all of it, taste all of it like it was the nectar of the gods, absolutely divine. Eyes rolling back as i realize my tue purpose, its to serve.

“Just..Oh yeah Slut, just a bit more!! TAKE IT BRO!” His hands grab the sides of my head harder thrusting in all the way. PULSE. He pulls out, less this time, and quickly sheaths his cock again, and again. Again and again and again, my mind rattling. Skull fucking me. I feel his balls slapping my chin, his pre filling my stomach, my mind gone. Like with each thrust he was fucking it himself, till it was nothing but SIRS cock.

I don’t need to breathe, i just need cock. I don’t need to eat or drink, I just need Cum. I just need cock, I just need cum. COCK, CUM, COCK, CUM,COCK, CUM.

“Fuck..>Fuck I’m..Close.. Take it.. Take it and cum with me!!” He’s moaning out, sir’s telling me what to do. I feel that pressure in my balls, this ended to OBEY. Any worries, fears, everything and anything I was before boiled from my skull with the passionate fucking and pooling in my balls- waiting. His voice is heavy and strong, as his balls tense, thrusts more erratic as he slams into me over and over till We both feel it, PULSE.

He fires load after load, my throat milking his cock for all tis worth, eyes staring into his as I feel my own cock fire. My brains, my potential flooding the floor like a waterfall as all I do is moan and bliss feeling my throat filled.

He pulls out with an audible plop, my mouth not wanting to let go chasing after it till he places his hand on my head, his cock still hard, his eyes still hungry as he lifts me up. Carrying me out of the bathroom before throwing me onto the bed face down ass up. I can’t help but moan, ass wiggling in the air on its own. I was a DESPERATE SLUT and while my throat had been filled, I knew my ass was empty.

“Fuck…. God watching you wiggle you ass in the air is so hot boy!” He’s right behind me, i feel his shadow cast over me as his hands slowly find their way to my globe like cheeks. Taking handfuls in each, letting his fingers dig deep into my flesh and claim what's his.

“Fuck, you want to be a GOOD BOY for your Sir.” One of his hands dives between my cheeks while the other continues to knead the flesh like dough. I just moan into the bed, trying to beg but my mouth is so filled with saliva, mind so clouded with lust its unintelligible.

“Oooo you do want to be a GOOD BOY, slot!” he slaps my right cheek as one of his fingers teases my hole. I'm screaming yes as he pushes me open, his thick digit already making me crazy, my hole tries to pull him in, winking at him as he drags another. Where he slapped my cheek is pure bliss, a red mark forming as he readies himself to do it again to the other one.

“Fuck, when I fuck this hole you’ll be my good boy and do what i say. Be mine forever!” his voice was desperate, his eyes crazed. His hand slams down on my cheeks causing them to ripple , I’m biting the blanket underneath me, muffling my screams and moans.

I moan yes as he doesn’t just push another finger in no, he slides to make me throw my head back.

“Fuck so hot when you lose control, I need you slut, I need you now.” his fingers are going in and out, i feel that familiar build up, a PULSE coming. Our arousal fed the magic, letting him take full control. His fingers slipping in and out of my hole, it becomes the perfect toy for him to play with as he teases me to the edge.

PULSE PULSE

PULSE

My vision goes white, pleasure raking through my body as he pushes me off the ledge. My cock firing again and again. He pulls his fingers out and grabs me by the waist. His hands sliding up and down my body, feeling me up. But I feel that PULSE again, he’s changing me, molding me to be perfect. I feel my muscles and height compact, becoming shorter, leaner more submissive looking. He’s babbling about my body, mentioning something about superheroes. That, horny, nerdy side of him fully embracing his new sexuality as he forms me to what he desires, retooling my physique to fit his needs. Mentioning comics, movies, but all I feel is pleasure as he pushes his full weight onto my back, his chest heaving against my shoulders as he talks sweet nothings right into my ears. At some point he rambles again about the perfect male body, about hu—-His hand smacks my ass again disorienting me as he grabs me by my arms, holds them behind me, his cock lined up with my hole.

“Any last words before we make this permanent SLUT!” It's not a question, it's a command.

“FUCK ME DADDY!” I moan as he smirks, thrusting straight into me, his pelvis SMASHING against my ass, making my vision blur, everything going white. The last thing I hear before my whole new life, are his moans.

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Thank you again to the people who commission me its giving me some breathing room and I feel like I'm finally not trapped! I still have slots of comms open so if you guys want to comm me please just hit me up in dms and we can talk! There are a few more comm stories coming your way soon!

[i-vant-ze-cake]